#I can’t roll my tongue to save my life so I should at least be scrumptious at writing & reading (eventually)

[octoooo]

Lmao at first this was about writing, then homework, now it’s just goofy I love this face

Chilling in the void tonight

[tommydarlings]

fucktoy part 4 | f1 grid

pairing: dark!dom!mick schumacher ; dark!dom!toto wolff ; x sub!bimbo!reader

warnings: smut, dacryphilia, possessive behaviour, obsessive behaviour, mentions of tracking somebody’s location, covering mouth???, pussy eating, hair pulling, breeding kink, spitting, gagging

w/c: 0.7k

summary: the f1 grid loves to simply use you as their fucktoy or as a stress relief and nothing else.

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Thinking about how mick would keep an eye on you everywhere and every time and get unbelievably mad the seconds he notices you’re somewhere he didn’t allow you to be.

You were partying with your girl friends but forgot to tell mick — but that wasn’t really a problem for him since he tracks your phone and car anyway — which you didn’t know since you’re only his situationship.

He immediately got into his car and drove to the club you were at.

And as you saw him storming into the club with a not so happy facial expression, taking long and angry looking steps right towards you.

And here you were now, being mercilessly thrusted into against the one of the women’s bathroom stalls, mick behind you gripping your hair in a tight grip, his lips grazing your ear.

“You think you can just go out partying or shit like that without letting me know? You could have given me a call… or at least message me but no, you’re dumb little brain didn’t think about that, huh?“ you arched your back further as his thrust got harsher.

You shook your head, trying your best to find some excuse but you came up with nothing.

Mick chuckled, “can’t find any stupid excuse, huh?“ And you only gulped, rolling your eyes into the back of your head.

“Thought so,“ he mumbled before he almost lovingly kissed your wet temple, still mercilessly thrusting into you.

Suddenly, you heard two women entering the restroom, loudly chatting and laughing with each other and just when you were about to release a not so quiet scream of pleasure, mick swiftly covered your mouth with his hand, immediately shutting you up,

“Shh,“ he whispered into your ear from behind, his thrusts not stopping, “just scream into my hand but just so you know I won’t stop.“

Or how toto would literally think and talk about breeding you all the time just so you don’t even spare a glance at the other men in the paddock.

You were in his office, dress bunched up by his big, veiny hand as one of your legs was laying carelessly by its knee on his glass table.

Gasps and whines were constantly leaving your mouth as the older man ate your wet pussy out from behind, collecting all of your juice and spitting into your hole, his hands roughly spreading and squeezing your cheeks.

“O-Oh fuck! Oh god!“ you screamed through gritted teeth, the tip of his tongue rapidly running along your slit, occasionally entering you before sliding out again and spitting on it, being very messy and careless.

He removed one hand from your ass, running his long pointer and middle finger along your drenched cunt before entering you, his lips not biting and sucking on your cheeks, clearly to create prominent marks.

“Mhmm… who were you talking to earlier, meine kleine?“ my little one, toto asked in a raspy tone with a smirk, his two fingers making quick work of deeply entering you and slowly sliding out of you again, repeating that devious process over and over again.

You gulped, “I w-was only talking t-to Charles about-”

“You were talking to Charles, that’s right… and that’s exactly where the problem begins,” toto told you from behind, his fingers speeding up, forcing you to around them as you heard him spitting onto them, making you even wetter.

You whined in a high pitched tone, letting your head fall onto the expensive table half of your shaking figure was laying on.

Toto spoke up, “maybe I should breed you, make your pretty little body all round, hmm? What do you say, liebling?“ love.

You quickly shook your head, you were too young and the two of you weren’t even together, you were just casually hooking up to have some fun and release some pent up stress or anger.

His fingers left your clenching pussy, quickly putting them into his mouth and licking them clean, his eyes still focused on the back of your head, a frown on his face as he noticed how you swiftly shook your head.

Toto slowly stood up, “no? Why not? Then everybody would know that you’re mine and you’d be pregnant with my child! Wouldn’t that be just beautiful? That way I could easily show those immature, young boys that you’re completely off the market,“ he mumbled into your ear from behind before he entered you with his big cock, forcing you to take deep breaths as he slowly filled you up.

“Oh yeah, I’m gonna put a pretty mini version of the two of us into you now, you just relax and let me do it, alright?“

BONUS;

Or how Lewis would have the audacity to make you feel so embarrassingly small and dumb.

CONTINUE READING THE EXTENDED VERSION WITH THE L.H BONUS ON MY PATREON! <3 [1k]

[faeriekit]

Health and Hybrids (V)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters  for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and whatever prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

PART ONE is here PART TWO is here PART THREE is here PART FOUR is here and this is part five💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts

Where we last left off... Batman had a meeting! Danny acquired age appropriate enrichment toys. All is well. You know. Except for the everything else. But it’s fine and MM is on his way so it’ll all be great soon for sure! :)

Trigger warnings for this story:  body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) |  my awful attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

One…Morning? Evening?

Well. One day, Danny rediscovers his tongue.

Most of the muscle is there. Things taste better after he remembers how to taste.

(If everything tastes like iron, well…Danny tries to ignore that.)

Its main function is social. When Danny needs the quiet humans he can’t see to Shut Up or Go Away!, it is now within his power to blow a raspberry.

A slightly bloody raspberry. But still! A success! And when the fuzzy red human buzzes and whines about scaring them off, Danny blows it one too.

If all it does is make the human cry more, hey. That’s not Danny’s business.

*

The buzzy human comes back with its friends, with fresh sheets, spilling nervousembaras!sednervous all over the room.

Blech. Danny saves himself the trouble and phases through his bed and through the floor below. He does not need to be grabbed again.

He has more energy than he used to. It gets him farther than he’s used to; by the time he finds and works his way through an apple, a pear, and a whole plate of chicken wings, he’s still not sleepy.

…Huh. He rolls over underneath his usual haunt: a conference table. He isn’t feeling the urge to drop into his core. He’s achy, sure, and his limbs hurt and his mouth hurts from eating and he can’t see, but also…

Is Danny bored? Is he finally well enough to be bored of being sick and injured?? That’s. Is that progress? Is it…regression??

Danny sulks under his conference table (his now) with a pile of chicken bones and a few stems and doesn’t know what to do.

If he goes back to his bed…will the sheets already be done? Will people be waiting to get him? Did he lose his…ugh, he doesn’t want to think of them as toys. His…enrichment? Educational tools?

…Okay they might be toys. Whatever. When Danny feels better, he’ll grab something more age appropriate. Maybe he’ll get them from his—

Danny flinches.

…From his house.

If he can get there.

Whatever. He doesn’t want to think about that right now. He wants to figure out how to get rid of his trash without revealing his location. Or leave his conference table shelter.

Danny drums his claws against the low-pile carpet that stretches below him. Should he stay? Rest up? Wait for the threats to his admittedly-kinda-pathetic territory to leave? Should he…go get more food? Should he explore more? He feels all kinds of sore and tired but his head mostly feels clear. Maybe if he—

There’s a hissing noise. Danny bristles. He hisses in like, but—oh. It’s a door.

…Oh. It’s the door.

Uh oh. That’s um. That’s.

Uh oh.

Danny quickly pretends that he hadn’t hissed. He invisibly pushes the top of his head through the thick wood of the conference table. They shouldn’t be able to see anything if he peeks.

Well. Unless they can? But if they can, that’s. Uh. That’s a whole new problem.

Several tall, colorful, adult humans walk into the room. He can’t quite tell how many. Just a bunch. And they’re tall. But hey, they’re color coordinated for easier determination, at least.

Danny lowers himself back down through the table. Should he leave? Will they see him if he tries to leave? Can they spot him?

He sits and worries and he dithers as the humans slowly surround the table and the hidden ghost underneath. Should he…should he go through the floor? Will they know he’s there? Is it even safe to get back to his cot yet?

Feet start appearing underneath the table. Danny shies away from them. He pulls his chicken bones away from them too; if they step on one, they might notice him.

Then everything gets quiet. There’s only one quiet, droning voice.

So maybe Danny peeks again.

There’s a giant shadow at the front. It’s probably human. It has black arms and black legs and a patch of what is probably skin in his very fuzzy vision. It stands beside a lit screen.

Danny squints.

…Oh. He can’t quite tell what it’s about, or what’s exactly is being shown on the screen, but he knows what a powerpoint presentation is supposed to look like: a person, a lot of talking, a screen, and a lot of people listening. They’re just…talking. They’re not even talking about Danny.

Okay. He’ll rest under the table. It seems…safe enough for now.

It’s better to listen to human heartbeats and breathing in a room than it is to sit in his silent one, waiting for some new horror to break the everpresent quiet. Danny lays on his belly, nose to the carpet, and counts how many feet are under the table. (There are sixteen feet.) Some humans are wearing real shoes, with inch-thick soles of hard rubber at the bottom. Some are wearing things that look like shoes, but are too flexible, with soft soles that bend and curl as they flex under the table. Very few of them have laces or fixtures. Huh.

A wrapper falls. Danny watches the ball of foil flutter to the floor, at peace with his position, tired of inspecting shoes. And then a face pops down.

Danny freezes. (It’s not the smartest move.)

The face that popped down probably sees him back, considering how still it goes. And then, very slowly, so slowly, a hand reaches down. Danny flinches back, and—

…It grabs the wrapper. The adult carefully gets back up. The face disappears.

Danny doesn’t move. Danny doesn’t leave. Danny doesn’t breathe.

He waits. The human slowly goes back to tapping its toes, wiggling in its seat—and vibrating, in a way that says bored/bored/bored the way the younger human sometimes does.

…No one says anything. No one does anything. No one jumps under the table to get him, there isn’t a break in the speaker that indicates identifying Danny as Present, or as A Problem. Danny is simply…hidden.

He should leave. It would be smart to leave. Danny would be safer if he left.

But also.

Maybe.

This might be the first time he’s been so close to humans in so long.

They don’t know he’s here. It should be…safe. If he just. Listens to the indistinct sound of human voices. Let them wash over him, like a radio left on in the other room.

Danny’s sated. He’s achy. He’s bored. He’s sad. He’s lonely.

…He stays.

He doesn’t notice his humming or the quiet purr in his chest before the hand comes back down again. Danny flinches away from it, the hum guttering to a stop where it had laid.

There’s something about its hand. The hand came down, before, but now there’s something more to it. Another color—a darker color. It’s hard to tell in the shadow underneath the desk. Maybe a—green? A blue? Maybe?

The hand shifts, just a little. And then the thing comes flying at him. Danny jolts backwards, digging his claws into the mere millimeters of carpeting underneath him, and—

Oh. The thing isn’t moving. It hasn’t even exploded.

Danny reaches out a hand. Taps it, gently. It doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t attack him. It doesn’t excrete anything acidic or bite him. He sniffs it, just to be doubly sure, and nope. It smells like plastic. The wrapper crunches under his hands, even when everything sounds mute and muffled. The noise is borderline imaginary, so Danny can’t exactly tell what it sounds like when he plays with the little plastic flaps.

He can tell what it is now, though. The food bar goes down whole, wrapper and all, into his gullet.

Nice. The outside tastes bad, of course, but it’s nice.

The hand goes away, and no one bothers Danny. It’s nice. There are voices, but they aren’t yelling. They aren’t mean to him. They aren’t talking about what his insides look like or how bad he is or how to take more pieces off of him.

…Danny’s core thrums evenly. Peacefully. Maybe he will want that nap after all. His body gets kind of grouchy when it comes to plastic. He can pretend that it isn’t grumpy with his improvised diet with a nap.

Danny curls up on the floor, core beating along with the quick and even taptaptaptaptap fluttering of a too-quick human heart, and settles in for a quiet one.

(When he wakes up again, no one is around to see him throw out his chicken bones in the tiny trash receptacle by the doorway.)

(His toys and new sheets are all there when Danny gets back to his cot.)

(He’s too relieved to do anything but take a second nap.)

*

“So,” Wally tries, leaning against the wall. “The… Alien? Extraterrestrial?”

Barry shrugs. Fishes a cheeto out of his bag. “Bart’s been calling it a ghoul. They crashed half a mile off the Kent farm a little after you popped out of the Speedforce; there’s a huge chance something happened to them as part of the temporal anomaly.”

“Happened as in…?”

“Yeah.” Barry takes another cheeto. “Bad.”

And theeeere is the visible guilt. There isn’t exactly any great way for Wally to feel after his unintentional resurrection led to an unintentional…something else.

“…Ah.”

Barry shrugs. There isn’t anything they can do about it; short of rewinding time and shoving Wally back into the Speedforce, which has been shoved off the table with a great deal of force by all of the man’s former teammates, there’s no way to undo the accident that landed the poor alien smacking straight into good-old-fashioned American dirt.

“Don’t worry about the way it happened. It wasn’t your fault, and it sure wasn’t intentional on your part,” Barry points out, and offers the bag of Cheetos towards Wally. The snack is gone in microseconds. The curse of speedsters is really footing the bill of all their emotional eating.

“So, they’re…do we know what they are? Because they definitely shapeshifted fangs as soon as I found their little—whatever that is. Container? Unit? Under the table.” Wally traces the vague shape of the thing’s cerulean heart in the air. “One second I was holding a glass paperweight, and the next I was on the opposite end of a very angry shadow-snake. I think they would have done worse than bit me if it hadn’t had a clear escape route out of there.”

Barry balls the empty bag and shoves it into a pocket. If he litters in the Watchtower, it’s going to be water cooler gossip for years. Bats would never let anyone defile his super cool, super-secret base with garbage without his own form of petty revenge. “Medical says it likely serves as an organ for him,” he says instead, since monologue about how inconvenient it is to be held responsible for his own actions wouldn’t be professional. “So. Think of it less as a container; think of it more as a turtle shell. Medical is pretty sure it’s a part of their body. Messing with it would really hurt them.”

“Yeowch.”

“Mmhmm. One micro-sec.” Barry darts out and away from his nephew; he just remembered he has bottled smoothies in his room. In the time it takes him to fetch two from his mini-fridge—one of his favorite flavor and one of Wally’s—and circle back, the dust motes in the air have hardly even realized he’s gone. They hardly drift even upon his return. “Here.”

Wally catches it easily. To anyone else, Barry would barely have blinked away. To any other Speedster…Barry knows intimately how lethargic and thick time feels against his skull. Slowing down to a mortal, human speed can feel maddening. Sore. Viscerally and bone-shatteringly wrong in his skin, maybe.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.” Barry would do that and more for his family.

They drink their smoothies.

“You know,” Barry breaks back in, the thoughts of their previous conversation looming lightly in his mind, “Medical says that the fact that we sometimes see their—let’s call it a core—is really, really bad. It’s not a shock that they’re hiding. It would be like climbing in a closet when you’re so vulnerable that you don’t feel like you can defend yourself.”

The rim of Wally’s smoothie bottle drops from his lips. The man frowns. “Oh?”

Barry shrugs. “Imagine losing your skull so that your brain is exposed all the time. Imagine being a cell and having your cell wall break so your nucleus is exposed?”

They both wince at the image.

“Oh boy. And Bart is…playing? With that entity?”

His uncle snorts. “You tell me. I think you’ve seen more of them than I have at the moment. All I did was catch them hanging out in a conference room. I have to admit, the purring can get a little loud in the…” he makes a vague gesture that could mean anything from room to atmosphere to Speedforce.

Wally’s been mostly of the same mind—the physics of the entity, whatever they are, aren’t specifically third-dimensional. It might be related to how they only sometimes manifest, or how they manifest with only partial corporeality.

“It’s been at least some play and some games for him, I’m sure,” Wally admits, a smile pulling at his mouth nevertheless. “I spotted him going through a stim toy website before he suddenly and mysteriously had a mission on the other side of the planet. But I think most of his concern is the…”

Wally winces at the thought of the myriad of medical issues the entity’s faced since his arrival to Earth. Barry’s wince stretches to match. They both saw the report.

“…So it’s been a lot of food on Bart’s part. A lot of managing his care of them too; Superboy and Rob aren’t the most straightforward team in the world, but I think they’re largely keeping Bart in check on this one— not that they’re on base as much as Bart is.”

Wally smiles. It’s not a very happy smile, or very relieved of his earlier guilt, but it’s a smile nevertheless. That’s fine. Barry’ll work on the rest on Sunday; they’re due for a good luncheon out somewhere nice. Their JLA-approved food budget can foot the bill. Maybe…Indian? There’s got to be good food in Delhi they haven’t tried yet.

“At least J’onn’s back on base next week.” Wally sighs, crooked and a little weary. “Maybe this will finally get them to stop running every time someone gets within forty feet of them. Like, they realize they’re losing vital fluids, right? Wait, is Bart even giving them any water?”

“…I’m going to hold off on that worrying thought. I have a different one I’m sweating over. Do we even know if Bart will let our resident telepath get within forty feet of his new playmate?”

Wally groans, face in his hands. Barry can’t help but laugh a little—perhaps tinged with desperation.

Sidekicks. Always with the new problems. At least last time they had this problem, Kon could talk.

[try-set-me-on-fire]

Tagged by a buncha folks for fuck it Friday! Thanks @devirnis @butchdiaz @anxieteandbiscuits @alyxmastershipper @rewritetheending! I’ll post scraps form a few things…

Their first actual interaction in nurse Eddie au

In bed eight there are blue eyes and a birthmark and Eddie says “Buck,” out loud, because he’s an idiot.

“Do I… know you?” Buckley (Eddie seeks safety in the formality of a last name) tilts his head a little, eyes searching Eddie’s face for familiarity.

Saying something like You’re usually unconscious when we meet would be creepy, probably. Sometimes I feel like you're my dead wife doesn't even make sense, Eddie can't even explain it to himself. Shannon died and you didn't sounds too accusatory, and he's not sure if he wants to mean it that way or not. You saved my son's life except Eddie still isn't thinking about that, is still actively trying to forget. So Eddie says “I’ve seen you in here before,” like that explains a nickname he has no right to know.

Some sap from take you in and make you mine chapter two

Bed head, all sticking over everywhere. Buck will touch his hair, later, Eddie will let him touch his hair. Loose gray LAFD shirt, possibly Buck’s, one of the ones without a name printed over it. Buck spends a few minutes fascinated by the way the fabric folds around warm skin that maybe Eddie will let him touch later, too. Boxers, sweatpants shed for being too warm. Buck should check for fever, maybe, make sure he’s recovering okay, but his arm and hand and ankle don’t feel overly hot. He doesn’t have any blanket on him, either, it mostly migrated onto Buck in the night, and then mostly left him behind as well to rest half on the floor. He’s breathing steady, back rising and falling slowly with it. Buck glances at the bedside table. It’s early, not even 6 yet, though the room is already halfway sunny here at the height of summer. There’s one granola bar wrapper and a mostly drained water bottle from when he’d woken up starving and parched in the middle of the night, but the others remain untouched. At least that means Eddie slept through the night, probably. Rest is good, important for recovery. There’s a little twitch of pressure on his hand and Buck turns back over to watch Eddie come awake.

He does it in stages. First he holds Buck’s hand tighter (Buck hides his face in the pillow for a moment, burying his smile), then makes a grunt so annoyed and dad-like that Buck has to bite his tongue not to laugh. Then his head starts to move, looking around at the room before finally dragging his face across the pillow to blink at Buck. He looks tired, and ruffled, and beautiful.

And here’s Shannon and Eddie coming out to each other from quilt shop au

Christopher wanders towards the yarn shelves and Shannon turns to him, scratching a nail along the outer seam of her jeans the way she always has when she’s nervous. “I know I usually have him Saturdays but I was wondering if you’d be willing to- watch him, or swap days, or- or I could drop him off in the afternoon, maybe?”

“Uh-“ Buck is coming in on Saturday, Eddie was going to show him how the long arm works so he doesn’t have to keep rolling up whatever secretive larger project he’s been working on to fit in his little domestic machine. But Shannon is not generally a worried person, these days, and Eddie doesn’t like the way she can’t quite make eye contact. “He’ll have to hang out here for a while, but yeah, of course. What’s up?”

“I…” She glances at him, glances away again. Eddie keeps folding the pile of fabric on the cutting table, keeping his movements steady and calm, and she watches the slide of the colors and patterns for a minute before she takes a deep breath. “I have a date.”

Eddie makes a sound something like Oh, but without really forming the word. It’s been awhile. Shannon had tried dating much quicker and much more frequently than Eddie had after they’d split. Jealousy only lasted so long- Shannon is still one of the loves of his life, even if that love isn’t what he thought it was when he was 18 and she was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. Eddie had sunk into the role of supportive best friend with a kind of relief he thinks nobody looked at too closely, and he’d been the shoulder she cried on when things didn’t work out, and the last few times things hadn’t worked out so spectacularly that as far as he’s known she’d been single for going on a year. “Who’s the new guy?”

Shannon makes determined eye contact, and her voice shakes only a little. “New girl, actually.”

Eddie absolutely cannot help the startled laugh that knocks out of him. It’s not funny, fuck it’s not funny, and her face is pinching up in embarrassed anger that he feels terrible about, but- it’s just kind of funny, is all.

“Jesus- Fuck you, Eddie-“

“No! No, no,” he catches her hand and waist as she spins away, like how they used to dance, like how they still dance, sometimes, when they find a bar with a hoedown night or when they’re lonely in this city that can feel so far away from where they grew up. “Shannon, no, it’s not-“ He remembers the last time she’d had her heart broken, how he’d held her on his abuela’s couch as she’d asked What’s wrong with me? and Why do I never feel right? and he hadn’t had any answers for her because they were questions he tried not to ask about himself. He laughs again, helplessly, and she looks more confused than angry and Eddie wants to spin her around and around because finally, maybe they both finally- “There’s a boy,” he says, and her eyes get wider. “And he’s tall, and he’s got blue eyes, and- and I love you so much but, baby, I don’t think we were ever going to work out.”

And then she laughs too, throwing her head back with it like Christopher does. “You’re- you’re fucking with me.”

“I’m really not,” he says, face aching with the smile splitting it in half.

@shortsighted-owl @bigfootsmom @rogerzsteven @kitkatpancakestack @burins @ anyone else who has stuff to share!

[leviathans-watching]

chhw - 10

intro post/m.list | wc: .9k | next

get added to the taglist

a/n: so i actually completely forgot about this series.... my b lmao

taglist: @marie-morningstar @mynutsinurmouth @mewchiili @ghost-mint @traumamakesmefunnier @sugar-sweet14 @duhsies @bontensbabygirl @bunny416

The girl grinning at you is unlike anyone you’d ever seen. Dressed in a skirt that fell well above the ankle and quite a bit of décollage, she looks more like a lady of the night than a new member of the diplomacy program. She is utterly wonderful, you decide, shaking (shaking!) her hand. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” you say, giving her a wide smile. “Welcome to the Devildom.” 

“Thank you,” she murmurs, gazing at you with those peculiar eyes. “I’m excited to be here. You may call me Thirteen.” 

“Thirteen,” you repeat, the name twisting on your tongue. This reaper is quite possibly the oddest creature you’ve met in your time in the Devildom, which is saying something. “Have you met the others? I believe Sir Solomon is present, as is Levi- I mean, Lord Leviathan, if you’d like to be introduced.” 

“Oh, no need,” she replies, waving her hand. “Solomon and I are acquainted already.” 

“I had no idea. Are you close?” 

She snorts, a decidedly unladylike sound, and you love her even more. “Not at all. I quite dislike him, to be honest. He tried to poison me once.” 

“Solomon did?” you gasp. “And why, may I ask?” 

“I’m not sure.” Thirteen rolls her eyes. “I thought I was just coming over for dinner and yet when I arrived he tried to feed me something quite obviously inedible. It was horrible!” 

“Oh,” you say, after a moment. “I’m afraid that’s just his regular cooking. He’s quite alright, aside from that. Even Lord Beelzebub can’t stand to eat the, erm, delicacies he prepares.”

Thirteen’s brow wrinkles at the mention of Beel, and you want to take back your words. You only hope she’s over the whole record incident and will continue to let his candle burn normally.

“I see,” she finally says. “Well, that’s a relief. I thought he was trying to take the cowards way out of our game.” 

“Game?” 

A vicious glint enters her eye. “Ah, yes. Solomon and I have a little thing going. If I beat him at a game or catch him in a trap, I get his soul.” 

You doubt Solomon would ever enter a deal like that if he wasn’t confident in winning. “And how is that going for you?” 

“I’ll get him one of these days,” Thirteen insists, stepping closer. “Why are you asking? Did he send you here to spy on me?” 

“No, I didn’t even know you two knew one another,” you reply reasonably. “And please, Sir Solomon is more than capable of winning his own games. Plus,” you add after a moment, “I’m not that stupid, to get mixed up in all of the shenanigans that seem to surround him.” 

“I guess,” she admits, scrutinizing you for another few seconds. “But if I find out you’re lying to me…” 

“Yes, yes, my life will get cut short. Save the speech, I’m sure I’ve heard it all before.” You give her a little half-smile. “Should I take you to Prince Diavolo now? I’m sure you’re eager to get settled in. I believe he’s got a room prepared for you at Purgatory Hall.” 

“And where is that?” she asks. 

“Oh, it’s just down the street and to the left,” you reply. “Sir Solomon, Lord Simeon, and little Lord Luke all live there at the moment.” 

Thirteen shudders. “I will not be staying there,” she says decisively. “I’d rather be out on the streets!” 

“It won’t come to that,” you promise, resisting the urge to smile. “I’m sure the prince will be more than willing to set an alternative up. Come, I’ll lead you to him.” 

*

“So,” a voice calls, and you look up from your work. “I heard you met our resident reaper.” 

“That I did,” you reply, motioning for Solomon to sit. “She’s quite a character.” 

“Yes,” Solomon agrees. “She is.” 

“She mentioned you knew one another,” you say. “How ago was it you met?” 

“Oh,” Solomon blows out a breath, thinking, “several hundred years at the very least. It’s been a long time.” 

“I see,” you say, and it grows quiet. 

“Are you jealous?” Solomon asks, breaking the silence, and you gape at him.

“Jealous? Whatever of?” 

“Thirteen,” he says, as if it’s obvious. “I just thought that perhaps you’d be feeling a little threatened.”

You stare at him for a long moment before realizing he’s merely teasing. 

“Well,” you say, looking down as if you’re embarrassed, “maybe a tiny bit.” 

“Really?” Solomon asks, and you hit him in the shoulder. 

“No, you buffoon. I think she’s perfectly nice and cannot wait to get to know her better. Jealous,” you repeat, laughing to yourself. “As if.” 

“I was just making sure!” Solomon defends, holding up his hands, and you soften.

“I know, and thank you for that,” you say. “But if I felt threatened by the mere presence of another lady then I’d be the worst sort of insecure. I’m much better than that. Rather, I’m quite relieved. I look forward to getting a break from all of you and enjoying some time with her.”

“Argh, now I’m the jealous one!” Solomon says, and you laugh. 

“Don't be. You’re a special one, Solomon, so no one can even come close.” 

He raises his brows. “Is that a compliment?” 

You shrug playfully. “Maybe.” 

“Infuriating woman,” Solomon growls, but he’s smiling. And okay, yeah, maybe you’re smiling too. 

(He doesn’t have to know it’s partly because you remembered that you and Thirteen are taking tea together later in the afternoon.)

leviathans-watching's work - please do not copy, repost, or claim as your own

[lucygraysboy]

keep  bein’  her  friend?  dark  brows  creasing  in  brief  confusion  upon  hearing  these  words,  a  flicker  of  hope  glimmering  beneath  billy’s  ribs  even  if  he  should  know  better  than  to  hold  onto  an  idea  so  far-fetched  and  feeble.  they  will  be  anything  but  friends  by  the  time  he’s  done  explaining  himself,  the  rational  part  of  him  reminds,  but  his  heart  refuses  to  listen,  suddenly  convinced  that  maybe  there  is  a  way  out,  that  maybe  she  won’t  shoot  or  turn  him  over  to  the  authorities  when  this  conversation’s  over.  she  means  the  world  to  him.  she’s  saved  his  life.  the  least  he  can  do  now  is  offer  her  an  honest  explanation,  no  more  lies,  no  excuses.  he  lowers  his  head  in  shame  and  gives  a  faint,  barely  visible  nod.  “just  a  nickname  given  to  me  by  friends.  it  stuck.  i  guess  a  lot  of  people  think  i  look  kind  of  boyish  and  i  am  only  nineteen,  after  all,”  he  mumbles,  shoulders  shrugging.  the  fabric  of  his  shirt  glued  to  his  sweat-covered  skin.  his  palms  clammy. 

“you’re  right,  lucy  gray,”  he  sighs,  picking  his  head  up  to  glance  at  the  songstress.  tears  welling  up  in  his  eyes  because  he  knows  that  he’s  hurt  her  once  again,  scared  her  even  if  she  attempts  to  downplay  it,  and  he  can’t  stomach  the  thought.  “no  more  lies,  but…  promise  you’ll  hear  me  out.  the  whole  story.”  pleading  even  if  he’s  in  no  position  to  do  that,  his  mind’s  already  spinning,  thinking  where  he  should  begin  telling  it  to  make  her  understand  that  he’s  not  the  kind  of  man  she  takes  him  for  —  he’s  not  a  cold-blooded  murderer.  “my  ma  died  of  consumption  a  few  months  back,”  leaving  billy  with  nothing  but  this  pent-up  anger  and  immeasurable  grief,  so  many  of  her  noble  ideas  dying  alongside  her,  “it’s  no  excuse,  i  know  it  now…  but  i  was  desperate,  lucy  gray.  i  needed  money  and  there  was  no  real  work  for  an  immigrant  kid  in  that  town  so  my  friend,  jesse…  he  said  there  was  a  different  way  to  earn  a  living.  a  heist.  he  promised  no  one  would  get  hurt.  and  so  we  tried  to  rob  this  chinese  laundromat.”  he  worries  his  plump  bottom  lip,  trying  to  piece  the  story  together  in  a  way  that’s  truthful  but  also  explains  his  motives,  when  he  hears  those  words  roll  off  lucy  gray’s  tongue.  his  jaw  dropping.

she  might  have  as  well  slapped  him,  his  stomach  lurching  into  the  back  of  his  throat,  his  complexion  turning  green,  then  pale,  then  rosy  with  shame.  he  shakes  his  head  in  protest,  as  fast  as  he  can  without  giving  himself  a  concussion.  “no.  no,  lucy  gray,  i’d  never  hurt  you.  i’d  never  hurt  someone  innocent,  but  you  —  you’ve  saved  my  life,  you’ve  fed  me  and  clothed  me  and  nursed  me  to  health.  i’m  not…  that’s  not  who  i  am.  i  don’t  kill  in  cold  blood.  please,  believe  me,  let  me  explain  it  all,”  he  begs,  watching  her  with  his  ocean  eyes,  storms  brewing  deep  inside.

"yeah, and i'm a six foot blonde." retorting in disbelief, a thousand wonders he isn't claiming he has a twin at this point. "if you want to keep bein' my friend, if that means anything to you– i suggest you don't tell one more lie." their friendship was already over though, wasn't it? what would her mother say about her befriending the type of guy who put her in her grave. maybe for once, she wanted to keep being naive, that he didn't just kill an innocent person. but what if he does... tell one more lie by denying all of this, never explaining, and valuing himself over her friendship. that'll be disappointing. it'd hurt, most definitely. "you even have yet another name, billy the kid?" what did that even mean... he was notorious for this? "then maybe you grew since the last time whoever made this saw you. but that's definitely you. you just admitted BONNEY is your mother's maiden name, that ain't some coincidence." how many times was she going to have to tell him she wasn't stupid? "there's guilt or somethin' written all over your face to confirm that. if– you've killed people, why look so guilty for it? how do you kill them anyway?" because obviously he didn't come across like an average brute killer, so how does it GET to that point? especially when she hasn't suspected a single harsh bone in his body. he's soft spoken, patient, nothing unhinged looks to even lurk behind his blue gaze despite going crazy herself and imagining something cold and crazy lives behind his gaze. but really, now that she's more composed, she can't find where the crazy and cruelty lurks. he weirdly almost looks innocent.... but now, she couldn't just trust that either. maybe it's just well hidden. maybe he just kills in a different way. "does it only happen when you're angry or something? is that why i haven't been one of 'em yet? i haven't yet pressed one of your secret buttons, william h. bonney?"

[drunkjaked]

MARKETS ft park sunghoon

the joys of december: winter dates, hot chocolate, sunghoon's birthday, and shared showers /// 2274 words + smut (minors dni)

pairing: bf!sunghoon x fem!reader

the youngest of the 02z is 20 now :((( man.. happy birthday sunghoon.. so happy we get to be the same age until next saturday <333

The headboard is cold against Sunghoon’s back as he sits at the top of the bed, his fingers threading through your hair as he watches you fight sleep with your head in his lap. “I feel like we should leave soon, or at least start getting ready soon.” He announces, stretching an arm above his head. 

“I didn’t think you were being serious.” You mumble into his bare stomach. 

“Why would I joke about my birthday plans?” 

A sigh makes its way out of your mouth and he giggles at the feeling of your breath fanning his skin. “I’ve known you long enough to know that your ‘birthday plans’ are also your idea of hell.” 

Sunghoon rolls his eyes, holding you tighter and pretending you’re incorrect. “Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do.” He lies through his teeth mutters. 

He knows as well as you do that going to the Christmas markets – on his birthday of all days – falls under laying naked on a hot grill on the list of things he wants to do.

Another thing he knows as well as you do, is that you’ve been dreaming of a Christmas markets date since he lent you his gloves on the walk home from class two winters ago as the two of you walked (the line between just friends and more than friends) by the entrance of the markets. 

You move your head to look up at him, locking eyes as you move from your position to sit in his lap instead, legs split over his in a straddle. “I can just go with one of the girls another day,” you shrug. “Today’s about you, so tell me what you want to do today.” 

His plump lips press together into a straight line as he thinks, brows furrowing in the centre. And after a moment he hums. “I got it!” He pauses for a second, taking the time to press a kiss to your mouth. Lets his tongue trace the seam of your lips an-d it’s so easy to get distracted by him. Too easy. 

To the point that you don’t even realise what he’s trying to do until he rolls his hips against yours, his clothed cock pressing on your core. If it wasn’t for how rough he’d been with you last night, you might not have whined before lifting your hips off of him. But he was rough with you last night, and you still have the overly sensitive, swollen pussy to show for it, so you do. 

“I’m not accepting making out as an answer.” You mumble against his lips, stomach leaping when you feel him smiling into the kiss.

“Will you accept fucking against the mirror?” 

With a sigh, you sit in his lap once more (careful to steer clear of the bulge in his pants) and smack him lightly in the chest, a grin ruining the fake irritation on your face as he pulls air through his teeth, scrunching up his nose while bringing his hand to the spot you hit. 

“Ahhhhhhoooowwwwwwwwwwwwuhhhhhh.” He groans. “It hurts.” Lips curving downwards into a frown. 

“What are we doing today?” 

“Can’t.. speak.. too much.. ugh, too much pain.” 

“Sunghoon.”

“B-” he ‘struggles’ to get the word out, sighing dramatically. “-baby?” 

“What are we doing today?” 

“Need a kiss, I’m.. d- dying..” He trails off, head falling limp at his neck. 

The freshly twenty year old man in front of you is committed to his role, not moving until you kiss him better and as soon as your lips touch his chest his whole body jolts under you. “You’re incredible,” he grins. “You just saved my life, I .. I love you.”  

“Hoon, come on, what do you wanna do today?” 

“Ouch.” He scoffs, squinting his eyes at you briefly before speaking again. “I wanna take my girl to the markets, share an overpriced hot chocolate, and ruin her photos all day.” 

“Poor girl.”

-Unfortunately, you are the girl in question and after spending ten minutes trying to convince you to wear more layers, Sunghoon makes good on all of his promises and even sprinkles a few extras in the mix.

Like actually showing his pretty smile for some of the pictures, pretending to enjoy mulled wine, sitting still in the Ferris wheel and letting you cuddle into him, and, your favourite of them all, teaching you to skate. 

Or rather, holding your hand and not taking off across the packed rink every time you almost fell on your ass. Which was a lot of times. He even agreed to walk around until almost closing time when the rink was practically empty so you could watch him glide and twirl and leap across the ice with more balance and stability than he maintains when he walks.

The tiny smile on his face as he moved over the rink made your heart flip in your chest and you couldn’t hide your misery when the definitely underpaid teenage rink worker smacked her gum uninterestedly and told you that you had to leave. 

