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lincolndjarin · 1 year ago

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Oh Honey. ✩ Chapter 2

chapter two : beware the jabberwock

series masterlist ao3 kofi main masterlist

a/n : took a while to get out but here is chapter two !!! i have a lot of fun writing this fic bc the pacing is so much different than bks but i'm excited to get this chapter out bc i loved writing it so much and i'm so happy that people enjoy this fic so far !!

pairing : monster!joel miller x mortician!reader

rating : 18+ mdni - explicit content, read all warnings

word count : 15.1k (i'm so sorry idk what happened)

summary : new relationships are tricky, especially when your boyfriend likes to disappear for several days with no explanation.

warnings, etc. : dub con?? i'm gonna tag this with that because the sex is like weird in this?? a lot of it is angry or reluctant from one participant at times so i'm gonna tag it just in case, soulmates au, no outbreak au, language, graphic descriptions of violence, gore, fear, feeling of being stalked, feeling of being watched, me making up things regarding the embalming process, animal death, graphic description of the mortuary process, menstruation, derealization (sort of), smut, oral f!recieving, p in v, biting, just like a lot of mouth stuff lmao, cum eating, rough sex, degradation, sort of dumbification, joel is a bit beastly, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, praise, use of the pet name bunny, nightmares, periods, menstruation, joel is a terrible boyfriend, angry sex, injury, blood, blood drinking, manipulation, not a/b/o but something i made up that is sort of along those lines??, body horror, monsters, predator & prey dynamic, a lot of stuff happens this chap so i might have missed some sorry!!, no physical description of reader but joel is described as being abnormally strong and does pick reader up, there is no actual fucking of a monster yet we can't just do that right out the gate it's a thriller it destroys the thrill if they fuck immediately, that being said; this is a monster fucker fic - proceed accordingly

comments and reblogs are appreciated!

You don’t sleep well after your dream.

Just staring up at the ceiling until the sun is starting to shine through the windows.

Not that you’ve been sleeping well recently to begin with. And Joel suddenly feels less safe, the grip of his arms around you feels more like it’s trapping you rather than protecting you.

It’s Joel.

Just take a deep breath.

It’s Joel. Joel Miller. Sweet, handsome, kind, Joel Miller. Joel who came back, even though you assumed you’d never hear from him again.

It was nothing more than a dream.

Stop making up monsters.

You slip out of his arms, quietly making your way over to the fridge to try and find something to make for breakfast. You haven’t gone shopping in a while, all you’ve got is half a loaf of bread and a few eggs. Good enough. Clicking the stove on you set a pan down, cracking the eggs with a small sizzle as they hit the metal.

“Up already?” You didn’t hear him wake but when you turn he’s propped up on an elbow watching you.

“Couldn’t sleep.” Not technically a lie.

“Are you okay?” He sits up a bit and you can feel him sizing you up.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

You aren’t really.

But you can’t really tell him why, so why bother.

He stretches his arms above his head as he gets up, making his way over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist, and resting his head on your shoulder as you flip the eggs.

“Hungry?” You’re desperate to think about anything but your dreams, as you speak his grip around your waist tightens.

“I could eat.” You shudder for several reasons as his teeth graze your neck before nipping at you.

“These should be done in a few minutes, I just gotta make the toast.” You laugh softly as the scruff of his beard brushes against you.

He makes it too easy to forget your fears.

“Mhmm.” The vibrations from his humming make you gasp, nearly dropping the spatula in your hand as he squeezes you for a moment. You work around his advances, putting the bread in the toaster as one of his hands slips under your shirt.

“How many do you want?” You hold up the bread in front of him, trying to get him to pay attention but it’s getting difficult to stay focused on your task when something is currently pressing against your ass.

“I think I’m fine with just this.” He squeezes the bare flesh of your torso making you yelp a bit as his hand drifts further up.

“What happened to your third date rule?” He groans as you reach over to the stove, turning the burner off to keep the eggs from burning before turning around in his arms, your back pressed against the counter.

“We should go to dinner tonight.” He smiles before leaning forward to kiss you but you put a hand between his mouth and yours.

“What makes you think I’ve forgiven you enough to warrant another date?”

He pouts. His bottom lip sticking out a bit as he frowns.

“Wouldn’t matter if I did anyway, it would only be the second date.” You shrug.

“Last night was the second date.” He says rather matter of factly.

“That didn’t count.” You can’t help the smile that threatens to form on your as his frown deepens.

“So you wanna wait for two more dates.”

Definitely not.

“Tonight?” For a brief moment you try and think of anything else you might be doing but you don’t exactly have a social life here in Honey.

“S’gotta be, I’m spending tomorrow with Ellie and then I’ll be busy with work, gotta catch up on some things.”

Why would he need to catch up if he’s been busy all week?

“Tonight works.” Even after what he put you through you still feel the strangest pull towards him, dragging him to the table with you as you set down a couple plates.

“I’ll be here at eight?” He sits, an accomplished look on his face.

“Works for me.”

You have an uneventful breakfast.

Neither one of you talks about his disappearing act. And eventually he has to leave for work and so do you, so he gets his things together once you eat.

“Get dressed, I’ll drive you to Maria’s, I gotta pick up Tommy anyway.” He takes a sip of whatever juice you had left over in the fridge as you nod, finding something clean to wear before following him out to the truck.

He makes it too easy.

He smiles like everything is fine and he holds your hand as he drives.

“Have a good day at work.” You return his smile and he leans across the truck cab to kiss your forehead.

“You too, I’ll see you tonight.”

“See you tonight.” You wave at him as you walk up to the house, Tommy’s just leaving, giving you a pat on the back as he passes you before jumping in the truck with his brother. With a weak smile you watch them go.

There are no bodies today.

It’s a paperwork day for both of you. You know Maria’s dying to ask about what happened but she never does, just staring up at you every once in a while, always looking like she’s about to say something before choosing not to.

You decide to throw her a bone.

“I’m having dinner with Joel tonight.” You can’t ignore the surprised smile on her face.

“I’m glad you two seem to be getting along.”

“Yeah, apparently he got caught up in his work for a few days.” You try and get a reaction out of her but she goes emotionless, giving you only a hum in response.

You don’t try to start another conversation after that until you say good night at the end of your shift. Giving her a small wave before stepping into the misty evening air.

You keep your eyes on the trees the entire walk home but nothing seems out of sorts and before you know it you’re safe in the camper.

You’re dressed and ready to go when the truck pulls up. You aren’t sure where exactly you’re supposed to be going but you’re ready nonetheless, deciding on just jeans and a plain tshirt. What you aren’t expecting is when Joel steps out of the truck with grocery bags and a grin plastered on his face.

“I thought we could cook together.” He says as he makes his way up the steps inside.

“You know how to cook?” You try not to sound as surprised as you are but he just laughs.

“I have two kids. I know how to cook.” He sets the bag on the counter and you open it, he’s brought bread, cheese, and cans of tomato soup.

“What exactly do you plan on cooking?”

“Grilled cheese.” He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world and any worries you had about tonight go out the window.

“You really went all out for tonight.” You raise your eyebrows at him.

He nods, searching through the cabinets for a pan and a pot.

“When you said cook together you meant you cook and I watch, right?” You lift yourself up onto the counter as he lights the stove.

“Obviously.” He sets everything down and you watch him fish around the top of the fridge for a few seconds before pulling down a rather dusty old radio. “I knew she had one somewhere.” He grins as he sets it down beside you, plugging it in and fidgeting with the knobs until the static turns into music.

You don’t recognize the song that plays but he does, as he hums along, opening the two cans, emptying them into the pot.

You had been so nervous about tonight, nightmares aside, you had expected a totally different Joel, the kind of person who ignores you for a week and expects immediate forgiveness. But instead he continues to be just Joel. Joel, who’s very presence lulls you into an overpowering sense of comfort. The moment he stepped inside the camper the entire space became heavy with his cologne, everything smells like the forest, as if you’re surrounded by pine trees and not the four walls around you.

“We should do something this week.” He turns to you as he butters the bread, setting it in the pan with a quiet sizzle.

“Don’t you have work, and Ellie?” You tear open the plastic wrapper on the cheese, handing him a few slices.

“I do, but I can get Tommy to watch her for a night.” He tosses them down onto the bread before opening a drawer, riffling around until he finds a spatula.

You hum along to the music with him when the song changes to something familiar, watching him cook.

He looks at home with you, like he belongs right here.

You both laugh your way through dinner, it’s outrageous how charming he can be, he tells you about the house he’s building, and how his brother ordered the wrong kind of cement. (You didn’t know there was a wrong kind.) And he tells you about how Ellie’s picked up some curse words, apparently there’s quite an argument happening between the Millers regarding who she learned them from.

You’ve always been hesitant to talk about work, especially on dates because you never know how people are going to react. Not everyone has the same relationship with death that you have. So when he says, how has working for Maria been? You aren’t exactly sure what to say.

“It’s good.”

“That’s it? It’s good?” He looks up at you, giving you that lopsided fucking smirk and you can’t help but just melt at the sight of it.

“We’ve been… busy, lots of work the last few days, now we’re just funeral planning, this week we’ve got a funeral pretty much everyday, Maria’s swamped.”

“What made you choose this line of work?”

You never really know how to answer that question.

“Because I like to play with dead things.” Never gets the laugh you hope for, and the real answer just makes you sad.

“I like to fix things.” You instinctively break eye contact, staring down at an uneven floor board you’d never noticed before under the table. “I like knowing that I can help people in that way, to fix them one last time.”

For a moment he doesn’t speak, when you look back up at him he simply looks at you with something that resembles yearning.

“That’s nice.”

You’re glad he thinks so.

He takes the dishes, rinsing them in the sink despite your protests.

Your palms are getting clammy.

This is, by his count, your third date.

Is it weird that this feels scheduled? It was different when you’d brought him home after your first date, that felt natural, your body innately wanted to be with him. How do you even start this kind of thing when it feels so planned? You both know what you want but it feels strange to just outright say, so is this the part where we have sex?

He dries his hands on his jeans and clears his throat as he turns back to you, holding his hand out, you aren’t really sure what he’s doing until he pulls you up from your seat, wrapping his other arm around your waist.

It isn’t the kind of song you can slow dance to, it’s fast and upbeat.

But as far as you can tell, Joel isn’t the kind of guy who dances in the first place, so you bring your free hand up to his shoulder and join him in his attempts to dance.

I heat up, I can't cool down

You got me spinning

There isn’t a lot of floor space in the camper but he makes it work by holding you close and mostly just spinning you as he nods along to the music.

'Round and 'round

'Round and 'round and 'round it goes

If his goal was to put you at ease then it’s working, any remaining nerves you have fizzled out completely. You laugh in earnest, not out of fear, as he bumps his nose against yours.

Where it stops nobody knows

Every time you call my name

I heat up like a burning flame

Burning flame full of desire

Kiss me baby, let the fire get higher

He keeps his forehead flush with yours as you continue to sway your hips back and forth to the beat, the both of you laughing and spinning, you watch curiously as he closes his eyes, inhaling deeply.

Abra abracadabra

I wanna reach out and grab ya

Abra abracadabra

Abracadabra

With a satisfied sigh he opens his eyes, his gaze going from simple infatuation to something darker. When the song ends he pulls you close, so you’re chest to chest and reaches over, turning down the radio.

“So…” You can’t stop smiling as you stare at him through your lashes.

“So.” He gently guides you, his hands on your hips as he walks you backwards until the backs of your knees hit the bed.

“I’ve got a long day tomorrow, I should probably get some sleep.” You give him an exaggerated yawn and point at the bed, plastering a mock apologetic look on your face.

“You’re really funny.” He leans down to give you a chaste kiss before picking you up. His strength is still a wonder to you.

The way he throws you down onto your bed makes you erupt into a fit of giggles but he certainly isn’t laughing anymore as he drags you by your ankles to the edge of the mattress, a look of concentration on his face now.

“Joel!” You shriek as you hear the tearing of the zipper on your jeans.

“M’sorry.” He grumbles, making no effort to slow down as he tugs them down.

He doesn’t sound sorry.

“It’s a zipper, just unzip it for Christ's sake.” His sudden change in demeanor leaves you a little breathless, in the blink of an eye he’s gone from remarkably gentle to practically unhinged.

“S’too late for that.” He groans softly as he kneels on the camper floor, throwing your legs over his shoulders.

“You owe me a new pair-” Your voice trails off into a stuttered moan as his mouth latches onto the front of your panties, dragging his tongue over the wet spot that’s been forming all night.

“We can go to the mall sometime this week.” He mumbles against your cunt before you feel his teeth grazing the fabric before tearing it apart completely.

“Jesus, Joel!” Instinctively your hands grip his hair as he buries his face between your legs.

How sharp are his teeth?

He’s all consuming. Like he’s trying to lay claim to every single part of you. And he’s loud, it’s a good thing you don’t have neighbors. Lewd slurping noises as he laps at your dripping hole like it’s his fucking job.

He flattens his tongue, dragging it through your folds, for a moment you aren’t sure what he’s doing, but it feels fucking amazing. The way his tongue moves in and out of you, occasionally drawing a lazy circle around your clit, it isn’t like anything anyones ever done before. It takes you a moment to realize that he isn’t necessarily trying to make you feel good (despite the effect it may be having on you,) you’re pretty sure he’s tasting you.

Drinking you in. If he’s trying to get you off it’s only because he wants more.

“S’ so sweet.” He mumbles against your thigh, biting the meat there making you cry out a bit before he returns to his work between your legs.

“Joel- fuck, Joel please.” You manage to stutter out between gasps, when did he become so gruff? You never could have predicted that he would be like this in bed, his grip on you is certain to leave bruises and you can barely think straight after just a few minutes with his head between your thighs. The noises he makes as his lips wrap around your clit are down right pornagraphic. Your vision is starting to go white around the edges as he does the first gentle thing since he started, sucking that bundle of nerves almost lazily. Through shuttered breaths you manage to mumble out his name a few more times your vision whites out completely.

You’re a little surprised at how quickly he manages to pull an orgasm from you, your skin coated in a thin sheen of sweat as you sit up, pulling him up by his hair as you crash your lips against his, tasting your own slick on his tongue. He moves so feverishly as you feel his hands spreading you again, teasing your entrance with two fingers before slowly pushing them in.

“Joel- oh my god-” He silences your rambling with his mouth again, swallowing your groan once he’s knuckle deep inside you. His brows furrow in concentration as he starts to pump them in and out of you. “P-please.” You stammer out.

It’s such a sharp contrast to the Joel you’re used to, he’s so… unruly.

“So fucking tight.” He mutters before grinding his palm against your clit, pulling another series of gasps from your throat. “Such a pretty, tight, wet cunt.” He whispers against your jaw and you feel a third finger pushing into you.

You hadn’t expected him to be so vulgar, turns out he’s only all southern manners outside of the bedroom. You’re starting to see stars all over again as you feel the stretch of his thick fingers, he nips at your jaw before pressing them in deep, focusing on grinding the heel of his palm into your clit until you’re soaking his hand, hands tugging at his hair as a second orgasm is ripped out of you with a shudder. Your head falls back with a noisy whine, you can’t decide if you want more or less, his touch burns your skin but you feel so cold without it.

“Please, please Joel.” You exhale the words, scratching lightly at his shoulders with a whine.

“Tell me what you want.” His voice is lower than ever and you watch as he unzips his jeans, shoving them off and taking his cock in between his fingers, still slick with your release. Your eyes go wide as he strokes himself a few times, he’s thick, hefty, you’re trying not to stare slack-jawed at the way he fills his own hand. You grab the bottom of his shirt, pulling it off in an attempt to feel more of his skin against you.

“Fuck me… please.” You tack on the please at the end hoping he doesn’t make you wait much longer as you gawk at his pretty tan skin. You don’t even know where to look, you run your fingers through the coarse sprinkle of black and gray hair on his chest as he crawls further up the bed to hover above you.

He takes your thighs, pushing them up against your stomach, his eyes dark with something reminiscent of hunger. You hook your own arms around your knees to keep yourself in that position as he takes hold of his cock once more, guiding himself into you with a strangled groan.

“Christ…” He mumbles under his breath as he slides just the tip of himself in, your own breath hitching at the size of him. He tilts head town, pressing a soft kiss to your chin.

He splays his palms out on your thighs, leveraging himself as he carefully rocks his hips back and forth, slowly working himself into you. The camper fills with the sounds of your collective noises. Joel is loud. Grunting and growling as he fully buries himself in your heat.

He scans your face for signs of distress, tears pricking the corners of your eyes, the tiniest sting from the stretch pulls a whine out of you but you only nod as he stares into your eyes.

“More, Joel.”

Once he has your approval he starts moving, setting a pace that for a few thrusts is slow before picking up. Quickly becoming downright brutal, every slam of his pelvis against yours drives his cock deeper into you. He feels as if he was made for this, he’s just big enough that it doesn’t hurt, simply an overwhelming feeling of fullness.

Your body begins to tense up all over again, you wrap your arms around his torso as much as you can in this position, scratching at his back. He leans forward, going in for a kiss before moving around your face, kissing your jaw, forehead, nose, and temples. When he kisses the apples of your cheeks you feel his tongue darting out.

Did he just lick up a tear?

He snaps his hips forward, disrupting your train of thought, his teeth barred as he does so, eyes fixed on every one of your reactions. He’s practically snarling as you let your head fall back against the mattress, the head of his cock driving into your g-spot.

“Wanna come again already, bunny?” You make a real spectacle of yourself, hooking your legs around his waist, trying to pull him in deeper. “Greedy little thing…”

“Joel please-”

“Joel please.” He mocks. “Is that all you can say now?” You keen softly but he only grins as you tighten around him.

“P-please…” You squeak out as he snaps hips forward once more.

“Come again, I wanna feel this pretty cunt come.” He snarls against your neck, leaving a trail of bites until he reaches your shoulder, a particularly harsh bite has you crying out.

“Joel!” You grit your teeth, a wave of heat washes over you as you come one last time, you feel his tongue dragging across the bite mark.

It’s all so close to being painful.

Your stomach aches from the overstimulation, and you register a faint stinging feeling when he laps at the bite. Your walls clench around him, strangling his cock, and his hands instantly leave your legs, gripping the sheets instead.

“Fuck, fuck.” He barely pulls out in time, coming on your stomach. You reach down in your haze, scooping some of his load onto your finger before sliding them between your lips.

Fucking salted caramel.

Sweet and sticky on your tongue.

He pants above you, watching with an intoxicated look as you dip your fingers into his cum over and over again until your stomach is bare.

He nudges his nose against yours, rubbing every part of his face against you for a few minutes. It’s wildly intimate and you're once again a little taken aback by his sudden tone shift.

“Was that okay?” He drawls, once again searching your face for any indication that you might not be.

You nod, beaming up at him and letting him rest the bridge of his nose on yours for a few moments more before you slip out of his arms, stepping into the bathroom. You relieve yourself before going to sort yourself out in the mirror.

You’re bleeding.

Where he bit you, two mirroring crescents, red and angry on your shoulder, leaking blood.

“Shit.” You grab a handful of toilet paper, wiping it clean before rinsing it in the sink and returning to him.

“Everything okay?” He’s pulled his boxers on, tossing you his shirt which you’re eager to put on. You don’t want him to see the bite.

“Everything’s fine.” You crawl back up into the bed beside him.

He stays the night, pulling you to his chest and caging you in with his arms.

And you aren’t haunted by dreams.

In the morning a part of you worries he’ll disappear all over again, you’re a little surprised when he texts you just a few minutes after he drives off. [ can’t wait to see you again soon bunny ]

Joel follows through on his promise.

A few days later he picks you up from work and drives you to the outlet mall about an hour away, saying he needs to get some stuff for Ellie as well. Apparently she likes to throw plates so he wants to find the kind that suction onto the table. As he drives the radio plays a country song you don’t recognize which he hums along to as you watch the trees outside the window.

“You know, I’ve been meaning to ask you about my aunt.” He turns the music down once you start speaking.

“Darlene? You probably know her better than I do.” He doesn’t seem very eager to talk about her but it only makes you want to know more.

“Doubt it. All I know about her is that she wasn’t close with anyone in my family.”

“You weren’t close? But she left you her camper.”

“That’s why I need to know anything you might know about her, I know nothing.” He seems hesitant and you’re worried if you keep pushing it he won’t tell you anything at all.

“She was a lonely old woman, had me fix things for her often, I honestly think she just wanted company.” His voice softens a bit as he says it.

“She didn’t have friends here in Honey?”

“Not that I know of, she was a bit of a shut in, sweetest woman I’ve ever met, just a bit… skittish. She worked from home and I’m pretty sure someone delivered her groceries. The only time I ever saw her outside was when I was fixing her roof and she sat in a lawn chair to talk to me while I did.”

“She worked from home?”

“Yeah, something on her laptop, I’m not entirely sure.” You’ve never seen a laptop.

You’ve been living in the camper for nearly six months and you’ve never seen a laptop.

But that’s not what interests you the most right now.

“What do you mean by skittish?” You’re trying to gauge his reaction but he doesn’t seem to have one.

“Maybe skittish isn’t the right word. Eccentric? Some of the kids in town called her ditzy Darlene.” His expression sours as he says it.

“That’s horrible.”

“It was.”

“Why?” He seems more reluctant than ever but now you’re just upset on behalf of the woman who left you everything.

“She fed into a lot of the legends around town, and didn't seem to have any hobbies outside of monster hunting.”

“Monster hunting?”

“She was the only local who went to the gift shops, searching for a monster she swears she saw.”

Sounds familiar.

“Did she ever find any?”

“Monsters?” He laughs. “Not that I know of.”

“Did you think she was crazy?”

“I think she was lonely, and I think when you spend that much time alone your mind can wander.”

“But did you think she was crazy?”