When you get back home, a mildly tired, and very cold, Sunghoon follows you to the bedroom, leaning against the doorframe as he watches you undress. In an order he finds unusual, your tights come off first followed by your skirt, all with your scarf still wrapped around your neck and your (his) jacket zipped up to the top. 

He doesn’t find it in him to complain when you (intentionally) turn around and bend over to pick the clothes up from the floor, your ass in full display – the sight barely obstructed by the tiny white thong he’d picked out for you to wear. Though it’s not long before that comes off too. 

“Oh, do you wanna shower first or should I?” You ask him as you start pulling your sweater off. 

His fingers are cold on your waist when he touches you, his free hand coming up to help you remove it. “Together.” He mumbles, pressing his lips to yours. “Please.” 

“Lead the way.” You barely manage to finish the sentence before Sunghoon lifts you off the floor, your legs wrapping around his waist as he walks you to the bathroom. 

From behind the shower’s glass you watch as he strips off at a maddening pace, the water heating up gradually as it hits the skin of your back, your nose scrunching up when it gets slightly hotter than what’s comfortable and Sunghoon laughs at the way you flinch before reaching to turn the temperature down.

At long last, he’s standing behind you with his chest pressed against your back, his hand resting on your hip as you let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding. Fingers sliding up to your waist, other hand coming from the opposite side. 

“Happy birthday, Hoon.” You whisper, head tipping back to rest against him at the feeling of his hand dipping between your thighs, bumping at your clit almost immediately. 

Thanks, love, he smiles (though his words get lost in the sounds of the room). 

“DId you get everything on your list?” 

Sunghoon’s cock twitches between your bodies at the implication behind your words, his hips grinding against you as he rubs at your slit. “Mm,” he hums, using two fingers to push you open. “Got everything I want right here.” 

You can’t tell if your stomach flips here because of your boyfriend’s sweet side making an appearance or because one of his thick digits presses down on your clit right when he speaks, though you know deep down it’s some combination of both.  

He pushes a third finger into your hole though he’s clearly impatient because he only curls them towards your belly button once, twi—There, oh my-Hoon!—ce and a third time before taking them out entirely. His hand is large on your back as he bends you over, mumbling an apology when you complain about the feeling of water in your eyes. 

And steering clear of the stream when he leans down to leave a kiss on your shoulder and then your neck. “Sorry, baby, really.” He tells you while you try to ignore the fact that you can hear the smile in his voice, his attempts at keeping his laughter to himself are futile as he chuckles a little next to your ear. 

The shower wall is freezing your nipples, your entire chest and cheek as you arch your back, pushing towards him as best you can. “So pretty.” He groans, more to himself as he lets his palm come down hard on your ass, holding it in his hand before using his thumb to trail the length of your pussy.

Starting at your clit and dragging upwards so slowly you can’t help but whine, a sigh of relief slipping out at the feeling of his finger dipping into you, and another whine comes out when he removes it. 

Thick and dripping wet, the head of his cock splits you apart with ease, both of you moaning in unison at the feeling of your walls wrapped around him, and the water beating against your skin only adds to the sensation; Sunghoon’s fingers push bruises into your hips as he thrusts in, and out, an-holy fuck, he groans. 

As good as it all feels, admittedly the water is a little distracting and with the way your knees start to buckle he can’t help but wonder if this is more of a saf–“Right there.”–ety hazard than anything else. Yeah, the water is super distracting as it slips, and puddles against the skin of your arched back and why has it taken him so long to have you like this? 

Your voice slices through his thoughts as your knees buckle once more and you belatedly react. “I’m gonna–” you try, cutting yourself off with a moan “–fall.” 

“You know I won’t let that happen, baby.” He mumbles, chuckling to himself at the way you whine when he pulls out of you. “Turn around.” He tells you, smiling when you obey. 

Sunghoon waits a beat, staring down at you with hearts in his eyes — trailing the span of your body, stuck on the way your chest heaves as you catch your breath, the water inching down to your perfect tits, slipping over your pretty, pebbled nipples.

His mouth goes dry for a moment, his cock painfully hard at the sight of you and as much as he wishes he could watch you forever he simply does not have the patience; as if drawn by a magnet, his hands find the curve of your ass, grabbing at it before uttering the word up and lifting you from the shower floor.

Even if you’d tried, you wouldn’t have been able to stop the moan that falls from your lips at the way his cock slips back into you like it was made to be there, your legs wrapped around his waist and your head falling into the crook of his neck — ruined (as always) by the feeling of being held up like this while he rolls his hips against yours, the water inching up towards your neck as Sunghoon steps closer and closer to the stream.

The first time your hole clenches around him, it happens so quickly and it’s so slight that he can barely tell if it happened or if he’s reached arousal to the point of delusi–Ohhh, my God, the second time it catches him so off guard that he almost chokes from the gasp that escapes him. And the third time might be the tightest he’s ever felt you as your walls stutter a little before holding onto him and milking him dry – rendering him completely speechless as he spills into you, filling you up just the way you like.

Everything is hot (including Sunghoon) when he cums in you, every single inch of your body feels like it's been set alight as you feel the familiar heat burning relentlessly in your stomach. Your toes start to curl behind his back and it’s getting more and more difficult to keep your eyes open as he rocks into you even faster, harder than before. 

The sound of you reaching your high, and your boyfriend trying to come down from his mixed with the steady rhythm of the water and the sound of his balls smacking your skin is a bit too much to bear. A choked sob bursts from your lips when his hand reaches between your bodies, his thumb attaching itself to your clit and pushing you right over the edge and into your orgasm. 

He holds your writhing body in his arms, trying desperately not to let the feeling of your walls fluttering around his cock as you cum all over him force him to cum again and he finds himself almost glad when you beg him to slow down, to stop, it’s too much. 

Lifting you up just enough for him to slip out, he lets his lips find yours before taking a few steps forwards to place both of you directly under the shower head. The stream coats you from head to toe as he kisses you, though you’re so breathless that you pull away almost immediately.

And your lips quirk up at the corners at the sight of Sunghoon trying to chase your kiss, his own mouth pushed into a pout when he fails to do so. “You’re so beautiful.” You tell him, struggling to keep the grin off your face.

His plump lips part to wrap around a breathy laugh, his head cocking to the side. “Are you just now noticing?”

©drunkjaked (2022) ALL RIGHTS RESERVED,

perm taglist: @chaersworld @5xiang @sunghoonmybeloved @yunskies

masterlist | other sunghoon fics

thank you so much for reading !!! i hope you guys enjoyed my last fic of the year, looking forward to the year ahead.. all my love and happy birthday once more to sweet sweet sunghoon <333

[dumdumsun]

To Nightfall

A/N: A sad chapter, my loves. There's one paragraph that could be particularly triggering, so I have it marked with bold arrows for those who don't want to read it to skip.

Warnings: ⚠️suicide⚠️, blood and gore, character death, alcohol, mentions of alcohol, blood and death/dying

Word Count: 6817

—————————————

Chapter 15: Wedding at the End of the World

It was a cataclysmic disaster of ember-turned homes and buildings, the survival rate of zero percent resulting in the extinction of man-kind for a third time. Outside the Hotel Obsidian, that is.

While everything and everyone was being sucked into the radiated black hole outside, the twelve survivors within the hotel were unaffected by the demolition. It was currently the only building left completely intact in the entire world. The Umbrella Academy and what was left of the Sparrow Academy sat together within one of the lounge rooms, quietly awaiting an answer or possibly an end to them as well.

“So,” Allison started. “How is it that we’re still here, but the whole of the universe is going down the cosmic shitter?”

Viktor shrugged from the chair he sat in. “Maybe we’re the last of it flushed.”

“Wasn’t talking to you.”

He rolled his eyes before Luther spoke up from where he sat cuddled up beside Sloane. “Hey, has anyone seen Klaus?”

Sloane looked up at him in realization. “Or Dad?”

“They’ll be here.” Diego answered.

“Really? Did they… hit traffic?” Ben sarcastically shrugged. “Look, people, we’re alive because we’re special, right? We’re the only ones who can save the universe.”

Allison raised her hand. “Uh, question.”

“Yes.”

“Didn’t we just try that and fail miserably?”

“Yeah, because his plan was stupid.” Diego cut in. “I got a better one.”

Ben rolled his eyes. “‘Course you do.”

“We go with the large hard-on particle accelerator. You guys do some science, and…” He clicked his tongue and mimicked the swing of a baseball bat. “...we launch the Kugelblitz into outer space. Didn’t think I knew that, did ya? It’s in Switzerland.”

“It’s ‘hadron’, not ‘hard-on’, ya moron!”

Lila turned herself around from her upside down position on her chair to look at Ben. “Oi! At least he’s trying, you shitty little squid. What have you contributed?”

“Actually,” Diego pointed at him. “He did blow up half his family.”

“Oh, you wanna talk about family problems?” He moved up to Diego. “You know what should have blown up is your face on that neck!”

“I wish I had a cake to hit you with it in your face!”

They switched to the Korean and Spanish language to continue arguing before Five cut them off out of irritation. “Hey!” He shouted. “You guys done? The universe is disappearing outside. So, you can keep rearranging the deck chairs of the Titanic if it makes you feel better. But the fact remains that we are too late.”

Everyone in the room scoffed at his words. Never had they ever heard of Five giving up on the end of the world. He always had some sort of solution to a dead-end, to a life-threatening situation. The sound of him accepting their fate didn’t sit well with any of them.

“Five, come on.” Luther chuckled, hoping his brother was joking.

“It’s over, Luther. We failed.”

Viktor sat up. “Come on. It can’t be over over.”

“Yeah, come on, Five. We gotta figure this out, man.” Diego agreed.

“Okay.” He nodded. “How about we take a step back? Look at the big picture here. Most of us have spent the last twenty-eight days trying to stop the world from ending. What exactly have we accomplished?”

They all looked down, vocals unnecessary for the true answer, though Luther saw fit to try anyway. “Well,” He smiled down at Sloane. “We made some friends along the way.”

“Incorrect! You know what we’ve done? Nothing. We made things worse every single time. It was exactly what (Y/N) was trying to tell me and I didn’t listen to her.” He sighed, shaking his head. “Look, when I went to the Commission, I had a conversation with my hundred-year-old self. And my last words were, ‘Don’t save the world’.”

“‘Don’t save the world’?”

“‘Don’t save the world’.”

Diego waved his hand in dismissal. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Is it?” Luther narrowed his eyes. “Well, whatever we’re doing’s not working. All we ever do is save the world for a day, pat ourselves on the back, and then everything goes to shit again.”

“Yeah, maybe we’re the problem.” Viktor shrugged.

“Oh, yeah,” Allison scoffed. “Us.”

“So, wait.” Lila looked up at Five. “Your big plan is… no plan?”

Five pointed at her. “Exactly. Conscientious objection. Why the hell not? We’ve tried everything else.” His eyes roamed over everyone’s dreadful faces. “Look, maybe this is just what the universe needs. I say, embrace the apocalypse. See what’s on the other side.”

“What if it’s… nothing?” Sloane quietly asked.

“Then it’s been nice knowing you all. Whatever’s on your bucket list, I recommend you do that now.”

Five gulped, a terrible feeling in his gut. He didn’t truly want to believe that this would be one of the last moments with his family. He spent almost his entire life trying to save them and now it proved itself to be fruitless. Five finally solved his life-time equation he had been pondering. The likelihood of saving any and everyone was less to none. With a defeated sigh, he sat down. Luther and Sloane silently shared a smile before the former spoke up.

“Well, on that… super happy note, we’ve um…” He glanced at Sloane for a moment before they giddily laughed and stood. “Oh, what the hell. We’ve, uh, got a little announcement to make.”

“We’re engaged!” They cheered in unison, Sloane holding up a hand where a ring sat on her finger.

“Kill me, Jesus…”

“Idiots…”

“Now?”

Luther held a hand up to get them to hear him out. “Yeah. Look, we realize the timing is less than ideal. But obviously, it’s now or never. Am I right, Five?”

“Don’t drag me into this, please.”

His smile fell as Sloane spoke up. “What… Whatever time we have left, we wanna spend it with all of you. So, we’re super pumped if you would join us in the banquet hall at six p.m. for a celebration of our love, and the official union of what’s left of our two great families.”

Luther held his smiling fiance tight as he nodded. “Dress code is creative black tie.”

Meanwhile in a hotel room a floor above them all, Umbrella (Y/N), now dressed in a grey button up tucked into a pair of black cargo shorts, hurried inside with a glass of water in her hand. She walked up to Sparrow (Y/N), now dressed in a black crop top with buckle straps and black cargo pants, and held the glass out to her.

“Here. You need to drink this.”

“No, I-” The woman clutched her head in her hands and shut her eyes. “No, I can’t right now.”

“(Y/N), you’ve been hyperventilating in intervals for the past two hours. You’re dehydrated. Drink this water.”

At that, the Sparrow quickly turned to her and took the glass from her, mechanically gulping the entire thing down without a second to lose. Once she’d drained it, she blinked rapidly and twisted her bracelet on her wrist. Umbrella (Y/N) frowned and took the glass back as she watched her idly stand there, as if she wasn’t having a panic attack just a second ago.

“(Y/N)?”

“Y-Yes?”

“What is your obsession with that bracelet?”

Sparrow (Y/N) snapped her head up, brows raised and eyes wide. “Bracelet?” She quickly let go of it. “This old thing? I don’t have an obsession with it. W-What are you… No, stop it!!!” She screamed and backed away when the girl reached out for the accessory. Umbrella (Y/N) her hands up in defense.

“Okay… I’m sorry. I just don’t understand. Why do you care so much about it? It’s just a bracelet.”

“No, i-it’s my…” She cradled her wrist. “It’s my lifesource.”

The young girl’s shoulders slumped at that. “(Y/N), come on…”

“It’s true!”

“That thing is not your ‘lifesource’. You know what that is?” She inched closer to her. “That is yet another crazy thought implanted in your mind by your abusive siblings. You can’t keep letting them have this hold over you, (Y/N).”

The Sparrow sniffled. “You don’t understand… All of my siblings are dying a-and nothing makes sense right now. But this is the only thing that does. This- This bracelet, I’ve always had it. I’ve never taken it off. If I do, I die.”

“Well, what about it is keeping you alive?”

She shook her head frantically. “I don’t- I don’t know…”

“That’s the problem, (Y/N). They didn’t even bother to tell you why exactly you need to wear that thing all the time. Removing that bracelet is one step closer to healing yourself.” She softly smiled. “I promise.”

Hesitantly, Sparrow (Y/N) slipped her white beaded bracelet off of her wrist, her shaking hand setting it into her double’s palm. Umbrella (Y/N) smiled down at it and closed her hand around it. “See? And nothing happ… ened…”

Her words trailed off when she looked up, finding the light in the Sparrow’s eyes snuffed out. Her gaze was far away now, staring at the empty space before her. Her limbs that were once trembling were now stiff and unmoving. She looked like a soldier, like a…

“Clone…” Umbrella (Y/N) whispered as her head spun. “You’re a clone.”

Sparrow (Y/N) straightened, her face crumpling at those words. She looked to be in complete anguish as her shaking hands slowly reached up towards her abdomen. As soon as her nails sunk into her skin, her knees buckled and Umbrella (Y/N) rushed to catch her. She carefully lowered herself until she was sitting on the floor, her double resting between her legs with her head against her thigh. She was self-destructing.

“O-Oh, god…” The Sparrow sniveled as her blood dribbled down her skin. “I-I…”

“No.” The Umbrella sobbed. “N-No, don’t talk. Please… Please, j-just-”

“I-Is this gonna hurt, (Y/N)?” She cried. “Am I gonna die? I-Is it gonna hurt…?”

“I’m so sorry… I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I didn’t know, I’m so sorry…”

The Sparrow grunted as her flesh tore, blood oozing and collecting in both of their clothes. More blood seeped from her mouth as she threw her head back and looked up at her younger self, who was bawling her eyes out. “Hey… it’s okay. Don’t- Aah! D-Don’t worry about me, you little shit…” She smiled. “(Y/N), I need you to listen to me.”

Umbrella (Y/N) cried even harder as she watched the woman rip her stomach open even more.

“Listen to me. Are- A-Are you listening?”

“I’m listening…” She croaked out.

“Find me. The real me. Find her, okay? Y-You nee- need to pro-o- promise me.”

“I-I promise…”

Sparrow (Y/N) smiled just a tad wider and reached a bloody hand up, gently caressing the girl’s face with it. “I love you, little sister.” She choked as tears fell down her face. “You were the best part of me.”

The Umbrella nodded her head and tearfully smiled as well. “I love you, too…”

The hand on her face slowly slid away, leaving a handprint on her cheek before it traveled back down to the Sparrow’s body. She cried out in pain as she unwillingly tore her skin apart, blood splattering all throughout the room. (Y/N)’s body shook with screamed sobs as she held her close, petting her hair as she slowly died in her arms.

She tried to think of better times. Their shopping spree, their ice cream date. She thought of getting their nails done together and the way they freed each other through a simple haircut. She thought of exploring different parts of her, not the (Y/N) who bowed to her siblings’ every command, but the passionate and witty one who she learned to love. A part of her she didn’t know she needed until coming face-to-face with her.

(Y/N) had learned not only a different kind of love from her, but a different kind of loss.

When the screams decrescendoed to silence, she slowly opened her eyes, bile rushing to her throat at the mess of blood and organs that was left of such an amazing person. Her face was mangled beyond recognition and her blood stained (Y/N)’s hair and skin and clothes. For a long while, she could do nothing but stare in silent horror at the remains of what she had just witnessed.

Her glossy eyes stay trained on the shadow the remains had formed into, the black mass slinking its way out of the room. It was going to its source.

Quickly standing, (Y/N) stumbled down the halls, following the shadow as it practically flew across the floor. Soon, she didn’t need to follow it, for her sudden itchiness and sweats grew the closer she got to her destination. She viciously scratched at the itch on her shoulder as she entered the room her symptoms worsened in.

In the corner of her and Five’s room sat a huddled figure. They were in all black attire, knees pulled to their chest and arms covering their head. (Y/N) clenched her teeth against the sudden urge to punch this person in their mouth and slowly approached them. “Hey,” She tried to soothe the growl in her voice. “Are you okay?”

The true Sparrow (Y/N) snapped her head up, tears falling from her frightened (e/c) eyes. Every part of her body was trembling and her lip quivered with her frown. As soon as she set her sights on Umbrella (Y/N), her gaze turned venomous against her will. “It’s you…”

“Yeah,” The girl crouched beside her, wincing at the force she used to fight against her symptoms. “You- You might be feeling really weird right now, and it’s hard to explain. You might feel the need to kill me right now.”

“I-I do, actually.”

“And I’m asking that you don’t. Look, I wanna help you, okay? But in order for me to do that, we have to be nice to each other. No matter how crazy we feel right now.”

Sparrow (Y/N) sniffled, tears welling up in her eyes. Her eyes that were sunken in with dark circles underneath. Whatever energy she once had seemed to be drained from her body because she looked too weak to move. Her current position resembled a wounded animal in need of rescue. The way her eyes darted everywhere in the room as if she were looking for a quick exit told it all.

“I just… I don’t wanna be here.” She quietly cried, wiping away the sweat on her forehead.

Umbrella (Y/N) got to her feet and reached a hand out to her. “Okay, well… Where do you wanna go?”

The Sparrow looked up at her with big eyes, hesitancy clear on her face. Nevertheless, she took hold of the girl’s hand and wobbly stood. Wordlessly, she let go and slogged out of the room, slamming into a wall. She could hardly hold herself up.

The Umbrella hurried out of the room and let the woman lean her weight against her. As Sparrow (Y/N) led them through halls, the two silently endured their worsening symptoms. The flatulence was slightly embarrassing for the both of them, but they continued on anyway. Neither voiced it, but they were utterly parched, unable to produce any saliva to hold them over for now. And neither of them said it, but they were drowning in paranoid thoughts.

Was this a trap? What if she was leading her to some sort of torture chamber? What if she truly were trying to murder her? Would she be able to fight her off? No one would find her dead body, would they?

Why was there a tiny version of her? What did she want? Was she going to kill her? She couldn’t let that happen. She better think of a plan to take her down before she gets to her.

They both tried their best to push away these thoughts, but every time they popped a bubble, a new one would form, obscuring their vision from any common sense. It was the influence of the paradox psychosis, and they couldn’t give into the fiery rage they felt towards each other.

Umbrella (Y/N) looked up when she noticed they were heading straight for a certain room at the end of the hall. The White Buffalo Suite. She started to wonder what was so important to the Sparrow about this room, but right as they reached the door, the woman sharply turned to the wall beside the room. With a sniffle, Sparrow (Y/N) pressed her palm into the wall, a door forming and opening.

“What the hell is this?” The Umbrella asked as the Sparrow leaned away from her.

“A panic room.” She whispered.

“Why, though?”

“In case I… woke up.”

“I don’t understand-” Before she could go after her, Sparrow (Y/N) darted into the room and slammed the door shut. Umbrella (Y/N) pushed on the knobless door to force her way in, but it wouldn’t budge. “(Y/N)! What’s going on?”

She received no answer, so she pressed her back against the wall and slid to the floor. In silence, she waited for her double to exit the room. Everything in the past fifteen minutes had been such a blur and yet she remembered it so clearly. (Y/N) watched herself die in the most gruesome way possible.

What was the point of her true Sparrow self projecting her consciousness into a clone for so long? Was it something she decided to start doing? Was it against her will? Did she even know what she was doing? She would have to undergo much questioning in order to sort this all out.

(Y/N) flinched at the sound of a muffled bang and thud, and quickly turned to the hidden door. “(Y/N)?” She called out, knocking on the door. “You okay in there?”

No answer.

“(Y/N)...?”

At another knock, the door opened, granting her access. Stepping inside, she noticed that the room was devoid of any furniture aside from a table in the middle along with a chair. She quickly cupped her hand over her mouth to hold back the bile rapidly shooting up her throat at the sight before her.

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

Sparrow (Y/N) was sat at the table, her body slumped over with her head resting against it. Her arm was lying on the table as well, a handgun in her limp grasp. Her eyes were still wide open as blood leaked from the wound in her head, trailing down her face and pooling onto the table beside her head.

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

(Y/N) tried to shake herself out of the state of horror she was in as she slowly approached the body, a shaky hand reaching out and taking the gun. When she checked it, she saw that there were no more bullets. She wondered whether or not it was always like that, if it was meant to be like that. (Y/N) couldn’t imagine what this woman went through. To constantly project herself into something that wasn’t entirely her. She knew what that was like.

Whenever she operated behind the eyes of her clones, she never truly felt herself. It was like working in a box, a box where you could never see quite right or hear the same. Even food tasted off. But to do it without a moment to take a step back into her own mind could have driven her to insanity.

Maybe that was what triggered this. She had been torturing herself for so long. And for what? What was the purpose of this? It didn’t make any sense and frankly, it pissed (Y/N) off. Because she knew that no version of herself would ever do this to their own mind. She had to have been forced to do this.

And (Y/N) only had one idea of who it could have been.

She needed to tell her family. She needed to tell Ben and Sloane. With a shaky inhale, she gently closed her double’s eyelids and left the room, the door closing behind her. (Y/N) shut her eyes to force her tears back, the quiet sob escaping through her lips failing her. At this point, she was barely holding herself together. What she had witnessed back-to-back in such a short amount of time had her head reeling and her body stumbling into walls as she hurried to the elevator.

When the doors opened, (Y/N) slowly stepped out. In the room before her, she saw her family all talking to each other. Sloane and Luther looked to be passing around something, everyone staring at the items in curiosity once they got one. She had a fleeting thought that wondered what it was, but it went away as soon as she set her sights on the person standing beside Klaus in the room.

Sir Reginald Hargreeves.

“You!”

Everyone turned to the source of the scream, their eyes widening at their sister, covered in blood and rushing up to them with a savage look in her eyes, the fire within them crackling and snapping the closer she got. Sloane held out whatever item she had to the girl, but she ignored it and headed straight for Reginald. Before anyone could do or say anything, (Y/N) landed a blinding right hook to his face. Gasps rang throughout the room as he stumbled, Klaus holding him upright.

Five wrapped both arms around her middle as he pulled her back. She didn’t even budge as her eyes glued themselves to the man who called himself her father, holding his cheek as he stared at her in complete and utter shock.

“HOW COULD YOU?!” She wildly thrashed against Five’s hold. “HOW COULD YOU?!”

Diego ran up to her and helped his brother hold her back when she almost freed herself. “(Y/N). (Y/N), calm down-”

“YOU TORTURED YOUR FUCKING DAUGHTER?! YOU FUCK- YOU FUCKING LOCKED HER UP?!” She continued to holler her lungs out as Reginald straightened himself. “YOU FORCED HER TO PROJECT CLONE AFTER CLONE AFTER CLONE?!”

“(Y/N)-”

“YOU BUILT HER A FUCKING PANIC ROOM TO KILL HERSELF IN?! WHAT THE FUCK?!”

Reginald slowly shook his head and reached a hand out. “You must understand, my child. She was severely-”

“I’M GONNA FUCKING KILL YOU!”

(Y/N) broke out of their hold and rushed up to him. Her hand swiped at him and she managed to slash her manicured fingernails across his cheek before Diego and Five grabbed her again, forcing her to the ground.

“No!!! Let me go! Let me go!!!”

Diego snapped his head up. “Klaus, get him out of here!”

“Right.” Klaus nodded and grabbed hold of Reginald’s arm, dragging him out of the room. “Luther, Sloane. Oh, my god. I’m beyond thrilled. You guys are gorgeous. Amazing. Send me your registry!”

As soon as they were gone, Diego and Five let go of (Y/N), allowing her to slump over, her brows touching the floor as she tried to bring herself back. She was losing it. She was slipping, she could feel it. Her grief and her anger were boiling over and she couldn’t keep up with it all.

(Y/N) felt all eyes on her as a hand rubbed her back. She quietly sobbed into her hands, a crumpled mess on the ground as they all glanced at each other, wondering what to do. None of them had ever seen her go off like that. She was always the calm and collected one. No one could have angered her to such a degree.

Five reached down and tilted her head up, cradling her bloodied face in his hands. His thumbs swiped her tears away, smearing some blood along with it, but he couldn’t stand to see her cry. Her eyes were so distant, stuck in whatever moment it was that broke her. Her shoulders shook with the force of the sobs building up in her.

“Come on,” He whispered, helping his wife to her feet. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

(Y/N) dragged her feet across the carpet as she let Five lead her out of the room. She couldn’t bear the looks she received. Her family looked so frightened of her. She had never done anything like this, she had never gotten that angry. Now that she finally did and now that everyone saw it, she felt even worse for not biting her tongue.

She turned her head to Sloane, who was still frozen in her spot, the item she was trying to give her still in her hand. (Y/N) gently took it from her, her hand gently cradling the small jar in her palm. It was beautifully decorated with some kind of stuffing inside. Behind the small tissue paper bows was beautiful calligraphy inviting her to a wedding. A wedding for Sloane and Luther.

She was so happy for them.

“Congratulations.” She cried before walking away with Five.

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

“Am I gonna die?”

(Y/N) shut her eyes tighter, wanting to squint the image out of her head.

“I-Is it gonna hurt…?”

Her heart slammed in her chest with the hammering beats.

“I love you, little sister.”

A voice above called to her. “Come back now.”

“You were the best part of me.”

“Come back up, (Y/N).”

Two hands assisted her out of the water and in an upright position in the tub. The water she sat in was red with the blood washed away from her skin, but she didn’t mind. She was glad to have it off of her. She didn’t speak for awhile as she let Five continue to scrub her skin in the otherwise silent spa. No one else was in there since everyone else on earth had been wiped out. Five had forbidden anyone from entering while he was taking care of her.

“You wanna talk about it?” He asked, slicking her hair back.

She shook her head.

“Okay,” He nodded and went back to cleaning her. “That was some shot you took at Dad. I think you’re the first out of all of us to do something like that.”

“He deserved it,” She rasped, eyes remaining on the sloshing water. “He forced her into insanity. She was… She was living her life through something that looked like her, but would never truly be her. And when she was back, she didn’t even wanna be here. As soon as I gave her the chance, she-”

Five stopped and leaned his head against hers and she broke out into sobs, gently running his hand up and down her bare back. He let her air out her emotions for a while as he placed gentle kisses to her shoulder. Other than that, he didn’t know what else to do. He wished he could just snap his fingers and fix everything, but he knew more than anyone that it took more than wishful thinking to fix a broken soul.

“I know… I know.” He whispered into her ear. “I know it sounds off-putting, but you need to let yourself relax. You’ve been through a lot in a short amount of time. Maybe the wedding will… take your mind off of it. Just for a bit.”

He was trying to find a silver lining. She always did it for him, it was the very least he could do for her. As Five began washing her hair in order to get all the blood out, his heart broke at her quiet cries. (Y/N) didn’t deserve any of this, and he wanted nothing more than to take all of her problems away. She just needed someone to talk to. He knew she was no good on her own in a time of distress.

“Maybe I should stay with you until the wedding.”

“No, no.” She looked up, gently wrapping a hand around his wrist. “Go to the bachelor party. Luther needs support.”

“Are you sure? You’ll be okay?”

She nodded. “I can even go and help Sloane. I know how nerve-wracking a wedding can be for the bride, and she doesn’t have any of her sisters. She needs someone with her.”

Five gently kissed her cheek, in awe at her kindness to others even in her worst moments. He constantly questioned himself with how he got so lucky. Once she was all clean, he carefully stood her up and wrapped one of the hotel’s robes around her body, leading her out of the spa.

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

Within another room sat Sloane in a silk robe, quietly sewing up her wedding dress. She didn’t mind the solitude, it was what she was used to growing up. Though, she had wished she could share this moment with her sisters. It was what any other bride would do. But there weren’t any other brides left in the world, one of the many things that made her different from the rest of them.

Suddenly, Ben walked into the room, heading straight for the sink in the corner. “So, it’s official. My ears are broken, and the idiot with the knives really can’t sing.”

“Diego. You know his name is Diego.”

“Oh, whatever.” He sighed and walked about the room as Sloane continued with her task.

“Maybe you should try and bce nice to him and the others.”

“And why would I do that?”

She looked up at him. “As much as I’d love to work out your anger issues right now, I have to get back to this. The wedding is in an hour.”

Ben narrowed his eyes at her. “Fei is dead.”

“Yeah. I know. And so are the others.”

“Oh, so that’s it? What about (Y/N), huh? What about her?!”

Sloane’s heart shattered at the crack in Ben’s voice and at the mention of her sister. In all honesty, that was all she had been thinking about besides the wedding. “I loved (Y/N), Ben. Just as much as you did. Just as much as you still do.”

“It doesn’t look like it. You’re turning your back on the Sparrow Academy. I mean, you heard Dad. We have training to do. Something big is about to go down.”

“I wish you were talking about my wedding.”

Ben sharply inhaled and walked up to his sister, sitting down across from her. “Sloane, listen to me-”

“No,” She placed both her hands over his. “You listen to me. I’m sorry they didn’t invite you to the bachelor party.”

He scoffed and shook his head. “I don’t… I don’t care about that.”

“Yes, you do.” She spoke a little softer. “You care more about being invited to the bachelor party than you do Fei or the others. Maybe not more than (Y/N), but more than saving the world.”

Ben nervously chuckled as he tried to form a lie out of his mouth, a lie that would convince both her and himself. “That… That’s… That’s crazy.”

“Is it? You and I, we’ve never been alone. It’s always been the eight of us. Now it’s just you. So, congratulations, Ben. You’re finally Number One… of one.”

His eyes didn’t stray away from the chair she stood from, making her way over to the vanity on the other side of the room. “I’m a Sparrow, and so are you.”

“Not anymore.”

At that, he stood. “What’s so damn special about them, anyway?”

She turned to him. “They’re a real family. They don’t exist to sell action figures and tote bags.”

“We were more than that.”

“Were we?” She watched as his face fell. “Why is it so important for you to be a Sparrow?”

Ben turned and walked out of the room, but just before he was gone, he muttered something Sloane almost missed.

“Because I have nothing else.”

Once again, she was left alone to contemplate. Now she really wished someone were here with her. As if on cue, there was a very quiet knock on the door followed by an equally quiet voice. “Delivery for the bride.”

“You can come in.”

(Y/N) stepped inside, still in her robe, but with a small stereo in one hand and two wine glasses in the other, a bottle of wine tucked into her arm. When Sloane turned to her, she smiled in appreciation and fondness. “Uh- The guys are having a party, so why can’t the girls, right?” She tried a smile.

Sloane nodded with a giggle and went to help her, taking the glasses and stereo from her. After setting everything down, (Y/N) turned the stereo on to play jazz music. She quietly filled their glasses and handed one to Sloane, who gladly accepted it. A sort of awkward silence settled between them as (Y/N) watched Sloane work on her dress. She was trying. She was trying to keep it together, trying to keep herself busy so she wouldn’t have to think about-

“Thank you for being with her… when it happened…”

(Y/N) cringed inwardly and nodded. “I… I wish I knew it was going to happen. So, I could’ve saved her.”

Sloane looked away. “How… did it all happen?”

She shut her eyes.

“I’m sorry. You don’t have to talk about it.”

She shook her head. “N-No, I need to. Plus, you deserve to know,” She opened her eyes, noticing that Sloane was having a bit of trouble with the needle, so she reached over and took it into her hand, fixing it for her as she thought of what to say. Mentioning the gruesome death of the clone was unnecessary, so she skipped over that entire ordeal. “She was scared. She didn’t understand anything. All she’s known is a… a trance, and an occasional meal. She wanted out.”

Sloane sniffled at the thought of her sister in such a whiplash state of mind. She felt so guilty, even in her last moments, they weren’t there for her like they should’ve been. Just as a tear fell from her eye, (Y/N) reached out and wiped it away with a soft smile.

“Hey… I know what it’s like to lose a sibling. I lost my Ben in my timeline and… we all blamed ourselves for so long. Luckily for me, I had a seance of a brother and was able to talk to him, but it was never the same. He always told me that it wasn’t my fault, that he was just happy to see me. I’m sure, if we could see her right now, she’d just be happy to see you.”

“You really think so? After everything?”

“Of course, Sloane. She loved all of you so much… She’d do anything for you. She’d be in this seat, drinking wine and listening to slow jazz with you before your wedding. And she’d be so proud of you.”

Sloane smiled and giggled with a smile, more tears rushing down her face. “I hope she forgave me. I love her so much…”

“She loves you, too. I promise,” (Y/N) leaned away and let Sloane continue as she lifted her glass to her lips. “You know, I was married before Five. My wedding day was so special to me… I’m happy you get to feel this, too.”

With a grin, Sloane took a sip of her wine. “It’s been one hell of a ride to get here.”

“Tell me about it. I still can’t believe this is happening to Luther.” (Y/N) chuckled. “You know, growing up, I wasn’t the biggest fan of him.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah. Couldn’t stand him. I mean, he was One and I was Eight. We were raised to compete against each other the most. Then it followed us into adulthood.”

“I’m so sorry…”

(Y/N) waved it off. “It’s alright. We’re much better now. We went through too much to let bullshit parenting affect us. I’d take a blade to the chest for him, no hesitation, which is something I’d never say as a kid… Anyway, I’m proud of him for finding someone like you. You guys deserve each other.”

Sloane stood from her seat and pulled (Y/N) with her, bringing her into a tight hug. She reciprocated the affection, her heart warming. As Sloane got dressed, (Y/N) put her bouquet together. It wasn’t anything grand, but they didn’t need grand. They were making the best of what they had.

An idea sparking, she let her fingers graze the stem of the flower, pulling up another one from it. Thank you, (Y/N), she thought as she continued the process with every other flower until there was a much bigger bouquet to put together. Finishing up, she set the beautiful and bountiful bouquet back down before getting ready herself.

She found it ironic that her dress was red. She had just rid herself of the dreadful color from her skin and her hair. The dress was the only one she could find on short notice that was her size and fit their “creative black tie” dress code. It was beautiful, nonetheless, velvet and tea length with a v-neckline and no sleeves. Something to make her feel gorgeous without pulling out all the stops. After applying a bit of makeup, she picked up the flowers and walked up to Sloane.

“You look amazing.” The girl softly smiled. Sloane grinned and turned to her. It was true, Sloane looked stunning. Her dress was nothing grand, but she still managed to look like an angel in it.

“Thank you. And you look beautiful,” She tilted her head. “Is that… her bracelet?”

(Y/N) placed a hand over the white beaded bracelet she had kept and handed the bouquet to Sloane. “Y-Yeah… It has no effect on me, and it’s the only thing of her I have left.”

At Sloane’s sorrowful smile, (Y/N) pulled a duplicate from the bracelet and gently put it on the woman’s wrist. “There. So we can both have a piece of her.”

The two of them clasped hands, smiling warmly at each other. Sloane’s heart was so full. This (Y/N) reminded her so much of her own in ways that she hadn’t even thought of. Past all her sister’s flaws was just someone who loved her family. A family that would never admit they loved her as well. That was one of the differences between the two (Y/N)s. One was loved and the other wasn’t. It was how they turned out to be completely different people, but the parts that mattered were the constant in her.

“Thank you for everything, (Y/N).” She whispered with teary eyes. “You’ve done more than I could have ever asked you for. I know it’s last minute, but I would be… so honored… if you would stand with me as my maid of honor.”

(Y/N)’s smile widened as she nodded. “I would be honored to be your maid of honor.”

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

The elevator doors opened, revealing the decorated banquet hall. The tables and chairs set up were enough to seat a much larger wedding, the lights gave the room a lively glow and the chandeliers above were such an odd contrast to the disco ball hanging above the dancefloor the tables surrounded. Everyone stepped into the room, some in awe and some indifferent, but all in very nice attire.

“Not sure this place is gonna be big enough.” Klaus sarcastically spoke.

“This better be an open bar.” Allison sighed out.

Lila encouragingly smiled at her. “Hey, come on. It’s for Luther. Let’s perk up.” She turned to get a better look at the room, voicing her astonishment. The ding of the elevator sounded, Luther and Viktor walking out, the former fretting over his appearance.

“I don’t know. Normally, my tush looks good.”

“No, it’s-”

“Ah,” Allison’s tone dripped with sarcasm as soon as Viktor neared her vicinity. “I see you’ve gone for the oversized button-down. Original.”

Viktor was quick to retort. “You do realize there’s no paparazzi here, right?”

“What? Dang it.”

Luther shushed them, interrupting their small argument. “Listen to me, you two. This is my day, alright? So, if you two can just get along for a couple of hours, you can consider that my wedding gift.”

“Well, he started it, so-”

“You literally just started it-”

“Bah, bah, bah!” He shushed them again. “My day. Two hours. Do you think you can manage that?”

Just as they agreed, the elevator dinged again, the doors opening to reveal Sloane, arm-in-arm with (Y/N). All eyes were on the bride, staring in amazement, Luther’s stare full of every ingredient for an unconditional love. The only one looking at (Y/N) was Five, matching his brother’s love-sick expression. Ben rolled his eyes at the scene.

“Let’s get this over with before I die of cringe.”

—————————————

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[havenbsinclair]

With a shake of her head, Haven laughed. “I’m pretty easy to please.” she admitted, offering him a small smile. “You may be lucky enough to figure that out one day.” she winked, looking at the other and offering him a small smile. Getting to know Julian over the course of the last several months has been more than she’d ever expected, but she loved every minute of it. It was new; she hadn’t dated anyone to this extreme since she was in college and met Zachariah, and while it scared her, she knew that this was different. Julian was just as invested in her as she was him, and while things were never certain - there was never a guarantee that things would be this good tomorrow as it was today - she couldn’t let herself hide behind that fear anymore. She was ready for whatever happened moving forward. “I like to think I’m good at hiding it.” she shrugged. “I can’t say that I was making it obvious; I don’t know though. I’ve been told I’m hard to read, but, I’ll let you be the judge of that.” she laughed. Something about the innocent and ‘secretive’ persona that Haven had often times been told she had was something she tried to continue throughout her relationships; she didn’t want to waste her time letting someone into the deepest parts of her if it wasn’t going to work out, so, she saved them for the important people, and thankfully much to Haven’s surprise Julian had walked right into her life like he’d belonged there the whole time. “But, just know that I’m excited for wherever this journey takes us.” she shrugged, letting the comment roll off her tongue as if to hide that she was being really cheesy right now. When he offered himself as someone for her to shout at, she shook her head. “I don’t think I ever could.” she admitted. “I’m not much of a shouter anyways, but, I don’t see you doing much to piss me off for at least a good while.” she admitted, more so speaking for the first time that she thought that Julian would do nearly anything she asked him to, even if it was come over so she could stare at him. “But thank you. It feels nice. To have someone to call when I just need the comfort of someone’s voice.” she laughed. “Officially now.” she repeated, letting herself look at Julian for a moment. This all still felt surreal. His movements that brought him closer to her made her smile, and she nodded in response to him stating he’d already packed as he lifted her chin and she let her eyes close once his lips were pressed against hers. This was probably her favorite part; kissing Julian made her heart flutter a little bit more every time. “I want you here, I just promised my sister in law I’d be back, and I’m not one to break promises.” she admitted. “I’ll see you when you get back though, yeah?” she sighed. “And of course if you want to see me before that you know where I am.” she laughed. “But I do need to finish packing, so I should leave you be, or at least watch you walk to your car.” she playfully winked before she kissed him again softly. “Let me know when you make it home, alright?” she asked, which she knew was a silly question, but, it was one that she asked anyone in her close friends or family; Julian was no different. Though, at this point she’d already taken a few steps towards her front door, her arms crossed as she felt the distance from Julian already. “Oh, and Julian?” she smiled. “Feels pretty damn good to be official.” she winked, opening the door and letting it close behind her. @julianxheywood

THE END

"That easy huh? I don't buy it, you're saying this to throw me off." Julian snickered, giving her a suspicious look, yet that didn't mean he wasn't going to try it out one day and see what would happen. Still, it sounded like the kind of thing he was undoubtedly going to do anyway without expecting anything in return. There was nothing sexier than a confident woman, and boosting that confidence with a kiss and compliment was something he was rather good at. "Cheeky. Normally I'm better in picking up social cues." This time he had his own uncertainties getting in the way. He was no stranger to picking someone up, flirt his way into their graces and have a good time, but with her he was actually concerned about staying in her good graces and respecting her foremost that made him doubt. The last thing he had wanted to do was cross that bridge and have her feel uncomfortable. So her making that first move had been refreshing, and for once it had been surprising too. He wasn't used to it. "Good. Because I meant it when I said I would show up whenever you need me to. Even if it is for just my company or to rant or if you need someone to shout at. You got me.. Officially now." He let out a laugh at what she offered to him, giving her a cheesy grin along with the shake of his head. "Careful. I might come to expect those things all the time." He realised he was probably overdoing it, offering to take her on trips and doing things. He realised in hindsight that taking her across the world had been big too, but for him it was normal, it was a small expense on his behalf. He wasn't sure if was off put by it or not, he hoped she would tell him if she was, even if it was his way to show appreciation to someone, especially a girlfriend, he'd pay attention to it. He watched her with a smile as she named reasons for him not to go inside, waiting for her to finish and let out a short chuckle at the end, his hands now lowered to his sides. "I get the hint, you're kicking me to the curb already, and all of that in ten minutes of us being official, that's a record." He joked, taking a step closer again so he could take her hand. Guess he couldn't keep off of her after all. "All of my things are already packed, I'm nothing if not efficient. But I can go, I am rather distracting." Julian spoke, lifting his other hand to pinch her chin between his finger and thumb, lifting it slightly upwards so his lips could meet hers, gently and patient, resting them there for a few heartbeats before he leaned back, taking in her features and savouring the moment, as if mentally taking a picture. "You're unfair, Miss Sinclair. And very distracting." @havenbsinclair

[yoongsisbae]

Bon Voyage: Into the Sea - Chapter 3

BTS fantasy AU. OT7 x reader. werewolf!Namjoon x werewolf!Hoseok x werewolf!Jungkook x siren!Yoongi x vampire!Jimin x vampire!Jin x whatis?Taehyung. This is the "vampire chapter" :'D

Thank you for all the love on this random nightmarish story lol. This extra update is for all the readers who made it my most popular post! Thank you! <3 Also this is my contribution to the start of the spooky season :D

Warnings: Hi, remember when I said this was horror? This chapter in particular is pretty horrific, you have been warned! blood, fighting between m/w, blood, graphic violence, blood, imprisonment, blood, blood, blood, minor character death, vampires doing vampire things including noncon blood drinking, human imprisonment, mind manipulation, stockholm syndrome, dubious consent, slut shaming, anal, degradation, foursome, orgasm control, orgasm denial, what a ride, you must be over 18 to ride this ride, scary scary scary

Word Count: 22k

---

“Scared, y/n?” Jimin’s face sends you a wicked smile.

You look back and forth between the men, uttering an unconvincing “No.”

Seokjin speaks again, “You should be.”

---

‘So did you get the answers you are looking for?’ You sit up, jolted out of your sleep, Hoseok’s words echoed softly in your mind.

Seokjin moved so fast, his striking face in front of you in an instant, his red eyes centimeters from yours, delicate lips curving into a smile over his fangs as water splayed around where he stood. That was the last thing you remember.

He smiled down at you sweetly and held you by the neck, putting pressure on your vein until you passed out. It all happened so fast your scream remained halted until this moment. The response came out of you abruptly, as fleeting as the memory.

And now where the hell were you? It looked like the room of an old bed and breakfast; large bed, writing desk, love seat, high windows; but to your captors the breakfast on the menu was you.

The first thing you notice is how the curtains are drawn together blocking the sunlight, but you know it’s there, just out of reach, as evidenced by the small line of light that trails its top edge. The room you found yourself in was dark, from the wallpaper to the furniture, the stillness unsettling, you listened as your own rapid breathing filled the silence.

You were seated right in the middle of a king size bed. They left you atop the cleanly-made white bed sheets, a treat placed in the center of a platter. You shiver, your clothes still remained damp from the night before, cold and stuck to your skin. That is why you shiver, you tell yourself, because you don’t hear them, but you feel them...watching you...

You build up enough courage to scan the room, and that’s when you see two pairs of red orbs staring back at you from the corners’ shadows, glowing in the darkness. Eyes of beasts, watching you, studying you.

You try not to react, not show your captors how scared you are, but every mechanism in your body betrays you, and the pair immediately pick up on your rapidly beating heart, the sweat on your brows, your unsteady breathing-

“Good morning, y/n,” Seokjin says, walking out of the shadows. Jimin stays hidden, but you can hear his soft laughter.

Those answers you wanted, where are they?

Seokjin slowly moves to the edge of the bed. “It seems like our friends have taken quite an interest with you and I want to find out why. Is that okay?”

You purse your lips, keeping your eyes trained on the thin strip of light showing at the top of the window curtains. You sit in silence. Has your breathing always been this loud? The shaking of Seokjin’s legs, a sign of his growing impatience, rattles the bed and your resolve.

He clasps his hands together, finally saying “If you don’t want to speak to me,” he leans in slightly and whispers the rest, “I can always let Jimin pry information out of you, but I don’t think you’d appreciate that very much.”

The pounding of your heart and the uneasiness in the pit of your stomach makes you feel like you’re going to become sick at any minute, but you manage to form a coherent sentence to ask him, “What do you want to know?”

“First, I want your permission to find out,” he speaks softly, placing a gentle hand on your calf, but you flinch away anyways. That’s a loaded question if you ever heard one. You wonder if it’s all an act, the same way Jimin fooled you. You stay silent.

Seokjin sighs again, looking over his shoulder, “Jimin?”

“No!” you yell. “Not Jimin! You...you, okay I give you permission.”

“Thank you, y/n.” He smiles, “I’ll be gentle.”

You yelp. Seokjin’s cold hand travels down your leg, wraps around your ankle and pulls you down the bed closer to his body, and in an instant his lean frame is hovering over yours. This close, his beauty is intimidating alone, but his eyes feel like they are piercing through you, digging inside, seeing all the ugly secrets you try to hide from even yourself, you feel like you could catch fire the way his gaze burns you.

He holds you down loosely by the neck, fingers searching for a pulsing vein, eyes focused on you with the concentration of a doctor performing surgery. Seokjin wipes away the tears that begin spilling from your eyes and smirks, “Don’t cry Dove, I promise this time will be the least pain you’ll experience from now on.” His words are devoid of any real sympathy, a false comfort, a looming warning.

You consider fighting back, but in this position there is no way you would be able to reach for your dagger (hidden away in a secret pocket in the front of your corset) without Seokjin stopping you, and even if you were lucky enough, there’s still Jimin, waiting in the shadows.

So you choose to wait, and try to find comfort in Seokjin’s twisted words. It could be worse. A tiny voice inside you reminds you it will become worse. You’ll just have to escape before then. You take a deep steadying breath, preparing yourself.

Don’t cry.

Seokjin’s lips latch onto your neck, soft and full as he rolls his tongue harshly over your pulse point. Goosebumps bloom across your body, and you try to focus on the sunlight rather than the vampire above you and his overwhelming aura, that sliver of light that you pray won’t dim.

This could be worse. This could be more painful. This could be Jimin.

Seokjin can feel the jumping of your pulse against his tongue. The vampire wants to know your story, what is it about you that riled Jimin up more than he’s ever seen him. But with your sweet scent enveloping him and the cocktail of emotions Seokjin’s keen senses could smell: fear and anger and mounting arousal, you smelled better to him than the finest wine and he can’t stop himself from teasing you a little longer, drink it in just a bit more and savor the moment.

Seokjin still understood the importance of ‘living’ in the present, he enjoyed taking his time with things. Others would have gone mad by now with the infinite amount of time, but not Seokjin, he used it to his advantage. Your warm body, your addicting smell, the softness and saltiness of your skin, the shifts in your breathing, Seokjin took his time to savor the gifts of life that he still missed.

You try not to react to his sensual touches, tensing your body under him, until you feel two sharp pricks on the surface of your skin. Your reaction is involuntary, you grip the bedsheets with your fists and let out a soft cry, moving against him. His bite hurt for only a second, like a pin prick, but Seokjin in his precision had nicked an artery for optimum bloodshed. With each gasp of breath you take, with each pounding beat of your heart, you feel your blood drain as it escapes the punctures in your neck and into Seokjin’s waiting mouth.

Seokjin groans against your skin, sending fire through your veins, pressing himself harder into your body. The vampire is better at keeping his physical responses to blood drinking at bay than Jimin, but he hasn’t had a new taste in awhile, and you’re so responsive.

When he pulls away from you you reach to cover your neck and stop the blood, a reflex in an attempt to save your own life, but Seokjin grabs your wrists before you can, pinning you to the bed, studying, his red gaze challenging you.

You gasp as the blood rushes out down your neck, over the sheets, seeping into your clothes. ‘They’ll underestimate you...’ Yoongi’s words replay in your mind and you stay still. No matter how much you want to fight back, this time you have to be smarter, you have to believe in Yoongi’s words.

Jimin has stayed quiet for this long, staying in the shadows, but your whimpers and grunts of pain are music to Jimin’s ears, the blood pouring from your body like an offering to him. His groans can be heard from the shadows.

He holds himself back for now, waiting for his turn. Jimin wonders where all that fight went, he had expected a show, for you to thrash away from the older vampire like you did the merman. He can’t help but feel a little disappointed. When it’s his turn, he thinks, you’ll become more entertaining then.

You watched in silence as Seokjin licked his lips clean of your blood. The red liquid that he had stolen from you, that was now steadily seeping from your wound and covering the white bedsheets underneath you, like a Rorschach picture mapping your life. “You’re strong,” he grins, speaking too tenderly for the brutality he was inflicting. “Stop fighting and it will end sooner, y/n. Let me into your mind.”

What does that even mean?! In your blood loss the tips of your fingers begin to feel cold like your captor’s, your head pounds and your vision blurs with each passing moment as the blood drains from your artery, you don’t want to give in, but if it will end this torture...

You shut your eyes tightly, and turn your head to expose your bleeding neck further to the monster above you. When Seokjin lowers his lips to your neck, you try to think of sweet Jungkook instead, his warm body instead of Seokjin’s cold one. You didn’t dare wish to be with him again, you didn’t dare think you made a mistake, that you should have stayed. Now all you can do is hope you can save him and yourself from this horrible island. Jungkook doesn’t deserve to be imprisoned with the likes of them.

Seokjin drinks the warm liquid pouring from your throat. You listen to him gulping down your blood, How much longer, until he finds what he’s looking for? You feel your fight escape you with each swallow, you feel yourself slipping away. It reminds you of drowning, it reminds you of Yoongi and how he kissed life into you instead, but this was the kiss of death.

‘Yoongi,’ you close your eyes and think of him. And then you felt it, the pull inside your mind. Your current circumstance falls away in shambles, your memories are pulled out of you through the cracks, the images race through your mind as Seokjin bears witness to it all.

---

Yoongi sits at the table, hair and clothes dry, turning his head to see you awake.

The relief that softens his features as he’s walking to your side.

The delicate way he places the hairpiece back in its place.

The way his eyes melt at your words.

Why hadn’t you seen it before? Seokjin saw it all. The way Yoongi screams at you, the rage and embarrassment in his eyes as he tells you how much he can’t stand you, the way he licks his lips when you yell back. His eyes studying you when you yank him closer, full of anger and full of-

You weakly push against Seokjin, you don’t want to remember, you don’t want to miss him. You can’t stop it, you can’t stop the memories flooding through your system.

You suddenly remember Jungkook’s sparkling round eyes watching you, wanting you, the crinkle of his nose when he laughs, the pink flush on the edges of his ears when you talk to him, the muscles of his arms flexing as he cages you under him, his deep groaning in your ear, the vein in his neck when he pushes into your wet heat, the truth in his voice when he says he’ll protect you.

You feel Seokjin’s hands travel down your body the same way you remembered Jungkook. You curse him in your mind, but your body couldn’t tell the difference, your stomach tightens and you’re no longer cold, warmth spreads over you to the tips of your toes.

You want to scream, scream for Jungkook, but you’re frozen, lost in your own thoughts, confused by your senses. Jungkook feels as real as Seokjin, but you know he’s not really there, no matter how much you wanted it to be true.

You remember Hoseok’s harsh looks, the growing anger in his eyes, the hurt in his eyes, the pain in his eyes, the pain still present in his eyes even in his wolf form when he howls and cries at you. He’s begging you to stay, he’s telling you he can’t bear to lose someone again. How could you leave them? Why can’t they be enough for you? Hoseok will treat you better, if you just stay with him, please. You understand his barks and howls now, because Seokjin understands. Tears well up in your eyes and you try to move away, but Seokjin is too solid, too powerful, and unyielding in his search.

Namjoon’s eyes are on you as you eat next to his brothers at dinner, filled with nothing but warmth and happiness. Those brown eyes, you miss them. You feel dizzy and helpless, you can’t take it anymore. You grab a fistful of Seokjin’s hair to try to pull him off of you.

“What have you done to Jimin? What have you done?!” Namjoon’s voice roars in your memory. But it’s not any memory you remember having. Before you realize what you are doing, your hands hold on tightly to Seokjin’s hair, pulling him closer and holding him to you so you can see more.

---

“It-It wasn’t me...” The tall vampire is covered in blood. Some of it is Jimin’s blood, yes, but the majority of blood that drips down his face and hands, that covers his clothes, belongs to five other men. Dead men. Men who beat the broken man in his arms to the brink of death.

Seokjin found his dear friend screaming in pain. He saw them over Jimin’s bleeding body, blood Seokjin treasured just as much as he treasured his bond with the compassionate and playful man. His friend, Jimin, who wailed for Seokin, for Namjoon, for Hoseok, for Taehyung, for anyone to help him, while his bones cracked, lying in the dirt, choking on his own blood, precious blood.

Seokjin explained to Namjoon when he saw them laughing, like hyenas over a carcass, spitting hateful slurs down at Jimin, he couldn’t control himself. Seokjin tore them apart one by one. He chased each one down like the pathetic animals they were, and tore the limbs that touched his dear friend straight from their bodies.

Seokjin had been weak, he had become too accustomed to the harmonious life he and Namjoon had created for themselves. Had it been decades before, he would have endured, but living with the pack had softened him too much and he couldn’t stand the pain of losing Jimin, so when he found a weak pulse he gave Jimin as much of his venomous blood as he could.

Namjoon simply nods at the information, his weary eyes examining his two friends, friends who were like family to him. He didn’t want to lose Jimin either. “We need to take him somewhere safe...to the island, before he wakes up,” Namjoon places a hand on the trembling vampire’s shoulder.

“What if he doesn’t wake up?” the vampire’s voice shakes, he notices the cuts on Jimin’s face and body have yet to heal themselves.

“That’s not something you should be worried about,” Namjoon runs his hand through Jimin’s tangled hair, gently placing the dark strands back into place, his eyes filling with tears, “it’s when he wakes up, we need to make sure he doesn’t hurt anyone.”

Seokjin nods weakly.

“Go now. I’ll clean up the mess, brother.”

Your hands fall, the blood loss making you too weak to grip onto Seokjin’s hair. Seokjin had taken more blood than he intended, lost in his own memories.

The vampire pulls away from you, even as the edges of your vision blurs, you see his eyes, glowing red and glassy with unshed tears, staring at you with a mixture of pain and surprise. He shakes away his bewilderment and rips into the flesh of his wrist, placing the cut across your lips as you can no longer hold consciousness.

---

When you wake again it’s night time, the light behind the curtains has left you.

Your body aches. You run your fingers along your neck, searching for the punctures, and you can only feel smooth skin crusted in dried blood. Your head feels like it’s splitting. You groan in pain.

You see Jimin before you hear him, and even then you’re not sure if your brain created the sounds to ease your mind as he stalks closer to your waking form.

“Finally! Now what could you have possibly done to Jin?” Jimin says, contemplating the reason his friend holed himself up in his office, refusing to speak to Jimin or even look at him.

He jumps on the bed, shaking your already pounding head. “He refuses to let me bite you,” he whines, “Explain now, pet.” Jimin prods you with his foot. “Explain what memory of yours Seokjin pulled.”

You just groan back, turning away from Jimin, burying your head into the cold pillows of your bed, one of the few things not soaked in your blood. Everything is so cold you can’t stand it. Jimin places a hand on your shoulder to make you face him. Cold fingers touch your skin, everything is cold.

“Don’t touch me!” you pull away from him, yelling.

Your face stings. Jimin had slapped you hard, you come to the realization only after the fact, the skin he touched burns hot. It makes you laugh, because you wanted warmth, didn’t you?

Jimin’s eyes narrow on you, “Say that again, I dare you.”

You bite back tears and ask, “What the fuck happened to you?!”

“So you’re back to being a disrespectful brat. You’re not on the same level as me, human. Learn to behave.”

“No! What happened to you to make you so heartless? What changed you?” How did the bleeding man you saw Namjoon cry over in Seokjin’s memories become this monster? He was human at one point too, you wouldn’t have believed it if you didn’t see it for yourself.

Jimin rolls his eyes, “Don’t act like you know anything about me, bitch.”

You take a deep breath trying to calm your temper. Not only had you seen Seokjin’s memories, you had felt his emotions. His pain lingers in you still, beside the fear and hatred you feel, you look at Jimin and feel...sorry for him. You have to look down, the emotions are too much and too overwhelming. It was easier when all you knew was the monster before you. Jimin takes your silence as obedience instead.

“Now can you be a good little pet and answer my question,” he says, tapping you on the head hard enough to make your headache roar back to life. You flinch and search the eyes of the man before you. Or rather the shell of a man, you think bitterly.

And what a beautiful shell it is. Jimin is stunning, bright white hair pulled away and styled so you can see the delicate features of his face. He holds himself gracefully, like a dancer, his elegant figure hiding his true strength. You wonder what he was like before turning into a monster, what kind of man was he? Someone whom Namjoon cared for.

“It wasn’t my memory...you. I saw you…” You whisper, knowing Jimin’s sharp senses can hear you loud and clear, “I saw Seokjin turn you.” Silence falls over the room again, a silence so deafening you start to hear the pounding in your head becoming louder.

The vampire stares at you, soft features stoic. He looked lost in thought, you pictured his face full of cuts, bloody lip, black eye, human, and Seokjin so unsure, scared, worried, trembling, so unlike themselves now.

“How did he turn me?” It surprised you how genuine Jimin’s question sounded. Did he really not know?

You keep your mouth shut, you don’t think it would be wise on your part to tell him. Jimin seems like the type to shoot the messenger. Unfortunately, unlike Seokjin, Jimin had little to no patience. His expression changes like lightning, full of anger. He pulls you by the hair dragging you off the bed and onto the floor.

The vampire crouches over you and grabs your face, holding you down to the wood floor, pressing his sharp nails into the skin of your cheeks making you yell.

“Ahh there’s your voice! Tell me.”

“Why don’t you ask Seokjin?!”

“But I rather you just do as I say,” he says playfully, as his fingers dig harder into your skin, cutting the flesh and drawing blood.

“Why don’t you just bite me, then?!” You spit the words out through clenched teeth.

You watch the vampire lick his lower bottom lip, thinking it over briefly as he pulls your face closer to his, you struggle against his painful grip. “How impetuous...” he watches you squirm like an insect stuck in glue. “You’re rather dumb, aren’t you?”

Should you reach for your dagger now? Should you try to kill Jimin?

Every time you thought about hurting him, you remembered Seokjin’s crying face, and you wanted to cry as well, what was happening to you?

“Jimin, leave us.” Jin stands in the doorway to your room.

Jimin stands up in a huff, letting you go. You fall back onto the hardwood floor. He balances on his heels, ignoring you and scrutinizing Seokjin. He wanted to question the older vampire, he has so many questions now, but decides against it. What does it matter anyways? The idea of being a weak and powerless human revolts him. “I’m getting impatient,” he says before he leaves, slamming the door and making you jump.

“T-thank y-you.” You try to calm your breathing.

Seokjin looks at you with a frown, extending his hand out to you. You hesitate and place your hand in his and he easily lifts you to your feet. You watch the older vampire walk slowly around the room, drawing his fingers along the furniture he passes. You stand awkwardly, you don’t think making a run for it would gain you any favors right now.

“I’m hungry,” Seokjin says. He doesn’t even look at you when he says it, continuing to meander around the room, waiting for your response.

You clench your jaw. So this is what you’ve been reduced to, you think, a late night snack. “Are you going to just keep me trapped in this room? I’m hungry too, I haven’t eaten anything-”

“Dinner's already passed. Before I let you go roaming around, I need to make sure you’re going to behave yourself, do you understand?”

No, you don’t understand at all. It sounds like he’s going to starve you into subservience, and you have to get out of this room, you have to find the portal.

“I will do as you say...please...” you walk over to where he’s standing, trying your best to seem meek. “I’m starving,” you reason, “I’m sure you know how it feels to hunger for something” you say, turning your head to stare at the windows, curtains now open to the night sky, extending your neck to the vampire. His eyes are pulled to your attention, following the lines of your shoulder. You roll your neck, loosening the stiff muscles, moving close enough to him that your chest bumps into his. You look up into Seokjin’s eyes through your lashes, “I-I will behave.”

Seokjin smiles, bringing his head down into the curve of your neck, lips skirting across the skin. Your fingers reach up to caress the back of his head. You can see the pair of you in the bedroom mirror. Another myth proven wrong, you think, as you study your seduction, how his lean frame bends closer to yours, his arms wrapping around the lower part of your back.

In truth, Seokjin wasn’t hungry. He had taken more than enough blood from you this morning already, but Seokjin wanted to see if lightning could strike twice. Never had the pull been so strong for him that a human had been able to enter his memories, not even when Jimin was alive. He needed to learn more.

Seokjin licks your face, tongue tracing the cuts Jimin’s nails left behind. You hold your breath, trying to act like you enjoyed it. You hated it, you wished you could stick Yoongi’s dagger into Seokjin’s cold dead heart and be done with it already.

Seokjin trails kisses back to the place he bit you before. He keeps kissing your sensitive skin until his lips reach your ear and he whispers, “I’m not Jungkook, little Dove, you’ll have to do better than that.”

You stumble backwards but it’s too late, Seokjin already has you in his clutches.

He pulls you into a tight embrace, walking you backward even more. His bite is precise, you suspect perfectly precise to where he bit you this morning. Your arms are locked tightly in between your bodies as he holds you to him.

Thunder roars in your memory, you feel yourself drowning. Your muscles ached, your lungs burned. You feel Yoongi’s hand on your ankle, pulling down, hand on your waist, pulling down, hand on your neck, pulling you closer, his lips on your lips-

You cry and yell against Seokjin’s grasp. Cold turns to warmth as you see Namjoon, Jungkook, and Hoseok laughing around the firepit, and Seokjin, and Jimin, laughing too. Yoongi sits with a calm expression on his face, his lips curved upward, and a man you don’t recognize sits next to him-

Seokjin yanks his mouth away from you and you fall backward, back hitting the bed while you struggle to breath. You cover the holes on your neck with your palm to stop the rushing blood.

“How?” is all Seokjin can say, shaken by the happy memory that even he had forgotten about.

You stare up at the high ceiling dazed and too weak to move, “Do I...” you can feel the blood spill between the gaps of your fingers, “look...” you gasp, “like a vampire expert...to you?”

Seokjin moves to the window, his back to you. He watches the waning moon and lets his mind wander to his old friends. If they were off the island, he could see a scenario where you and he would meet at a bar, laugh over drinks, but the ending would always be the same. “You look,” he looks over his shoulder at you, “like you could use a drink,” his lips curving into a half smile.

“Are you,” you gasp, “offering?”

He walks over to you slowly, bringing his wrist to his mouth, and then extends the sliced skin to your mouth, waiting expectantly.

You take his offering bitterly, gulping down the metallic liquid, the wounds burn like fire as they heal over. The pain is nothing like you’ve ever experienced before. You shut your eyes tightly, you want to cry, or scream, but like Namjoon said, no one can help you here. You feel fingers intertwine with your bloody fingers, pulling your bloodied hand away as you weakly protest. The room spins, even if your wounds are healed, your blood is still gone and you’re feeling the effects of two feedings.

Seokjin brings your hand to his lips and licks away the blood, tongue circling your fingers. “This can hurt or it can feel good,” he says slowly.

You laugh, delirious from hunger and blood loss. “I wonder, that memory,” you gasp, still laughing, “does it bother you to be reminded of your humanity? Does it hurt you?”

You probably shouldn’t have said that, but the blood loss is doing funny things to you, or maybe you just really wanted to get a reaction from the guarded man, no, guarded vampire.

If your accusation angered Seokjin he didn’t show it with any emotion, instead he sighed and bent over you, biting down hard on your shoulder. The searing pain makes you scream. You cry out, not expecting the sharp and throbbing kind of ache from his bite as Seokjin’s teeth stayed deep in your flesh.

Seokjin pulls another memory out of you, and you curse your luck in remembering Jungkook again, remembering his tanned and muscled body next to yours. Jungkook kissing your knuckles and telling you how he’s yours now. Jungkook kissing down your body. His head between your legs, his mouth feverishly licking at your folds. The more you try not to think about him the stronger the memories feel. The pain in your shoulder dulls as your legs tighten around the vampire's sides.

Perhaps it was your bloodloss mixed with Seokjin’s bloodlust seeping into your consciousness, the memory of Jungkook’s length buried deep inside you and feeling of Seokjin’s growing bulge pressed against your stomach makes your head spin and you just want to feel more. You hear Namjoon’s deep authoritative voice whispering dirty things in your ear, it makes you shudder, a moan escapes your throat-

Seokjin pulls away from you abruptly at that, his eyes are deep red, so dark they look black. He watches as your body twitch in pain, as he focuses on calming the storm of human emotions, your emotions, running through him, as he tries to forget the compromising memory of his old friend. He bites down on his bottom lip until he draws blood, his blood mixing with your own blood in his mouth, and he presses his lips on yours.

You realized how passionate Yoongi’s kisses were compared to Seokjin’s. The merman was distant, but his actions were full of feeling, whether they be good or bad. Seokjin was cold in body and mind, a hard shell, you felt like you were kissing a statue as you choked on his blood, the liquid metallic and sweet.

You can feel the punctures in your skin closing, it hurts so much worse than when he bit you, you distract yourself by licking into his mouth, feeling his tongue against yours.

Seokjin jumps off of you the second your wounds are healed and leaves without saying a word. You can hear the door lock in your daze.

You scoff, what was up with him, you wonder, dining and dashing like that. The blood loss has you quickly falling asleep despite wanting to use the time alone to plan your escape.

---

They both leave you alone all day until night again. You wake up hungry and weak. When Seokjin wordlessly stalks towards you that night you tell him so.

“I still can’t trust you to play well with others.”

“I need food! I need to eat! I am not a goddamn vampire like you! I can’t survive off your blood!” You throw your pillow at him. Should you have done that? Probably not, but you’re too hungry to care.

Seokjin pauses, looks at the floor where the pillow lays at his feet after coming in contact with his chest. “I’ll bring you food later tonight, now lie down, I’m hungry too.”

Ugh.

---

There were so very little things now that intrigued Seokjin, and this connection had become a mystery he wanted to solve. The strength of his pull on you was so intense it had become almost addicting to feel for Seokjin.

A vampire's pull had always been one-sided, but this pull acted like a wave, crashing onto the shore of your consciousness, pulling back and forth, dragging his memories along the current too.

Promised food, you comply, lying down against your better judgement. You glare at him as he lies next to you, and he smooths your furrowed features with his fingers instead of matching your anger. It makes you feel self conscious, the way he watches you with searching eyes. “Well? What are you waiting for?”

“So demanding, do you want me to bite you that badly?”

Is he teasing you? “No. I don’t. At all!”

“Okay then.” he lies back down, his arms underneath his head.

You sit up to look down at him. “Is this a joke?”

“I’ll wait, I don’t mind. I can wait for days, the question is can you?”

If you tried to stab him now he would definitely be able to stop you. Too bad. “I think I can’t stand you.”

“You barely know me!”

“I’ve seen enough,” you scoff.

“I’ve lived a long time,” Seokjin says, serious again, “you don’t care to see more? Who I really am?”

“Who are you?”

“Let me bite you and find out,” he winks.

'Well, he seems to be in a better mood,' you think. You wonder why he is even bothering to ask you, you’re his prisoner, after all. “So this is not just about feeding anymore?”

“I’m a vampire, of course it is.”

You sigh, you’re hungry and tired from blood loss. “Okay, bite me, but choose some place else,” you rub the sensitive spot on your neck and shiver. “NOT THERE!”

Seokjin stops pushing your legs open. “But there is an artery in your leg-”

Your face goes hot, you shove your wrist in his face. “Here then!” He sighs and lies back down again, pulling you over his body easily. You sit awkwardly against his lap as you watch his fangs prick your inner wrist. The blood loss this time wasn’t so bad, but it still made your weak body sway, your free hand bracing yourself against his chest.

He does the same thing to you again, pulls memories of your life. You saw memories from before the boat wreck to your childhood, and you saw glimpses of Seokjin’s life as well. You learned at one point in his very long life he stopped being a complete monster and became a part time bartender.

For decades he moved from taverns, to pubs, to bars. The perfect career, and as his beautiful looks were admired everywhere he went, he was never short of meal options. You woke in the morning and you laid on clean sheets, there was water for you and bread and butter and jam, an apricot and an apple, food not found on an island. The portal.

Tonight. This night you will be ready for Seokjin. You quickly realized you weren’t just remembering with Seokjin, you were feeling, and he was feeling too. If you could distract him well enough with a memory, you think you’d be able to escape!

---

Tonight Jimin walks into your room instead.

“Where’s Seokjin?”

“You didn’t miss me?” He holds a pear in his hand, throwing it up in the air and catching it easily. “He is busy, the others were feeling neglected by him-”

“There are others? Other humans?!”

Jimin smirks at your wide eyes. “Yes, pet, did you think you were special?” You swallow, keeping your questions to yourself. So Seokjin really meant it when he talked about playing well with others. Who were they and how long have they been here? Could some of them be your friends? Maybe you weren’t the only survivor on your boat! More humans, more people to help you fight against Seokjin and Jimin, if you could just meet them and somehow convince them...

Jimin heard your accelerating heartbeat, could see the happiness dance across your features. “What ever you are thinking, I suggest against it. Actually, go ahead and try, I haven’t punished anyone in so long.”

“Are you going to bite me or not?”

“Oh, so now you’re eager for it, it’s always the same.”

“Still not allowed, huh? Must suck to be you. Ha! Get it?”