“No.” He puts an end to the conversation by putting the truck in park. You hadn’t even realized you were there, the outlet mall is so small. His southern manners remain persistent as he jogs around the truck to open your door for you, holding onto you to provide balance as you hop out.

You aren’t sure where anything is so you just follow him, taking his hand in yours as you walk. He takes you into a clothing store you don’t recognize the name of and waits patiently as you try on a few different pairs of jeans. It’s been quite some time since you’ve bought new clothes so you get a few pairs, you’re worried it’s boring for him to just wait outside the changing room but when you walk out with three pairs slung over your arm he still looks happy as can be. When you go to pay he opens his wallet, silencing your protests with a reminder that it’s his fault you needed new jeans in the first place.

After that he takes his time, the two of you walk hand in hand through each store, he doesn’t even look around most of them, seemingly content with just spending time with you.

He manages to find a few rubber bowls with suction cup bottoms for Ellie as well as some spanish flashcards and you decide to get a pair of blue hiking boots, if you’re gonna be walking everywhere you might as well be comfortable.

At the last store you stop at you find a nice perfume, spraying a bit into the air and inhaling. It reminds you of springtime, it’s light, floral, but when Joel catches a whiff of it he scrunches his nose up.

“You don’t like it?” You set the bottle back down.

“I like the way you smell now.” You frown, trying to remember what shampoo and body wash you’ve been using. If you recall correctly it’s just some generic brand you’d bought ages ago.

“I didn’t know you spoke spanish?” You remark, pointing at the bag containing the cards, opting to just change the subject rather than give yourself a headache trying to remember.

“I don’t, but Sarah does and she’s been insisting I teach Ellie while she’s gone, something about it being better if she’s bilingual.”

“I think that’s sweet.” You swing your arms a bit, keeping his hand in yours as he walks you out of the store and in the direction of the truck.

“Of course you think it’s sweet, you're not the one with two daughters who will be using their secret language against you.” He takes his keys from his pocket, clicking the unlock button.

“It’s not a secret language, if your baby can learn it then I’m sure you can.” He helps you up into the truck once more, shutting the door behind you.

It’s almost comically difficult to keep your hands off him when you’re alone, especially now that you have a taste for him. Even just being in the truck with the windows up is suffocating, the smell of his aftershave or his laundry detergent drives you mad the moment you’re stuck in an enclosed space with him.

You slide across the truck so you’re in the middle seat as he pulls out of the parking lot. It’s like you feel sick when you aren’t touching him, like you’re suffering from this barely noticeable nausea and you don’t realize you were even dealing with it until it’s gone.

You watch curiously as he keeps one hand on the wheel and brings the other to rest on your thigh. His shoulders relax the moment he does, his frown lines smooth themselves out a bit.

He’s just so warm, and he’s so nice to be near. Today he smells like a candle you used to have, something you lit around Christmas time. He smells like cookies and peppermint.

You can’t help but turn your head a bit, trying to discreetly inhale the scent of his jacket.

To say that Joel Miller becomes the perfect boyfriend would be an understatement.

He drives you to work, he sends you flowers, (which gets confusing in a funeral home.) he holds open doors, and he always texts you back.

Quite literally everything gets better once he’s back in your life.

You don’t get anymore mangled bodies, only a few from the nursing home and one from a nearby hospital, it’s mostly just funeral planning these days. You see Joel daily, Maria and Tommy seem a little surprised every time he dotes on you and you can’t help but wonder what he’s done to earn such a reaction, but he’s so sweet you hardly care. Between both of you working and him having a toddler you’re shocked he makes as much time for you as he does. You see him every morning when he takes you into work but he also insists on seeing you twice a week, whether it’s going out, or ordering in, or just dragging him into your bed, he always makes time for you.

You even spend a little time with Ellie. Joel spends a lot of time with her at the funeral home so you often see her in little doses, she seems indifferent towards you which worries you until you realize she acts that way towards everyone but her father. It’s remarkable to watch him with her, he’s soft with you but with her it’s something else entirely. She sticks to him like glue and you’ve never once seen him look bothered by that fact, you assume she’d get bored just sitting in his arms but she never does. He likes to tell her jokes and you aren’t even sure she understands them but without fail she bursts into a fit of giggles every time he gets to the punchline.

It’s good with him, everything is easier. Everything just sort of makes sense with Joel and for the first time in a long time everything feels right.

Until the morning you wake up, a sticky feeling between your legs and an ache in your belly.

“Shit.” You roll out of bed, quickly shedding your clothes, tossing them into the laundry bin before texting Joel.

[ hot date idea for us, you drive me to the laundromat and then watch me do my laundry ]

Setting your phone down you hop into the shower, washing away the blood with a groan, you spend far too long under the water, when you finally step out and check your phone you’re running late, you pull open the curtains a bit to see if Joel’s already waiting for you but much to your confusion you aren’t met with the familiar sight of the truck.

You had never really discussed him driving you to work; it was just something he’d started doing, you probably shouldn’t have expected it to be a permanent thing.

You haphazardly pull yourself together, tossing on whatever looks clean before grabbing your phone and bag, rushing out the door.

The cool morning air stings your face as you quickly walk down the familiar gravel driveway towards the home, you’re already preparing your excuse for why you’re so late but Maria doesn’t even notice as you step into the office, she’s busy on a call.

You recognize the look on her face, she’s talking to a family. You step inside, taking a seat in one of the chairs across from her desk as you wait. She seems to be at the end of the conversation.

You couldn’t be more grateful that she takes care of telling the families. You’ve never been good at that kind of thing. She hangs up with a gentle, goodbye, smiling up at you as you try and imagine a situation in which your job was to deliver such terrible news.

The ache in your stomach snaps you back to reality.

Fuck. You forgot to bring anything.

“Any chance you have a pad?” You give her an apologetic look.

Based on her expression you’d think you’d just asked her for a lung. Several emotions flash across her face in an instant, but mostly she looks like someone who just solved a riddle that had been plaguing them for quite some time. She snaps out of it quickly though, giving you a curt nod.

“Of course, let me just run upstairs.”

It’s an older man, graying and wearing what is obviously hiking gear.

Poor guy.

He’s torn apart, the worst you’ve seen so far, his limbs have all been individually torn off, they lay, separated from the rest of him on the table.

It’s an open casket so you’re gonna be down here all day.

You text Joel one last time before setting your phone down.

[ gonna be pretty busy all day, got another bear attack, i’ll call you when i’m on my way home. ]

With that you get to work, putting on your gown and gloves, and starting at the torn clothes. It’s hard to figure out where his clothes start and his skin ends with the condition his body is in but you manage to cut him out of everything so you can properly assess the damage.

You’re getting used to seeing these messy wounds, the sight of torn flesh. It should be a pretty easy job all things considered. He’ll be in a suit so you’ll just reattach everything and no one will ever have to see the extent of his wounds.

You check everything twice, making sure that you’ve got the left and right correct before you start sewing things back up. You try to mimic the way you saw Maria do it, careful and practiced stitches.

You finish the legs easily enough, both had been ripped off just above the knee, you’re about to start on the arms when you drop the needle in surprise.

How didn’t you realize this before?

You’ve been preparing these bodies for weeks now and you’ve never once noticed one harrowing detail. You’re used to tending to bodies that have already seen a pathologist. Bodies with their organs in a bag, with their blood drained, ready to be prepared for a funeral or cremation. And you’ve been so focused on doing a good job to impress Maria that you’ve failed to take note of the most obvious thing before you.

There’s no blood.

None of the bodies you’ve tended to from the bear attacks have blood, all of their organs remain intact but because Maria declares cause of death you know she doesn’t drain them. You’ve drained everyone who hasn’t been sent in from a bear attack.

Maybe Maria drained them before you got in.

But that isn’t possible, you know that, you’d have seen the equipment, and you’ve gotten bodies straight from the scene, already drained.

You reach over to grab a scalpel off the table.

You shouldn’t do this. You could probably be fired for it, but as long as no one finds out you’ll be fine. All the damage to this cadaver has been done to its limbs, so hypothetically, if you were to slice open his chest you would see blood, dried or otherwise.

So you do just that.

You carve out a small, clean, incision vertically on his sternum.

Nothing.

You’ve got a pen flashlight that you shine into his chest cavity only to find his organs. Dry.

He’s been completely drained of his blood.

You stitch him up quickly, finishing the job as swiftly as possible before running up the stairs, mumbling a rushed excuse to Maria before running the entire way home.

Joel doesn’t text you back.

This isn’t happening, not again, he wouldn’t do this again.

You feel like you’re gonna be sick.

An image flashes through your mind.

Joel.

Lips curled back in a snarl.

No. That wasn’t real, it was just a dream. Although the line between the two has been getting blurrier.

Joel isn’t out there draining people of their blood, that’s absurd, even if he goes missing and those dates happen to coincide with the days that you get bloodless corpses.

It’s a coincidence.

Or it isn’t.

Maybe for one second you should just let yourself consider the possibility that something is terribly wrong.

You thoroughly check the two bodies you get the next day.

They come in together, a couple from out of state hiking in the park. Neither one of them bleeds.

The day after that you wake up early and walk to the funeral home as the sun rises. You watch the hearse wheel in the body, and you make sure you’re the first person to see her.

A tragically beautiful woman who appears to be in her late forties, maybe early fifties.

None of her wounds are bloody, and when you open her chest cavity it’s like someone drank her insides with a straw.

You’re nearly at your breaking point, nothing you’re looking at makes any sense.

You spend that night in bed, unable to sleep as you try and figure out what the hell is going on.

Joel doesn’t answer your calls.

He doesn’t respond to your several angry texts.

And something deep down within you tells you that asking Maria would be a mistake.

You’re completely alone on this.

So you call Maria and you tell her that you’re sick and won’t be in tomorrow. Then you look up the bus schedule in and out of town.

The bus comes in and out of Honey twice, every other day. Lucky for you, today is one of the days the bus will be there in the morning, and return in the evening.

The bus stop is empty when you arrive, the misty morning air clings to your skin as you stare out into the surrounding forest.

Something is out there.

And you’re gonna find out what it is.

You can’t keep being afraid, this is your home now, and you won’t be driven away by some imaginary monster.

It starts to drizzle when you look out the window of the bus, watching Honey disappear behind you.

You have a plan.

Well sort of.

You’re going to find some literature on the subject. You’re sick of feeling crazy so you’re going to prove yourself right. Something is very wrong in Honey, and monster or not, you’re going to figure it out.

You don’t catch the name of the town you end up in, you just get off at the stop that looks the most tourist friendly, assuming that there has to be a book store somewhere in town.

You only have to walk main street for a few minutes before you find it.

It’s a quaint little shop tucked in between an attorney's office and a gift shop.

Betty’s Books

Dimly lit and jam packed wall to wall with books, a small elderly woman sits behind the counter, reading a Stephen King novel.

“Excuse me?” You clear your throat as she looks up at you over her wiry glasses.

“How can I help you?” Her smile is warm, it fills the entire shop with an aura of comfort.

You’re going to sound ridiculous. And the moment you do this you’ll be speaking it into existence.