“Do you think you’re being cute? Jin said I can’t bite you, he didn’t say anything about not hurting you.” Jimin throws the pear in the air again, “What? No clever retort?”

“I don’t know about Seokjin,” you speak softly, “but you used to be human, why do you act like this?” You watch as Jimin drops the pear on the ground and steps on the fruit with his feet. You bite your lip. What a waste. You consider pulling out your dagger just for that.

“Being human?” Jimin runs a hand through his hair, “I don’t remember anything about that. I can’t imagine being so weak and foolish.”

“You really don’t remember?” You look at the pear, squished into a pulp. “Can you do what Seokjin does, with the memories?”

“What makes you think I want to learn about your pathetic life?”

“No,” You idiot. You sigh. “But maybe you want to learn about your pathetic life?”

You scream, Jimin’s nails were digging into your skull, a handful of your hair in his fists. “Call me pathetic again,” he threatens lowly.

“Pathetic,” you say bearing your teeth. Jimin smiles, because in that moment you reminded him of someone. He’s going to enjoy breaking the bones of your body and watching your limbs reassemble again. He grabs your forearm, pulling your arm closer to your face. You wince as his grip tightens, struggling against his tight hold on your hair. “Call me pathetic again,” he sings, his eyes sparkling with delight.

You weigh your options in that moment.

“Seokjin!” you scream.

Jimin laughs, tightening his grip even more so you are sure to have bruises, “Do you think he really cares about what happens to you?”

“Jimin was a regular at your bar! Wasn’t he?!” You had seen the younger vampire, only briefly, you barely recognized him with dark hair, but you knew it was Jimin the way you felt your own heart soar when Seokjin glanced at him for the first time.

You screamed louder than you’ve ever heard yourself, making the vampire wince at your volume, because in that moment Jimin snapped the bone in your forearm. “Even if you don’t remember,” you cry, mumbling out the words through your pain, “you were human. Just. Like. Me.”

Jimin grabs your upper arm this time, and squirm in his hold. You start to cry harder despite trying to hold the tears in. The door to your room slams open. Seokjin looks furious when he steps towards the both of you.

“Jimin leave!"

“What?” The white haired vampire loosens his grip, but stands his ground. Seokjin doesn’t speak again, only gives him a look, and Jimin relents, breaking his stare with several blinks and releasing you. The younger vampire can’t hide his emotions as well as Seokjin and you see the hurt twist his beautiful features.

You sit on the ground grimacing in pain, holding your broken arm to your chest. Outside your room you hear the familiar crash of glass and scrape of wood and you suspect Jimin is not taking Seokjin’s orders well. Seokjin looks much more unhinged than you ever recall seeing him and then impassiveness washes over his face again, much to your disappointment.

“He is usually not like this. He can go months without drinking blood, it seems my ban has just made him all the more obsessed with you,” he sighs.

“Greeat,” you wince, “Lift the ban then, might as well.” If you were being honest with yourself, you were curious what would happen if Jimin bit you. Maybe then he wouldn’t despise you so much.

“The ban is not to protect you, naive little dove.” He sits down on the floor next to you. You find the sight comical, Seokjin in an expensive suit sitting on the dusty floor.

You roll your eyes. Of course. “You care a lot about him,” you whisper softly. He nods. You turn to him, “Do you remember why you started caring? Do you think who he is now still acts in the same way that made you care so much for him?”

“You think I’m a fool?” he laughs softly, “I know Jimin’s...lost his way...” You sit in silence as you struggle to take your mind off the pain in your arm. “For us, time, is infinite. This is only a small stretch of time compared to what I’ve been through. Jimin will come back around, I know it.”

“Well I think he’s a lost cause,” you mumble.

“He’s not, no one is...This is going to hurt a lot, if you don’t mind, I can make it quick.” His hand traces your jaw and turns your head to face him, eyes glancing towards your lips.

“Am I going to have to get used to this, you fixing the pain he causes-”

“Am I going to have to get used to you both provoking each other all the time?”

You bite your lip, he started it, it’s not your fault he freaks out over every little thing you say. You change the subject. “Are there really other prisoners here? Other humans like me?”

Seokjin tuts disapprovingly, “House guests, y/n! They can stop being in service to us whenever they want, we provide them all with a choice.”

“Oh, and what are the options, be your personal feeding supply or die?”

“Ahh see, you catch on quickly, and Jimin calls you stupid.”

Your eyes narrow on him, “Not much of a choice there.”

Seokjin leans into you, “it comforts them, when they think they have some control. You know, you would all be at the bottom of the ocean if it weren’t for us.”

You pull your legs closer to your body, it’s hard to look at him, much less listen to the disturbing things he says, “Why are you telling me this? Am I supposed to be grateful?” You shuffle your body, trying to get comfortable despite the throbbing pain of your broken arm.

“Perhaps,” he scrutinizes your body, “At least don’t provoke Jimin. Ready?”

You hum, “Yeah, I’m ready for my medicine, Doctor.”

He looks down, nodding. “No anesthesia for this surgery I’m afraid.”

He motions you closer, bites into his wrist and fills his mouth with his own blood. You’re careful not to jostle your arm too much as you move in front of him. His long fingers hold your head still as he presses his mouth onto yours, feeding you his blood. Even when you scream in pain he holds you to him as your bone readjusts itself and heals back together, your body in excruciating agony. He holds you tightly, his mouth swallowing your screams until the process is complete, until you pass out in his arms.

---

You wake up to clanging silver. The light feels warm on your face, and then you feel nothing as the curtains are drawn. You open your eyes, ready to protest.

“Oh my god!”

The woman before you jumps at your words. “Your breakfast,” she motions to the tray.

“You're real, oh my god, it’s true! Help me! Please, we can escape together!” The woman stumbles away from you as you desperately try to hold on to her.

“What?” Why is she looking at you like that? Why is she acting like that?! She pushes you away as she opens the door. You’re too stunned, too hurt by this stranger who you thought could help you to question her when she says, “There is no escape.” She closes the door, locking you inside. What just happened?!

Now that you’re alone again you search the room from top to bottom, desperate now that you’ve realized you’re up against so much more. All the drawers are empty, not even a pen and paper in the desk. The window opens but that doesn’t help you because you’re several floors up. The bathroom has running water and the prettiest bathtub you’ve ever seen, so you give up and spend the day soaking yourself, in your clothes. The dress floating and surrounding you reminded you of a certain man, well, merman. No one visits you that night.

The day repeats itself six times. You try different approaches to try and convince the older woman to help you and every time she refuses or ignores you completely.

You don’t get it, you don’t understand, and her behavior disturbs you. You had asked her, “Don’t you want to see your friends and family again?! Do you have children? Or a spouse?” Her answer was, “I don’t think so.”

‘I don’t think so.’ She couldn’t tell you how long she’d been here either. The implication scared you.

You sit at the door, your ear to the wood all day. Sometimes you’ll hear footsteps, you know it’s not Jimin or Seokjin, because they don’t make any noise when they walk. Sometimes you yell and bang on the door waiting for a response that never comes.

One day you yanked down the drapery, opened the window completely letting all the sunshine in, and soaked it in like a cat. Before you woke up the next morning everything had been set back the way it was. It was maddening.

So one day you flooded the bathroom, just to see if anyone would come to stop you. They didn’t and the next morning the tub was gone. You cried all night.

For six nights you’re alone. The fifth night you dig into your dress pockets to find the tiny shell Yoongi gifted you. You tap it three times and wait, holding it to your ear.

“Y/n?” His groggy voice fills the sea noise. You can’t bring yourself to speak, or you would really break down. Hearing his voice was enough.

---

Before the sun sets on the seventh night there is a knock on your door. You’re already so close to the entrance you can hear the soft click as it unlocks and you swing the door open to see Jimin.

He smiled down at you, a picture of sin. The young vampire wore casual loose-fitting clothes, shirt hanging over his shoulders. He dresses so relaxed, so opposite to Seokjin, who wore his shirts buttoned up to the collar. All you wanted to do all day was talk to someone, be heard, but with Jimin here you feel like an animal cornered in a trap, and you want to hide.

He gives you a cocky smile and drapes his arm over your shoulders, dragging you back into the room. “Look at you! Perfectly fine, Seokjin always overreacts,” he whines, “I’m tired of waiting. I can trust you not to tell on me, right pet?”

The vampire presses himself against your back and wraps his arms around your waist, locking you to him, chin digging into your shoulder. You stand frozen against him, Jimin is excellent at making sure you feel like you’re trapped and powerless when you’re around him.

His nuzzles your neck, lovingly like a lover would, inhaling your scent. You craved human contact, but this man isn’t exactly human now, is he? Your stomach turns as the familiar feeling of fear bubbles inside you.

“And if I don’t?” you whisper, and his grip tightens around you.

“You tell me, what do you think will happen, if you don’t?” he mumbles against your neck, teeth grazing your skin and he moans softly. He wrapped himself around your body, caressing your curves, it confused you at how affectionate he was being, or was he just a snake constricting his prey?

Your stomach tightens, you were stronger than this, right? A week in time out didn’t work on you, right? You couldn’t stop the sounds escaping your lips every time Jimin shifted against you. You blame Seokjin’s fondness for him that must have rubbed off on you. You try to step away but Jimin pulls you in closer.

“I thought I was a disgusting human, are you the one who missed me, Jimin?” You ask him softly.

“There are things about you that are only barely revolting, I guess.” He can feel the shift in your mood as annoyance bristles through your body, it makes him smile. You are so defiant for being so scared, it makes him want to break you even more.

You’re scared, but deep down there was a part of you too curious for your own good, that just wanted Jimin to bite you, just to see why and what Seokjin was protecting him from. It would only be to your advantage, if that was the case, right? You stretch your neck to the side slightly to see what Jimin’s reaction would be. His fingers dig into your hips. “What’s this?” Oh no.

Jimin pulls the shell hidden inside your pocket. You grab at his hands, but he’s too fast, dancing around you as he pushes you away, pushing you to the ground.

Somehow you always end up here on the floor, at Jimin’s feet, probably exactly where the vampire thinks you should be. You’ve never seen him more excited, it twists your insides.

Jimin’s cold fingers inspect the tiny shell, tutting. He mouths the words, ‘bad girl’ silently. Tapping the tiny shell, he brings the shell to his lips.

“Yoongi, I know you’re there. Do you want to hear y/n?” He crouches next to you, lifts your chin so your eyes meet his, smiling as if you were playing along on an inside joke. “Do you want to hear her cries? Do you want to hear her moans?” his sinful voice sings tauntingly.

The younger vampire promised Jin he wouldn’t touch you, but Seokjin has so many rules, and this just proved you couldn’t be trusted, that you needed to be taught a lesson. Seokjin will forgive him, Jimin thinks, he always does.

“C’mon, Yoongi wants to hear you, y/n! I bet he misses you. Let him hear your pretty voice.” You just glare at him, staying silent. Jimin didn’t seem angered by your defiance, in fact, he seemed happy.

He pulls your hair, moving your face closer to the shell, his nails dig into your scalp, and you feel them pierce your skin. The pain causes you to let out a strangled cry. “That’s it!” You hold back tears as you glare at him, Seokjin is wrong, Jimin can’t be saved.

“I’m not afraid of you anymore,” you grit out, scratching at his hand.

“Oh, no?” He releases your hair. You jump up but Jimin pulls you down to the ground again. Even as you kick and hit him, it’s obvious it’s not hurting the vampire. He easily pins you down, caging you in with his thighs, his knees pinning your arms to your sides. His fingers wrap around your neck, holding you tight as you grunt against him. You’ve become a mouse, trapped by a snake.

“Afraid yet?” You know he won’t kill you, it seems like torturing you is just too much fun for him. Jimin may be stronger than you, faster than you, but he’s as caged as you are, stuck on this island, leashed by Seokjin’s rules, acting out like a child.

“No.” He lets go and you heave in air, coughing. “Seokjin will find out, even if I don’t say anything. He said-”

“Jin,” he bares his fangs, “says a lot of things.” He brings the shell to his mouth again, “What bone should I break first?”

Jimin laughs, and you wonder what the merman said to him.

Jimin grabs your jaw, tilting your head to the side, reveling in your struggle. He places the tiny shell next to your ear. You try to silence your heavy breathing. “Yoong-g-gi?” You hear the ocean, the rumbling of the sea, and you hear-

“Y/n!” Yoongi’s voice rumbles through the tiny shell, he calls out to you, words rushed and worried, full of concern that has your heart dropping, “Jimin has a weakness, It’s T-” Jimin crushes the tiny shell between his fingers.

Jimin pouts, “I thought he would have used the opportunity to confess, now he’ll never get the chance.”

He moves away from you, “Well, aren’t you going to make a run for it? I didn’t lock the door.” He lifts his eyebrows up, nodding towards the door.

You lie on the cold hard ground stunned. Yoongi's gone. You think of a scenario where you rush towards the door, only to be stopped by Jimin as he tackles you again. No, you won’t do that. Jimin takes and takes, you're going to make it your mission to take from him. You stand up on shaky legs and walk towards Jimin.

“Actually, I rather you just bite me instead.” You’re not confident that he’d really go against Seokjin, so might as well egg him on. “Unless you’re scared of Seokjin?”

Jimin scoffs, jaw clenching in annoyance and eyes narrowing. “Any other cute little means of communication you tried to sneak in here, hmm?” He yanks you close to him again, his hands pull at your dress, wandering over your thighs, skirting dangerously close to your center. He smirks down at you as you pretend to act unaffected by the way his hands glide over your ass, kneading the flesh. His hands run up your corset, getting closer and closer to your dagger.

You run your hand over the front of his pants. It was the only thing you could think to do to distract the vampire before he found your dagger and really killed you. It worked. Jimin stops you, digs his nails into your wrist, but he doesn’t pull your hand away.

So without many other options, you send your quarrel with the vampire off into a whole other direction as you grab for the bulge in his pants. You feel the weight of him in your palm, your mouth drops a little at his size. Jimin’s jaw tightens as you rub up and down his bulge.

You’re stuck in a staring match with the vampire. Two stubborn beings, challenging each other to see who breaks first.

Surprising you, he spins you around and starts undoing the straps of your corset.

No, no, that’s the opposite of what you wanted! “What are you doing?” You try to wiggle your body to face him again, “Just fuck me already!”

Jimin cages you against his lean frame, crushing your body to the closest wall with his own. He inhales into your neck. He can sense the torrent of your spiraling emotions, he feels your hatred for him radiating off your body stronger than ever as he slows his advances down.

“You are acting more stupid than usual, pet.”

“You wanted to play,” you say, “Well, let’s play then.”

He’s never played this kind of game before, and you’ve enticed him, he has no problem calling your bluff. His hand runs along your cleavage, kneading the flesh.

Jimin pulls your dress up slowly, his cold hand running up your leg. You rest your forehead on the wall, shuddering when he drags his fingers across your center. “Your hands are cold.”

He pushes two fingers inside you, deep, you were barely ready for the stretch, crying out from the sudden intrusion and cold sensation. Jimin groans as you whimper against him, “Forget what I am already?” He licks your neck, fingers pumping in and out at a dizzying pace.

“How could I ever forget?” you whisper.

“I regret destroying that shell, I would have liked to let Yoongi listen to what a whore you are.”

Your body tenses and Jimin leans his body harder into yours, pressing another finger inside. “What would the dogs think, knowing their bitch is so wet for their enemy, hmm?” Making you angry is too easy, he thinks, and makes you smell so much better, sexier. Jimin is used to fear, he’s grown accustomed to desire, but your rage makes him ravenous. If Jimin wasn’t so consumed by his carnal desires, he might question himself as to why he wants someone to hate him so much, but all he can think about is how he’s going to drive you to madness with just his fingers. He resists the urge to bite you by sucking harshly on your neck, pulling the blood closer to your skin and leaving dark marks behind.

Before you have a chance at release he pulls his fingers out of you, leaving you empty and holding up the evidence of your arousal, the clear substance clinging to his fingers as he licks them clean, moaning in your face. The sight is depraved, and you can’t look away. He smiles smugly at you as he smells your lust surround him.

“I knew you wouldn’t bite me.”

“We will get to that, we’re playing a game remember? Or do you want to stop now?”

“All this talk and I still haven’t been bitten or fucked, are vampires impotent or something or is it just you?”

Jimin laughs, yanking your body to face the wall again and pinning you to him. “I’ll make you forget everything but my dick while I’m fucking you, you won’t have a single other thought in that pretty little head of yours other than giving me all your pleasure.”

“Oh yeah? Well, I’m waiting.”

Jimin laughs again, pressing three thick fingers deep inside you again, you legs go weak as he holds you up with the force of his body against yours. He drags his fingers out and higher until he’s circling your other opening. His digits press into both of your holes, filling you up completely as you cry out. You haven’t had someone give attention to that part of you in so long, you tense at the unexpected stretch. His thumb works against your clit expertly as he rocks his hand against yours. You feel so full and overwhelmed by Jimin. “So close already? Beg me to make you come, pet.”

“I’m not your pet.”

You take his torture silently, hold in your moans as he brings you to the brink of release and stops short of satisfaction over and over again. He thrusts his fingers in and out of your holes, until the tight stretch goes away, his fingers easily gliding in and out of your wetness, until the ache is replaced with a need for more. Your entire core pulsates as he slowly and torturously circles your swollen bud, changing the pressure just enough to drive you crazy by ghosting over your clit when you needed more and rubbing even harsher circles when it all becomes too much, his touch making you feverish and sick with desire. When you clench around his fingers, closer than you’ve gotten to release since he started this torture, he pulls out of you completely, pressing his hard cock, straining against the cloth of his pants, into your sore center.

“You smell so good,” he moans. You don’t want to think about Jungkook, you don’t want to taint his memory, but Jimin’s words are so similar. Jungkook is nothing like Jimin, but they are more similar to each other than to a human like you. Perhaps you are just as weak and pathetic as Jimin says, a human can be no match for a vampire, and you’ll never be able to win against him.

“Please Jimin...just let me cum...”

“Beg me.” His usual airy voice drips with arousal, and he presses his bulge harder into your wetness.

You don’t do as he says, you can’t, so he continues his torturous little game, until you’re moaning loudly, head thrown back against his shoulder, whimpering every time he stills. He pulls his fingers out of your dripping core, focusing his attention on your ass, thumb rubbing harsh circles into your throbbing clit, you feel so empty and painfully full as your sensitive walls clench around nothing and his fingers stretch your rim open for him. Your entire body vibrates, but you’d rather stay unsatisfied than say please to Jimin ever again.

Finally, as the sun sets and the last bit of light around the curtains disappears, Jimin realizes he can play his game no longer and pulls away from you completely. Your legs give out as you slide down the wall, mind finally free from the haze of lust Jimin kept you in.

“So weak,” Jimin tuts.

“...impotent...dick...”

“Pathetic slut.”

“I thought about Seokjin the entire time,” you whisper.

“...liar.”

---

You must have fallen asleep, you feel a hand cupping your cheek, and you open your eyes to Seokjin, blonde hair, red eyes, suit buttoned to the collar. You let out a small laugh, and then groan once the pain in your joints wakes you fully.

Jin carries you back to your bed. You tug on his sleeve.

“Please take the pain away,” you ask softly.

Seokin’s eyes search the expanse of your skin, “There are no cuts on your body.”

Groaning, you sit up and kiss the vampire who freezes against you. So you take the opportunity to straddle Seokjin’s lap, and start unbuttoning his shirt, kissing, licking, biting his smooth skin. Jimin’s harsh words replay in your mind and sting you. Screw him, let him think whatever he wants, let him hear you. This had been a part of your plan anyways, first Seokjin, and then you’ll worry about him, might as well have some relief too.

“What happened?” Seokjin asks as you rut into his body, tearing his shirt open. He doesn’t look upset that you popped the buttons, does he ever get upset anymore? You hastily unbuckle his belt. His hands cover yours, repeating his question, “What happened, y/n?”

You grab his hand and move it under your dress. Seokjin stills as his fingers come into contact with your thigh, slick with your wetness from hours of Jimin's teasing. His hands travel up your shaking leg.

“You’re so wet,” he groans, “...Did Ji-”

You silence him with a kiss. “Fuck me, I feel like I’m dying.”

Seokjin laughs against your lips, “Humans are so dramatic,” but he’s already pulling you closer, turning you around to lie on the bed. He bends down to your core, pushing your dress over your waist, you spread your legs wide open for him.

He licks your arousal from your inner thigh, fingers massaging your aching center.

“Ugh fuck, stop teasing me,” you whine. Seokjin fills you with two long fingers, pushing inside you to the knuckle. His teeth bite down on your inner thigh, it stings but your lust somehow lessens the pain. Your body tenses, you clench around his fingers and he speeds up, pulling more blood from your veins.

You flinch when you see Jimin again, reliving the memory from Seokjin’s mind. He’s half naked, kissing a beautiful woman who is fully naked, right in front of Seokjin.

Jimin looks so different, dark hair, flushed skin, tenderness in his eyes.

The girl lowers her body between the men, and fills her mouth with Seokjin’s hardening length. You feel yourself become wetter. Seokjin moans against your feverish skin, biting you for a second time, higher up your leg. It stings again, but you’re too busy trying to get off on his fingers to care about anything but release. Seokjin bites the mound of flesh close to your center, his tongue pressing against your hood, your vision goes white and then-

You see Yoongi’s sharp eyes above you, his naked body on top of yours, cold and wet, hard cave rocks against your bare back. You see Namjoon, a younger version of him, long hair pulled back into a low bun, across the room in bed with another woman. The room is small and empty. Two beds, two couples, Seokjin watching his friend fuck the random girl senseless.

You feel jealousy, watching Namjoon through Seokjin’s eyes. He looks so different, so feral and savage. The bed creaks loudly underneath him as he grips the headboard, and thrusts into her wildly. Jin pumps his fingers inside you in time with Namjoon's thrusts, it makes you feel like you’re going to burst into a thousand pieces. Namjoon’s eyes glow yellow as he gives Seokjin a wicked grin and you’re scared for the first time of Namjoon as he growls, releasing into the woman.

“Don’t make a mess,” he drops the spent girl on Seokjin’s lap, who caresses her face. She’s breathtaking, you feel inadequacy course through you, you feel jealousy, you feel turned on when her full lips envelop Seokjin's thumb. Namjoon pulls the sleeping naked girl from Seokjin’s bed, tapping her check to rouse her awake.

Seokjin’s arousal is overwhelming you. He slams into the woman’s body from behind, chasing his high while holding her face down into the bed, and then his fangs pierce her back as her screams are muffled. You don’t want to come to this, to the feeling of her blood filling his mouth, arousing him and arousing you. Namjoon’s grunts and sounds of sex fills your mind again and you come undone in a silent scream around Seokjin’s fingers.

---

Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit.

You run around the room, darting around Seokjin who watches you rather calmly for the unfolding situation. The rest of his body frozen, the blessed dagger lodged in between his vertebrae, stopping his regeneration.

Once you came, thighs snug around his head, you pulled the dagger from your corset and stabbed him in the back. You kicked him away from you before he could attack and he fell backward, the dagger piercing deep into his back, and that’s where he was currently, frozen on the floor, watching you as you run around the room in disbelief that you actually managed to stab a vampire.

You trip over him by accident and he lets out a soft grunt. “Fuck! Are you okay?” you sit next to his frozen body, “Like, relative to being stabbed, I mean? Don’t answer that...because you can’t. Oh fuck.” You put your head down, resting it on his chest, you don’t hear anything but your laboured breathing. ‘Believe in yourself, y/n! Yoongi believed in you…’

You gather yourself up once again and you move to the window, jiggling the handle. It’s still unlocked! You’re too high up to escape but...

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you whisper, “I really am sorry,” you grunt as you heave the immobilized vampire to the window, inch by inch, Seokjin’s body like a sack of bricks. You place him against the wall and crouch down so you can look him in the eyes, patting down his messy hair, tousled in your struggle to move him, “I’m sorry,” you repeat again, “but you’re a vampire right?” You say encouragingly, and you give him a couple of pats on the cheek, his eyes dart down to watch the action, “Technically, you can’t die.”

With every ounce of strength you have left inside you, you shove Seokjin out the window.

---

You quietly lock the door to what had been your room and prison cell behind you, quickly walking through the halls. You’re not sure what you expected, maybe a gothic interior fit for Dracula, burning candlesticks and red velvet drapes, but you got electricity and mid century modern eclectic, the walls were colorful with art pieces, deep emeralds and golds and blood red. You open the first door you come across.

A young woman sits on a large bed reading a book, looking up at you. Is that how you looked to them? A more disheveled and unpleasant version of her? She looked happy, until she noticed you, and then her smile fell, disappointed you weren’t Jimin or Jin. You slam the door shut and lock it again.

You race as quietly as you can through the halls, you have no idea what you’re looking for, quickly peeking into each room you come across. Strangers, stop what they are doing to look at you, waiting like obedient lap dogs. You have yet to find an empty room. Four doors you’ve opened on this floor, no empty rooms, and you begin to feel hopeless.

You open the fifth and final door and you’re assaulted with the loud sound of moaning. The moaning comes from a woman specifically, her cries almost as loud as the slapping of her skin against Jimin’s naked body. Jimin had needed an outlet after his time with you, specifically, someone to use and bite that wasn't 'off limits.'

You stand frozen in shock, it feels like all the air has escaped the room, filling the woman’s lungs instead as she screams in ecstasy. He is standing next to the bed, fucking into her at an inhuman speed, holding her hips in the air as she struggles to hold the rest of her torso horizontal. You can’t look away, because her body, her stomach, her large bouncing tits, it’s all covered in blood. You almost scream, almost, but the small huff of air you let out instead is enough. The bed stops creaking as Jimin’s movement stops and you meet his surprised eyes.

You shut the door, lock it and run.

You run down the stairs, you see the entrance and you almost run out the door, but you instead run down the hall, flinging every door you see, praying you find something. There's a kitchen, a dining room with the longest table you’ve ever seen, and an empty room! It looks like an office! You run inside. You run to the desk, looking over the papers. Weird markings litter the pages, it reminds you of the markings on Yoongi’s bag. You have to be getting closer to your objective, you have to be! You scatter the papers around, yank open the drawers, hoping to find something useful. There’s a bookcase behind the desk, and you start pulling down books, nothing is catching your eye. You pull on the bookcase, you run your hand across the wood frantically, searching for perhaps a trap door-

“What are you looking for? I can try to help.”

You jump, almost screaming. You hold your heart, it hadn’t stopped, to your surprise. You had no idea someone else was in the room with you. You stare back at a calm man with messy brown hair, he looks at you timidly. “Sorry, I didn’t want to scare you. I just wanted to help, and it took me a while to organize those books,” he laughs softly. The man shuffles back to the wall, you hear metal clanging and look at his feet, they have chains around them, his hands too.

You look down at your feet, papers and books are all around you “I-I’m sorry. I was just-I didn’t know-” You had no idea how much more time you had to spare so you cut to the chase. “Is there a portal here?!”

The man’s eyes go wide, “Not here,” he speaks softly, “One level lower.” He gave you the answer you were looking for without any hesitation, was this a trick? You look at him more closely, his clothes are loose, like pajamas, and he’s barefoot, he looks at you happily, like you didn’t just storm into his room and destroy his things. The innocent expression on his face reminds you of Jungkook.

You remember why he looks so familiar, “You were sitting next to Yoongi!”

The man tilts his head confused, and then he stares at the door, “you need to leave now,” he rushes towards you, “Go down the stairs to the right.” He finds a pen on his desk. “The portal is in the basement, in Seokjin’s office. You’ll need this to open the door, it will only work once.” He grabs your hand and writes a long looping character on your palm, it burns gold and then disappears, while you stand still in shock.

Before you can question him the door bursts open. Jimin stands in the doorway, looking at you and the other man. His anger is replaced by an expression you don’t quite understand. Heavy silence envelops the room. The awkward tension is cut when Jimin speaks to you calmly saying, “Come here. Now.”

The man steps between you and Jimin. “Stay here, he can’t come inside, just like I can’t leave.” The man leans against the desk, his long legs blocking you from leaving, his chains clanging again.

“Y/n, come here now.” That was the first time Jimin said your name. You look between the men.

“Why would I go to you? You’re going to kill me!”

Jimin runs a hand through his hair, rolling his eyes to the side, “I promise you I won’t kill you if you come here right now.” He says the words as sweetly as he can in his growing irritation, trying to coax you to him, but to you he sounds patronizing and angry.

“Jimin’s lying,” the man next to you whispers, confirming your suspicions.

“Tae, just bring her to me!” the vampire screams.

“No, I don’t want to, you’re going to hurt her.”

‘Tae, he said. Is this Taehyung?’ The same man you saw next to Yoongi, the same man Namjoon warned you about, the man who is protecting you and gave you a way out of this hell of a place?

“Can’t you just do the right thing for once?!”

“You haven’t come to visit me in how long, Jimin?”

They yell at each other like an old married couple. You stare down at your hand, it looks perfectly ordinary, you think you might have just imagined it all, what Taehyung did, but you realized on this island nothing was impossible.

“A-are you a wizard?” you interrupt the men’s arguing.

Taehyung turns back to you surprised and gives you a bright smile, “No, I just learned from one. He didn't call himself a wizard, though” he laughs, “I think the correct term is warlock?”

“Oh, okay, good to know,” you mumble. Jimin quietly seethes at the doorway.

“Why do you have chains on if you can’t leave this room?”

“Yeah, why do I have chains on, Jimin?” He turns to the vampire accusingly.

“Just wait until Seokjin comes,” Jimin mutters, and he pulls the dagger you used on Seokjin out of his back pocket, holding the handle with a handkerchief. “Nice trick, by the way, y/n. Seokjin is still healing himself from the fall. You’re going to regret not coming to me when I asked.” He glares at you.

“So that’s what fell!” Taehyung roars with laughter.

“I said I was sorry,” you mutter, biting your lip. How the hell are you going to get out of this situation now? As if you summoned the Devil himself, Seokjin appears next to Jimin.

You hide behind Tahyung out of instinct, grabbing onto his chained arm. Taehyung holds in his joy while the two vampires' expressions darken.

“Don’t fucking touch him!” Jimin seethes.

You let anger get the best of you and wrap your arms around Taehyung’s waist instead, glaring from behind his shoulder.

“Y/n-” “Don’t,” Taehyung interjects. “-get away from him,” Seokjin warns.

“Why?! How do I know you both aren’t going to murder me as soon as I leave this room?”

“Is there not a spell we can use to get her out?!” Jimin turns to Seokjin ignoring you. You grind your teeth. Two can play that game.

“Why are you locked in here? How do you know Yoongi and Namjoon?”

“Yoongi? We all met him when we came to the island.” Jimin screams Taehyung’s name to silence him, but he ignores him easily. “You should have seen Seokjin and Jimin, he got them all wet and they vowed to make sushi out of him!” he laughs, turning his body around in your arms to face you instead of the pair.

You look over to the two vampires who have gone quiet. “And Namjoon?”

“Taehyung..” Seokjin warns.

“What? I’m not even allowed to talk about it now?” Taehyung whines.

“Enough! Y/n come here...please.” You hadn’t expected a request from Seokjin. “I swear, I won’t punish you for what you’ve done, just come here.” he holds out his hand for you, you can see the magic swirl around his fingers, burning his skin. He winces, but doesn’t move his hand away, even when his tips begin to turn black with char.

“What about Jimin?”

“Yes, fine, I won’t punish you, just hurry the fuck up,” the younger vampire looks anxiously at Seokjin’s hand.

“Y/n, please no! I’ve been here by myself for so long, I can’t stand it! You’re the first person who’s visited me. I don’t want to be alone,” Taehyung whimpers, a high pitched whine as you hesitantly make your way to Seokjin. He reminds you so much of Jungkook. He paces around you, begging you to stay.

“I-I don’t want to be locked in that room anymore.”

“Okay! Just come here!” Jimin yells.

“How can I trust you? How do I know you won’t go back on your word?!”

“They will, y/n, please! Look, Jimin promised he would visit me, he lied!”

Seokjin pulls his hand away, completely burned black and puts out his other arm instead. “You’re just going to have to trust us, like we will have to trust you not to pull any more stunts. We’ll trust each other, okay?” Seokjin pleads with you.

“I-I’ll come back to visit you,” you say to Taehyung. “Right?” You turn to Seokjin who relents and gives you a hasty nod.

“No!” Taehyung whimpers, “They are going to lock you away! Please believe me! You’ll never be able to escape.”

You reach for Seokjin’s hand, but Taehyung jumps in between you, holding out his chained hands. “Look at them! Look closely, what are these made out of, y/n? LOOK!” You study the metal, it looks shiny and silver. It’s silver.

Seokjin lurches forward quickly, his suit catches fire, his warm hand grasps onto yours and pulls you out of the room and away from Taehyung and everything goes black.

---

You wake up in a different room. You’re not alone. Another woman sits on the bed next to you, she jumps when you wake up. It makes you jump, ‘fuck why is everyone so jumpy here?’ you think holding your head in your hands to calm your nerves.

You try to scoot away, and you feel a tug on your ankle, so you pull the covers off of you. You’re in a new dress, all white, like the sheets, like the woman’s dress next to you. You see a chain connected to your foot that reminds you of Taehyung’s shackles but darker metal. No. “My clothes!”

“They made me, I-I’m sorry, I had to give them your clothes. The necklace wouldn’t come off, I-I didn’t tell them,” the woman pulls at her sleeve. “I kept your secret, but I can’t promise you they won’t find out, Master might look into my memories.” Your hand traces the gold watch chain around your neck, calming down.

“Okay...thank you.” You whisper uneasily. “H-How long have you been here?”

The woman thinks, humming to herself. “I lost count, Master did give me this on our Fifth Year Anniversary!” She shows off the blood red jewelry dangling from her ears.

Ugh. “That’s nice,” you say and get out of bed. The dress is tight around you, covering your arms and flowing down to your ankles, the one place the fabric doesn’t touch is your neck, the hemline sits off your shoulders and plunges into a deep V. You scoot your way to the door until you can’t take it anymore and reach for the bottom of your dress, pulling the fabric until it tears.

You hear the woman let out a soft, “oh no.”

The chain stops you from reaching the door, even if you stretch out your legs you can’t grab the handle. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

You wheel your body back around, “Hey, what’s your name?”

The woman thinks, humming to herself. “I don’t remember.”

“Listen, I’m going to need you to-WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON’T REMEMBER?!”

The woman flinches from your volume. “Well Master calls me his little doll and I like that name a lot, and I just, well, forgot my other name.”

You take a deep breath as you try not to be sick. “Well Dolly, your MASTER IS A HUGE FUCKING ASSHOLE. YOU FUCKING LIARS!”

---

The group in the parlor turn their heads to the small voice echoing through the halls, Jimin winces, hearing your words clearly, moving one of the women off his lap. “She’s awake.”

“I’ll go-”

“It seems you failed at controlling her, brother. Why can’t I just try?”

Seokjin scoffs, “You can barely control yourself.”

Jimin’s jaw clenches. “I’ll-” he coughs, “-use restraint. I won’t hurt her.”

---

“Monsters!”

“Oh no, they’re going to be so mad.”

“Taehyung was right! I swear to God-”

“So so mad, oh no, oh no no no.”

“I won’t let you get away with this! Liars! Bastards!”

“Master!”

The door opens and Jimin stands against the door frame, ignoring your irateness and addressing your new roommate with a smile, “Hey Doll.”

Jimin standing in front of you had extinguished some of your rage and replaced it with apprehension, halting your tirade for now. “You fucking lied,” you glare at him.

“It’s not locked, I’m not forcing you to be here,” He looks over your shoulder, “Right Baby Doll?” The woman nods enthusiastically back. “The chain was a precaution, I’ll remove it, I promise. We just need to set some ground rules, okay pet?”

“I am not your fucking pet!”

He moves around you, like a buzzard circling it’s next meal, “You look so much better in this instead of that ugly sea dress.”

“Don’t I look pretty?” you hear the woman’s tiny voice ask Jimin.

“Of course!”

You rub your temples, “Jimin, just take this chain off me.”

“After everything you’ve done, and you’re still trying to make demands? Do you know how incredibly lucky you are? Can’t you just show a bit more gratitude like her?”

Jimin kisses the woman and she moans against him, deepening the kiss. You rub harder at your temples. You're chained, a captive audience to what ever the hell display is happening in front of you, becoming more uncomfortable and annoyed with each passing minute.

“Seriously?”

He drapes his arms around the woman’s shoulders and stares at you, “Jealous?”

You scoff. You think back to the version of him in Seokjin’s memories, with the other woman. You remember the tenderness in his eyes as he watched her and you swallow down the lump forming in your throat. You are not jealous! And anyways, Jimin’s tenderness is all gone now.

“She doesn’t even remember her name anymore.”

“She doesn’t seem to mind,” he winks at her, and the woman giggles at your exchange.

“Her entire life has been taken away! What happened, it’s worse than death.” You hug your arms close to your body. Was that going to become you if you stayed here?

“Worse than death?” Jimin echoes your words and you notice him stare at his reflection in the room’s mirror. You stand in silence, watching him as he runs a hand through his hair, pushing back the loose strands while the woman softly hums to herself a sweet melody. She doesn’t sense the looming danger all around you and it makes your chest tighten in anxiety.

“You’re right y/n. Come here.” He holds out his hand for her.

He pulls her into a kiss, she smiles against her lips. You awkwardly shift at the exchange. She seemed happy with Jimin, even if she couldn’t remember the person she was anymore. It makes you wonder if she had resisted in the beginning or had always been this irritatingly agreeable...or maybe she even loved him, maybe her love was the only thing left in her.

Jimin holds her face in his hands, dragging his lips across hers, a spectacle of two lovers. She’s beautiful like Jimin, they fit perfectly together, a rose and a thorn.

It happens so quickly you stand stunned, you don’t have time to scream or stop him. She’s on the ground, neck twisted, dead.

You’re so stunned you can’t even cry, you just shake, fallen to your knees, staring at her beautiful lifeless face. Her red earrings dangle from her ears catching the light.

“What have you done?” Your voice sounds tiny and high, like hers.

“I saved her from a fate worse than death, according to you. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

You can’t speak. He moves closer, putting a hand on your cheek, the same way he had held the woman’s head a few seconds ago. His cold finger wipes away your tears. When did you start crying?

“We aren’t liars. I’ll unchain you. So, will you behave now?”

---

You walk the halls during the sunlight. You stop by Taehyung’s door knocking four times, opening the door an inch. “I found this in the kitchen!”

“I’m...allergic.”

“Allergic to chocolate?! I-I’m sorry,” you mutter, though it doesn’t stop you from enjoying the bar yourself.

You lean forward into Taehyung’s room, he puts his chained arms over your head, and gives you a hug. He reminds you of Jungkook so much, sweet and gentle. But he’s not warm like him, he’s still a stranger to you, always dodging your questions. Namjoon’s words constantly play in your mind not to trust Taehyung. Even though out of everyone here, you trust him the most, you like him the most. Being able to spend time with him, even if your conversations are shallow and lighthearted, is the best part of your day.

“Y/n?”

“Hmm?”

“Why haven’t you escaped?” He whispers.

You play with the hem of your dress as a distraction, “I don’t know.”

He always asks you the same question and you always give him the same answer, but today Taehyung persists. “They won’t catch you if you go now! Isn’t that the whole reason you let yourself get caught?” Even though you hardly know anything about Taehyung, he knows so much about you already.

“I’m...I’m scared.”

He pats your head, you shake his hand away, lightly shoving him back. “I’m not a dog!”

Taehyung laughs, “Yeah, you’re a scaredy cat.”

“How dare you!” you hit his leg as he giggles.

“I want to show you something! It will help you when you finally escape!”

You cover his mouth with your hands, shushing him. Looking around to see if there were any others lurking around you, but no one ever comes around Taehyung. “What is it?”

“Well, um, you’ll have to come all the way inside.”

“...I can’t.” You move away from him again and lean your head against the door frame.

Taehyung sighs. “I knew you’d say that!” he whines. “Do you do everything Jimin says now?”

You roll your eyes, “Not even close,” you mutter. “And it’s not just Jimin...”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been told not to trust you...and you haven’t been very open with me, have you?” you look down at your hands, intertwined with his, you trace the gold markings along his chained wrists.

“It’s complicated,” he whispers.

“I can’t see how it could get more complicated than being a werewolf trapped in a house full of vampires.”

“It’s much more complicated,” he pulls on your arm, staring at you with pleading eyes. “Leave a shoe outside and they won’t notice you’ve come inside, I promise!”

You hum, searching for a compromise. “How about this,” you scoot over the entrance, sitting closer to Taehyung while making sure to keep your legs outside. “Technically, I am inside and also outside.”

“But the magic won’t work unless your body is fully inside here,” Taehyung pouts. “The spell on the room will clash with mine and who knows what will happen then!”

“How do you know so much about magic?”

“I can’t say…” Taehyung whispers.

Your expression turns sour, ‘What can you say...’ you think. “Well can’t you just like, Houdini yourself out of here?”

Taehyung shakes his head regretfully. “No, if only it were that simple. And please don’t ask me to explain,” he teases. Taehyung scoots behind you and pulls your body onto his lap. “Let’s stay like this for a while.”

“Okay,” you hum.

“Let go of each other!” You wake up on the floor with Taehyung cuddled to your side, one lone foot of yours still remains outside the door. Jimin pulls on your foot before you can untangle yourself from Taehyung, dragging the rest of your body into the hallway. Taehyung grunts, waking up as you’re pulled from his embrace.

You blink away the sleep from your eyes, face-to-face with Jimin, his head hovering over yours, eyes bright red with anger.

“Leave her alone, Jimin!”

“I-I am allowed to talk to him,” your words come out small and high when you finally speak and you hate it, the way your fear strangles your voice.

“On one condition, just one.” Jimin hisses.

“W-well, t-technically-”

"You're being so unfair!" Taehyung yells. "Do you like her that much?"

“Tae, enough!” He slams the door in Taehyung’s pleading face.

There is a bang on the door, only once, so loud and strong it shakes the entire connecting wall, the picture frames wobble and dust falls from the ceiling, the sound so abrupt and booming it makes you, and even Jimin, flinch.

---

“Jimin told me you were in a...compromising position, with Tae today.” You and him watch the stars from your bedroom window, now locked.

Your stomach tightens. “Taehyung is lonely, maybe if Jimin spent time with him I wouldn’t have to,” you mutter.

“Do you care about Taehyung?” Jin’s eyes study your features, his sharp hearing picks up your heartbeat, waiting to hear any lies in your answers.

“No, I just-He’s the only normal person here.”

“Person? Normal?” Jin quietly laughs.

“A werewolf is a person too.”

“Ahhh, so you think Tae is a werewolf.”

“He is, isn’t he?” You spin around to look at Jin but his poker face is as strong as ever as he smiles down at you.

“Is a vampire a person too?”

You chew on your bottom lip, “I guess so,” you side eye the man next to you, “Deep down. Somewhere.”

Jin kisses your lips softly, carrying you back to your bed and placing you beneath him. You’ve managed to latch onto Jin since that night, a lesser of two evils. The vampire truly was a forgiving man, and even if parts of you were weakened by fear, your mind had impressively blocked Seokjin’s pull since that night as well, so he had deemed you his personal pet project, his puzzle to solve, keeping Jimin an arm’s length away from you.

Jin was nice, sometimes. And sometimes, you enjoyed his company too.

You play with his soft blond locks. You know the pain is coming eventually, so you do everything you can to distract yourself, admiring the vampire’s beautiful features before you. He pulls the deep neckline of your dress easily down your body, exposing your chest to his piercing eyes. His eyes stop on the gold piece nestled in your cleavage, like always, he ignores it. He knows what it is, what he doesn’t know is why Namjoon gave it to you.

The cold air and Seokjin’s cold fingers kneading your breasts sends you into a bout of shivers, when he drags his tongue across your skin you arch your back and push your chest closer to his soft lips. He’s so gentle with you now. Sometimes, you wish he was rougher, like the Seokjin you witnessed with Namjoon.

“Won’t you let me in again, Dove?” Namjoon’s watch falls into the dip in your clavicle, replaced by Jin's fangs as he bites the flesh of your breasts, his fingers pull at your nipples distracting you from the pain. He doesn’t drain you unconscious anymore, instead Seokjin likes to covers your skin in lovebites, taking all night with you.

“I-I can’t control it.”

“Let’s practice control,” Seokin smirks, lips stained red, and he moves his hands down your body.

He takes time stretching you full with his fingers, his lips never leaving your chest, steadily building up the pressure inside you with each quick stroke of his thumb against your core until you’re tightening around his digits. “Don’t cum.”

You tense around him, unable to successfully hold in your moans. “I can’t. I’m going to-”

“Just try, Dove.” You would hope he’d stop moving his fingers, at least slow down, but he’s steady and relentless, his digits pushing inside you in the most perfect mind-numbing pace. There’s no way you could stop your impending orgasm, but you try to hold it off, just two more three four five agonizing seconds longer. Seokjin sucks on the sensitive skin of your breast, mouth pulling as much of the mound as he can fit inside while you pulse around his digits. You feel his teeth sink deep into your flesh and his name escapes your lips in a strangled moan.

His usual dull eyes look up at you shinning with desire. “Let’s try again.”

---

“I brought biscuits.” You hold up the sweet cookies in front of Taehyung’s confused face.

“Thank you, y/n.” Taehyung gives you a bright smile and hugs you extra tight when you peek your head into his room.

“Ready to escape?”

“I-I don’t know.”

Taehyung pouts. “You’re-I'm-” Taehyung struggles to say the right words, “We’re running out of time, y/n.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just need a couple minutes with you, please. I have everything ready!” Taehyung runs to his desk, pulling together a stack of papers. “You want to see everyone again, don’t you? You friends and family?” he pleads.

Your family, you’re ashamed to admit you haven’t thought about them. It wasn’t even purposeful, your mind just had stopped wandering to thoughts of them.

Yoongi, Namjoon, Jungkook, and Hoseok, you couldn’t bring yourself to think about them anymore either, it hurt too much. The small traces of their personalities that Taehyung reminded you of had become sufficient enough as you tolerated living. “W-What do you mean we’re running out of time?”

“I think I have just enough magic to fill your necklace,” he whispers, “but if I remember correctly, that model only holds twelve weeks worth of time. How long have you been on this island, y/n?”

Your fingers clutch at Namjoon’s watch resting against your heart. Could you really rewind back time to when you never got on that damned boat! “I-I just need to take off a shoe?”

Taehyung’s face lights up. “Yeah, or something that has your scent that they can still sense, just in case”

“So the more I leave the less noticeable it would be?”

“Well, I guess so?”

You look around at the hallway, still empty like always, and pull off both shoes from your feet. “Do you have a shirt I can borrow?” You begin to shimmy out of your dress. Taehyung’s eyes go wide, and he wets his drying lips, then he springs into action, searching his closet for something to cover you. You pull his large sweater over your body and take a hesitant step inside.

Taehyung wraps you into his arms in a proper hug, holding you close. “I’m so happy you found me, y/n. I’m so happy.” He whispers.

He holds you tight to him, you're ashamed how affected you are by his kind gestures, you shouldn’t feel this way about someone who Namjoon told you to stay away from, it felt like a betrayal. “Don’t forget about me once you escape,” Taehyung whispers.

You melt into his embrace. “I won’t. Isn’t there a way to break the spell on the island? There just has to be! There has to be a way to save you and Yoongi and-”

“You like him,” Taehyung pouts.

“What? Who? Yoongi?!” Your face flushes hot.

“I don’t like sharing,” Taehyung mumbles into his sweater currently draped over your shoulders.

You swallow thickly. “Tae?”

He pulls away, holding you loosely, searching your eyes. During your interactions, you usually kept your attention around Taehyung, unable to focus too long on his intimidating aura and good looks, worried you'd start feeling too much for the mysterious man, worried you'd disappoint Namjoon. But now Taehyung is all around you, and his magnetism is too strong for you to resist. “Tae-”

His kiss is brief, however no less impactful, the way he pours his desires into you until your lost in a haze, following his lips as he pulls away, entranced by the small smile he shows you.

When he lifts his chained arms over your head, he pulls your necklace off as well. You were surprised how easily he removed it, when even Jimin couldn’t pull it off you (much to the vampire’s annoyance). You watched intently as Taehyung turns the watch's dial and whispers a spell in a language you can’t understand. “There, it worked, I set it to the full twelve weeks. you’ll know when to use it.” He places the watch around your neck again, his fingers cupping your cheeks and he rests his forehead against yours, content. Your face burns hot, Taehyung is so affectionate and sweet and treats you like glass.

This close, you can peer into his deep warm brown eyes, irises twinkling back at you so beautifully, it looks like gold swirls in them. “Just one more thing, and then the world is ours,” he says.

---

You sit up in your bed abruptly. Your fingers search for Namjoon’s watch as you try to steady your breathing. The hard gold feels comforting against the tips of your fingers as your eyes adjust to the darkness. You’re reminded of the night you first arrived. But gone is Yoongi’s colorful dress, the clinical white fabric of your new dress, sits tight around your body like a straight jacket and blends in with the white bed sheets.

Weren’t you just with Taehyung, what happened? You remember he told you you were running out of time. Then what happened?

You have to go find him!

You leave the bed and search out his room again. Jimin passes you in the halls, as quiet as a cat, startling you so much you almost fall if it weren't for his fast reflexes. “There you are, ugh I figured you’d be headed to Tae’s room,” Jimin frowns, “Let’s go.”

“Where are you taking me?” You fight against his grip as he pulls you in the opposite direction.

“I haven’t fed in weeks, and my favorite meal is gone because of you.”

You shut your eyes tight, trying to push away the images of the woman who haunts your dreams.

“So you’re taking her place.”

“What?!” You're doing what now? “J-Jin said-”

“Are you his parrot now? Well lucky for me, tonight Jin went to go speak with Yoongi,” he says smugly.

You step into Jimin’s room. The dresser was covered with random items that don’t seem personalized to the vampire’s taste at all. Unread books, countless jewelry pieces, and a plethora of knives.

“Don’t even think about it, pet.” Jimin warns as he sees your eyes stop on the sleek blades.

“I wasn’t,” you mutter. It was the truth.

There’s no window in his room, no mirrors, just wood furniture, covered in scratches and dents of aggression. The areas of his room, like his dresser, are littered with things, so many discarded things. The room is soulless, like Jimin, it feels like a lavish prison cell.

“So,” you don’t look at Jimin, instead you look at his things, trying to find some sense of his personality, “I guess you’re going to finally prove to me you aren’t impotent after all?” you mock. You know you shouldn't poke the beast, but Jimin is like an annoying itch you can't help but scratch.

Jimin scoffs, “Slut, can you go a night without getting fucked?”

“Can you?!”

Jimin smirks. “I'm almost going to miss that.”

You take a step away from him at his words. “What are you going to do?”

“Jin is too sentimental, he only skims the surface of his powers now. There is another aspect to a memory pull, it’s much more fun. Can you guess what that is, pet?”

You’ve been guessing and trying to make sense of everything since that night. “That woman's memories, you took them, right?”

Jimin claps his hands, slow and mocking at your right answer. “It’s not a simple task, but she was particularly compliant,” he bites his lip in memory. “She was much more willing to part with her past, her previous life wasn’t so great if you were wondering...some would see what I did as a blessing.”

The vampire stands in front of you cupping your cheek. “But I’m sure you...” his hand follows your jaw, “...will put up an impressive fight.”

You let out the breath you've been holding, if you can do what happened to Jin, maybe you can find something you can use against him. Maybe his torture won’t work on you...!

“You’re going to regret this,” you say, pulling your head away from his hand.

He laughs, “I regret not doing this sooner.” Jimin was tired of Jin's special treatment of you, all these new rules, all the things you've gotten away with when he wasn't even allowed to drink from you, follow his most basic of urges, it was annoying, you were annoying.

You feel exposed under his penetrating stare, you turn your head and hold your wrist out to Jimin, “Well? Go right ahead.” You think the inevitable has been dragged out long enough.

He looks at your wrist, lips rolling over his tongue as his fingers glide over the thin skin, and then he pulls you closer so you stumble into him, yelping. He looks up and down your body, his hair brushing against your forehead, the strands ticking you. You're supposed to hate each other, but the way he holds you and touches you, it’s too intimate, too rough and too soft for you to make sense of it.

“Do you have to ruin all the dresses we give you?” He noticed the slit you cut into your too long dress.

“Why are they so tight?” you say, watching his eyes as they roam over your exposed skin, feeling hot from his attention. You try to keep your thoughts calm, pure, so he doesn't notice what he's doing to you. “I can barely walk around.”

“Then maybe you should stay on your back,” his voice low and taunting. His free hand reaches for the torn fabric and as quick as a flash Jimin tears the slit higher up to your hip bone.

Your hands attempt to pull the slit closed in vain, and Jimin takes the opportunity to pull at the neckline of your dress, ripping the line even lower, exposing your cleavage to him. You slap him across the face, like you would have done any other man, but Jimin is not just a man, not anymore. He turns his face around and you see his fangs against his curled lip, he looks delighted, like you gave him just the reaction he wanted.

He grabs you around the waist and you feel vertigo as you're thrown across the room. You land on his bed, sinking into the mattress, and before you can scream Jimin is hovering over you.

“Your foreplay sucks.”

Jimin pulls your head back, laughing down at you.

"Get it?" you struggle to speak, “because you're a-”

You scream as Jimin finally bites the column of your neck, his body weight pressing down on you. Pain erupts and you can barely breath. His bite is somehow even more painful than Jin's, you hit his shoulders, pull at his shirt, trying to push him away to release you.

---

“What’s your name?” You can barely hear Seokjin’s voice over the trumpets of the band.

“Jimin.” He yells back.

“Military man,” the bartender nods to his uniform, “This one is on the house.”

“Thanks, um?”

“Seokjin.”

Jimin pulls his bottom lip in, studying the handsome stranger. “Thank you Seokjin.”

---

Jimin pulls away from your neck, breathing heavy. You laugh, and laugh, feeling exhilarated, eyes meeting the vampire while you laugh again. Did you just beat Jimin at his own game?

Your laughter stops when Jimin flips you on your stomach. His fingers dig into your hair, bending your back up to meet his chest. You grunt, jaw slack. “Still waiting to see what you've got, Jimin.”

You’re confusing. Jimin doesn’t even smell fear on you anymore, even when he tightens his grip. You must be feeling overwhelmed, like Jimin, who is trying to make sense of the long forgotten emotions coursing through him right now.

For the first time in a long time, Jimin feels uncomfortable, struggling to make sense of your taunts and why you aren’t submitting. Something unpleasant inside him stirs. He’ll make you regret acting like this, he’ll break you in half until you beg for mercy. He’ll do it. So why isn’t he doing it?

“Well?!”

“Fuck, you’re annoying,” he hisses into your ear.

“So I’ve been told, military man.”

Jimin knows you're goading him, yet still, blind rage courses through his veins, stinging his chest. He rips the back of your dress, tearing it down the center.

Was Jimin fulfilling a twisted fantasy you had ever since you saw Namjoon and Seokjin fuck that nameless woman senseless? Could you admit that to yourself as you feel your core become wetter as he presses his hand down onto your bare back.

You push up on your elbows, but Jimin uses his strength to push you back down, holding your head down. His sharp hearing can hear your muffled moan and the unpleasant feeling in the center of his body twists again.

"You like this?" He groans, affected by the smell of your lust. “Fuck, you act like such a desperate slut.” He palms his dick, needing a release. His moans fill your ears as his stokes himself to the state of your body.

You feel his spit hit your skin, his hard length running along your center, covering his member in your juices and his saliva. His tip teasing your entrance, you push back into him seeking more, and his hands hold you down, making you all the more feverish.

Your arousal hits the vampire’s senses in waves, affecting him more than usual as he tightens his grip to keep you still, focusing on the blood blotting your neck. His cock runs up your slit until he rests over your second hole. You look over your shoulder, prepared to taunt the vampire even more, but his dark expression, filled with carnal desire, slightly unraveled, entirely captivated by you, sends your thoughts into a tailspin.

Jimin pushes his thick length into you, stretching you over his cock, inch by inch until your whole body spasms.

Jimin stayed pressed up against you, a small kindness, his fingers circling your aching core. “Don’t-” you moan, and he stills against you, “d-don’t hold back.”

"I wasn't intending to."

And he doesn't. Your orgasm wracks through you, you feel so full and empty as your walls clench down on nothing while he pounds himself into you relentlessly. You start to shake in overstimulation. His thrusts are wild, your neck is there, you smell so delicious and he's so close to release.

When you come close again, at the peak of arousal, he bites down on your soft skin. You yell, clenching around him even tighter.

“This is your fault.”

You see Tae laugh, so unlike his usual sweet boisterous laugh, he chuckles deep, fighting against the chains around him, his wrist markings glowing gold, then deep orange like fire. “No, this is your fault. You were supposed to kill Jin, we could have had everything we ever wanted. How could you betray me like this?”

Jimin’s hands go lax around your waist, so you put yours over his, holding on as tight as you can.

You see Seokjin and Jimin under a street lamp, you and Jimin watch the way the flies dance around the bulb.

“You’re a vampire.”

Seokjin tenses, so Jimin continues, “I saw you with that girl, the regular with black hair.” His eyes scan the man beside him.

“And what are you going to do now?” Seokjin’s words come out low, almost menacing. Jimin laughs.

“Would you believe me if I said you’re not the strangest thing I’ve seen?” Breaking the awkward silence, Jimin brings an arm over Seokjin’s broad shoulders, pulling the man into a headlock. “I forgive you for always ditching me for lunch.” He teases.

Jimin releases his mouth from your neck.

You shift beneath him to look up at the vampire. Jimin’s bite wasn’t as meticulous as Seokjin’s who knew how to expertly pierce an artery, so you weren’t profusely bleeding, but the wounds still ached. Seokjin has the precision of a doctor, Jimin is messy, wild, his entire front is covered in blood. Jimin's eyes were unfocused, you could tell he was lost in thought.

“Jimin?”

“Enough,” his voice shakily commands you. “I’ll just take the part of you that keeps doing this.”

He pierces your exposed flesh once more concentrating harder.

---

Jimin is tiny. His head reaches the older woman’s knee as he hugs her leg. He points to the butterfly, wings fluttering back and forth slowly as it sits on a leaf Jimin found.

“I fixed it, see!”

“My beautiful son,” she kisses the top of his head, laughing at his cuteness. She looks weak and fragile, sunken eyes and skin pale.

“I’ll fix you too, I’ll learn!” He hugs her leg tighter. She soothes her little boy, knowing it’s already too late for her.

“Grow up to be a doctor, heal people.”

---

He pulls away from you. His eyes look wild, like an animal’s, caught. “Stop looking into my mind!” He screams.

“I can’t control it!” You’re just as stunned as Jimin, you never expected to see a version of himself so innocent.

Jimin holds you down by the neck, he doesn’t squeeze your neck enough to stop your breathing, even though he should, he thinks, he can’t do it, he can’t bring himself to tighten his grip.

“Do it again and I’ll fucking kill you,” he lies.

“I said I can’t control it, asshole!” you struggle against his hold, “Maybe if you weren’t so weak-minded-”

Jimin roars. Pressing his weight back on you, his fangs strike at the sensitive flesh between your collar bone. Your first kiss was so special to you, you could still remember it to this day. You were young, awkward and shy, he was your first crush, a cute boy, his features reminded you of one of your favorite idols at the time, who was-

What did he look like? What was his name? When did he kiss you again? It was after school, you think, you can’t remember. How did he kiss you? That’s right, it was an awkward kiss, because you and him were...friends? Weren’t you? You can’t remember, you can’t remember what had happened, it was so special to you and now it’s gone.

Jimin sucks harder onto your skin, pulling more blood out of you. He took it, your first kiss, you know he did. Jimin, if that sweet little boy could see himself now.

You start to cry. You cry for your stolen first kiss.

His teeth sink into your neck again, pulling more blood greedily, trying to silence the memories he found with the steady beating of your pulse instead. He drags his fangs across your skin, more blood releases, so much blood lost already that everything spins around you. “Jimin!”

He covers your mouth to stop your protests. Jimin seems determined to lose himself again, ravaging your body with more bites. So you close your eyes and your thoughts drift to the young boy.

“Good job!” the soft voice of his mothers fills both your minds. Jimin holds a syringe full of milk to a tiny kitten’s mouth. “You have to take care of her now, remember, treat her gently. There you go!”

“She’s so cute, momma, I love her.”

“You both have to watch out for each other when I’m not around, okay?”

You can hear Jimin whimper into your neck.

You feel sadness wash over you. He could have been a doctor, he could have been a healer. He is, in some twisted way, he been given the gift of healing, and yet he uses it to inflict pain. Even if he wanted to pretend he didn’t experience it, you felt the love that he held so dearly for his mother as a small child. You can hear his laughter, he had the same laugh as his mother.

‘Jimin, I’m going to save you too.’

---

You wake up healed, your head pounding. You look around, Jimin lies next to you, he’s out like a light. You both look like you’ve been in a massacre. Your clothes shredded and blood everywhere. You move away from him, his features look angelic, but his skin is covered in dried blood, like a killer. What the hell happened? You take a step and your legs buckle, you cry out when you knee hits the hard floor. The vampire next to you sways, moves across the bed until he falls completely out of it, groaning.

You crawl your body to the other side of the bed where he is still lying on the floor.

When you look at him again, meeting his eyes, you come to a realization. You know his secret.

“Oh Jimin...”

“Y/n...” his voice is shaky, he covers his face with his hands and his soft cries fill the room. You struggle to get up, everything feels tilted on an axis. You sway and hit furniture as you make your way to the door.

There’s a ringing in your head that won’t leave. You follow the halls down to Seokjin’s office, a place Jimin has been so many times before, retracing his footsteps from a memory of his.

Taehyung’s spell worked just as he said, opening the door to Seokjin’s office, the bright markings glowed and then burnt away from your skin, leaving a trace of ash. ‘Taehyung,’ you’ll have to deal with him later, you think. First you need to get away, as far from the island as you can and try to find Jimin’s family.

There’s a large door to the right of his desk, wood an alien shade of purple. The high pitched ringing in your ears makes the room sway again, but you’re able to grip the handle and fall through to the other side.

---

You sit on the floor of a tiny shop. There’s intricate gold pieces; statues, vases, piled high on countless of glass shelves, every inch of the shop is filled with items, it reminds you of someone but you can’t remember who. You can’t even remember how you got here. Where the hell are you? It feels dangerous, it feels wrong.

You move to a corner and hug your knees to your body. ‘Where am I? Wait, who am I?’ You try to remember anything, any memory from your childhood, from your adulthood. And the past five minutes replays in your mind instead. Gold jewelry in glass cases and the feeling that you shouldn't be here, and a deep voice in your head whispers, “y/n.”

Y/n, is that your name? Your hands skim over the fabric of your torn dress, looking for pockets, looking for anything that might explain something to you. You need to get out of here, you need to leave, but you don’t even know where you are.

You hear a ding, a bell alerting an opening door. You hear a man speak to another. You run out the door while the man behind you lets out a surprised yell to come back.

You run and you run, past buildings past people. You’re barefoot, your clothes hang off you. Eventually you stop. Eventually you decide to ask an old couple who looks unthreatening where you are while you unsuccessfully try not to burst into tears. The old woman holds your hands and strokes your arm to calm you while the husband calls the police.

At first they suspected you were a victim of abuse. They took you to a hospital. The doctors performed several tests on you, each one worse than the last. You had no old memories, and all your new ones were horrible. Clinical, painful, strangers prodding and poking your body. Your dreams were filled of palm trees and warm sunshine on your skin, a sparkling blue ocean, laughter, happiness. So you slept most of the day.

Then one day, detectives came with nurses and they told you who you were. That it took so long because you had been pronounced dead over a month ago. Your parents were on a flight to come get you. You listened to them explain the events hoping to have a jog of memory but nothing comes. They talk about the boat, the crash, no survivors. Always another horrible new piece of information. When will it end?

When your parents picked you up, a lovely man and woman who you tried desperately to remember, the hospital staff gave you a bag with the clothes they found you in. There was a gold pocket watch, an item you didn’t remember having, but you didn’t remember anything, so it didn’t surprise you. You told them to throw everything away, but you kept the watch with you.

You have to stay with them, everything in your life had been reduced to a few boxes they had kept. You lost your home, your identity, you had no money, no job, the only thing you acquired during this whole time was a death certificate.

You start remembering your childhood, slowly at first, a memory here and there, a fall and cut knee, a tea party with stuffed animals, a school field trip, and then years at a time.

You found yourself again. You remembered who you were, your entire life up until you didn’t, the memories fracturing at the end, and the harder you tried to remember how you could have ended up in a different country across the world, your mind would construct horrible images instead, blood, drowning, and death. You couldn’t bare to think of it.

---

“Y/n!” you make your way into the coffee shop, you reconnected with some old childhood friends now that you were back in your hometown.

“Hey, oh my god, who is this big cutie?” Your friend’s dog barks excitedly while you fluff the black fur on his head. He’s so cute, his ears flop to the side with each happy bark.

“Y/n, are you okay?”

“Huh?”

“You’re...well you’re crying?” She looks at you concerned.

You touch your wet cheeks. Why? You don’t know when it started, but as your friend’s dog nudges his head into your palm for more pets, your heart aches.

---

One night, a crazy thought enters your mind. You want to go back to that shop. You want answers. You leave a note for your parents telling them your intentions and pack your freshly made identification cards and travel documents into a suitcase.

So here you are again, in a foreign country, alone again, filled with purpose that seems to pull you in despite how terrified you are.

You scroll through your phone while you lie on the hard foreign hotel mattress. You open a map of where you are on your phone, and zoom out until you see water.

There's islands around the peninsula, you zoom into each one and search each name on your phone, learning each habitat, who lives there, if it is accessible. You do that to pass the time until you fall asleep.

“It’s too dangerous.”

You reach for the merman, grabbing at Yoongi’s shirt and pulling him closer, your eyes meeting his. “Explain.”

Yoongi is taken aback, licking his lips trying to think of a good way to start. "We made a blood pact to protect this island from the outside world, it's indiscoverable and once anyone does come here, they can't leave."

"Why..." you let go of his shirt, but he stays close, "Why would you do that?"

"Think, just think what you humans have done to the world...the others needed some place safe to go to and I-" the merman huffs, "At the time, I thought...well, they were...at the time I didn't mind sharing the island with them. "

Your fingers roll over the bracelets Yoongi put on you. "That was nice of you." The merman glares at you in return.

"You know, they'd come here, we all spent time together." Yoongi's stare is faraway and distant. "In the beginning, at least."

"I-I'm sorry." You hold his hand, and he stares at your fingers only briefly before shaking you off.

"Whatever, I'm surprised they didn't start trying to tear each others throats out sooner," He mutters. "We had portals of course to leave when we wanted to, but one day Namjoon and those dumb dogs destroyed all the portals-"

"What?! Why would they do that?"

"I don't know all the details, but I believe Namjoon did it to protect the rest of his pack. I can respect him for that...but the problem is they trapped us all here like idiots!"

"Is that why you're helping Jin and Jimin?"

"What? To get back at Namjoon? Pfft no. Jin came to me with a deal. He looked off, sick, and he offered me anything I wanted, so I helped him. That's it."

"So technically you can leave the island?"

"I can swim the waters, but I can only go so far, the magic always pulls me back eventually, it's useless to try," he mutters.

You hum.

"Anyways, what Namjoon doesn't know is Jin used some leftover magic and created a portal. Jin has lots of friends that serve him, owe him favors, he uses it as a delivery system."

"So you think if I?"

"That's the only portal I know of, but the magic is dangerous, the vampires put so many protections on their house, they won't even go through it themselves, there has to be a reason, right?"

"I...I'll take my chances."

"They wont even chance going through it, and you will?"

"Yes! And what if I can find a way to break the spell? Then you can finally leave! Yoongi, you have to let me at least try!"

"You're going to get yourself killed one way or another," Yoongi scoffs.

"No, I refuse to believe that."

"You're impossible to understand."

"I'm going through that portal. Then I'll come back for you."

"Wait, you'll come back?" Yoongi asks.

"Well, yeah, if you help me, a deal is a deal. Yoongi please, help me come up with a plan and I swear to you I'll come back with your payment. You're the only one who can search the ocean, you just have to find me again, so what do you say merman?"

"I'll find you again."

---

Your alarm wakes you up. 'What a weird dream,' it felt so realistic. Like all your dreams, the more you think about it, the less you remember, but that man's scarred eyes, whose name you forgot already, they stay with you.

You brush your teeth and wash your face. You notice something as you rinse off your skin. 'What the hell is that?' You inspect the gold writing behind your ear. Taking some more soap, you work to remove it but it doesn’t come off, the glittery ink is permanent. You rubbed your skin raw trying to take it off, it didn’t look like a tattoo, but nothing you did would get rid of the gold markings. You pace around your hotel room, things are getting weirder and you start to feel a nagging sense of dread, but there's a voice inside you that says to keep going until you find the answers you are looking for.

You don't walk right into the shop at first, instead casing out the place. You drink coffee at a nearby restaurant and keep watch on the shop. There are not many visitors, and those who do enter are not who you would expect. You would think maybe some older people who were looking for vintage items would decide to enter, or eccentric younger people, but it was almost always a intimidatingly large man entering, bringing items in rather than taking items out.

You’ve gotten into the habit of playing with the gold chain around your neck, the gold pocket watch had become a permanent accessory.

It's almost closing time for the restaurant, so you reluctantly make your way to the shop, and walk in after a group of tourists.

The shop looks different than what you remember, new items litter the shelves. You hide behind the large cases, studying the objects, until you come across something that makes you hesitate. A necklace with a large red gem hidden behind a thick glass case with a lock.

“You’re that girl! You...you came back.” Your head turns into the direction of the voice, a very old man stares back at you. He looks at you incredulously while you can only stare back dumbly. “C'mon, let’s go,” the old man says, he grabs your elbow. “Seokjin should be awake by now.”

“Let me go! You can’t keep me here!” You pull away from his grasp, your hand tightens around the amulet.

He laughs at you amused, giving you some space. “You walked into my shop, did you not? You don’t want to talk to Seokjin?”

“I…” Do you?! Would he know what happened to you, why does it make you shiver hearing his name.

Wait...you look down at your hand, to make sure you didn't imagine it, and there you see the necklace in the middle of your palm, heavy in your hand, you hide it behind your back, looking over your shoulder to the empty case, the shock of it makes you freeze.

The man looks at you cautiously, “Why are you here, girl? Are you here for Seokjin?”

Seokjin. That name fills you with dread. A vision of a man flashes across your mind only briefly, “I d-don’t know.” The old man raises an eyebrow at you. “Stay here, girl. I'll be right back.”

Where is he going? What is he going to do with you? Your mind spins and the skin behind your ear stings. 'Now y/n. Do it now.' that deep voice is back. You panic when the old man comes back with two others.

'Use the watch, y/n. Use the watch. NOW!'

---

“On one condition, just one.” Jimin hisses.

As you lie on the ground you feel like the weight of the world just crashed upon you. Your chest feels like it’s going to explode, there’s a ringing in your ears, the skin behind your ear still burns hot.

Jimin noticed the sudden shift in your demeanor, the way your heart begins to race as you start to break down. Every day, starting on the night your boat was capsized, replays in your mind as you start to remember your time on the island. You see Taehyung, who looks at you and then his eyes go wide, realizing the situation, eyes ablaze with growing excitement.

“It worked, didn’t it?” Taehyung’s deep baritone voice breaks the silence. You can only take in shaky breaths as your tear filled eyes try to focus on where you are. You traveled back in time, precisely twelve weeks to the second, you’re back on the island, thrown back into your nightmare like you never left. The only difference now is your left hand clutches a second pocket watch, now broken, and your right hand clutches the amulet.

Jimin looks between you and Taehyung. “What have you done?” Jimin accuses Taehyung, whose eyes haven’t left yours. Taehyung’s lips curve into an encouraging smile, he holds out his chained wrists to you. The vampire whips his head in your direction, but it’s already too late. You throw the amulet into Taehyung’s awaiting hands. You didn’t want to give it to him, but as if Taehyung had pulled strings around your body, you complied to his silent request. The minute the gem touches his skin, the gold markings around his wrists burn away.

The explosion knocks you back meters, everything is broken, everything is dust, you can’t see and your body aches. You hear screaming and yelling and groans of pain. You crawl through the debris searching for a way out.

Red light flashes through the smoke. You choose to crawl towards it, hearing Jin’s loud booming voice.