You don’t have any other options.

“Do you have anything on local urban legends?” You try not to sound too ashamed but her smile never falters as she points.

“Back left corner, dear.”

“Thank you.”

“Let me know if you need anything else.” She’s already buried her nose back in her book before you turn towards the rest of the shop.

You begin searching the shelves for anything that could possibly help you, there’s several different books on bigfoot and the loch ness monster. There are a lot of empty spaces between books and you have to assume that this is what most tourists are buying.

People in search of ghosts and myths.

Are you any better than them?

Running out into the darkness, looking for a monster you very well may have made up.

You look through a few more options before finally settling on a thick, leather bound book, you pull it from its place and stare down at the embossed cover.

A Beginners Guide to Cryptozoology : West Virginian Monsters

You aren’t going to find a better place to start.

You move back towards the front, stopping in front of the children's section.

Lullabies & Poems for Bedtime

A rabbit with a pocket watch, asleep under a tree, adorns the cover.

Ellie might like that.

Even if you’re madder than hell at her father.

You grab the little white book, setting both onto the counter, paying before stepping out into the rain. You’ve got hours until the bus back to Honey returns so you quickly make your way to a diner across the street, keeping the books tucked into your jacket.

A little bell chimes as you push the door open, sitting yourself at one of the free booths you set the books down on the table.

The waitress brings you coffee and water as you set your jacket aside, you order a plate of fries just to give you something to do as you watch the rain on the diner windows for a bit.

Eventually you know you can’t put it off anymore so you open up the book and sit back, taking care to read every single page, not wanting to miss a thing.

The first thing you learn is that there are a startling number of unnamed monsters.

It covers the basics in the first few chapters, mothman, bigfoot, chupacabra, and werewolves, but the second half of the book is entirely monsters with no names, only ink drawing accompanying the descriptions. For a while you find nothing, eventually ordering a milkshake which you sip as you skim the pages.

After two hours you’re about to give up when you stumble across a page that finally shows something familiar.

A drawing of a body, mangled, with wounds you recognize.

Five slashes across the chest, both arms completely torn off.

This creature is thought to reside only in heavily wooded areas, it was speculated to be located in the southern United States for several decades before disappearing completely.

Since then people have claimed to have seen this creature in many different locations although the majority seem to be centralized to the east coast of North America, resembling a lich, or a wendigo.

When you turn the page the illustration of the monster stares back at you.

It’s hard to make out what’s what and it looks mostly like inky scribbles but within those lines you see the creature you’ve been imagining. Long, sharp limbs, massive shoulders, and a face almost reminiscent of a humans, everything is just… distorted.

While technically unnamed, there are many unique pieces of folklore attached to this specific creature. Witnesses claim to have seen this monster transform from human to creature and vice versa, as if they walk among us in their free time.

What sets the creature apart from many other creatures of this variety is their affinity for humans. More often than not we’ve gotten reports of these creatures seeking out human mates.

We have several different claims from people saying they’ve seen the transformation happen right before their very eyes. One man claimed to have watched his sister in law turn at Thanksgiving dinner. Another says that he saw a cousin's boyfriend disappear into the woods during a wedding, transforming into a beast as he did.

According to old legends there is thought to be a connection between these creatures and their mates, quite literally bonding them in blood. The males are believed to be linked to their human mates menstrual cycles; if they have one, the females are linked to their own. There are many different descriptions of what this means for human mates. Some believe that when this creature comes in contact with their mate that they permanently revert to their human forms. Others believe they’re hunger for flesh only grows after coming in contact with them.

But most believe that they eat their mate. Plain and simple. That their blood is more potent to them than anyone else’s, so much so that any love they may harbor for them is irrelevant, they are simply blinded by their bloodlust.

Its victims often resemble that of an animal attack. Bodies torn apart, mangled, often believers of this legend are ‘disproven’ because of this fact, but there is always one thing that separates this creature's kills from that of an animal. Animals who eat their victims will do exactly that, eat them, this creature does no such thing, while it does massacre its victims it will rarely consume its flesh, preferring the taste of blood.

There have been no confirmed sightings of these creatures and we have been unable to trace its origins or obtain any photographic evidence, maybe it really is just an animal.

Monster or bear? It’s up to you.

It’s up to you.

You slam the book shut.

It’s nonsense.

Joel isn’t some blood drinking, period monster. But you came all this way, looking for a monster, and seemingly you’ve found it.

You pick up the little book for Ellie, taking a sip of your coffee.

Maybe it’ll make you feel better.

You open it to find a familiar little song on the inside of the cover.

I know you,

I walked with you once upon a dream.

You flip through it, mostly admiring the beautiful illustrations, they look like watercolors. There’s a frog with a crown, princesses with flowing gowns and witches grinning up at you from the pages. It isn’t until some random page in the middle that you actually stop to read the poem. The drawing accompanying this one isn’t colorful, only black ink, a drastic change from everything so far.

Jabberwocky

By: Lewis Carroll

It unsettles you to look at so you focus on the words instead. You know this creature, it’s from Alice in Wonderland. The poem is whimsical, you can imagine a child finding it rather entertaining should a parent read it with enthusiasm. You don’t have a parent reading it to you though, you’re alone, staring at the lines that have caught your eye.

Beware the Jabberwock, my son!

The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!

No more books today.

When you check your phone there are no new notifications. So Joel is either a terrible boyfriend or a potential murderer.

How comforting.

Fuck it.

You click on his contact.

[ TEXT ME BACK RIGHT NOW. OR WE’RE THROUGH. ]

Monsters aren’t real.

Joel Miller is just the worst boyfriend (soon to be ex-boyfriend) on the planet.

It doesn’t help that you catch a glimpse of a tampon wrapper in your bag when you throw your phone back into it.

It’s a coincidence.

You can’t say anything to anyone about this, how would it look if ditzy Darlene’s niece showed up and started spinning stories of her own? You can’t do it, you know exactly what people would say. They’d say it ran in the family and they’d find a reason to be cruel to her even in death.

So you take the bus home in silence.

For the next few days barely speak to Maria other than polite greetings, you’re certain she doesn’t notice, both of you are swamped. You’ve got a body everyday the rest of the week and she’s up to her neck in paperwork.

And Joel never texts.

Maria’s juggling Ellie and trying to fill out papers when you get in the next morning.

“Thank god you’re here, can you run upstairs and grab something for me, there’s a little makeup bag on the counter in the bathroom, I forgot it earlier and I’m waiting on a phone call regarding the couple we had.”

“Of course.” You set your things down before reaching for Ellie. “Here, let me take her so you can do that.”

“You’re a lifesaver, thank you.” Almost as if on cue the phone rings the moment she says it. You head towards the stairs, the toddler in your arms scrunches up her face as if trying to recall your identity.

“You know me, silly, I’m friends with your daddy.” At the mention of her father she seems to relax and you open the door at the top of the stairs.

You’ve never actually been in this part of the house before, you’ve always stayed in the business section. You don’t get a chance to look around, the bathroom is the first door on your left. A bag the size of a pencil box is on the counter, you hand it to Ellie, her little hands play with the bag as you carefully bounce her in your arms.

“Do you know where your daddy is?” You poke her in the belly making her smile at you for the first time. “Not gonna snitch?” You tickle her side, earning a tiny giggle. You let her play with the zipper as you bring her back downstairs. “Any bodies today?” You yell as you descend the stairs.

“Had a cremation from the home this morning, I’ve just got a lot of papers, I’m planning six funerals simultaneously right now.”

Six massacred corpses in six days.

“Where’s Tommy?” Ellie puts up a bit of a fight for the bag but you set it down on the desk just in time to watch Marias grip on her pen tighten.

Yikes. Must be a sore spot right now.

“He’s got a work thing, left me with that little monster.” She uses the pen to point at the toddler who’s already starting to get antsy in your arms.

If you’ve got no bodies today you might as well offer to help.

“I can watch Ellie if you’d like.”

“Really? You don’t mind?”

“Of course not, want me to keep her upstairs? I’m sure you don’t want me watching her in the basement.” You laugh a little as she nods.

“You really are a lifesaver, I don’t know how I managed without you.”

“Oh stop, you clearly did just fine before I came along.” Your face gets a bit hot at the compliment.

“I’ll be up in a few hours once I finish up here, you two have fun.” She doesn’t give any instruction beyond that so you just take Ellie back upstairs. You haven’t spent much time with her beyond the small interactions in passing but you know she doesn’t like doing nothing unless it’s with Joel. She’s trying to get out of your arms the second you’re at the top of the stairs. You set her down in the entryway and she’s already running into the kitchen.

You don’t want to snoop but you actually get to take a good look around as Ellie settles in front of a pile of notebooks and a mess of crayons on the kitchen floor. It’s a pretty open floor plan, the kitchen and living room are all one big room and from the looks of it they must watch Ellie often, an outsider would assume they have a child of their own. A play pen is set up on the floor of the living room and toys are scattered everywhere.

“Are you hungry, sweetie? Do you want something to eat?” There’s different snacks on the counter as you walk over to where she’s playing.

“Yes please.” Her voice is clear and high pitched, you’re actually a little surprised, you didn’t even know she could talk, she’s always silent when you’re around. There’s an assortment of different things on the counter so you just find something that’s already open. Handing her a little container of apple puffs, she doesn’t look up from her drawings, just blindly reaching over and grabbing a handful as you sit at the counter to watch over her.

She’s a very well behaved baby all things considered.

You have to stop her from drawing on the walls a few times and at one point she stuffed a handful of food between the couch cushions but other than that she’s rather relaxed. She sits and draws mostly, only occasionally getting up and doing a few laps around the room before returning to her papers.

At one point she makes her way to where you’re sitting, slapping your leg to get your attention until you pick her up, she points to the window above the sink and when you take her there she simply stares out at the trees.

She’s focused on the woods as you watch her expression, her face is oddly serious.

After a few minutes you set her down, unease filling your body. She doesn’t seem to mind though as she runs back to her drawings, you return to the counter, checking your phone for a few minutes until she appears in your peripherals once more, tapping your leg again, handing you one of her drawings.

At several different moments this week you’ve thought that you’ve reached your breaking point.

None of those compare to how you feel when you pick up the paper Ellie had been scribbling on.

It’s crude and mostly indiscernible but you know exactly what you’re looking at.

A monster.

A broad shouldered, sharp toothed, crayon monster.

You stare at the little girl, trying to keep your composure as you pick her up, setting her in your lap and pointing at the mess of scribbles on the page.

You feel crazier than ever, asking a toddler for help but no one else is around and you’re running out of options.

“Can you tell me what that is, sweetie? What did you draw?” You hand her the drawing back which she crumples a bit in her fist before setting it on the counter, you point again at the creature. “Ellie, honey, can you tell me what this is please?” You’re doing your best to keep calm as she kicks her legs a bit before staring up at you with a frown.

“Daddy?” For someone so small she speaks so loudly and clearly, but you just shake your head.

“I know, honey, you want your daddy, I wish I knew where he was but you’re stuck with me today.” You smooth out her hair a bit as she scrunches up her face, looking rather upset.