Taehyung pulls you back, his body behind you like it just materialized out of thin air. "C’mon y/n. Let’s escape."

“This...This is all your fault!” He looked surprised by your reaction.

“What you think you know, you’re mistaken.” He lifts you to your feet easily.

It feels like the air around you is vibrating, your body feels lighter in Taehyung’s presence.

“Please let me go,” you cry.

“Don’t worry, once we escape, we’ll be fine again.” His hand holds your hip tight to his body as he drags you in the direction of the portal.

Seokjin crashes into you both, knocking Taehyung away from you. You hear their struggle, and you’re back to crawling away through the smoke helplessly. Your fingers hit the hard cold gem of the amulet, and you wrap the chain around your fingers.

You can’t remember how you found the stairs, the wood half shattered, or the exit, blown wide open by magic, you can’t remember leaving the mansion, you just remember once your bare feet hit the soft grass outside you ran and you didn’t stop running, until you heard the sounds of waves. You ran until water hit your feet and then you screamed.

---

YAY I FINISHED THIS MONSTER OF A CHAPTER (Get it? I’ll shut up). Thank god, I felt as trapped in this chapter as y/n in that damn room :’). Okay, but now we’re getting somewhere! What do you think is going to happen now? Looks like this story might finally be headed off the island :D. I’m excited!

Questions to ponder for the next chapter: What is Jimin’s secret? Looks like there was a good reason for keeping Taehyung locked away, so what is his ultimate goal? What did Taehyung do to you? And why are Jin and Namjoon no longer friends?! Those are just some of the questions floating around in my mind as I am writing the next chapter, now do you have any questions you want answers to? Let me know! <3

[huenjin]

and they were roommates.

summary — who would have thought that a very naked sight of your best friend and a torn shower curtain in the rainiest of weathers could start romance? or in which you start falling for your childhood best friend, lee minho, unaware that he’s always been in love with you.

pairing — lee minho x reader, ft. binsung.

genre — fluff, smut, crack | roommates!au, bff2l!au

rating — 18+

word count — 11k words.

note — smut warnings under the cut, ofc! i suck at making summary adagafga!! but but but, i promise this story is adorable, okay, minus all that smut, my lame humor and those bit of rushed parts? this took forever and i'm so sorry for all that had to wait, especially the one who requested this uwuwu. 

smut warnings — a lot of kissing, a lot of swearing, mentions of naked exposure, fingering, cunnilingus, riding/reader on top, penetration, unprotected sex (wrap it before you snap it), choking. there isn't a loooot of smut either, ah! so enjoy the fluff ride.

"You idiot," you scream, loud enough for your neighbours to hear. You pull out the keys that hang outside in the key hole and pull open the door. "How could you leave the keys outside, Minho?"

"I mean, what if someone stole it?" You throw your keys and Minho's into the small box on a ledge by the door. Removing your shoes, you put on the pair of your house shoes by the side and walk further into the apartment. "Or what if someone broke in? You could get killed, you dumb hoe! Or worse, our new television could get stolen."

You hear no response and just the loud sound of shower running in the bathroom hits the walls of your shared apartment. You walk to your room, passing by the common bathroom, after throwing your bag on the sofa. You talk on the way, yelling in hopes that he would hear.

"Did you walk back in the rain? There's no other reason as to why I did not see you after college. Jisung was searching for you too, Minho."

You change into a pair of shorts and black camisole, pulling your hair up and knotting it, all while your ears pick up the small humming from the bathroom. You shake your head at the fact that since it's Lee Minho in the shower, he is probably going to take his own time to come out. After all, he is the reason why your water bill is so high. 

"Yah, Lee Minho!" You walk outside and hit the door with your fists to bring at least a little of his attention towards you. "Do you want the leftovers or should I get food delivered?"

"Delivery!" he screams back, hearing the shower sounds lower and you yell back in response, "Okay," and walk back to the living room, falling back and plopping down on the comfortable rexine covered sofa. 

Your phone rings in the next minute and you are pulling it from your pocket quickly all because you are bored out of your mind. It is also because your stupid best friend from the god forbidden age of five to till this date, takes forever to get out from the shower.

It's Jisung. Not that you would have a doubt even if you had picked up without looking at the name on the screen — your friend circle is that small. It has just been you, Minho and Jisung majorly for almost three fourth of your life, the other one fourth of it with you having your parents as your best friends. Jisung had always been the annoying kid in the playground that pushed you off the swing because he wanted to play and Minho had always been the knight in shining armour in your local playground, the defender of all things right as he saved you from Jisung's frustrating taunts. 

And then your mother — oh dear, she is the reason why you are still stuck with Minho's rich arse (mostly because she thought too that this is the finest her very antisocial daughter would ever find in a man) — decides that since Lee Minho was so kind to save her poor damsel-like daughter, he might as well do it forever. Fast forward to present day, and you are still cleaning up after him. 

"Did Minho reach home?" Jisung asks as soon as you answer the call. You roll your eyes and shift your position to one that allows you to stretch your leg against the length of the sofa.

"Oh, hi, Y/N," you fake your tone, mocking Jisung's ignorance. "Did you reach home safely? Did you get caught in the rain? Oh no!" And then quickly changing it back to normalcy, "Yes, Jisung. I reached home safely. The rain did get heavy as I walked back home but nothing to worry. Did you reach home safely?"

Jisung is laughing loudly on the other end. "Sorry, Y/N," he makes a weird kissing sound and you pull your phone away from your ear. "I presume Minho's safe at home, else you would be the one to crash my phone with the endless calls in worry of his safety. Ha!"

"He got caught in the rain," you sigh. "I hope he's okay though. I would have mentioned how he was, had he just come out of that goddamn bathroom but no! It almost seems like he is rebuilding the whole bathroom." Jisung laughs so loud that you have to pull the phone away from your ear again. 

"Dude, dude, dude," Jisung calls out for you through the line.

"Yeah?" 

"You and Minho are totally like my parents fighting." 

"Do you want to get punched in your face, Han Jisung?" You sit up straight, folding your leg across each other and bending forward, your elbow digging into your thigh as your hand supports your head. 

"And my boyfriend would punch yours if you punched mine," he huffs and you know he is talking about Seo Changbin. At a good five feet and six inches, the shorter male befriended Jisung and then wooed him over in grade eleven with some weird shining universe experiment for a science project and the Han Jisung you had always known, fell for the gesture immediately. They began dating a week after, making Changbin the only other human being you willingly chose to become closer to.

"Like Minho would let that," you click your tongue and Jisung laughs again, mumbling, "How have you guys not slept with each other yet? You guys are roommates."

"I'll kill you, Han Jisung."

"Like you would." The minute Jisung taunts back, you hear a loud noise of something crashing down and the sound is from the bathroom. You jump upwards, quickly hanging up without even telling Jisung that you were leaving as you drop your phone and rush towards the bathroom, taking huge steps to reach before the door in less than a few seconds.

You slam your fist against the door, over and over again, yelling, "Yah," to draw his attention before asking, "Minho, are you okay? I'm coming in," and you pull open the door to the common bathroom. A decision you wish you had not chosen but one you had to take for his safety.

Before a very surprised you lay a very, very naked Lee Minho, groaning with his back against the cold white tiles of the bathroom, neck lifting his head above to instinctively avoid hitting the floor. His hand holds a huge piece of the shower curtain that he must have tried holding onto before falling and as the colour drains from your face, lips wide apart, staring at your naked best friend in shock who is staring back at you, it dawns upon you quickly.

You immediately slap your hand over your eyes and scream as loud as you could possibly, "Fuck, fuck. I just saw your schlong, oh my god!"

"Are you not going to look at me at all now that you saw my dick?"

Minho rolls his eyes at you as a soft groan leaves his lip while he tries to make himself more comfortable on his bed. This time, he is fully clothed, black shirt over his torso and navy blue shorts. You are sitting on a small chair by his side, Chinese herbal medicinal mix in a white ceramic bowl, a tub filled with warm water and a towel and long white bandages on the table by the bed. The Chinese herbal medicinal mix was something your mother specifically ordered you to prepare for the boy before you.

You hand him a cup of warm water first which he takes and is about to swallow it down when you look at the wooden bedpost behind him and mumble, "But I saw your womb raider." Minho chokes on the water before coughing and you quickly pat his back which leads him to cry softly in pain and you are left apologising over and over again for being reckless.

He places the cup on the table and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he narrows his eyes at you and questions, "Womb raider? What the fuck?"

"You know, your schlong," you look away, heat rising up to your cheek. "I saw your schlong, a womb raider."

"I can't believe you call a dick that," he groans, rolling his eyes as if he has completely given up on you, "After having your womb raided enough by many womb raiders."

You look away, taking the ceramic bowl in your hand and mumbling, "None of them were long and thick enough to be called a womb raider though."

"Did you say anything, Y/N?" 

"Nothing," you yell and glare at him, cheeks still hot with the image still vivid in your head. "You can't look disappointed in me," you frown at him, "I should be disappointed. You tore the shower curtain."

"It was a mistake!" Minho gasps and tries to sit up but quickly ditches the plan when he feels the spin surge through him. You place the bowl back on the table and push yourself forward to help Minho sit up, your arms wrapped around his waist, your chest against his as you slowly pull him up. Minho explains himself, "If I didn't hold onto that, I would have gotten injured worse. I'm almost perfect now. It's just the slight—" You press your palm against his back and he seethes in pain.

"Slight pain, indeed," you scoff and finally let him rest against the bedpost. "This should do the magic though." You lift the ceramic bowl again and wave it before him, shoving the weird smelling green substance right in front of his nose. "My mother totally said it would work. She also said that you would have to be on the bed resting the whole day."

"You'll be my maid the whole day," Minho lights up, face instantly shining and you sigh, "Do I have an option? After this day though, we are going to buy shower curtains and you are going to pay for it because you tore it." You accuse him and he clicks his tongue.

"Fine."

"Remove your shirt now," you order and he looks at you, a teasing glint glistening in his eyes and he smiles, moving slightly closer.

"Why? Are you going to call my abs washboard now? That you could do laundry on them?" He purses his lips and leans forward and you push him back, his aching back hitting the bedpost again and Minho is crying with pain on the soft impact, albeit this time, you worry if it is fake. "Y/N," he cries, clamping down against his lower teeth hard, "Can you go easy on me?"

"Then stop teasing me!"

"Fine!" He huffs and looks away, "Help me out of this shirt now."

"What? Why? You put the shirt on fine. Can't you remove it on your own?" You question him, the ceramic bowl securely on your lap. Minho stares at you for the longest time ever and you stare back.

Has his eyes always been this tender? Has his skin always been this soft? Was Lee Minho always this charming and pretty to look at?

This is all because you saw his stupidly good dick, argh!

Minho finally answers, "It's harder to remove a shirt than to wear it." You shake your head and your eyes narrow to crinkled slits as you watch your best friend for a second more before placing the crucible back on the table and bending yourself forward to hold tightly the ends of his black shirt. You lift the black material up and remove it from his torso, exposing his abdomen and chest to the warm breeze in the air. 

He stares at you and you stare at him back, only till you take the white ceramic bowl again and hopefully the last time and you raise an eyebrow at him, mocking him, "Aren't you going to give me the classic Wattpad naked white male line?"

"What line?" 

He looks confused and you laugh, holding the bowl tightly, "You know, the—" You try to lower the pitch of your voice and to sound as cocky as possible, smirking, "Like what you see, baby girl?"

Minho laughs with you till he calms himself down a little, tilts his head and in the most guttural voice you have ever heard your best friend ever go, he repeats, "Like what you see, my baby girl?"

Your heart should not have sped up. Your fingers should not have tightened against the cold white crucible. You should not have pressed your thighs against each other. You should not have had your throat dried up at his very words. But it did and you are staring at Lee Minho in an angle you had never seen him. 

When did that stupid five year old boy who thought he could save the whole world grow up into this man?

"Uh, Y/N," Minho waves his hand in front of you, trying to bring your attention back. "Are you going to apply the medicine or? I mean, it's cold."

"Oh yeah," you stutter. "Yeah, yeah, I was about to. Can you turn back so that I can apply it on your back?"

"Yeah," he nods and pressing his hands into the mattress, he shifts himself, turning a one hundred and eight degrees away from you so that his back is facing yours. "This okay?"

"Yeah," you agree. You bend your arm forward to take the cloth soaked in warm water and you press it against his back. Minho bites his tongue in pain, eyes watering before he can't take it anymore and he turns back to face you. 

"Minho?"

"Can I do that thing you allowed me to do whenever I was in pain and you had to take care of me?" He asks, unsure, "Am I allowed?"

You nod, softly, smiling warmly at the man before you and you lift the chair up slightly. Minho quickly wraps his arms around your waist, his face buried into your soft chest as he edges closer to you. You place the warm cloth again on his broad back and Minho does what he has always done to combat pain.

He bites into your flesh softly, hard enough to trigger something weird within you at this age but soft enough to not cause any pain. 

Your eyes widen and your thighs tighten a bit but Minho is unaware to all this as he snuggles into your warmth, head fuzzy with the pain that throbs through his entire back. After a few minutes, you place the cloth back on the table and hold the crucible tightly. You dig your forefinger and middle finger into the green mix before applying it on his back, soft circles to calm him down and Minho lets go of your flesh, although he still continues to snuggle into you, his thick arms tightening around your frame.

"You're comfortable to hug," he mumbles as you apply the medicine all over his back, his face occasionally pressing against your breast and you gulp, reminding yourself that this is your best friend, that this is the kid you've seen in all his embarrassments. 

"Of course, I am," you laugh. "It doesn't pain that much, does it?"

"Not anymore."

"Good," and you apply another layer over the existing one. "Because if you say anything else to my mother, I swear to God, Lee Minho, I will—"

You don't complete. Minho laughs — soft, precious laughter that fills the air and engages your ears. He tilts his head to look up at you from his lower angle. You look down only to come in direct vision of his bright, glistening eyes that hold the stars behind them and his oh-so-flawless skin that you are envious of. Your heart beat escalates and you are about one hundred percent sure that Minho is aware. After all, he did have his ear against your chest in this position. 

"Fine, fine," his voice is airy and you could listen to it the whole day. "I'll tell your mother that her daughter took care of me perfectly, alright?"

"Perfect," you smile. "Now sit up straight. I need to bandage you up, just in case." Minho begrudgingly pulls back, a soft whimper leaving his lips before he huffs, folding his arms and sitting straight, looking you in the eyes and you gulp. 

"I'll be fine in a day, Y/N," Minho whines and you shake your head, mumbling, "Just in case." You turn your body to grab hold of the white roll of bandage before you beckon for him to come a little closer as you wrap the bandage over his torso, covering the medicinal herbs sticking to his body now. 

"You, in fact," you chuckle as you tighten the bandage and Minho seethes in pain at having his muscles pressed. You rub his hair affectionately before continuing, "You, Lee Minho, should be ready enough to cash out money for the shower curtain."

"Fine, fine, fine," Minho huffs only to break out into a smile as he looks at you. "We'll go as soon as I don't think I'll die if I stand up and straighten my back, okay?"

"Perfect," you laugh and pull yourself away from your best friend, clipping the bandage in the exact manner. You help him lie back against the soft mattress. You pick up the crucible and the tub of water as you stand up. 

"Y/N," Minho calls out for you and you turn, your head gliding against the joint and your eyebrows rising up in question.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks," he smiles, eyes closed and face so soft that you do want to hold it.

"For what?"

"For taking care of me, doofus. What would I have done had you not been there? You are my knight in shining armour now."

You laugh but your heart is furiously beating against your chest, thrumming against it so loudly that you can hear the beats. Your cheeks flush with heat and you look away, mumbling, "It's nothing," and walk away. You close the door quickly and fall against the vast wooden door finally, away from his presence and you hold the bowls close to you.

Fuck. When did your heart start beating this hard for the same man that you once knew as the stupid five year old with elephant print trunks? When did your heart start thrumming so loudly against your chest for your only best friend?

Either ways, you are doomed. Inevitably.

Jisung: baby, i think it's about time Changbin: for what? Jisung: you know, how we always said those two should probably fuck Changbin: yeah? Jisung: the sexual tension is too high. can we get it over with already and have them date already? Changbin: you've been trying this forever and you failed. Jisung: don't remind me. you're my boyfriend, support me. Changbin: fine! go, sungie!! i love you either way though.

It is exactly three days after the I-exposed-my-cock incident that Lee Minho agrees to go with you to buy the shower curtains. 

"Can't we just buy it online?" He had whined, arms folding against each other as he scrolled through his phone. You stand by the sofa, head shaking in disappointment as you reason back, frustrated, "The material," and you hit his arm. Minho winces. "The material is important. I won't compromise on that. Plus, you promised that you would come with me to buy something that you tore. Isn't that only fair?"

Minho does so. After bargaining with him for one tub full of mint chocolate ice cream that you will never understand why he loves so much. 

That is exactly how you find yourself here in this shop, shopping cart in your hand and Minho by your side.

"We are only buying the shower curtain," you tell him, staring at the half full shopping cart. "So I don't understand why we need all these."

Minho smiles sheepishly at you. He then points at the two tubs of ice cream and says, "One for you, and one for me. I even chose your favorite flavor!" He continues to point at each article and tell why he needs them very articulately and you stand there in surprise before breaking his speech.

"Fine, fine!" You push the cart ahead. "Now let's just go and get what we came here for." Minho follows you, his one hand on the shopping cart handle to keep pace with you. The two of you stop right in front of the array of curtains in different colours, some on display and some packaged and you smile, whispering under your breath, "Tada." Minho looks at you softly, at the small voice of joy that escapes your lips and he just watches you light up in fascination at something as simple as shower curtains.

Fuck, he loves your domesticity.

"Let's take this," Minho announces as he stretches his arms out to hold onto a pretty blue shower curtain. You hold it in between your fingers feeling the texture before announcing, "No."

"But why?" Minho whines, following your footsteps as you hold onto another shower curtain. 

"Because it's polythene," you frown at your best friend. Minho looks at you, confused, his eyebrows furrowing as they look at you like you have grown another pair of hands and legs.

"And so?"

"You could tear it again!"

"It happened once," he sighs, frustrated. "Once. It's not like I'm waiting to fall in the shower, tear the curtain and have you see my dick all the time, babe."

Your cheeks flush at his announcement and the tag he calls you by, your eyes looking away from his pretty face for a split second. Minho shakes his hand, taking a step forward to check a few other shower curtains out when the two of you hear a very familiar voice from behind, in the most professional manner ever.

"Sir, the one you chose is perfect. It is very durable and doesn't stain on contact with water—"

"Han Jisung?" Minho turns, the words of shock leaving his mouth almost instantly. You turn impulsively, eyes wide.

"What the fuck are you guys doing here?"

"Hey," you narrow your eyes at the other male. "I could file a report for bad customer service about now, Sungie."

He folds his arms and looks at the two of you suspiciously, "What are you guys doing here?" He raises an eyebrow at you, scoffing at you, "Like you would."

"What does it look like we're doing here, Sungie?" You bite back jokingly and Jisung laughs, gaze shifting between the two of you.

"I don't know," he runs a hand through his hair before folding his arms again, his fluorescent yellow uniform crumbling with the shift in his arms. "Is this some sort of a new way to date?"

"We aren't—" You quickly start when Minho pulls a curtain forward and breaks your sentence before you can complete as he asks Jisung, "This isn't polythene, is it?"

"Are you stupid?" Jisung frowns before he laughs. "That's clearly polythene. Minho, dude, you're a chemical engineering student. You have got to be kidding me if you can't identify polythene."

Minho doesn't pay heed to Jisung's words. You, on the other hand, stare at your best friend who walks away from you to examine more shower curtains. Did Lee Minho really ask Jisung, a literature student, whether that was polythene — What in the world?

"Y/N? Earth to Y/N?" Jisung snaps your attention back to the present. "Are you going to buy shower curtains today?"

"Yeah?"

"But your shower curtains were fine the last time I came home." You understand Jisung's surprise because the last time he did come home was five days back and the shower curtain was in a perfect condition. "What happened?"

You stretch your arms and point at Minho. The very culprit rolls his eyes before raising his eyebrows and sighing, voicing in the most dramatic voice you have ever heard Minho take, "Yes, Y/N. Yes, Ji. It's me. I tore the shower curtain because I fell in the shower."

"Ouch," Jisung acknowledges Minho's injury before walking past the two of you and taking a shower curtain. "Here's one. You might like this, Y/N."

"It's not PVC, Sungie."

Jisung wants to hit your head, terribly. Perhaps it's your adamance that is the reason as to why your friendship is this tight and strong but in moments like these, he likes Minho more. Minho stands by the side, arms folded and back resting against the wall as he trusts your judgement.

"Are you not going to tell her anything?"

"She handles all this at home. Give her what she wants, Ji," he laughs, fiddling with a few more shower curtains by his side. Jisung shakes his head in disappointment before mumbling, a soft frustrated groan leaving his lips as he throws his head back, "Definitely a married couple," and takes a few polyvinyl chloride made shower curtains. 

"Here," he presses his lips. "Don't blame me if the designs aren't that great. You don't get that many good designs in PVC. People go for polythene because it's more available."

"PVC doesn't tear and it's easy to clean!"

"Seconding this as a chemical engineering student," Minho chirps in from behind. You and Jisung turn to look at the man who is on his phone currently and shake your head lightly. "What?"

"He remembers his major now!" Jisung clicks his tongue. "All say, praise the Lord."

"I'm agnostic." You frown.

"More reasons for you to say it easily!"

You find a plain one in the ones he showed you and you take it. Jisung smiles finally, mumbling, "You're a frustrating customer."

"Nah," you scoff. Minho pushes himself off the wall as soon as he sees you done with the selection. "I just know what I want exactly. You, on the other hand, sweetheart," you poke his chest and Jisung chuckles. "You're a pathetic salesperson."

"Of course," he laughs the insult away. "I'm a literature student. I should be working in a publishing company as a part timer."

Minho takes the shower curtain from your hand and puts it in the cart by the side. He comes back, throwing his arm over Jisung's shoulder and frowns, "Apparently publishing companies care a lot more about who your parents are than your resume."

"It's just that publishing company," the other male looks down. "I'll try applying for another one soon."

"Do you want to grab a drink at our place tonight?"

"Can I?"

"Sure," Minho agrees. He drops his arm from Jisung's shoulder and holds the cart handle back, pushing it forward slightly. You take big strides to stand by Minho's side, also holding the handle slightly. Jisung raises his eyebrows at the two of you and with a smile that you don't think twice about, Jisung laughs.

"I'm coming over tonight."

"Sure," you throw your thumbs up at him, stretching your arm. Minho smiles softly at you, his eyes lingering a little longer at your happy figure and he feels his heart beat a little quicker at your sight. Your hair strands framing your face so beautifully, eyes shining the minute you find the exact thing you've had in your mind and your lips curving upwards in joy. 

Lee Minho finds the calmness that spring brings him every year in him all over again with you by his side.

"Bring the soju. Beer is on us!"

Jisung: binnie, binnie!! Changbin: yes, baby? Jisung: i think i have a plan. Changbin: let them be, babe. Jisung: we let them be all these years! they pinned after each other without even knowing and we had to see that painfully! Changbin: i guess you make a valid point there Jisung: is it going to rain today? Changbin: it's been raining for the last few days, sungie. it could. just because i study geography as my minor doesn't mean i can forecast weather. hey! Jisung: fine~ i'm going to get them to confess tonight 👀 Changbin: don't mess up. istg Jisung: trust me 🥺 Changbin: i do. more than ever ❤️

Jisung reaches your doorstep at sharp nine. With two bottles of soju in his hands, you see the stains of the droplets of rain falling onto his shoulder. 

It is drizzling for now and you worry if it is to rain heavily in a few minutes as the forecast mentioned. You hate the thunder. You hate how the weather changes drastically and worsens to a point that it frightens you and makes you anxious. It's a phobia you have managed to hide from everyone for fears of being treated weaker.

Jisung makes himself at home. He always has. He places the soju bottles on the kitchen countertop and Minho smiles to himself as he walks towards the point where Jisung has happily seated himself. Minho and you are on the other end of the counter while Jisung sits on the adjustable chair, swirling in it before stopping and facing you, Minho and the bottles of soju before him.

"Did it finally hit him?"

"I think?" You whisper back.

"I'm right here!" Jisung yells and you smile. Minho pulls the chair from under the counter and sits himself opposite the other male, pressing his lips together and trying to not laugh. He opens the bottle of soju after shaking it and hitting it against his elbow for a while. It clinks open, the metal hitting the glass before falling onto the table and you watch the two, as Minho pours a drink for Jisung.

He downs it in one go, letting out a loud sigh before stretching his arms and demanding a second one.

"Go easy, Sungie. You have the whole night."

"I don't," he huffs. "Now, please."

Minho pours it again before looking at you and you shake your head to indicate that you wouldn't mind a few. You grab hold of one of the empty cups on the counter before stretching your arm too. Minho laughs – a soft chuckle, so airy and light that you find yourself holding your breath for a small second there – and he pours you your drink. 

You twirl your drink, watching the liquid glide against the surface of the cup. Your best friend gets up and walks a little into the kitchen to open the fridge and grab a box of leftovers of fried chicken that you bought a few days ago. He pulls open the microwave to heat it and as he waits, he turns to look back at Jisung and asks him finally.

"Do you want me to drop a word to my uncle?"

"About?"

"He heads the Cheongsam Publication," Minho reveelas, pulling out the chicken from the microwave. He places it before the two of you and almost like you and Jisung were zoomed in, in an American sitcom, both of you gasp dramatically.

"Am I really your best friend?" Jisung yells and you narrow your eyes at Minho. Faking tears in his eyes, he persists in questioning,  "Do I not matter to you, Minho?"

"Why are you rooming with me when you could possibly afford a whole room on your own?"

"Yes, Jisung," Minho sighs and sits back on his chair. You bend forward, arms folded against the table as you stare at your best friend in betrayal. "Also, Y/N, don't you love having me around?"

He laughs and rests his head on your shoulder suddenly, causing you to stiffen them in response. Your eyes drift to the left, trying to not make it overtly obvious that Minho's sudden reaction has taken you by surprise. Your eyes land forward on Jisung who looks at you as if he knew this all along, as if he wanted exactly this. The man has a goddamn smirk plastered on his face.

Jisung downs two more shots and you look at him with a raised eyebrow, mumbling, "Slow the fuck down. No one's chasing you."

"Yeah, my goddamn plan," he mumbles before coughing and taking another. Minho sits up straight, finally lifting his head from your shoulder. He stretches his arm to pat Jisung's shoulder in comfort.

"I'll drop a word."

"Now, don't you dare go and say that you want to earn it and all that bullshit," you sigh. "It's the fucking Republic Of Korea. Nepotism is the norm."

"Not planning on saying that," Jisung glares at you. Clearly, Jisung is slightly tipsy, having been the only person to keep drinking. You and Minho opt to just watch over Jisung for the night. Your best friend puckers his lips in Minho's direction and blowing kisses, he says, "I love you, Minho."

"Changbin wouldn't like you saying that to another man though," you scoff and Jisung flips you the middle finger before downing one more and standing up. The thunder rattles the three of you exactly then and you grip the table, face turning pale instantly. Minho's attention darts to you quickly in concern.

"You okay?" You hum in response, unconvincingly though to Minho whose gaze lingers on you in worry for just a while more. That is, till Jisung rips it away by dramatically placing the back of his hand on his forehead and playing the damsel in distress as he gasps so loudly, staring at the big window.

"It's raining heavily," he sighs and you shudder, afraid of another thunderstorm as you grip tightly on the side of the table.

"So?" Minho asks, both eyebrows raised at the man before him, looking at the two of you with doe eyes.

"I'm staying over, thanks," he rushes and runs to your bedroom, quickly shutting the door and latching it and you and Minho stare at each other. As soon as the realisation of what could happen dawns over you, you rush to your closed bedroom, fists banging against the wooden door.

"Yah, Han Jisung," you turn to look at Minho who watches you in amusement. "Open the fucking door."

"No. I don't want to go back home in the rain. You and Minho can share the bed. I am never opening the door. Good night."

"What the fuck? Yah, Sungie, stop acting like a child. Open the door now." You hear no response. "Sungie? Answer me. Open the door please." Minho walks over to you, and tries knocking too, in vain however because Jisung has no plans to open the door.

You look at Minho, the man slightly towering you as he stands by your side and you gasp. You had to share the bed with the same man you just realised you could, perhaps, have developed feelings for?

"Fuck."

Jisung: it finally seems to be working, binnie! luck's on my side this time. Changbin: oh baby. just please don't be disappointed if it doesn't work out this time either. Jisung: i won't be because it's definitely going to work out. eeeee! i'm so excited! 

Another thunderstorm ripples through the air.

Your heart beats quicker in anxiety, eyes squeezing shut as you grip tightly on the pillow, a light whimper leaving your lips. You feel the mattress shuffling underneath you and in the next minute, your ears are covered by Minho's hands. You stiffen as he edges closer to you, his chin resting on your shoulder as his palm pressed against your pinna, covering your ear completely to protect you from the loud sounds of the thunder.

"Minho, what—"

His hand on your right ear slightly shifts to the side as he bends forward to whisper into your ear, to amplify the sounds enough as a way to distract you.

"You never ever told me you were scared of thunderstorms."

Lee Minho is way too close to you to think straight. You feel his body pressed against your back, heat radiating from him to you through your oversized hoodie. His breath is harsh against your skin as he leans close to whisper into your ear. And all this in an attempt to forget the thunderstorm.

So far, it's working like magic. 

Your voice is almost small when you inform him, "We never happened to be in the same place during one," and Minho swears to God, he could lose it completely. All the self control to not confess and take you there is so ready to be shoved out of the window that all he can do is try and focus on worrying about your fears.

"I'll protect you," he mumbles so softly that you turn around to look at him. His eyes are bright in the soft lights in his room and as he lies by your side, so close that you can hear his heart that beats faster and his breath that is shallow, your lips part and you watch him.

You are fully justified for falling in love with this man. 

A man that tells you he'd protect you from your fears, god alone knows how, but the fact that they don't seem like empty words. A man that you know like the back of your hand and the same man that seems to have protected you all throughout your life, even if you have done the same. It was inevitable. Falling for Lee Minho is inevitable.

And that's why you kiss him. Because you're in love with him so badly that all you can zero in is him, him, him.

Your lips press against his, so softly for a split second. As if you are unsure. As if you know you could be ruining years of friendship over something the two of you could consider a mistake. 

You kiss him and suddenly it's the only thing that matters to you right now. Him, him, him. Your lips are slow and soft against him. It is almost as if you are reminding yourself that there has been nothing more morbidly right than this. To fall in love with your best friend. Minho's hand slowly lifts up to rest below your ear, his thumb caressing your cheek as your breath mingles only for a split second — one filled with hesitance and uncertainty — before you pull away, looking at your best friend.

It is just a second of a kiss and with Minho so stiff by your side, you panic, and ramble. "I'm sorry. I should have thought it could be unrequited. I like you and I should have asked—”

Minho crashes his lips on yours, so quickly that it takes your breath away and cuts your sentence in half, but you don't care. He pulls you towards him, hands cupping your face tightly and angling it to kiss you, encasing your lower lips in his as he moves against your pink ones. You let out a small gasp as you deepen the kiss, running your fingers down his spine, holding him as close as possible until there is no space left between the two of you. It is just you and him in this small room. Just you and him in focus. You can feel the beating of his heart against your chest. Loud, clear and unknown to you that it beats for you in this minute. That it has always been beating for you.

Minho presses his tongue to the seam of your lips and, the minute you let him in, he delves inside your mouth, tongue chasing after yours. Minho kisses you like he has finally achieved the greatest thing ever and he never wants to let it go. Minho kisses like he loves you and you feel it. You feel every ounce of it.

Your arms move up his back and tangle around his thick, strong neck. Playing with the ends of his roots, you suck on his lower lips before he pulls away and finally tells you, "I've always been in love with you, Y/N. Always."

Kissing you again, his thumb digs into the skin by your jaw as he delves deeper, as if he never wants to let you go. The air in the room heats up when your hand moves under his shirt, feeling his muscles under your skin and you moan against his lips. Minho lets go of your lips only to kiss the side of it and then your cheeks and then your jugular before he is littering kisses all over your neck. You moan explicitly, gripping on him and slightly grinding on his thigh. You feel your core heating up, arousal sticking to your panties and all you can think is,

“I want you.”

Minho swears to God that he has always loved confident women but when you shattered right before him and built your confidence right back up — that is the hottest thing he swears he has seen. That, and the fact that you had always been hot before his eyes.

“Really?” Minho lifts himself up and hovers on top of you.

“Really,” you decide to respond before you cup his face and pull his face closer to yours. You don't pull him in for a kiss just yet. Your eyes zero on him, trying to cancel out the loud thunderstorms in the background and just focus on the man before you that you love, that you've been in love unknowingly for a while. 

You just hold his face and learn. You try to remember every single detail of his face that you never focussed on before.

You realise over again that his eyes are your favourite thing. They are black as charcoal and yet still shimmer as if stars are trapped and enclosed beneath them. And when he narrows them to look at you with a daze, your heart throbs and you gulp. They make your heart hurt whenever they fix on you.

You know his skin is soft as you touch. As creamy and velvety as they are, you can't stop touching him. 

His mouth is a pretty shade of coral, plump and pouty and honestly so kissable it hurts to look at it for more than a few seconds. You wonder how you haven't driven yourself to kiss him yet. All these years.

Everything about his face is soft and delicate, that is till he turns a little to the side and angles it perfectly, his head backward and you can clearly see the sharpness of his jawline; the distinct manly cut that makes your mouth dry and your heart beat faster. 

“You are perfect,” you gulp, your eyes back on him and Minho smiles widely. His warm breath caresses your face and his forehead is pressed against yours immediately.

“You know what else is perfect, baby?”

“No,” your voice is airy, even though you already know what he is going to say. You know it and yet the thought causes your heart to skip a bit, and flutter a lot in your chest.

“You and everything you have to offer. You are not average. You are one of the most perfect women I've seen in my whole life, Y/N,” he says. As soon as the words spill from his mouth, your lips are on his, claiming his mouth, the same ones that whispered into your ear that there is nothing to be afraid when he's right there by your side.

He gasps loudly as your hands leave his face and move to his hair to pull him down towards you — you need him so close to you. Your fingers get lost in his thick locks as you tug on them, forcing him to bend a lot forward and gladly welcome the intrusion of your tongue.

His lips are as soft as feathers and they feel like what you think heaven feels like. The warmth you experience is so much more than the tingle of first kisses and those innocent butterflies have nothing on the wanting void of a pit in your nether regions and the slick in between your thighs. 

His hands slide down from your hips to reach behind your back and pull you upwards, only to tightly clasp around the curve of your bottom cheeks.

“Minho,” you groan against his lips after he pulls away from you. His lips are red and swollen, slick and shining with your saliva and so incredibly inviting you all over again and you fear that you may never want to stop kissing him for as long as you are breathing. You fear getting too addicted to this human – more than you already are – to a point where you need to be attached to him by the hip, to never let go of him.

Minho's lips move from your swollen lips to the curve of your jaw, down to the curved edges of your neck, sucking and kissing every exposed skin. 

His hand moves from your clothed arse to under your hoodie, hand pressed against your back as he pulls you closer and forwards, until your chests are pressed against one another. His mouth is everywhere and god, you feel infinite and powerful.

His lips hover on yours. He smiles widely and you think it's cute. He inches his chin forward, flicking your nose a little with his own, a shy smile on his lips as he silently asks the permission to claim your lips anew; all over again.

You nod your head to signal yes. You hold your breath and your eyes flutter shut, awaiting him and his warmth.

Minho's kiss is slow and delicate at first. It is drawn out in a way that makes you want more, so much more, that you want to pull him in and suck the life out of him and yet, at the same time, it is precious and laced with not only the passion of the moment but also the tenderness of a first time together.

It makes your insides twitch and your heart lunge and it fogs up all of your thoughts to the point you feel yourself drowning in the sensation of his lips, pressed tightly on your own. 

Your heart is beating quicker than ever in your chest, against your ribs, and you pull him even closer, so tight your chests have no choice but to heave against each other with every single breath you take. You don’t want to let him go, not now, not tomorrow, not ever.

Minho is something you desperately want to hold onto in your life. He knows your secrets, your everything. He knows what you like and how you like it. He seems to know everything and the thought of letting him go aches your heart and constraints your throat with a sob you wouldn't dare to let out. You want him to be completely yours.