“Tío.” She points down at the drawing before looking back at you for approval, you just smile. You feel like an idiot. Asking a child for help. A child who can barely speak.

“It’s okay, you’re too little to understand.” You hold her under one arm as you walk around the counter to the fridge. “How about I get you some juice.”

You find a clean sippy cup, pouring her some apple juice before setting her back down, handing her the cup and searching through your bag.

“I almost forgot, I got you a present.” She perks up immediately, setting her cup down as you hold the little white book out towards her.

“Thanks!” Her eyes light up as she takes it from you, it’s one of the few times you’ve seen her smile without her father being in the room, sitting on the floor before looking back up at you, tapping the spot next to her until you sit as well.

“Do you want me to read it to you?” You watch as she sets it down in front of her, she’s surprisingly gentle as she flips open the cover.

“No thank you.” She’s enraptured by the illustrations, not caring for the text, laying down on her stomach, and sitting up on her elbows as she slowly flips through the pages, her eyes wide as she points out everything she sees to you. You rub her back, nodding along, you’re mostly just happy that she’s excited.

She kicks her feet as she explains the big red bird on the page to you. After a few more minutes of her babbling she turns the page again.

Jabberwocky

She giggles wildly as she points at the page and suddenly you’re filled with dread all over again. She’s positively captivated by the drawing, refusing to turn to a different page when you urge her to move on.

You don’t speak again until Maria comes upstairs to check on her, when you do it’s to tell her you aren’t feeling well, and you’re going home.

You’re going on a monster hunt.

There’s nothing left to do. You need to soothe your fears before you lose it completely and you aren’t going to stare at the trees and wonder for the rest of your life.

You stop at one of the tourist traps in town, you need supplies for tonight.

A camera.

It’s an easy in and out stop. You buy a polaroid camera, and several packs of film.

No one will believe you otherwise, you’ll be ridiculed the same way they did Darlene. You think of her as you walk back home, what if she was right about everything? She spent her life in fear of a monster no one believed in and they mocked her for it, and at the end of the day she might have been right.

Maybe the monster is real and it isn’t Joel.

Either way you’re going into the woods tonight. Your backpack is packed with the essentials, your water bottle, camera, an extra film pack, one of the knives from the kitchen (wrapped in a towel,) and a flashlight.

Once you’re packed you put your boots and jacket on and head out.

It’s like everything quiets down the moment you step outside. The forest hums, beckoning you in, and how could you refuse such an offer?

You manage to keep your hands steady as you flip the switch on your flashlight, stepping into the trees. It feels so much colder now than it did when you were walking home.

With dusk settling the sun is no longer there to keep you warm or to guide your way. You haven’t actually seen much of the forest, so you decide to walk in a straight line to avoid getting lost as you carefully step over a tangle of roots. As a child you loved nothing more than playing in the woods behind your house. But after just half an hour in these woods you suddenly resent the trees, they no longer bring you any comfort as you carry on into the cold dark night. You’re just about to give up and turn back around when suddenly something changes.

Without warning and with seemingly no cause you feel a chill rush through your body, your hair standing on end. Your blood runs cold and you hear a sound you’re all too familiar with at this point.

The tearing sound rips through the air.

Your instincts tell you that you’ve become prey rather suddenly in this situation but you can’t turn back now, not when you can prove to yourself that you aren’t losing it.

As quietly as possible you reach back into your pack, grabbing the camera already loaded with film and holding it in your free hand. The beam coming from your flashlight trembles slightly as you carry on towards the noise.

It’s louder than it ever was in the dreams. In the dreams it was subdued, almost as if you subconsciously knew that it couldn’t hurt you. As you carry onward you can’t help but wonder if you’re just imagining it at this point. It doesn’t seem to get louder as you walk. It simply fills the air completely, you’re being directed purely by your instincts. You know it’s this way as you move forward a few more steps.

You scan the trees with your light, seeing nothing out of the ordinary until you finally see it. Your finger instinctively flips off your flashlight.

You almost didn’t catch it.

But your legs keep moving and you get closer and closer to the hunched figure.

It’s hard to describe, like your eyes don’t want to accept what you’re seeing. A voice in the back of your mind tells you that you’re getting too close but you can’t seem to stop yourself as you carry on until you can get a good look at it.

You can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief as you realize it isn’t Joel. But that relief only lasts a moment as you see what you’re actually dealing with.

You aren’t sure how big it is. It’s big. That much is clear but it’s crouched down, it’s almost human, it may have once been human. You’re having trouble making out most of it in only the moonlight. It’s less broad than the illustrations you’ve seen, almost slim, with how close you are now you can see that it’s eating.

A buck, one of the biggest ones you’ve ever seen is splayed out across some rocks. It’s stomach has been ripped open. You watch, with morbid fascination as it digs its maw deeper into the gore.

How curious, it’s wearing clothes. Or at least the remains of some clothing, a bit of fabric clings to its crooked spine, it wears the tattered collar of a shirt like a necklace. Navy blue sweatpants stretch around the creature's waist, the fabric pulled taut, it looks like they make it just past its knees. The elastic around the ankles has snapped.

The funniest part of all of this is that you feel nothing but fear for the creature. You aren’t disgusted and you certainly don’t hate it. You’re just afraid, so afraid that before you can slap your hand over your mouth you burst into a peal of laughter.

Fuck.

It all happens so fast, you aren’t ready in the slightest to be face to face with it and suddenly you are, purely on instinct your hand twitches and with the flash of the camera you get a single moment to stare at it.

It’s so close to being human.

It’s mouth is too big, a blood soaked tongue falling past a row of jagged, pointed teeth. It’s almost like someone stretched out a person's face like it was made of clay. And it’s male. Intricate branching horns stretch out from under the hair crowning its head.

“The doe’s don’t have antlers.”

Your dad was a hunter, you know your antlers, you aren’t exactly sure but if it was a deer it would be a thirteen pointer. You should run, you’re about to but then you finally look it in the eye, just as the final remnants of the camera flash flicker out.

There is something worse than hunger, or thirst, or rage in its eyes, if that was all there was you could scream or cry. But this leaves you frozen in place.

Recognition.

Like it knows you.

And the moment it recognizes you it snarls, an ear-piercing sound that rips through the quiet of the forest, blood spewing from its maw at you, flecks of crimson tint your clothes and hands as your eyes go wide.

It’s a good thing your legs move faster than your brain, you’re already sprinting away from the creature.

You lose your flashlight almost immediately but you know where you’re going, you couldn’t be more thankful for your decision to go in a straight line. You don’t stop moving, running blindly back the way you came, never once daring to look behind you.

You know it’s there, you can hear it, and you can feel it.

Its breath is hot on your heels, you can hear the branches splintering directly behind you. Everything is a blur, stray branches sting your exposed skin but you don’t stop, you can’t, your muscles ache as you push onward, keeping your hands out in front of you to guide you through the darkness until you finally see the road up ahead.

You’re nearly there, almost feeling relief, almost.

An icy hand wraps around your ankle, you’re yanked backwards before you can process what’s going on, your back dragging across the forest floor and in an instant you’re beneath it.

This is it.

You wanted a monster, you got one. And now you’re going to die for it. It snarls as its maw falls open, you’re face to face with a row of shimmering, gore smeared teeth. This is it.

He smells like cinnamon.

It tilts its head ninety degrees, its jaw closing in on your throat as you close your eyes, tears now flow freely down your face and finally you can’t contain your terror anymore.

You scream.

A trembling shriek falling from your lips and much to your confusion a killing blow never comes. After one more shuddering breath you open your eyes only to find you’re just staring up at the trees. You sit up, still out of breath.

He’s a few feet away now.

Thrashing around frantically as he stumbles backwards. As if your scream had upset him. He bellows, his twisted hands clutching his skull like he’s angry with himself. You cover your ears instinctively when it snarls in pain.

He can’t help it.

You’re scrambling to your feet once more, giving him one final glance, you look into each other's eyes.

“Run.”

It speaks.

You break into a sprint once more, not daring to stop until your feet touch pavement. You don’t get the sense that you’re being followed anymore but you’re still in shambles. The adrenaline is slowly starting to fizzle out and you’re painfully aware of the wound you sustained during that encounter. Your ankle is torn up, two deep gashes from where it grabbed you are bleeding an alarming amount. You stumble, the sight of it making you nauseous.

You get a moment's respite and you manage to compose yourself enough to retrieve your phone from your pocket. Walking backwards, keeping your eyes on the forest as you slowly continue to back away. In your desperation your blood stained fingertips frantically swipe across your phone screen, you don’t realize until it’s too late that you’re calling the only person who isn’t going to answer.

Yet when you bring the phone to your ear you hear a click.

“Joel?” You can’t fucking believe it. He actually picked up.

“Sweetheart? Are you okay?” He can definitely hear the panic in your voice.

You just break down.

“I’m by the road, on the way from Maria’s to my camper, I- I need you to come get me, please, it’s- it’s following me, but I think I lost it please, Joel.” You’re in hysterics as you catch a glimpse of one of the few streetlights down the road. You hear the sound of keys and you swear you hear Maria saying something in the background but you’re too frenzied to focus on that.

“Who’s following you? Stay right there m’on my way.” You can hear the truck starting in the background as you keep running, not daring to stop even though it doesn’t feel like you’re being pursued anymore.

“The monster… in the woods… it’s not a bear Joel.” You’re out of breath when you finally stop, standing in the middle of the road underneath the street lamp, spinning around to try and somehow keep an eye on all of the darkness around you.

“Stay where you are, I’ll be there in two minutes, okay? Stay right where you are.” You’re about to beg him to hurry when the line goes dead.

You must look like a mad woman. Standing in the middle of the street, covered in blood, and spinning in circles to try and keep an eye on every single direction as you listen for any signs of movement.

Your heartbeat never slows, you can hear it pounding in the crushing silence that surrounds you.

It only takes a few minutes before you see headlights approaching in the distance. You don’t even let the truck come to a full stop as you open the door and jump in, closing it behind you as you scramble towards Joel as if he could protect you from the goliath you saw in the darkness.

“Drive! Now Joel, go!” You yell as he accelerates just to the point of following the speed limit as he heads towards your camper.

“Bunny, please, calm down.” He wraps the hand that isn’t on the steering wheel around you but you shove him off, sliding back to the other side of the truck.

“Don’t tell me to calm down, Joel, not after what I just went through, I saw it, a real monster grabbed me.” You’re stumbling over your words, trying to get them out as quickly as possible.

“Slow down, just tell me what happened.”

“I told you on the phone, I just found a fucking monster, Joel, that’s what happened.”

He’s gone silent now.

He probably thinks you’re crazy.

That’s fine. You know you aren’t, you saw it, watched it feed. There’s deer blood on your boots.

“You didn’t see a monster.” When you look he’s shaking worse than you are. You don’t dare turn your head further but you watch in your peripheral as he grips the steering wheel, his knuckles going white.

He’s lying.

Why would he lie?

“I did, I took a-.” You reach into your bag and your stomach fills with dread as you realize you dropped the camera.

“You didn’t. You’ve been spending too much time alone, and you shouldn’t be going out in the woods by yourself to begin with.”

“And who’s fault is it that I’ve been alone?” You snap.

He doesn’t have a response to that. And you don’t have anything else to say, not like he’d believe you if you did. You should probably break up with him, for several reasons.

Except you can’t.

If you do, how will you stop people from being needlessly murdered? He may not be the monster, but he knows something, and you need to find out what it is.

So you’ll ‘forgive’ him. Again. Because you need to get to the bottom of this.

And maybe, despite it all, you’re still terribly attached to him. He keeps disappearing, without warning and with halfhearted excuses as to why and all you can think about right now is how badly you missed him, and how badly you need him.

“Does Tommy have Ellie tonight?” You mumble, trying not to sound too irritated.

“I was stopping in to see her before leaving her with Maria for the night when you called.”

“Why?”

“I was gonna come over here and apologize.” He sounds just as sincere as he did last time but you still scoff.

“What’s the excuse this time?” When you turn to scowl at him he looks guilty.

“I was out of town on a work trip.”

“And you couldn’t answer your phone.”

“I forgot my charger at home.”

It’s a preconceived lie. You’re certain of it based on how quick he replies, and it’s not even a good one. He could have borrowed a coworker's phone or bought a new charger; it wouldn't have been difficult. But he doesn’t want you to know where he really was.

Every bit of this confuses you.

You saw something in the woods, but it wasn’t Joel? Joel was with Ellie and then he was with you, he couldn’t have been slaughtering lost hikers. It doesn’t make sense. One thing is for certain though, and it’s that you can’t break up with Joel until you know what's going on or more people are going to be killed by that thing you saw in the woods. You aren’t really sure what to call it, but you know that you found the thing that’s been killing.

And he knows something about it.

He had no reason to get as rattled as he did if he didn't know something about what you saw. So you can’t break up with him, not until you figure this all out. Until then you just have to play the part of a clueless, loving girlfriend. Which shouldn’t be too hard considering the fact that for some reason there is still a sick and twisted attraction to him despite everything you know, settling in your stomach. You bite your tongue, going the rest of the short drive in silence. When he finally pulls up to the camper the engine goes quiet as he turns the key. You had no intention of inviting him in but you won’t stop him if he follows.

You slam the truck door shut, stomping up to the door, his footsteps following close behind.

“Let’s talk about this.” He reaches for your arm as you’re unlocking the door but you just shove him off. You leave it open, kicking your shoes off as you slip out of your jacket as you flip on the lights.

“I don’t want to talk.” He shuts the door behind him, you note that he locks it behind him.

How presumptuous.

Correct, but presumptuous.

“You’re clearly upset, bunny.” He kneels down, untying his own boots before kicking them off. You glare down at him until he stands, trying to pull you into his arms but you just shove him away again. His eyes go wide as he takes you in.

Based on his reaction you really must be quite a sight.

“Jesus, you’re a mess.” He looks genuinely concerned but you brush it off.

“Thanks.” You scoff but when you look down you realize you’ve been leaving a trail of blood in your wake.

“Do you have a first aid kit?” You should send him away. Tend to yourself and go to bed, but instead you just point to the cabinet containing the kit, sitting on the table as he retrieves it, tossing it down beside you. He doesn’t ask what happened, grimacing as he lifts your leg to examine your ankle.

He doesn’t need to ask, he knows what happened.

He tends to your wounds in silence. You wince as he wipes the lacerations on your ankle, they look bad enough that you consider just going to the hospital but he doesn’t seem too worried. They’re just shallow enough that you don’t think you’ll need stitches.

You don’t watch as he sprays it with antiseptic, quickly wrapping it in a layer of gauze and then bandages.

When he’s finished you’re ready to get angry with him all over again but the moment you open your mouth to yell at him he grabs you by the chin, taking a clean piece of gauze and gently dabbing the thin cuts that litter your face.

You stare up at the ceiling light, refusing to meet his gaze.

He tends to every one of them, taking extra care as he smears ointment on each one. When he’s finished he takes anything bloodied and gathers it in his hand, standing to toss them into the bin under the sink. You don’t turn, but out of the corner of your eye you see him bring his hand to his mouth.

Your blood.

He tasted your blood.

You can feel the bile rising in your throat but you just swallow it back down.

“Now we can talk.” He makes his way back over to you but you just shake your head.

“I already told you, I don’t wanna talk.”

“Bunny-” He takes another step towards you.

“Shut up.”

“Don’t be like that.” There’s real remorse in his eyes, you might even feel bad if you didn’t know that he was lying to you.

“Shut. Up.” You push him so he stumbles back onto the bed. “I’m not crazy.” He props himself up on his elbows to look at you as you say it.

“I know.” He sounds almost apologetic.

“Take your clothes off.” You mumble, already tossing your shirt to the side.

“Are you sure?”

You’re sure that he knows what’s out there in the woods and he isn’t telling you.

“I am.” You kick your jeans off to emphasize your point. You know he won’t deny you this. Whatever sick, unexplainable force pulls you into his arms affects him as it does you. You don’t just want him, you need him.

You hadn’t realized it until he’d disappeared again, but now you couldn’t be more aware. It’s as if your entire life you’ve felt wrong. You’ve been in a state of discomfort for as long as you can remember, like a vital part of you was missing. But you got used to it, and you learned to live with the odd sensation of never feeling like you're in the right place, nowhere ever felt like home.

Joel feels like home, in a sort of twisted way.

From the moment you first saw him everything cleared up. It was like you had finally found your center of balance, and when he disappeared he took all of that with him.

This is more than just attraction.

With that he tugs his flannel off, you grab the bottom of his shirt, impatiently pulling it up over his head, not wanting to look him in the eyes, you stare at his shoulders as you climb up onto the bed, straddling his lap.

“I really think we should talk-” He starts again so you reach behind yourself, unclasping your bra, glaring at him as you let it drop.

“Then talk.”

He looks at you like you’re something to eat.

“That’s not fair.” He finally manages to pull his gaze off of your chest, looking you in the eyes, his pupils swallowing his irises leaving you to stare into the darkness of his eyes.

“There’s nothing to talk about, you went away for work and you forgot your phone charger.” You reach between the two of you to remove his belt, tossing it behind him on the bed before trying to unzip his jeans. “It was just an unfortunate series of circumstances.” You grumble before lifting yourself off his lap so he can shove his jeans off.

He’s glaring at you now. Good. He should know that you’re challenging him. Everything from this point on is a game, you just have to catch him in a lie. You grind down against the straining fabric of his boxers, hands on his shoulders to balance yourself as you rub yourself against his clothed erection, drawing a hiss from between his teeth. Before you know it his hands are gripping the hem of your panties.

“Go on Joel, rip them off. I know you’re plenty capable.” You say it like the accusation it is. He’s strong enough to do a lot of things, you aren’t sure if tearing a person in half is one of those things but you’re determined to find out. He knows what you’re implying but he does it anyway, grabbing the fabric on either side of your hips and easily tearing them to shreds.

“You don’t know what you do to me.” He murmurs, leaning forward to press his forehead to yours.

You do.

He does the same to you. A carnal desire, your most basic human instincts are reduced to nothing the moment your skin is against his.

You don’t waste any time, slipping your hand under the waistband of his underwear, watching his cock spring free, slapping against his stomach. You unceremoniously spit in your hand before taking him in your fist, watching his jaw go slack as you rake your nails against the underside of his cock, feeling him twitch in your hand. You keep your eyes trained on his face as you notch him at your entrance, tilting your head to the side as you hesitate.

The veins in his neck jut out as you slide the head of his cock over your clit, hissing softly as you do.

He’s purposefully showing restraint.

He clutches the sheets, his knuckles go pale and you can’t help but wonder if he isn’t touching you because he’s worried he’ll hurt you.

“Fuck me, Joel.” You lean forward, biting his stupidly plush bottom lip. He doesn’t move his hands from where they are and you can’t help but scowl against his mouth.

He’s holding back.

He knows exactly what you’re doing and he’s trying to prove you wrong. How long has he been holding back?

In one sharp motion you slide down on his cock, forcing an obscene moan out of yourself, but it isn’t loud enough to cover the ripping sound. Your eyes wander downward, his are rolled back but all you can focus on now is your torn bed sheets in his clenched fist.

Holy hell.

“Fuck. Me.” You rasp out, lifting your hips again before dropping them back down. His head falls forward this time, his mouth latching onto your shoulder, muffling his growl.

You know that growl.

“Fuck me or leave, Joel.” You take his face in your hand, roughly pulling him back so he’s eye to eye with you.

You heard that growl in the woods less than an hour ago.

“You’re playing with fire, bunny.” He glares at you but you just stare right back.

“I won’t say it again.” You give him one last warning and he finally brings his hands to your hips, with a grunt he lifts you up, slamming you back down on his cock, you can feel him brushing against your cervix as you cry out.

At his age he shouldn’t be able to do that.

He does it again, moving you like a ragdoll up and down on his length, a lewd squelching fills the air, egging him on. He tilts his head down, his teeth scrape against your breast, and you can hear a roar building in his throat. He fucks you like a fleshlight, moving you effortlessly up and down on his cock, your chest bouncing with each thrust.

He shouldn’t be able to do any of this.

Neither one of you speaks, you can feel the camper swaying ever so slightly as he slams into you, thrusting his hips up to meet yours as he pulls you down onto him.

He makes it look effortless.

Another growl rips through the air and you know neither one of you is gonna last long if he keeps going at this pace. He hammers into your sensitive spots with every thrust, your clit rubbing against the dark curls along his pelvis.

He’s merciless with the force at which he moves you, he’s started nipping at your shoulder and you know he’s close as they get harder and harder. You finally feel him break the skin and just like that he’s lifting you off of him, his mouth clamped down on your flesh, you feel his cum between your legs as he finishes on your folds. The sensation of him slipping out of you sends you over the edge right along with him, your stomach tightening as you groan, letting your head fall forward onto him.

You feel better already.

Not good, just better.

He manages to keep you both upright for a few more moments before collapsing down on the mattress with you in his arms.

And then it’s just quiet.

Until the mattress squeaks as you get up. Wiping yourself off with a towel and turning the lights off before returning to bed without a word. He’s the one who finally breaks the silence.

“If you want me to leave, I’ll leave.”

“You can stay.” You mumble, rolling over to face away from him.

It’s better if you know where he is.

That’s what you tell yourself.

It’s easier to swallow that excuse than the truth, that you can’t shake the terror from your encounter with the creature and now amount of fucking is going to change that. You don’t want to be alone, no matter how angry you are. He doesn’t seem to take the hint though, snaking his arm under yours and pulling you to his chest.

You start to push him away but you feel a wave of calm wash over you when he does so you just settle back against him. You close your eyes, praying sleep might come but all you see in the darkness is that open maw closing in on you.

You know that growl.

It isn’t Joel. It can’t be Joel, he was with Ellie and then he was with you.

It wasn’t Joel.