And these thoughts turn you desperate. They force you to make the kiss deeper, to lick his lips and bite them down, to gulp down every sigh and whimper that comes out of him and make them your own. To make him yours.

Your eyes flutter shut, taking in the way his mouth moves over yours, arching further into him. You groan into his mouth and his grip on your back tightens instantly.

“I want you so much, Minho,” you whimper against him after your lips part from his. You lick your lips and gaze at him with your partially closed eyes. “So fucking much.”

“Then, have me. Take me,” Minho purrs against your exposed skin. In a minute, he pulls the oversized hoodie over you, leaving you in just your undergarments as he discards it to the side. His mouth moves over the skin above your breasts and his hand traces the bra you are wearing. He gazes at it and mumbles before latching his mouth back on your skin, “You are so fucking beautiful. Always have been.”

You gleam in pride and your body arches at the contact of his mouth on your skin. Your hands are on the side of his face as you pull him away.

“Can I?”

“Have me? Yes. Completely,” he smiles. He wonders if you are confident. That's all that he hopes when you look at him so unsure and so doubtingly. 

You wet your lips again quickly, your breath coming out in hot puffs of air. Your hands immediately rush to his top, roughly pushing it above. Minho helps you out and pulls it completely away. You are blinded by the passion burning inside of you, your hands eager to explore and touch every expanse of his glowing skin. You want to touch, feel, have a complete experience. You want Minho to remind you of everything you are missing out on.

Your lips attack his neck in a hurry, all rough and passionate on his tender, soft skin, blooming red roses that turn purple against it. You repeat your actions till he’s softly moaning out your name, almost purring them out that you feel yourself becoming slicker. His hands on your back pull you closer and into him so that you won’t stop tainting his flesh and slowly, his soul, in the best ways possible.

Minho whines and sighs and grunts for you. He doesn't hold himself back as his lips leave appreciation for who you are. He closes his eyes as he parts his lips to whimper out your name with every new thing you find that excites him and it drives you absolutely insane. 

You know you should not but you can’t stop wondering how he would sound like as you fuck him hard, rock on his cock to milk his orgasm, make him beg not to stop. You desperately want to break him and draw all these nice sounds out of him, but you know it would most probably be the other way round. Minho allows you to take control occasionally but you know he wants the lead. He wants to be the one to break you apart and pull you back together. 

He pulls back from you, his hands leaving your back and resting on either of your sides. Minho's dark hair brushes over his crescent lidded eyes and nearly shields the hungry, desperate gaze of them. His hand plays with the strap of your panties as his gaze flickers between affection and lust. He cocks his head to the side before asking, “You do want this, right?”

You nod, hoping it would be enough and that he would resume.

“I need to hear you say it out loud, baby,” he firmly says and you gulp.

“Yes, yes. Minho, fuck, I want this. I need this,” you whine, your eyes glassy, as you grip his forearm to lift yourself up and grate and move against the evident bulge on his jeans. 

Minho merely needs that verbal confirmation. He pulls away your panties, resting on your hips and you groan. Still hovering above you and his hands over your pubic mound, his fingers trail lower and you tug at your lower lip in anticipation. Easily, he finds your clit, and begins to rub in slow, languid, lazy motion, up and down, waiting for the moan he so loves to hear from you to spill from your mouth. He grins when he hears those little whimpers and you feel your legs lose mobility from the pleasure he brings you with just a flick of his finger. 

Your back slightly arches off the soft mattress upon the bed when his finger leaves your clit to draw a line up your wet slit, collecting as much of your arousal as he can before slipping his glistening fingers out to admire them in the light. Your cheeks taint pink in embarrassment.

“Fuck,” Minho moans, taking his coated finger into his mouth to suck your juices from it. His eyes flutter shut as if he’s tasting the sweetest aphrodisiac ever known and your lips part at this sight. Lee Minho looks irresistible and you want him, completely.

“God,” he groans. Minho slides himself down your body until he’s in level with your pussy. His eyes gazed at it in sheer adoration and your hand slapped against your mouth. He takes two fingers to spread your lips apart for a better view. “You’re dripping, baby girl.”

You wail as he drags a finger up and down your slit, playfully teasing your fold, making you whine his name out loud. The way you plead for him, beg for him, grind down on his teasing fingers, all set a fire inside you. This has been what you had been craving for so long. The ability of this man to cloud your thoughts and set your body on fire makes you yearn for him even more.

“Minho,” you cry out, whimpering underneath him. “Fingers. I need you. Please, Minho.”

You gasp, your voice airy, when the tip of his finger tentatively slips into you while your fingers dig at his shoulders between your thighs. “Minho, I want you. I just really want you. I need to feel you. Please.”

He drags his finger out of you before you clutch onto him, feeling the need to be overwhelmed. He presses his thumb on your clit and a whimper leaves your mouth. 

“Minho.” And he slides his digit in again almost as if on cue. He pumps his finger in and out of you as his thumb harshly rubs circles on your clit. Your hand leaves your mouth and grabs your hair as the other digs further into his shoulder. 

His mouth leaves hot air against the skin covering your acetabulum and you shudder. His lips graze from there till your thigh before biting on them, sucking them deliriously and leaving you as a whimpering mess.

“Minho, fuck!” You scream, your fingers grabbing your hair to hold control of your body. 

“That's it, baby,” he says against the skin of your thighs. “How I've wanted those beautiful lips to scream out my name from when I've felt them.”

Minho adds another finger and your eyes are screwed shut as he curls them within you and you gasp at the feeling of being widened. You are elated and you feel your arousal leaking down your thighs. He rubs your inside and your clitoris faster and you push your hips towards him, moving with his pace. Minho is also leaving beautiful purple marks in a trail on your thigh and you gape in awe.

You find it all too much. Your emotions are all over the place and your hormones rise up. The movement of his fingers inside you and around your clit, his lips attacking your erogenous spots, kissing, biting and licking short stripes on them. It finally gets to you and you scream his name out in pleasure. Your first orgasm comes crashing down upon you, blinding you. You release all over his fingers and Minho helps you ride out your high as he drags his finger repeatedly but this time, slower than what had been. 

Your head lifts up and hits the pillow slightly as it tilts away. Minho moves upwards, hovering over your face and smiles. You smile back. You are so happy and you do not know how to put it into words.

“Minho?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks?”

“For what?” He looks at you quizzically. 

“That was my first orgasm in months now that wasn't brought about by my own fingers,” you smile wearily and Minho leans forwards and kisses your forehead.

"Should have come to me," he laughs.

"Didn't know if I'd be ruining our friendship."

"Pfft," he scoffs, before kissing you again, his lips gliding against yours and piecing in as if they were always meant to be against yours. "I've been in love with you forever."

"Took me a while to know my own feelings," you mumbles. “Also,” you continue, hoping he listens to your request. “Can I . . . ride you?”

Minho is stunned. There are so many things about you that stuns him and maybe it's the way you try to take control that make you look so much hotter before his eyes. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you plead. “If that is not a bother to you.”

“Why would it? Your wish is my command, but only for this night. Next time, my love, we do this my way,” he teases and winks and your core throbs at his words.

Minho pulls himself away from your body, pulling his shirt over his head and his denim down and away. As he flings his clothes aside and relaxes against the mattress, his cock springs free against his stomach, leaking with milky precum. You sit up beside the space Minho has taken over and watch him and his cock deliriously and lustfully.

You sit up, crawling over to straddle his lap, nervousness setting into your stomach. You’re really doing this. You gulp and swallow the saliva as you look at Minho, whose gaze gives you comfort and confidence. The muscles in your arm stiffens as you grip his shoulder for stability and Minho notices.

“It’s okay,” he reassures you, sensing your reluctance and worry. He pushes back the stray hair falling over your eyes. “You're doing wonderful, babygirl. You are finally all mine. What a pretty girl and all to myself now."

You nod, biting down on your lower lip, and tugging at it harshly, cheeks heating up at his words, arousal gushing out as you look down before aligning with his cock. You want this. You needed this release.

As your folds, dripping with thick, sticky arousal, brush the tip of his hardened cock, you feel a shudder run down your spine. You instinctively allow yourself to lower further, taking the rest of him in you swiftly with the help of your arousal. Sinking down around his dick and feeling him fully wrapped around your clutching walls has you moaning out his name, gasping and panting for air, “Fuck, Minho.”

You rock your hips into him, trying this as you picture it to be, already finding yourself tightening and clenching around his thick length. He fills you up so nicely, stuffing you perfectly full and you salivate. Your lips parts and you find your hips moving on their own accord.

As much as Minho wants to give you complete power over this, it isn't like him and he wishes he could be better. Minho takes your hips in his hands, taking control of your movements to raise you up, leaving you empty and whining. You clench around nothing but air and your own walls, desperate to sink back down. “Minho,” you whine, your lower lip puckers forwards and you feel sad.

As his hand grip around your hips to get a better hold, he slams you back down on his cock, hard, causing you to scream. “Minho, ah!”

He continuously guides you in a rhythmic movement, throwing his head back into his pillows and groaning. You are glad he is helping you out because you know you could not have done it on your own after having just ridden out your high.

The sheen of sweat glistening on his chest catches your eye as he pants. The way his eyes clenched shut and his mouth hangs open with pleasure only makes you move faster around his cock. The sight before you makes you want to see him fucked out further. You want him to crumble under you because of you. 

You ride him, bouncing on his dick and clenching when you feel yourself reaching your climax for the second time that night. Minho’s finger moves down and slips between your sweat soaked bodies to rub your clit, pushing you even further over the edge. Minho knows how to make a woman putty in his hands and you are a living witness of this.

“Are you going to come?” He asks, breathlessly, his voice airy and light, almost floating away. He pulls his head forward to kiss your collarbones, sucking harsh bruises against your skin, continuing further down the existing purple bruises.

“Y-Yes,” you sigh, lacing your fingers through his hair and tugging on the dark strands. “Mhm, fuck, you feel so good, Minho.” You lean forward and the motion causes Minho to whine. You quickly catch it as your lips fall on his. His lips enclose yours and he kisses you slowly and passionately as you move on his cock, lazily.

Words, unfiltered and raw, spill out from your mouth after your lips leave his as you feel the high that is creeping up slowly within you. “Minho, fuck. Oh fuck, you feel so good.”

“Then, come.”

Minho moans against your neck as he feels you, his finger rubbing your clit, “Babygirl, oh fuck. Come all over my cock.”

Minho’s other hand that is not occupied leaves your hip and moves upwards to find their place on your neck. His fingers gently wrap themselves around your neck and his eyes flicker a mischief that makes you wetter than you already are. He presses his fingers against your neck with pressure and you choke. Your mouth opens wide and your tongue falls out slightly resting on your lower lip. Your eyes roll back and your walls clench around Minho’s cock tightly.

Minho learns that your dirty liking for choking is incredibly hot. Seeing you like this is what he knows would get him to come when you are not around. Your fucked out expression as you gasp for air makes Minho plunge into you harder and you choke harder.

A final flick of his finger over your sensitive button and a bit more pressure over your neck are all it takes for your body to flood with pleasure and ecstasy. Your legs tighten around Minho's waist, curling in as you ride out your high for as long as possible, still moving your hips against him. His fingers let go of your neck and you breath loudly, taking in huge gulps of air.

Not long after your undoing, he comes inside you, coating your walls with his seed as you feel his length pulsate within you.

Once your body falls limp against his chest, equally fucked out and panting for air, you feel him going soft inside you. He lifts you up, slowly slipping out of you and gently laying you by his side. His fingers rub small circles on your hips after pulling you closer into him. 

“Hey,” you say and smile. 

Minho kisses your forehead and then, the peak of your nose, and finally, kisses your lips, softly. It isn't lustful or anything. Just plain passion seeping from him to you. You feel his admiration and an emotion you fear to mistake for love. He pulls away and smiles, “Hey, beautiful.”

He comes closer and licks the side of your neck, where he had wrapped his fingers out. The one fantasy that you are so in love with. He peppers soft kisses around it and mumbles an apology. 

“No,” you quickly stop him. “That was everything. I— I really like you." Pausing, the thought crashes your head, post your high and you mumble, "Fuck, I fell in love with my best friend." 

You nuzzle into his chest after he pulls back, your arms wrapping around his body as you calm yourself. Minho chuckles into your ear, "Yes, yes. You clearly did. What do we do now?"

"Take responsibility." You mumble as you slowly find yourself feeling sleepy. Your eyes are slowly drooping and your voice lowers in tone, words drifting away almost, “You better take responsibility for my feelings and take care of me.”

“It'd truly be my honour,” Minho mumbles, lifting you slowly to push his one arm beneath your neck. He uses the other hand to push your hair away from your face. Kissing your forehead, lips lingering for a while, he smiles to himself, laughing slightly as he asks you, "Was the schlong good?”

You laugh softly, snuggling into his chest, fist against it as you try to fall asleep, thunderstorms long forgotten. Kissing his chest, you giggle, "Best ever schlong I have ever had, baby. All mine to keep now."

Jisung: can you pick me up? Changbin: this late? Jisung: i just wanted them to confess. not fuck like bunnies. useless fact i learnt today: they are both loud in bed. Changbin: i'm laughing off the bed literally!!! also!!! Jisung: yeah? Changbin: and they were roommates! Jisung: god, they were roommates. 🙄❤️

[starshipsofstarlord]

An accidental flash - Barry Allen x Wayne!reader

Masterlist link

Word count - 1749

Summary; interruption is often than not present in the life of justice, this time Barry Allen is involved

Warnings; nudity, fluff, awkwardness, erection, making out, swearing, brief mention of the talk, mention of murder and prison

The mission had been long and gruelling, and you were just happy that it was over. Being a member of the justice league was hard all on its own, throw being the daughter of Bruce Wayne into the mix, it was understandably a nightmare at times. Sweat riddled your body as though you were the ploy of a river, drowning in your own body’s function as you ripped off your mask and tossed it carelessly onto your bedroom floor; next, your target was the zipper at the front of your suit, luckily your father had fixed it, in the past it had a tendency to get stuck.

Though maybe it’d have been better if it were to have upheld you for a few minutes as you struggled to descend the line of metal teeth downwards, that way you’d have been covered whence an intruder whisked into your room. Everything usually ran slow for him, however this time appeared different, for he showed up just when your suit hit the ground, leaving you half naked, in nothing more than your panties. It took you a moment to even realise that he were there, at your doorway, mouth agape as he took in your exposed beauty.

His heart was practically fluttering out of his chest as he saw you in all your glory, even if it were from the back, and you were sufficiently oblivious to his wondering eyes. Your father would kill him if he ever knew that he were getting this kind of a view of his daughter, but he had yet to panic at that prospect, he was more so focused on how the wading of your spine rippled and the tiresome joints of your shoulders rolled as you stretched your back. Without much of a thought you turned around, with the mental security of the door to your room being closed.

But no longer was it as your eyes widened, and your hands scurried to cover your bare breasts; Barry too realised that his ogling had been a mistake, he knew it was wrong from the get go, but he was so fastened with the concept of being hypnotised by your oblivious magnificence that he’d hardly registered how definitely rude his wordless actions had been. “Oh- I, um- I’m sorry.” The boy stuttered, a flush ravishing his cheeks from being caught shamelessly peeping as he turned around, blocking your entrancing body from his eyes.

“I-it’s, it’s okay Barry.” You confided in him, as you desperately searched for a tee. This base was so new that you’d hardly had the time to move in, a shower sounded absolute, however you were going to need some clothes to change into afterwards. “Do you think you could get me a robe or something please, if it’s not too much?” Barry considered the or something portion of your enquiry as he removed his infamous red hoodie, turning towards you before realising his mistake once more.

“Sure.” He grimaced from his exact mistake again, trying not to begin too drool at the sight of you, moonwalking to reach you and handing you the hoodie, however he tripped over your suit, leaving him in despair on the ground, and you whom had also fallen atop of him. If he hadn’t been so distracted, he could have avoided the awkward scenario that had stumbled the two of you into the current position that you were clambered in. Barry gulped, feeling your breasts pressed straight against his chest, he could feel a masking of nervousness creeping over his neck, as his breath fanned over your upper lip.

“Hi.” He spoke softly, his eyes locked on your own. Doing so concealed his nervousness, and it showed that he had no intent to look elsewhere on your body. A smile sprung onto your lips as you felt the constant pounding in the speedster’s chest, it ravaged against your body as it pulmonary beat through the cage of his ribs, sending unintentional shock waves through your body. You licked your lips, a light furrow distorting your brows as you quirked yourself head at his words, eyes also engaged with frolicking in the visual of his own.

“Hi.” Was your repeat. It was strange to be so close to Barry, especially in this sense, but you weren’t entirely complaining. It was unknown how you were supposed to revel out of this position without him seeing you clad in nothing more than your underwear, a part of you was frustrated that you’d have to. And then you felt it, a solid notion against your leg, spurring from his jeans, and resting against your covered mound. “Please tell me that is your phone.”

An awkward smile, with stretched lips and shown teeth justified the truth; it indeed was no device. He had gotten hard from the accidental predicament that the pair of you had quite literally tumbled into. “Sorry.” He mumbled, about to look down, but remembering that was not such a good idea. “I can’t help it- you’re so beautiful in and out of clothes, and like, it’s my body, that has yours against it, if you get me?” He rambled, making you shake your head at him, and laugh lightly, causing him to freeze.

“Okay.” You replied, hardly believing that you were about to do such an act, as you learn down and pecked his lips. His entire body, and you meant entire, went rigid, lulling in the brief moment that your lips were against your own, a dazed and dopey expression contorting his face. “You good Allen?” You enquired with a pat to his chest, as he licked his lips, reminiscing in the taste of your own. He dumbly nodded, though he intently pulled you back down for another, elongated encore of the action.

The pair of you were enduring a passion, more innocent as it seemed, making you oblivious to the footsteps that gained closeness every moment that you spent revelled in one another. Perhaps no one would have known that you and Barry were entangled like so if your door were closed, but it was not, leaving a sufficient glance for any passers by. When Victor walked passed, he gave you a small applause, and a light catcall, making your head jolt up, only for Barry to pull it back down.

Arthur smirked and shook his head; kids. He said nothing and stoically traipsed past, whilst Dianna recalled that she ought to direct a motive talk to the pair of you later on. Those two were away from your senses. Barry’s hands found refuge on your back, pinning you closer against him as he felt you slither your tongue against his lips, and he was certainly more than happy to allow you entry into the warm and wet cavern of his mouth. He groaned when you tugged delightedly upon his dark locks, feeling how your tongue swirled around in his mouth, fighting and winning dominance in the realm.

It was quite the conjuncture to be caught in, more so by the billionaire in Gotham, the Batman. As soon as Bruce saw you, his daughter, and the young man that he recruited for the team attached in such ways that he did not appreciate, he called out your name, making you shiver against your team member as you looked up, terrified of the fact that he had seen you like this, with Barry! Really, you should have expected nothing more, or at least have shut the door, but you had been too occupied.

Bruce cleared his throat as a blush blossomed over Barry’s skin, he was internally terrified. If you weren’t atop of him, he’d have definitely sped away, saving his skin from the hell that he’d endure from your father. You expected your parent to shout, to scold you, to threaten the life of the man beneath you, but instead he diverted his eyes, and raised his brows, as he thought of the talk that he’d have to have with the pair of you later on. “The two of you missed the meeting, now I see why.”

“It’s not what it looks like.” Bolted from your mouth, but the only response that you earned from your father was him shutting the door, to everyone’s relief. “Fuck.” You groaned, dropping your head upon Barry’s chest. It was embarrassing, sure you were no longer some teenager that needed to be checked on every five minutes, or directed down a narrow path, but it was nerve wrecking all the same. You’d never wanted your father to see you like that, and if he had reprimanded you, that’d have been highly hypocritical all the same.

“He didn’t kill me.” Relief embezzled Barry as he heaved a heavy sigh, dropping his head back onto the carpet. “I mean if he did, then both our fathers would be in prison.” He spoke with a shrug, and you placed a sweet peck onto his jaw, causing a smile to reprimand presence onto his handsome and well structured face.

“Eh.” You shrugged considerably, Barry raising his brows at your reaction, that had yet to be finished. “He’d have someone cover it up, and he’d still be a free man. Money can do quite a lot. For all we know, he’s plotting on taking you out when you least expect it.” You reasoned, making his hands pause their stroking on your back.

“I must insist on another kiss before that happens then.” He puckered his lips, but rather than receiving a diligent peck opposed onto the surface of them, your forefinger pressed down on them, halting his hopes for a continuation.

“Take me on a date Allen.” You winked at him as you stood, no longer covering up from his gaze as you grasped his hoodie, and retreated into the attached bathroom. You were certainly something else, and if Bruce were to kill him in some way, he was sure it’d be worth it. When he was with you, he liked to endure everything slowly, and appreciate every notion in progress that you made, whether it be a true smile or a blunt roll of your eyes.

The sound of the stream from the shower turning on alerted his ears that you were now cleansing yourself, he too thought that sounded like a good idea, and thus he vacated to his own room and did so, singing lightly in the shower as he thought of where he could take you for a first date.

[saintshigaraki]

HERE, IN THE MORNING LIGHT, IS WHERE WE’LL BARE OUR SOULS

pairing: ushijima wakatoshi x f!reader 

words: 3.2k

excerpt: Really, how many times can you blame Ushijima for breaking your heart when you’re the one who can’t seem to stop handing it to him -- on a silver fucking platter no less. 

a/n: this is...a bit too similar to my bakugou drabble i’ll admit. but i could see a relationship with ushijima having some of the same problems. he’s not purposely cruel, but god, doesn’t that just make it so much worse?

tags: angst, mentions of alcohol, implied sex, reader is full of rage, ambiguous/open ending

in case you want to read it on ao3!

You greet Toshi at the door, as you’ve made a habit of doing when he manages to come home before you’ve fallen asleep.

(Like a well-trained dog, you think, with only the most bitter sort of amusement.) 

When you lift your hand up to cup his face, a sweet hello, love, how was your day? on your lips, he sweeps it aside (gently, of course. He's always so sickeningly gentle when he brushes you aside. You think that might just make the hollow sting of his nonchalant rejection that much worse.)

“Have you made anything for dinner?” he asks, already walking away before you have a chance to pull him down for a kiss. Your arm falls unceremoniously at your side. A deadweight, swinging. 

I think I might hate you, you want to say, so,  so badly. The words are there, right on the tip of your tongue as you stand frozen in the darkened entryway, his shadow stretches, eclipsing you, as he walks further and further away.

But these moments of sweet burning-hot rage pass as quickly as they come and soon -- too soon, maybe, or not soon enough -- you find yourself turning on your heels and shining a too-bright smile, the one that shows too many teeth and leaves an ache in your cheeks. 

“Not yet, love, but I can whip up something real quick.” 

The words taste like lead in your mouth.

(Or maybe that's just the blood from biting your tongue.)

Who knows, you muse, bitterly, bitingly. What does it matter anyway? 

You make your way towards the kitchen.

+

Later that night, after he’s finished fucking you into the mattress, he grunts out an I love you, before rolling over and promptly falling asleep. 

His cum is sticky and uncomfortable as it cools on your burning thighs. 

You stare at the lights sweeping across the ceiling from the passing cars and try to remember days when you didn’t feel as though someone had hollowed out everything that made you and filled in the empty space with barely contained rage. 

Rationally, you know you weren’t always so unhappy with Ushijima. You loved him -- you still do -- you have for years. You could barely contain your tears of joy when he asked you to marry him and you didn’t manage to contain them at all the day you officially tied the knot. 

You were so happy then. So, so, happy. 

What happened? 

(You know exactly what happened.)

You’ve made sacrifice after sacrifice for him. Moved from country to country. Left your family and friends behind more times than you can count. Because you love Toshi. Because you love him more than anything. And because he loves you, though you know he doesn’t love you more than anything. It’s a selfish gripe to have. A rather dumb one too. Of course he doesn’t love you more than volleyball. Why should he? He’s dedicated his whole life to the sport. Countless hours, countless injuries, and setbacks, and he’s persevered through it all because that's what he does. Because that sport, that court, that stupid fucking ball, is what he loves above all else. 

It’s not as if you jumped into this marriage wholly and totally blind. You’re not dumb. You knew volleyball was going to be a priority in his life,  the priority. And you thought you could handle that. You did handle it. For 5 years you’ve handled it, the constant moving, the last minute canceled plans, the weeks of him traveling that have left you all alone for near months at a time in a cold home with a cold bed. You’ve handled it all with a too-wide smile plastered painfully across your face. 

But things have -- shifted, recently. Maybe it’s the pressure of what could very well be his last Olympics coming up in these next few years, maybe it’s the fear of someone younger, better, stronger than him taking his place, or maybe, he simply doesn’t give all that much of a  fuck about you anymore. 

(You know that’s not true. Wakatoshi loves you. You know that. Which is what makes this all so much worse.)

I love you, isn’t that enough? he’d said bluntly, and maybe a bit confused, last time you brought up your concerns after the third canceled date in a row. 

His words had made you pause. Was it enough? Why isn’t it enough? Shouldn’t it be enough?

At the time, you’d thought, maybe. Maybe I can make it enough. 

A year later and you’ve come to the realization that it simply -- isn’t enough. Maybe if you were a different person, a slightly better person, it’d be enough. But you’re not. You’re you, a strange, toxic concoction of hollow fury and selfish desires (for comfort, for love, for anything more than whatever this is).

You roll over on your side to face your husband. He’s on his back, like he always is when he sleeps, completely dead to the world. 

He’s statuesque, unmovable, untouchable, even now. 

You gently brush your finger over his brow, sweeping his hair to the side, and tracing his strong jawline. You’ve done this a thousand times. You’ve memorized every curve, every freckle, every scar. You’ve mapped countless constellations across his skin. 

You don’t hate him, you realize, in the dark suffocating silence of the night. Not yet, at least. There’s still too much love for him in your heart. Still too many memories of brighter days. Sweeter days. Gentler days. 

He’s been good to you. As good as a man like him is capable of being. And you love him so, so dearly for it. 

He has tomorrow off, maybe -- maybe you should talk to him. There’s still time to salvage this. There’s still so much love for him in your heart, enough to drive out the hate. You know it. 

He has tomorrow off, you repeat to yourself. The first full day he’s taken off in a month. 

You’ll talk to him then. 

You have to. 

+

The morning light is what wakes you. The gentle rays kiss your cheeks so sweetly. 

Without fully opening your eyes, you reach towards Ushi only to be met with -- cool sheets. 

Your stomach drops painfully and it's as though he’s taken your heart in his hands and just squeezed. 

You open your eyes, wearily, tiredly, and the morning light no longer seems so sweet. It’s mocking. A cruel, bitter reminder of better days and broken promises. 

You crawl out of bed, trying to stay optimistic -- maybe he just went for a morning jog -- even though you know that on days he has off he likes to sleep in. You try desperately to give him the benefit of the doubt, because he promised and you want so badly to still be able to believe him, even after everything. 

He used to have every Saturday and Sunday free, then around three years ago it turned into every Sunday, then a year and a half ago it turned into every other Sunday, and recently -- well, it’s been a while. A long, long while. 

But he promised he’d stay home today. 

He promised, you repeat as you stumble around the apartment only to find it painfully silent, empty, and so, so cold. 

You collapse on the couch, hunched over, your head hanging pitifully into your hands. You take a deep, pathetically shaky breath. 

And then you laugh. 

You laugh so hard you nearly heave. 

Two years ago, you would’ve cried. A year ago, you would’ve screamed. 

But now? Who do you really have to blame, but yourself? How can you not laugh? How can you not laugh at just how stupid and gullible you are? 

Really, how many times can you blame Ushijima for breaking your heart when you’re the one who can’t seem to stop handing it to him -- on a silver fucking platter no less. 

This is your fault. And it has been for a long while now. 

It’s time to move on. 

+

You book a one-way flight home -- you haven’t been back in so long. Too long, you know. You stuff as much as you can into your single suitcase and pitiful carry-on bag. It’s all strangely methodical and robotic. You’re calmer than you’ve been in months. 

This is how it was always going to end. Honestly, you don’t think there was really supposed to be another option, any other way out. You don’t think this mess was ever going to be fixed. It was stupid of you to ever believe otherwise. 

By the time you’ve managed to compose yourself, get your affairs in order, and meticulously pack away as much as you can, the sun has started to dip below the horizon. 

The clock reads 9:18 PM. Your flight is in a few hours. You’ll have to get going soon. 

You pick out the nicest, most expensive bottle of red wine in your home. You were going to save it for when Ushi made the national team again but, as you’ve learned rather painfully, sometimes plans change. 

You pour yourself a glass, but in the end, can’t bring yourself to take a single sip. 

That’s how Ushi finds you, sitting at the kitchen table, toying with a glass of wine. There’s only the lone kitchen light lit in the apartment. The shadows dance around him, dark and monstrous, ready to swallow you both whole. 

Wakatoshi has never been particularly skilled at reading social cues but you can tell from the slight tilt of his head that he knows somethings wrong. You wonder if he knows exactly how wrong. 

(Not that it would really change anything if he did.)

The thud of his gym bag hitting the floor echoes too loudly in the silent apartment. 

He steps into the kitchen like he does all other things -- with purpose, with confidence. It will never not leave you in awe, even now, how sure he always is of himself. He’s a blunt force weapon, he always has been, and you can’t imagine a time where he’ll be anything but. 

He stops at the opposite end of the table. It’s the beginning of the same song and dance you two have done time and time again when he breaks his little promises. 

His big ones too. 

(You think of when he had missed your five-year anniversary dinner for a last-minute practice. He hadn’t forgotten about the reservation, he’d told you after he’d returned home to you sitting alone at the kitchen table, half-drunk and livid, but people were relying on him, is what he’d said, and there’s always next year.)

This routine is comforting, if only in the cruelest way. 

We can put on a show, just this last time, you think. For old time’s sake. 

Your eyes fall back down to your glass as you speak. “You said you’d stay home today.”

You look back up just in time to see him opening his mouth. No doubt getting ready to cycle through the same set of excuses he’s been using for the past four years. 

A teammate called. 

I needed the extra practice. 

There’s a skill I need to perfect. 

The Olympics are 4 years away...3 years away...2 years away....you know that, love.

And, of course, no matter his reason, his excuse, he always makes sure to add, I’ll stay home next Sunday, I promise. 

He doesn’t intend for that last part to be cruel, you’re sure of it, but God, if that doesn’t make it so much worse. 

You cut him off before he can even start. “You promised.”

His brows furrow at your exhausted, weary tone. “There was a team meeting today, I’m sorry I forgot to mention it to you. It went on longer than I expected it would. We can still go out to dinner if you’d like.” 

You give him a sad sort of smile. You’re too tired to give him any other. “I don’t think I’ll have time for that, love.”

Ushijima’s left brow twitches, as it always does when he doesn’t quite understand what’s going on. 

He takes a step forward, around the table. “What do you mean? Are you going out tonight?” 

You shake your head softly. “No, Toshi.”

You can’t help but wish more than anything, that it didn’t have to come to this, because you have loved him so much, so deeply, and you think that for it to end like this is a disservice to you both. 

His jaw clenches, no doubt already trying to contain his frustration. He’s probably tired after his long day. An argument over something like this is probably the last thing he wants. A good wife would care more. A good wife might’ve persevered, smiled through her husband's little lies and shattered promises. A good wife might’ve tried harder. A good wife might’ve dug her heels in, instead of letting go completely. 

But you’re not a good wife. Not now, at least. For all you know, you never were. You’ve always been just a bit too bitter, too selfish, too flawed. Not willing enough to throw yourself on the metaphorical altar for him. 

He’s close enough now that he can see the suitcase at your side. It stops him dead in his tracks. 

“What’s going on?” His tone is hard, demanding, but you know him too well to miss the fear that pulls at the corner of his eyes. 

Ushijima Wakatoshi is a lot of things. But he’s certainly not dumb. He has to know what’s going on. He has to have known that, eventually, this was what was going to happen. 

You stand up slowly, bracing your palms against the rough wood of the tabletop. 

“I-” you let out a harsh, mean breath. You hate that you’re doing this. But you’d hate yourself more if you didn’t. And you know you’d grow to hate him too, eventually, if you stay. You’re burning up here in this home, each broken promise and cold night add fuel to the already raging fire. You’ll be nothing but ashes soon enough. “I can’t do this anymore, Wakatoshi.” 

His pretty olive eyes narrow. The look he gives you is practically glacial. His fury has always been so, so cold. A stark contrast to your burning rage. 

He takes a deep breath. “I don’t understand.” His words are slow, methodical, and too even.

They crack open something violent inside your chest, something with teeth. Something mean and ugly and so, so sad. 

Too many years of biting your tongue have culminated into this moment. It’s time to strip yourself to the bone, to the ugly marrow. No matter how painful or awful. 

Don’t you two deserve that, at least? Don’t you two deserve to part ways having seen the worst of each other? 

“Of course you don’t understand, Ushijima,” you spit out, caustic and cruel. “How can you?” The laugh you let out is ripped from the very bottom of your heart, mean and poisonous. “Or more accurately, why would you? Why would you even bother understanding? It’s not like my unhappiness has ever really meant anything to you before-”

He cuts in sharply. “You know that’s not true.”

“No,”  you hiss. “I don’t. How can I? I’ve been miserable for years now, left to beg for scraps of your attention like a fucking dog. I’ve reduced myself to this pathetic creature. I-” tears cloud your vision, far faster than you can blink them away. “I don’t even recognize myself anymore, Ushijima. I’m so--I’m so angry all the time and if I stay here that’s going to be all that’s left of me.”

It’s silent after your outburst and in the air is something awful and too great. You’re both teetering on the edge of something terrifying. 

“If you stay with me, you mean,” he says, finally, and far too soft for a man like him. All signs of his previous fury have fled and in his eyes is a painful sort of vulnerability.

Your anger dissipates with his, mostly because you’re so fucking tired of being angry. 

Is it really his fault, anyway? What exactly were you expecting of him, when you took his last name? Were you really wanting him to change something so fundamental, so ingrained in his soul, just for you? How unfair of you, you realize now, how cruel. 

“Toshi.” You’re exhausted. And so sick of being second best. “This is more my fault than it is yours. I thought I could handle what being married to you would entail but I was,” -- you laugh, far less biting than before-- “very wrong.” You close your eyes, unable to look at him. “And now I suppose we’re both paying the price for it.” 

“I love you,” he says, bluntly. “And you love me.”

You’re finally able to meet his eyes again. You take in the planes of his face, the subtle pain etched into every corner, a brutal, beautiful reflection of the years you’ve spent by his side. 

“I do love you, Ushijima. More than anything.” 

“Then why are you doing this?” 

You swallow hard. “Sometimes, that just isn’t enough, Toshi. Relationships require more than love. They require work, and compromise, and some semblance of care and dedication, and you just-- you just don’t have the time for that right now, and I understand that. But I can’t keep doing this to myself. I deserve-” you stop and give yourself a moment to choose your words carefully, lovingly because you’re desperate for him to just understand. “We deserve better, don’t you think?”

He shakes his head, his hair falls in his eyes. You sweep it aside, a force of habit after all these years, something you’ve done a million and one times. Before you can jerk your arm back he grips it in his large hand. His fingers wrap around your wrist, unyielding. 

“I need you,” Toshi says, uncharacteristically desperate. You can feel the heat radiating off his chest. It's a twisted sort of comfort. Knowing this may very well be the last time you’ll be in this position. 

You smile, sweetly and a bit sadly. “No, you don’t, Ushi. You need volleyball. You need the thrill of the game and the taste of victory but you don’t need me. You’ve never needed me. And that’s okay.” You lift your other hand up to brush the stray tear that’s fallen from his eye. He nuzzles into your palm before you can move it, clinging to you like some sort of lifeline. “It’ll be okay, Toshi, we’ve just reached the end of our road. That’s all.”

He raises a shaky hand to trace the dried tracks of tears on your cheek, it’s startling to see him so uncomposed. “Please,” he nearly begs, “don’t do this.”

In your heart, there’s an odd brew of grief and rage and pain and love so mean you know you’ll feel the ache of it for years to come. 

You think of all the shattered promises he’s left at your feet, you think of the gentle way he’s held you through the years, you think of his string of nonchalant rejection, you think of yourself, bright and burning. 