You’re more than used to waking up in the woods at this point. Monsters and men torment you in your dreams whenever they get the chance to.

But tonight is different.

You don’t feel the cold, wetness of the forest floor on your back before you open your eyes. Instead you only feel steel, you make an attempt to sit up on instinct but you can’t. In a panic you open your eyes to find yourself cuffed to the cadaver carrier from Marias basement.

This can’t be happening.

This is the kind of dream you get after your first body.

You’ve had this dream, years ago when you’d just started studying mortuary sciences. Although now it feels worse, more ominous than it had previously.

That probably has to do with the fact that you can’t move.

In response to that petrifying thought you begin to uselessly tug on the cuffs, your ankles and wrists attached to the cold unforgiving steel of the table you’ve sewn countless bodies back together on.

You don’t strap cadavers down, there’s no need to.

The door swings open and you’re thankfully able to sit up enough to watch Maria and Joel walk in, solemn looks on both of their faces.

You open your mouth to call for help but something stops you.

No.

No, no, no.

Your jaw is wired shut.

The sudden realization makes you gag as you shake the table with the force of your panic.

Maria is always thorough, your mouth is full of cotton.

They act as if you’re as lifeless as any other corpse as they stand beside you, despite your muffled screaming, tears immediately flowing from your eyes as you feel your throat constrict around the cotton.

“What happened to her?” He sounds so far gone even though he only stands a few feet away.

“You know what happened to her.” Marias sorrow turns to a look of resentment as she turns to Joel.

“Bear attack.” He says it more to himself than to her.

“Keep telling yourself that.”

“I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“You never do.” Her voice is full of a hatred you haven’t ever heard in reality.

She looks at you with a pity you’ve had on your own face before. It’s the same look you give every corpse on a table.

You follow Maria’s gaze down at your body and find your chest sliced open, the inside dry.

And then you wake up.

Of course Joel is there when you sit up in bed with a strangled cry, a fresh flood of tears falling down your face.

“Bunny?” His groggy, sleep ridden voice resembles a growl, sending you backwards away from him, your back hitting where the mattress meets the camper wall. He’s already up, he moves towards you but the moment you flinch away from he stops. “Are you okay? What hap-“

“Don’t come any closer.” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Thankfully he doesn’t move towards you, he holds his hands up ever so slowly. He’s acting like you’re a cornered animal.

You can’t seem to find your voice. Every single logical and rational part of your body and mind tell you to get as far away from him as possible. To fight tooth and nail to get past him, to run away and never look back. You’d never get away with that though, he’s too deeply rooted in you already. He’s made for you. Sculpted by the gods to be everything you’ve ever wanted all in one neat little salt and pepper package, served up to you on a silver platter.

“Sweetheart, it’s okay, you’re okay.” He inches forward a bit but the way you pull your legs up against your chest, trying to make yourself smaller makes him move back. “It’s okay, it’s just me.”

Yeah Joel, that's the problem.

a/n : i have such mixed feeling abt this chap but whatever i really like it so ?? idk

I am no longer doing taglists so follow @lincolndjarinnotifs and turn on notifications to be notified when new chapters are posted !!

#lincolndjarin #joel miller #tlou #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #tlou hbo #joel tlou #the last of us hbo #monster fucker #monster lover #monster romance #oh honey #fic : oh honey

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lunasilverpelt · 1 year ago

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NO WAY THATS MY GUY OMG HES SO NORMAL OMGG <333333

dropping these- im doing like 2 more after this

@lunarslakes pillowfort au (i fucking love this till the end of the earth i give dreamy 1000 kisses)

ANNNND crazy ass man. @lunasilverpelt Sizzle N Server au- man i love this not ok man at all- ok back to da grind/silly

#friend's art #fanart for luna #sizzle n sever au

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threeletterslife · 2 years ago

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23 | Legends of Darlaria

⨰ summary: You wake up amidst a war with no recollection of your past. Faced with suspicion and distrust, you struggle to assimilate into a foreign nation—otherwise known as your home. But on your enlightening journey to search for your identity, you come face to face with the General of the Army.

⨰ pairing/rating: yoongi x reader & jungkook x reader | PG-15

⨰ genre: 70% angst, 30% fluff | war!au & magic!au

⨰ warnings: profanity, mentions of blood, gore, suicide and death

⨰ wordcount: 5.7k

⨰ join the taglist! (pm/send in an ask/reply/reblog)

⨰ previous | series m.list | next

⧖⧗Circa Alexandrite⧗⧖

“What happened?!” you shriek, barging into the General’s tent, tears already blurring your vision. From the haze, you still manage to make out a cot in the middle. What you can’t make out is the person on the cot, for there seems to be a thick wall of healers surrounding it, tending to a single man who makes no indication that he is okay.

It’s also eerily silent.

Your voice becomes so painfully loud in comparison. “Is he alive?” Your words seem to echo across the tent, bouncing against the red walls. Several healers grimace.

“Please, sir, you need to leave.”

Leave? How in the hell are they asking you to leave? Without even knowing if he’ll make it? “Please tell me what happened,” you say, voice aquiver. “Was it a transformation spell?? Have you stopped it?”

“Y/N!” Suhyun suddenly rushes into the tent, grabbing one of your arms while Jaeno seizes the other. “I’m so sorry,” she apologizes to the healers. “We tried to stop her.” She turns to you, a grave look on her face. “You need to listen to me, Y/N,” she says. “Let the healers deal with whatever they have to deal with in peace. The last thing we want is for the soldiers to panic. We’ve already detained Soldier Baek and Soldier Kim to stop the spread of information. We don’t want any rumors. He’s the last of the Min Clan, do you hear me, Y/N? And if… if worse comes to worst, you need to hold yourself together. Please. Get your fucking shit together!”

“Suhyun…”

She’s never spoken so harshly to you before.

“I-I just want to… I want to see him. I—”

Even Suhyun looks close to tears. She shakes her head. “They’re going to heal him,” she whispers. But it sounds like she’s trying to convince herself as well as you, and it’s not quite working on both ends. She turns to her boyfriend, her lips trembling. “Jaeno. I-I’m… I’m not ready. I don’t think I can do it. If he dies, I—”

“O-Off… icer,” a ghastly voice whispers.

That’s you.

He’s calling you.

All too soon, you’re forcing yourself away from Suhyun and Jaeno’s grasps and running towards the cot where he rests. All eyes are on you, but for the first time, you don’t care at all. And when you manage to push through the circle of healers, you finally see him.

The sight is grisly.

He’s been stripped of the upper half of his uniform, only in his white tank top drenched in so much sweat that it does little to hide the gruesome bruises and scars littered all across his torso. His face is pale and streaked with blood and dirt, and his wet hair clings to his forehead. His eyes are open yet so empty, so void.

Your stomach drops.

You’ve seen this look on the injured in the medical tent. The look of death.

The culprit is the pool of viscous red oozing out of his right shoulder.

It sizzles. It crackles. And it burns.

It can’t possibly be blood. Blood doesn’t do that.

Your skin turns icy cold when you realize what it really is.

Lava. It’s lava.

But why? Why him? Why now?

You want to sink to your knees. Yet you can’t. Not with him in front of you. If anything, you need to be there for him. Because he’s undeniably in a worse state than you are. He’s probably convinced that death will soon come knocking at his door. He might be scared. Or even terrified. Or maybe he’s welcoming death with open arms as he said he would nearly two years ago. You’re not sure.

But you selfishly want him to hang on. You want him alive. There are so many things you haven’t been able to tell him, so many feelings to face, so many emotions to accept…

“I-I’m here, sir,” you whisper. You hate that you stuttered, and you hate the way he stares at the ceiling with those empty, glassy eyes of his.

His lips twitch momentarily. “It…” he breathes, “it doesn’t… h-hurt much anymore.”

That can only mean the heat has already damaged his nerves.

It breaks you, seeing him like this. You want to grab onto his hand, sweep his hair out of his face, hug him, lava on his shoulder or not—but it’s all nothing more than a pipe dream.

“O-Officer,” he murmurs in his husky voice. Though he’s calling you, he feels so far away—as if he’s calling for you in his dreams again. As if he’s already drifting off to be with the spirits. When he slowly blinks, a rogue tear rolls down the side of his face. “D-Don’t worry… I’m… f-fine.”

Something inside of you snaps.

All of your fear, anxiety and emotions seem to vanish into thin air—replaced by sheer determination. You grit your teeth. Even on his deathbed, he wants to protect you, make sure you’re not worried. But you won’t let him die. You can’t. There are too many unresolved duties, questions, feelings.

You whirl around to face the healers who have been wordlessly extracting the seemingly endless stream of lava coming from the General’s shoulder. “How long has it been?”

“Thirty minutes, sir,” one of the healers says.

“He was hit in the shoulder by one of the transformation spheres while in battle,” another healer says. “They rushed him back as soon as it happened. As soon as they realized it was serious.”

“We’ve been extracting the lava with fire wielding, but it won’t stop.”

“It’s spreading, too, sir. Slowly, but steadily. He hasn’t gone into shock yet, but he’s lost feeling in his shoulder… It’s not looking great.”

“Thirty minutes…” you echo. “Thirty minutes,” you say again as you glance at the General once more. “The lava should’ve overtaken more than half of his body by now. Their transformation magic is usually much faster than this.”

“Y-Yes, sir, the spread is much slower than what we usually see, but it’s persistent. We’ve never been able to save a soldier once they’ve been hit by transformation magic.”

“Are you saying it’s a lost cause?” you ask in the most even-toned voice you can muster up. Behind you, Suhyun lets out a wail, followed by Jaeno attempting to solace her.

It’s silent.

Everybody is scared to answer your question. They all look down at their feet.

“No,” you say, shaking your head. You can’t just let him die. Not after you declared that you’d follow him until you died. Not after you told him that you don’t want to lose him too. Words leave your mouth in desperation: “Have we thought about amputating?”

“T-That never works, sir… The transformation spell still spreads throughout the rest of the body.”

Shit. Is it really a lost cause? It can’t possibly be. Your mind races as you scavenge for another solution—any solution. Something has to work. Something has the potential to save his life. You glance at him. His breaths are growing more and more rapid and he seems to be dipping in and out of consciousness. Yet his eyes are wide open. They’re staring into you too, but you can’t discern a meaning behind them at all. They’re empty. Soulless. Your heart clenches in a pain you’ve only ever felt one other time—when Doyun passed. But this is different. You can prevent this. You’ve still got time.

“There should be a reason that this transformation spell is reacting slower than the others,” you say. “He should be dead by now if this had been a normal spell. We need to examine where the sphere hit him. There’s a high possibility that he was hit by a faulty spell, so we should be looking for some sort of evidence. It’s not a lost cause until he’s pronounced dead.”

“Yes, sir!”

The healers spring into action. Several of them hold down the General’s body as the others who are capable of fire wielding begin extracting the lava from his shoulder. The General makes no noise. He barely even blinks.

“His blood pressure’s dropping!”

“Get him some more oxygen!”

“H-His lips are turning blue!”