Your mind spins from it and all you can do is rest your head against his chest and close your eyes.

a/n pt 2: there is some untapped potential in the fed up housewife genre and i am determined to unearth it. also i love ushi i promise i think he’d be a great husband under most circumstances

[bangtae-sohotddaeng]

nugatory | p.jm. | drabble

pairing: jimin x reader (ft. taehyung)

rating: m (18+)

genre: smut | angst | college!au

summary: Park Jimin is many things. Park Jimin is a responsible, smart, handsome and musically talented Taekwondo black belt. Park Jimin is Kim Taehyung's best friend. Park Jimin is a good friend. Park Jimin is a compulsive matchmaker. Park Jimin is many things – but he is not the guy you should be sitting in a car with, right now.

warnings: swearing + sexual situations (nudity, semi-public sexual acts in a car, fingering, penetrative sex) + possible allusions to some infidelity if you squint?

word count: 3.2 k

note: y’all. i couldn’t let butter!jimin keep ruining my life without acting out a bit, could i? this one started off as a pwp, but then i ended up combining it with a plot i had in my head for a while, and this turned into more plot and less porn, but. i’m okay with that, tbh. also! i’ve used one my older styles of writing (going back to 2016-ish) with this one. hope you all like it~ 🥺💜

— masterlist

— feedback is always appreciated!

Park Jimin is many things.

He is an astoundingly handsome, cheerful – and yet somehow mysterious – psychology major that you shared Freshman year's communications class with. He is the only rich kid among the majority on campus that doesn't flaunt his wealth to scholarship kids like you. He is kind, helpful, generous – did you mention handsome? – perfectly athletic and perfectly aesthetic.

Park Jimin is a responsible, smart, handsome and musically talented Taekwondo black belt.

He is also someone that gets excited at the prospect of claw machines at fairs. He is also someone that looks at the universe with galaxies in his eyes. He is also someone that doesn’t realize he will always be more exquisite than any art his best friend might ever create.

Park Jimin is Kim Taehyung's best friend.

He is the guy that stood next to Kim Taehyung when Taehyung asked you to the Freshman dance. He is the guy that told you Kim Taehyung has the most gigantic crush on you. He is the guy that set you up on the first of your many dates with Kim Taehyung.

Park Jimin is a good friend.

Park Jimin is a compulsive matchmaker.

Park Jimin is many things – but he is not the guy you should be sitting in a car with, right now.

"You really don't have to worry about me, Jimin," you mumble, eyes flickering all over his face – you always tend to drink him up the best you can, whenever you can. “I know I stupidly called you here, but I was just in shock. I’m okay, now. I’ll be fine.”

"No, I do have to worry." His fingers thread through his hair, your eyes hopelessly follow. "This was stupid and reckless of Tae. I'm sure he'll come back to his senses soon."

You blink. Jimin really has absolutely no grasp of this situation. But he obviously thinks he knows everything, which is making this conversation progressively difficult.

(His muscles bulging beneath his jeans and the t-shirt he wears are a contributing factor in making this conversation difficult, too, you won't lie.)

You breathe out, partly to collect your thoughts, and partly because you've been inhaling too much of his heady cologne and it’s making you think about—

Things. 

It's making you think about things. That you should have no business thinking about. Because you and his best friend have been going on dates. The same best friend who is currently, as you speak, on a date with someone else. Alluding to the reason why you have called up Park Jimin to see you in a confused panic, after ten, at night, at your place.

"Taehyung – he, um. He didn't see us going anywhere. We'd been on nine dates, but… He said he didn't think I was actually as into him as he is into me. He didn't want to go on like that." 

Jimin’s lips part. His brows hike up. You shrug, forcing your gaze away from the gloss on his lips.

“It’s been that way for a while. We were barely even texting. I think he has concluded that I don’t like him like that.”

Jimin rests his forearm on the steering wheel, almost leaning over the center console to catch your gaze. "Do you?"

His eyes pull you in like always and you're lost, just staring into their depths, as your mind ceases to think up thoughts that don't involve you and him naked and tangled up with each other in—

"Sweetheart?"

Your intake of breath is sharp, short and cold. Your insides are just as warm, turning everything in your head into incomprehensible mush. "Y–y–yeah?"

"Are you into Taehyung the way he is into you?" he whispers, and you follow the shape of his lips as they move. “Because you must know, he’s liked for a whole semester.”

You lick your lips, mindlessly nod, and then reach out with a finger to trace his cupid's bow. He doesn't pull away, he doesn't even flinch. "What do you think?"

His warm breath washes over your fingertip as you press it against his lower lip. His body jolts when your nail rims the plush cushion. "I… think he's my bestest friend in the world and he's basically in love with you…"

You shake your head, and your other hand travels past the console to grip his thigh. Your nails dig in. His breath catches. "He's on a date with someone else, as we're speaking."

"I just—he was so into you, I thought you'd be good for each other." 

Past the cloud of, well, something incomprehensible, there is disappointment in Jimin's gaze. And that is how you know he means it. You shouldn't be surprised, really, because Park Jimin always means everything he does, he doesn't have a single conniving bone in his body, but you still are. Part of you has hoped against hope that he set you up with Taehyung to get closer to you, himself. Which – sounds like a really flawed plan and doesn't really make much sense, now that you think about it.

But you still hoped.

Now—

Now, though. Now you know otherwise.

"How can I be good for someone else when I have never even been good for me?" you don't know why you confessed to that, but the words just tumble out of you and you let them. "I'm a mess, Jimin," you whisper, accentuating your point by massaging his lower lip by your index finger. "I destroy people, and I nearly destroy myself in the process. I am an emotional and psychological train wreck. He's better off without me. Anybody would be better off without me."

Jimin grips your hand on his thigh with his own. “Not anybody,” he murmurs, and through his furrowed brows and muddled eyes, you catch an emotion you have been well acquainted with for years, now.

Longing.

Your heartbeat picks up as Jimin massages small circles on the back of your hand. You remove your other hand from his face.

“Yes, Jimin, anybody,” you say with conviction, even as you desperately hope for him to offer himself up as an alternative. “Everything is a wreck inside of my head. I can’t do relationships, I can’t even date someone without messing up.”

His pupils expand and his tongue flicks at his lower lip. His hand tightens in a grip on your other hand. His gorgeously bleached hair curl over the side of his head. "You don’t have to date, then.”

You scoff. “Taehyung would never go for—”

“I’m not talking about Taehyung,” Jimin’s voice comes out three octaves lower. “And you’re not talking about just anybody.”

You nearly stop breathing as he brings his free hand to your face, pushes a tendril of your hair behind your ear and traces a knuckle down the side of your face, your jaw, to hold your chin.

“You say you’re not good for you. Can you try to be good for me, then?" He pulls your face closer to his. “Would you let me save you from destroying yourself? Let me try to take care of the wreckage, hmm?”

Your body spasms when he reaches for the hand you’d retracted, pecks your finger before pulling it into his mouth. His tongue swirls, his teeth scrape and his eyes roll back as he sucks. He lets go with a pop. 

Boy, would you let him take care of whatever he wants.

"Can you, sweetheart? Can you be good for me?" He sounds like he’s at the brink of something, just teetering on the edge, waiting for you to flick a finger before he free-falls.

Well. You’ve been teetering for years now.

"I want to be.” You don’t sound like yourself when you speak.

And you don't sound like yourself when he pulls you on top of him. You don’t sound like yourself when your back hits the wheel, your thighs cage his, your hands instinctively twirl in his hair, and –

Your core presses up against his length. 

He's hard and straining against his tighter than sin jeans. You claw at his t-shirt. He takes it off in a swift, smooth motion — agile and rhythmic in everything he does.

You don’t feel like yourself when your eyes feast him. Because how could you ever get this lucky? How could you ever get to feel Park Jimin’s shirtless self beneath you? You had long since succumbed to your destiny of perishing in pining.

And yet, here you are.

You lean back to marvel at his toned, chiseled angles, you let your fingers smooth over every groove and crevice and line of sinew muscle you can reach. You trace his tight abdomen, nails scraping at the last of his eight-pack before veering towards his toned v-line. You shiver at the dark promises it leads to, looking up to meet his eye. And you shiver more when his feral gaze catches you.

Then he pulls you into a kiss and you're lost.

He tastes like stale coffee and breath mints and bad decisions –

He tastes delicious.

His tongue plunders your mouth, teeth bite into your lips—he pulls, pushes, drinks up, feasts. You throw your all into the kiss, meeting him in the middle with your tongue swirling with his, teeth latching on to suck at it. He groans into your mouth – all loud, and guttural and manly. And then he stops. Pulls away.

His wholly black eyes dig into yours. His lips are wet, swollen and bitten. You did that.

"You have to at least talk to him—"

"I have another important business to tend to, currently."

You grind against him and make your point. He bites down on his lip. His arms snake around your waist to cage you against him, he pulls you down on him. 

You don't recognize yourself when you moan.

Your shirt is off, your shorts are pulled down and your panties are pushed to a side—

"You can never tell him." Park Jimin glides two fingers over your wetness, making a bigger mess of you. "Never."

You don't intend to, because what you do with Park Jimin in your apartment's parking lot at eleven pm on a Saturday night is nobody's business but yours. 

His fingers part your entrance and slide in you abruptly, and you see stars. Your head tilts back on a long, drawn out moan, Jimin’s fingers picking up pace inside you. You rock on his hand, you claw at his arm, you desperately latch onto his shoulders and rest your forehead against his to ground yourself. He watches you with his half shuttered eyes threatening to eat you up whole. 

His lips press into yours, tongue swiping through your mouth, curling up behind your teeth – it's messy, it's sloppy, it's the most arousing kiss of your life.

His lips drag down the column of your neck, tongue licking at the sweat droplets quickly gathering above your collarbones, his fingers curl inside you, his teeth latch onto your shoulder.

You explode under his thumb's press against your clit and sob into his neck when he drags its nail over the sensitive bud. “Jimin, Jimin, too much~ ah!”

He presses some buttons in his fancy car and his seat inclines. He pulls you to the backseat with him. “You okay?” he breathes on your face, hovering inches above you.

“Never been better,” you truthfully breathe back, heart coiling in your chest at the radiant grin he rewards you with in response.

A blast of hot air hits your forehead, your thighs and your shins. You jump, realizing he has turned some sort of hot air blower on. “For privacy,” he says, gesturing to the rapidly fogging windows, and then flicks a switch to make the air stop.

You both gaze at each other. Your eyes flicker all over his face to save every last bit of it to memory. You self-consciously swallow when you see him do the same. “Jimin…”

He leans down to sponge a kiss to your sternum, and then your hips buck into his as his tongue licks a path on the wells of your breasts peeking above your bra. A breathless moan leaves you when he scrapes his teeth over your cloth covered nipple.

You both pause for a moment, wide eyes locking in surprise.

And then you’re ravenous.

He strips you bare when you tug at his belt, and you rush to return the favor. You struggle with getting his boxers past his plump ass as he grips onto your flesh, peppering bites down your hips, squeezes your boobs, licks at your nipples—

You grip him, warm and heavy, and glide your thumb over the leaking tip. His head falls into your nape, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass. “Jimin, ple~ase,” you moan.

He plucks out a golden foil from his wallet, meeting your eyes as he tears the packet and rolls the condom onto himself. 

Your hands are pinned next to your head in a flash, his tongue teases your pulse point, teeth toy with your earlobe, and you writhe in want under him, eyes watering at the sweet torture.

And then he fills you up with a single thrust.

You freeze on a gasp.

His hair hangs over his eyes, irises lost to the lust storming in his pupils, his mouth gapes open, his chest is heaving.

“You good?” His voice is deeper than the ocean.

You've never been more turned on in your life.

He hisses at your frantic nod. “Words.”

“Yes. Yes, oh my God, Jimin, move—”

He thrusts into you at an unforgiving pace. Your whole world literally tilts off its axis as he meets that spot inside of you, and your body wrings beneath him, twisting up to hold onto some buoy to ground you, but he is unrelenting even as you grip at his neck — his teeth encase his lower lip, brows furrow and eyelids flutter as he drives deep into you.

You groan at the sight, moving your hips to meet him. You rock with him, never catching your breath, and your nails just dig dig dig into his meaty back, drawing patterns all over the smooth, delicious surface.

Your release closes in on you, and you chase it with your mouth clamping onto Jimin’s neck, your eyes screwed shut as you groan into his skin, until—

He draws back, standing on his knees above you like goddamn Adonis in this goddamn huge SUV of his, and the sight of sweat droplets trailing down his neck, framing his pecs and racing down his tight abs has your whine of protest dying in your throat as you gawk. His lips are parted as he breathes, a couple of sweat soaked hair strands sticking to his brow, and his eyes — 

Oh God, his eyes have an animalistic gleam in them as he hooks his arms beneath your knees, and drags your hips to him.

You cry out when he enters you at this angle, every thrust pushing at what feels like your cervix, and the pleasure is so blinding it's almost painful. One of his hands maneuvers to your center, a finger rubbing at your clit, and you yelp out a distorted version of his name, completely unwarned when waves over waves of hot, sweet, toe curling climax crash into you.

Jimin chases you into completion, his broken moan of your name filtering to you through the post-orgasmic buzzing in your head. His lips connect with yours as he relaxes your legs. You both pant into each other's mouth after two, lethargic, sticky kisses.

Your sweaty bodies make a disgusting sound when you detach, and both of you scowl together, laughing when you catch each other’s expressions. You sit up on jelly legs, barely able to sit on your ass when your sensitive center protests. 

You both dress up in silence, although you don’t feel it to be awkward in the least.

You’re still mulling over how to frame in words what you have felt for him for nearly three years, how to tell him and even what to tell him when you’re such a relationship-phobe, when Jimin releases a long sigh.

You look up in surprise. That was not a contented sound. It was one of… was it defeat?

Jimin looks at you with a serious face.

Your heart plummets.

One of the many things that make up Park Jimin is also his brutal morality. And right now, you can see it in his face that he thinks he’s done something wrong. Your shoulders hunch up in subconscious defense — you will not say a word, you decide.

“Taehyung is my best friend in this entire world,” he begins, stomping firmly on any remaining embers of hope left in your chest. “He can never, ever, ever know this happened, okay?”

You give a numb nod.

“I’m sure he’ll come back around and try to talk to you again. If that happens, don’t feel like you owe me anything, okay?”

You look up to find Jimin’s eyes searching your face. He looks so soft and grave and sad, that it hurts to look at him. You look down and nod again.

“I — I feel like you two will happen, you know, when the time is finally right.” His words sound stiff. Practiced, even. “Don’t let this come in the way of that.”

Even though you decided you wouldn’t say anything, your mouth is nearly bubbling with too much to say, at this point. You take a deep breath. “And what if he doesn’t come back. What then, Jimin?”

Jimin looks at you with wide, clueless eyes. “He…will. At some point.”

“And what about until he comes back? Am I expected to wait around?”

Something crumples in his expressions. “No, of course not. You can do whatever you want. Even after he comes back, you don’t owe anybody anything.”

“Whatever I want, you say?” you ask him quietly, your heart thudding in your throat.

Jimin swallows, obviously catching on. “I mean…I guess?”

“You guess?”

He licks his lips and his gaze zeroes in on yours. “Whatever you want, yes. Certainly.”

“Great.” You take his acquiescence for what it is, and grab his wrist. “Okay, then. Until he comes back, right?”

Jimin nods, haltingly, gaze switching between your hand and your eyes. “Right.”

You feign a smile you don’t actually feel because something about this doesn’t sit right with you. This boy, you realize, deserves a lot more than being someone’s dirty little secret. He is Park Jimin, after all, a guy that is so many things that you could never run out of listing them and— 

Park Jimin is a gorgeous celestial metaphor in himself.

Because he may look at the universe with galaxies in his eyes, but he is your only galaxy, and all your stars shine at you through him when he smiles. 

Park Jimin is many things — but he is not the guy you want to just casually fuck.

But your pathetic self would take anything he would allow.

And so you pull his hand and stumble out of his SUV, sharing shy glances with him as you pull him with you up the stairs, all the way to your dorms.

Park Jimin is many things—

To you.

nugatory (adj.) – worth nothing or of little value.

[narutogwriting]

Ruin the Friendship

⋇✦ Pairing: Naruto Uzumaki x Reader

⋇✦ Genre: angst; fluff; oneshot

⋇✦ CW: none

⋇✦ Length: 2.5k+

⋇✦ @gaarasandpit just a angst/fluff naruto x reader request if you’re up for it 🥰 maybe where the reader and him are somewhat close friends and he notices she’s drifting from him because her feelings get in the way? he’s oblivious and hurt about it then confrontation happens ending up in a good old love confession

“Cmon! Open up!” Naruto called from outside your house, pounding on the door like he had been incessantly for the past five minutes. “I know you’re in there!”

He did not, in fact, know whether or not you were in there, but he couldn’t imagine where else you would be.

All week you’d been missing; Naruto couldn’t find you anywhere. Sometimes he would see the flick of your hair from the corner of his eye or his ears would pick up the sound of your laugh, but by the time he turned to find you, you’d be gone.

Your absence in Naruto’s life wasn’t something of a minor inconvenience; it was a constant pain, as if he was missing a part of his own body. Iruka had joked that Naruto missing you was akin to that of a phantom limb, like there was something of him that should be there and it wasn’t and he ached because of it.

“No, Naruto. We haven’t seen her,” Shikamaru shrugged. Ino nodded her agreement.

“Sorry. Maybe she’s on a mission or something.

Naruto frowned, sighing in frustration. “Alright, well, thanks.” He muttered before he sulked off. Shikamaru and Ino watched him go, waiting until he disappeared before Ino gave you a kick under the table.

“Ow!” you whined as you crawled out from underneath, rubbing your shoulder.

Ino rolled her eyes at you. “You’re lucky Naruto’s an idiot, or he definitely would have seen you.” She told you as you slid yourself down into the seat next to her. “Remind me: why are you avoiding him again?”

Propping your elbows on the table, you rested your head in your hands as you gave a forlorn sigh. That was a loaded question. You were avoiding Naruto because the absolute worse thing that could ever occur had happened.

You’d fallen in love with the idiot blond.

And how could you not? You’d been best friends with Naruto for the longest time. He was a constant in your life, always at your side. It was rare that one of you was seen without the other.

There was no one in the entire world that could make you smile or laugh the way that he could. Whenever you were sad or hurt, he always had the words to make it all better. Naruto had the type of smile that could save people, and you were no exception. There wasn’t a person in the world that could meet someone with a heart like Naruto’s and not walk away changed.

It had been a slow thing, a soft, unsure growing. It wasn’t a feeling you’d recognized at all once, because you always loved Naruto.

It wasn’t totally strange for you to get excited when you saw him or miss him when he was gone. It wasn’t unusual to think about him before you went to sleep.

But when you began to wake up and your first thought was, “my god he’s beautiful” when you looked at the picture of the two of you on your night stand, that was a little strange. You never used to spend extra time in the morning doing your makeup when you knew you were going to see him soon.

And you never used to blush when he smiled at you. Even you could tell you laughed a little too hard when he said something even remotely funny.

It was one day when the two of you were taking a walk that it happened. He was telling you a story, his motions large and exaggerated. Of course, he wasn’t paying attention to where he was going. As he turned to you, arms raised high over his head, his foot hit a rock. Naruto went sprawling to the floor, rolling across the ground and landing flat on his back.

You burst out laughing at the scene, hurrying to kneel at his side. “Are you okay!?” You asked him between giggles.

Naruto’s face was bright red with embarrassment as he laid on the floor. He looked up at you, smiling sheepishly. “Oops…”

It was such a simple thing, but you’d looked at Naruto and thought, “I love him so much.”

Nothing had ever startled you more.

Of course you loved Naruto; that was a given. It was never anything that needed to be thought or said. It was just a fact. But as soon as you had thought the words, you knew that it was different this time. You didn’t just love Naruto.

You were in love with him.

You’d hoped that the feelings would fade. Maybe it was just a fluke or a passing crush. Day in and day out, you waited for your feelings to go back to normal, but now that you’d acknowledged them, they only seemed to grow stronger. It got to the point where you couldn’t even look at naruto without turning into a blushing mess. It was pathetic.

So you’d decided there was only one reasonable solution: you would have to avoid him for as long as it took for the feelings to go away.

And of course you didn’t want to stay away from him. Being with him was as natural as breathing. But the way you saw it, if he found out about your feelings, your friendship could be ruined forever. This way, you could take some space, move on, and resume your friendship like nothing happened.

But Naruto wasn’t making that easy.

You hadn’t realized just how much time you and Naruto spent together until you were trying to distance yourself from him. He was everywhere. Every meal, every free moment, he was by your side or trying to be at least.

“Wanna go eat?” “Wanna go train with me?” “Let’s watch a movie!” “I heard there’s gonna be a festival in the next town over!”

You couldn’t get away from him. So this past week, you’d taken to hiding from him every time you saw him, deciding it was easiest to just avoid him completely. In all honesty, you couldn’t believe just how much time and effort Naruto was putting in to trying to find you.

But of course he was putting in effort. Because you were his best friend and he couldn’t understand it; where you’d gone or why you weren’t talking to him. Had he done something wrong? Were you mad at him or something? Your absence in Naruto’s life was drawing out every insecurity he hadn’t even realized he still had. He was worried, drowning in anxiety.

What if you’d decided you didn’t want to be his friend anymore? Maybe you were annoyed with him, found him to be too much. When you and Naruto had first become friends, he thought it was too good to be true. There was no way that someone as nice and pretty and cool as you would want to be friends with him. No one had ever wanted to be his friend before.

But there you were with your sweet smile and calming presence. You had accepted Naruto, every piece of him, without question or reservation. You meant everything to him, so the thought of losing you had sent Naruto into a panic.

You’d managed to avoid Naruto for a full week and a half. The past three days, as far as you knew, he hadn’t even made an effort to find you. It was a relief and heartbreaking all at once. You needed your space, but it hurt to think that maybe Naruto didn’t miss you at all anymore.

These were the thoughts racing through your head when you crawled into bed that night. You doubted you’d be getting much sleep; you’d barely gotten any since you had started avoiding Naruto.

Pulling the covers over yourself, you closed your eyes and tried to get comfortable. It seemed like hours you laid there awake before tiredness finally started to drift over you. You could feel yourself slowly dozing off to sleep when a sudden loud noise startled you awake. Sitting up quickly, your eyes darted to the window where the noise had come from.

Naruto had forcefully pried open the window, shoving himself not-so-gracefully through the opening and crashing onto the floor.

He quickly jumped to his feet, rubbing his head with a small wince before his eyes landed on you, widening slightly.

“Ah ha! I got you!” He shouted victoriously, pointing his finger in your direction. “You can’t hide from me anymore, believe it!”

God, he was too cute for words and that was exactly the problem. Your heart practically burst just looking at him as he appeared so accomplished and excited.

But the triumphant look on his face slowly vanished as he stared at you. When he spoke, his voice came out quietly, dripping with dejection. “Where have you been?”

Quietness settled over the room as the two of you stared at each other. Naruto made no move to get closer to you, and you likewise stayed strapped in your seat. “I’m sorry…” You offered weakly, unsure of what else to say.

“Don’t be sorry!” Naruto snapped, anger quickly replacing his despaired features. “Tell me why! What the hell? You think you can just avoid a guy? Cut me off like I’m nothing to you!?” He was trembling, his usual happy grin twisted into a broken grimace so despondent it took you off guard. You had caused that hurt that Naruto was feeling. The thought made you sick.

“If you don’t want to be my friend anymore, at least say something!” Naruto spat. “Don’t just run from me like a coward! If you have something to say, say it to my face!”

There was a harsh edge to Naruto’s voice that he never used with you before. Not in all of your years of friendship. You realized suddenly just how badly you’d hurt Naruto by avoiding him. It wasn’t something you’d considered; you’d only wanted some space so you could get back to normal with him.

But you saw it clearly now, the damage that you had done. Suddenly, in this moment, he was the lonely, isolated child that he had been before you met, feeling alone and abandoned in the world. And this time, it was because of you.

The regret was like bile on your tongue, and you wished fiercely that you could take back the past week and do it differently. You couldn’t stand the thought that it was you who had caused this damage to your best friend, the guy you loved so much.

You didn’t have any words to fix it. All you had was the truth.

“I love you.”

The words slipped from your mouth before you could pull them back in. And once they were out, they couldn’t be taken back.

Confusion quickly settled on Naruto’s face. It was as if you could see the anger dissipate from his body. He stared at you, mouth slightly agape, while he tried to process what you’d just said. “You… What?”

Turning bright red, you pulled the blanket back over your head in embarrassment. You couldn’t believe you’d just said that! Now there would never be any going back to the way that things were, but you had to tell him. You couldn’t just let him think that you were cutting him off without reason.

“I said I love you…” You muttered from under the blanket. “I’m in love with you, Naruto. I have been for a while now, and I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. So I thought if I just took some space and didn’t see you for a while, then maybe I would get over it, and then we could just keep things the way they were…”

It was much easier to get the words out when you were under the blanket and couldn’t see him, but you were still nauseous with anxiety as you told him how you felt. Your heart was steeling itself for rejection as you waited for his response.

The only noise was shuffling as Naruto came to your bed. You could feel the indent as he sat down next to you. He grabbed your blanket, slowly peeling it off of you and despite your reluctance, you let him.

You didn’t look at him as you pushed yourself back up into a sitting position. You’d never been so embarrassed before.

“Did it work?” He asked you quietly.

Fidgeting with the hem of your night shirt, you mumbled, “Did what work?”

“Are you over me?”

The question took you off guard, lingering between the two of you, and you couldn’t help but flicker your eyes to his. He was staring earnestly at you with those wide blue eyes you loved so much. You wanted to lie to him but you just couldn’t.

“No.”

Naruto’s focused expression stretched into a wide grin as he wrapped his arms around you, hugging you to him. You were too startled to respond, so you just stared at him, confused, instead.

“You scared me!” Naruto laughed happily as he rested his cheek against your head. “I thought you didn’t want to be my friend anymore! You didn’t have to completely avoid me, ya know.”

There was a mix of relief and disappointment at his reaction. So, he wasn’t weirded out about your confession? Things didn’t have to change. The two of you could stay ‘just friends.’

“So, we’re okay?” You asked him nervously. “We’re still friends?”

Naruto gave a puzzled hum as he pulled away from the hug to stare at you. He raised his eyebrow as he studied you for a moment. You could almost see the light bulb go off above his head as he realized.

“Oh!” He laughed, grinning sheepishly and rubbing his neck. “I guess I forgot to tell you it back, huh? I thought it was obvious! I love you too, believe it!”

You blinked as he giggled embarrassedly, that signature smile of his on his lips. “Naruto!” You snapped at him, lunging and knocking you both off the bed. He landed on his back with you on top of him as you rubbed your fist into his head. “You dummy!”

“Hey! Cut it out!” Naruto whined, squirming under your touch. “Is that any way to treat your boyfriend!?”

The question was enough to make you stop, your mouth frozen in a surprised “o” shape, just like he hoped. He laughed, sitting up and holding you to him before he placed a happy kiss to your cheek, making your face flush over red.

You placed your hands on his shoulders, looking at him as it finally sunk in what he said. He loved you too. He called himself your boyfriend. “Is that your way of asking me?” You questioned.

Naruto nodded earnestly. “And my way to get you to stop giving me a noogie! It’s a win win! Well, if you say yes, that is…”

Shaking your head, you laughed as your whole body softened in relief. Your arms slipped around his neck as you hugged him tightly. “Yes, obviously!” You told him. “Yes! I love you.” Naruto hugged you back just as fiercely. When he finally pulled away, he didn’t hesitate. His hand reached up to cup your cheek as he leaned forward, pressing a sweet, soft kiss to your lips.

Well, you guessed your friendship was officially ruined. But suddenly, you didn’t mind so much.

[raggaraddy]

Sugar Daddy turned sour

Request: Hi!!!! read all of ur works its all amazing cant believe ur new.. can i request for a yan sugar daddy taehyung x reader x yan sugar daddy jungkook. they found out that that y/n have 2 sugar daddies and they lost their sanity(as if they even have that)...Thank u and YOU GOOD,KEEP GOING💜💞💞💞💞😘😁

A/N: I don't know how to post a reply to a personal message yet because I am new and Tumblr deficient 😅 But I hope you like the scenario ^-^ thanks for the request 💜

Here for Part 2

Summary: Juggling two guys and getting everything you want from them has always been easy for you, and Taehyung and Jungkook are no exception. Or so you thought.

Trigger warnings: Mentions of non-con, assault, cheating, violence.

Yandere! Taehyung

Yandere! Jungkook

Sunday.  Taehyungs day.  

You open your webcam, checking your eyeliner quickly in the startup view as you wait for the Tae to pick up on the other side. He pops up quickly a beaming smile filling his face.  

“Y/n! Baby, I’ve missed you.” He’s radiant. As happy and as bubbly he always is. 

You go along listening to him excitedly run through his past few days, telling you everything in excruciating detail as he jumps from one half-finished thought to another. He may be an adult but he certainly has a young soul. The whole while you feign attention, your fingers continually fidgeting with the diamond necklace or the matching bracelet he had sent you a few weeks back.

“How was your weekend?”  He finally gets around to asking. 

“Not so good. I always have to work so much," You complain, batting your eyes at the camera.  

“You could always quit and come live with me.” He jokes-but not really. It’s a topic he has raised 3 times already.  And you have the same answer ready as always. 

“Daddy, you know I’m a strong and independent woman. I could never let someone else pay for me.” You pout, running your tongue over your lower lip while pushing your chest up a little to draw attention.  “It’s just my rent is so expensive. I feel like I work just to pay the bills.” 

In truth, your rent is already being covered by someone else.  But he doesn’t need to know that. 

While you continue to run through the fabricated details of your weekend, Taehyung is distracted, looking down at his phone.  You know what's happening. It’s like a game. And you’re winning. Your banking app sends a notification, letting you know that K. Taehyung has just sent you a payment. 

You open it up. Yep. That's rent for the month.  Or more, money for that new TV you wanted.  

“Oh! Daddy, noo.” You whine down the camera. “You can’t.  I am okay. Really. Please don’t spend your money on me.” You frown if only to stop the smile that is fighting to fill your face. 

“I want to baby. I have the money, and I just want you to be happy. Don’t stress about bills okay. I’m here.” 

Sometimes, it’s almost too easy.  

“Okay Daddy, if you insist.”

Tuesday.  Jungkooks day.  

With Jungkook it’s a much more straightforward transaction.  He has said he wants to pay for you and he hates the back and forth pretences.  He just wants you to say thank you, smile pretty, and give him all your attention.  

“Do you need anything more for the week?” He asks through the camera.

“No Daddy, you take such good care of me. Thank you.” You smile. 

“You still have the weekend of the 14th off?” He raises his eyebrows suggestively.  Off-screen you quickly scan through your calendar.  

14th, 15th and 16th: Jk weekend.  

Hmm, that came up quicker than you expected. You try to keep your booty calls with them as far apart as possible. 

“Of course, I’m so excited! I haven’t seen you in weeks.” You say, it been less than 100% truthful.

“Months.” He corrects with a surreptitious undertone.  

“Where are we staying this time?” 

You always insist to stay in hotels. Because ‘your apartment feels too busy and mundane, and you want the time you spend with him to be magical and undistracted’. Honestly, you just don’t want him, either of them, in your personal space. You purposefully chose boys who live a few hours away.  It’s hard enough to keep them separated in your everyday life with them being far away. It could only get messy for them to know where you live and how to reach you in person.

You’ve certainly gotten smart at this. Arranging the two men into different days of the week, scheduling them into your calendar to keep them apart and unaware of the other. Both had specifically said very early on that they do not want to share you with anyone else.  And that you were all theirs. And while both of them seemed to trust you, you knew their reactions would be unpleasant, to say the least, if they found out about the other. 

Sugar Daddies can be so possessive. 

But while both these men are very handsome, money is better and more reliable than boys. And if they are stupid enough to spend it all on you, why should you care.

The week passes quickly and it’s the 14th.  Once more you find yourself in the lobby of a 5-star hotel. Jungkook arrived in town early and sent you a message with the room number. 

Time to actually work for your money. 

You knock on the door only to find it slightly open.  Entering there is a trail of rose petals lining the floor leading into the suite. All the lights are dimmed with a warmth of candlelight filling the room. This is so typically Jungkook. Pulling out all the stops to try to impress. 

Dropping your bag at the entrance, you close the door behind you and explore inwards.  

“Daddy?” You call out in a singsong voice. Your heels clack on the tiled floor as you round the corner into the living room. Jungkook is sitting on the lounge, one leg crossed over the other, arms rested up over the back. You smile at seeing him. You always seem to forget just how stunning he is in person. 

“Which one of us are you referring to?” A deep voice startles you from behind. You jolt, spinning to see Taehyung standing behind you leaning against the wall.  

Holy fuck. 

Your mind starts to jumble through what is happening. Thinking about what it was that might have given you away. Evaluating how much they may know. And planning your next move.  

Damn it.  You doubt you’ll be able to smooth talk your way out of this with Jungkook. He’s too direct and absolute. So you’ll just have to accept that that relationship is over. However, you might be able to salvage this situation with Taehyung if you play your cards right. Being defensive should do the trick.

“What is this?” You snap, keeping focused on Taehyung. “This is such a violation of my privacy! You keep smothering me Taehyung! See this is why I tried to find someone else to hang out with.” You stomp your foot. He would always wrap around your finger so quickly with the little girl act. 

“Ha!” He blurts out a short laugh in contradiction to how you expected him to react. “Wow. No, go on. I want to see where this is going.” 

“Do you think we only just found out about each other?” Jungkook pipes up, coming from the couch. 

You sigh. You had almost saved enough for a holiday to the Maldives too. But they seem to know too much. Fine. You can burn both relationships. They were starting to get too clingy anyway.  “Whatever.” You roll your eyes. You got all you could from them. Time to move on to the next.

As you shrug them off, Taehyung steps into the path of the front door. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Both he and Jungkook start to close in tighter. There is a cold tone to his words. Something far too close to a threat for your comfort. Even in heels, both men naturally stand taller than you which usually wouldn’t bother you. But with an unsteadiness to your footing and a very short dress on, in a dark room with two men you have used and spurned, you are feeling even more vulnerable than you feel you should. 

“Move.” You order. 

A smirk on his lips, Taehyung lifts his hand up and backhands you, knocking you back a few stumbled steps. You gasp, your hand clinging to your cheek, eyes wide in shock. He starts forward, Jungkook intervening, standing between the two of you. 

You can not believe he just hit you! He has never done anything like that before.

“No, don’t do that.” He stops Taehyung as he starts to swing again.  Shaking all over, you’re relieved that one of them is seeing sense.  You take the outstretched hand of Jungkook, lip trembling from the burn on your cheek. He draws you closer and you wrap into him for protection. In the same motion, his free hand swings down punching you in the stomach, doubling you over, dropping you to the floor. “If you hit her head, she might get spaced out. I want her to feel this.”

His words send a chill down your spine. This can not be happening.

“Are you crazy!” You gape, trying to speak while gulping down air. Your head is dizzy, your lungs burning.  Kicking off your heels for better movement, you climb back up to your feet not wanting to engage either man. Eyes focused you look past Taehyung to the door, storming forward. “I’m leaving. We’ll forget all of this, okay.” You bargain through short, panicked breath. 

Taehyungs large hand slams you into the wall, pressing his palm against your shoulder. He follows Jungkooks lead, pounding his fist into your gut. And then again. And again.  His hold removes letting you free and you plummet to the ground, crying within broken huffs while cradling your battered torso. 

“You’re right. That is better.” He laughs at Jungkook. 

“Stop!” You beg, unable to raise your voice above a soft yelp. 

“What's wrong baby? You wanted two men. Now you have them.” Taehyungs bright smile returns to his face. This time with an entirely different meaning than it had ever had until it shifts into a straight, harsh look that you have never seen from him. “Didn't you always say you wished there was some way you could repay me?” 

“You said that to me too.” Jungkook joins his side, both hovering above you, trapping you between them, the wall, and the floor. 

Leaning down Jungkooks hand follows you as you squirm away from him. His fingers wrapped around your throat and lift you up, keeping you against the wall. He takes advantage of you being stuck, leaning into you pressing his lips to yours as you resist as much as you can. 

“Baby, you’re going to pay us back for every dollar we spent on you.” He snarls. 

Taehyung turns your face to him, also forcing a kiss on you. “Don’t worry, Y/n, you’ll see that we know how to share.”  

Part 2