“Someone get him a blanket!”

“He’s hyperventilating!”

“He could be going into shock soon—”

“W-Wait! Wait! There’s something there!”

Your heart leaps.

“T-There! That glistening thing!”

You’re immediately by the sharp-eyed healer’s side. “Can we extract it? Is it safe to touch?”

“We have some air mediums, sir. We’ll get on it right away.”

You watch, barely even blinking as the healers begin the arduous process of dislodging the mysterious fragment in the General’s shoulder. The first few tries are a failure—only because the fragment periodically spurts out lava. When the healers are able to time their extraction—in the short, two-minute interval the fragment of the sphere has before it spews lava—the mission finally succeeds.

The tiny sphere—or what’s left of it—falls to the floor, where it spurts out some more hot lava. The ground sizzles. There’s a short moment of silence where everybody takes in the miracle. Then:

“He’s going into shock!” a healer yells.

“Is he conscious?”

“Sir? Sir!”

“Negative! Someone get him ready for a blood transfusion!”

“Why in Soo’s name are you just standing there? Get moving!”

You don’t understand much of what is going on, but you stay the entire while. Even when the healers have left—encapsulating the lava-spewing fragment in a water bubble and taking it with them—you stay in the tent. You’re not sure what time it is now. You’ve lost track ever since you walked in. In fact, you’ve lost track of everything since the moment you received the news of his injury.

All that matters now is that the General is alive and breathing. He’s unconscious at the moment, but you’ve volunteered to watch over him until he wakes up. They’re not sure when.

You hope that it’s soon. Because each second that he stays in that position, covered up in bandages and blankets, you think he’s a second closer to death. It won’t matter how long he stays unconscious, however. Because you swear to every spirit in existence that you won’t leave his side until he wakes up.

“She’s been in there for three days,” Suhyun sighs. She nervously plays with her rings, twisting them back and forth around her fingers. “She hasn’t eaten a thing.”

“She’s always been close to the General,” Wonmi says.

“She has?”

“Yes,” the third sector captain insists.

“Is that so?” Suhyun frowns. “But what she’s doing… That’s what I would do for Jaeno. That’s what Ohsung’s done for you, Wonmi.”

“I never said anything about it being not platonic,” Wonmi answers.

Suhyun stares at Wonmi in disbelief.

“It’s only a hunch,” Wonmi says while casually fixing her bangs. “And besides, officer romance is the least of our problems. Y/N’s reported that he woke several times now, but he never notices that she’s there. He talks, though. Just not to her.”

“I don’t know how we’re going to tell the soldiers,” Suhyun says. She fiddles with her rings, looking down at her feet. “I don’t want to give anyone false hope. If… If he dies, Wonmi, I’ll be his natural successor.”

“Good for you, then.”

“No, Wonmi, it won’t be good for me. I’ve always dreamed about being the General of the Solarian Army, but now that it’s so close to me… I can’t. I don’t want it like this. It’s too soon. I can’t be as great as he was.”

“You’re talking about him as if he’s already dead, Suhyun,” Wonmi snorts. “I think you’ll be a fine General. When it happens, it happens. You’ll be ready then. For now, we wait. Only time can tell if he’ll be all right.”

But time moves slowly when all she can do is wait.

Suhyun has to wait another six days before the General is able to form coherent sentences. He’s still far too weak to be up and walking around—she’s heard that he can barely sit up from his bed. When she finally finds enough courage inside of her to visit him in his tent, he welcomes her amiably, albeit weakly.

“Long time no see, Lieutenant Ki,” he croaks from his position on the cot.

“Sir,” she greets him back with a deep bow. “How are you feeling?”

“Light-headed,” he says. “Still can’t really feel my right shoulder. But I’m scheduled for physical therapy for the next three circas. Apparently, I’ve acquired fourth-degree burns—internal and external. No major organ damage, though. I was lucky.”

“You were more than lucky, General,” Suhyun says. “It was a miracle! We’ve been investigating the fragment of the sphere we extracted from your shoulder. Whoever cast the transformation spell only achieved a partial version of it. If the spell had been fully cast, we wouldn’t have been able to extract the sphere at all! It was a miracle that only an incomplete spell hit you—and so shallowly, too. And that Captain Ryu found out and was able to direct the healers so expertly.”

“Ah,” the General says. “Yes, Captain Ryu…”

“She was there for you when I couldn’t be,” Suhyun admits, lowering her head. “I’m sorry, General. I wasn’t thinking straight at the moment. I was too engrossed with the fact that I wasn’t ready to take your place… And clearly, judging by my reaction that night, I was right.”

“You handled it well, Lieteunant Ki,” the General says. “You give yourself too little credit. You ensured that the news of my injury did not get out prematurely. You ensured that no one panicked. No one knew what happened until I was okay. I think that’s a feat in itself.”

“General…”

“It was an unprecedented situation, Lieutenant Ki. Don’t be too hard on yourself… You will have to take on some of my responsibilities, however. I won’t be getting up anytime soon. It’ll be up to you to share my duties with the other officers. I trust you, Suhyun,” the General says. He clears his throat. “And I’m sorry. I know how worried you were. I know you don’t think you’re ready yet to take my place. But Lieutenant Ki, I believe that those who think they are not ready for higher positions are usually better-fitted than those who think they are.”

Suhyun can’t help but think that’s true. When she was younger, when she had too much ambition and nowhere to channel it but her pride, she was arrogant and uncompromising. She would’ve made a tyrant of a General—just like the current General’s brother and his mother, too. But she respects her General because he often doubts himself. Because he opens his ears to others. Yet he can be decisive when he must be, and he knows how to command an army without being unnecessarily swayed. She doesn’t think she’ll ever be as good as he is because her pride does often get in her way. But she’s working on it. And by the time the position comes to her, she hopes she will lead the army as great as the General has.

“Thank you, sir,” she says. “Thank you.”

He nods. “You’ll have to lead the officer meetings until I am well enough to get up, Lieutenant Ki. I trust that you can handle that.”

“Of course, sir. I’ll report back to you as soon as they finish.”

“Thank you,” he says.

There’s an awkward silence where she’s unsure whether she is allowed to leave without his dismissal, and he’s unsure what she’s waiting for if she looks like she has nothing else to say.

When you rush into the tent, carrying a clay tray filled with food, Incha and rolled-up wet cloths, you nearly drop it and its contents once you notice Suhyun. “O-Oh!” you exclaim, looking between her and the General nervously. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt something serious. I’ll come back later—”

“No,” the General says so quickly that Suhyun raises her eyebrows. “We were finished,” he says. “You may stay.” He nods to Suhyun. “Send my apologies to the officers for me.”

“Yes, General,” she says, and with a bow, she quickly dismisses herself from the General’s tent. She looks back as she walks away, cocking her head in curiosity. You didn’t even announce your arrival before you’d stepped into his tent. Even Suhyun’s never done that, and she’s supposedly his right-hand-officer. How close are the two of you, anyway? And for you to be taking care of him every day and not some healers…? But then again, he has historically refused private medical treatment, and even convincing him to be treated in his tent and not the common medical tents took some adamant persuading; so maybe you’re doing both of them a favor.

Regardless, Wonmi is definitely correct. There’s something there—between you and the General. But it’s also none of Suhyun’s business, and while she cares for the General, she has no say in his private matters. Yet… she can’t help but wonder… has his decision to keep you from fighting been completely personal this entire time?

“How have you been feeling, sir?” you ask as you set the tray down at the General’s desk and perch up upon it as well.

“I swear I had this same conversation just moments ago with Lieutenant Ki,” he says in such a serious voice that you worry that you’ve bored him already.

It takes you several embarrassing seconds to realize he’s joking. “O-Oh! Then I’d be happy to let you take the reins of the conversation, sir.”

“Why, thank you, Officer,” he says, a small smile already appearing on his lips. “I wasn’t able to, due to my delirious state before, but now that I am alive and recovering, I wanted to ask you: do you still wish to fight after having seen what they’ve done to me?”

He looks surprised that your initial reaction is to laugh. “Sir! Are you trying to use your injury to deter me from ever considering going out on the battlefield again?”

“Is it working, Officer?”

“Not in the slightest, sir,” you reply. “In fact, it has given me more reason to want to fight, for if you are hurt, we’ll need more people out there to make up for what you can do.”

He sighs, shaking his head. “Even after seeing me in my worst state—hallucinations and all—you still want to fight? You really are a fire medium; you know that?”

You nod fervently. “Nothing will make me change my mind.”

“I know how stubborn you can be,” the General says. He pauses just slightly but it’s enough for you to notice. “When… When I was dipping in and out of consciousness, I’m not sure when, I remember seeing you. I thought it was one of the hallucinations. I… I might have called for you, Officer.”

“Which time are you referring to, sir?” you ask.

His ears turn red as he stutters just a bit, “I-I was not aware that this happened more than once, Officer. I apologize if you were frightened by it in any way.”

“I wasn’t frightened, sir,” you say. “I was worried. You called for your sister before you called for me. And your brother, too. I figured you were seeing hallucinations and immediately tried to calm you down.”

Ah. So you’d seen it all.

Yoongi can’t quite exactly remember what he’d seen in those hallucinations, but he remembers burning. He remembers seeing his sister in front of him, taking her own life, lighting her entire body on fire. He didn’t realize until it was too late that he, too, was burning along with her.

He remembers thinking that he’d somehow been transported to Ara and somehow, it was now winter. He remembers seeing a hazy figure that resembled his brother, freezing to death in a snow blizzard with nothing to wear but his uniform. He remembers being cold, and he remembers shivering, but he can’t recall much further than that.

And then he remembers you. He always heard your voice first. When it was so unbearably hot, your voice had offered him the cool reprieve that he was so desperately seeking. When it was unbelievably cold, your voice had given him the warmth that he needed to survive. And every time, he remembers someone who looked like you gently brushing his hair out of his face. All this time he thought it was the wind—that his mind was just playing tricks on him. But he only realizes now that it really was you.

“Thank you,” is all he can say. “I realized I never got a chance to say it. You’ve been taking care of me after my operation, even though no one has required you to do so—you must be busier now, too, since my absence. It’s also thanks to you that I am alive today. I’m indebted to you, Officer. You’ve practically saved my life.”

For Sooht’s sake is it hard to control yourself when he says things like this so nonchalantly. It takes everything in your power to swallow down the flutters in your stomach and keep a straight face. “All I did was oversee a process I knew very little of, sir. I mustn’t take all of the credit. Lieutenant Ki worked incredibly hard behind the scenes to ensure that no soldier panicked at the news of your injury, and the healers were the ones who operated on you. Although I did play a part in your recovery, I wouldn’t be the only person you’d be indebted to.”

The General smiles. “I’ve already given those people my thanks, Officer. But they were only doing their duty, were they not? You needn’t stay with me for over a week, barely leaving the tent—being the first and last person I see every day… It’s pleasant, Officer, I don’t deny it, but this was never required of you. And even now,” he says, gazing over at the tray you’d set on his desk, “you bring me my meals and fresh washcloths. I don’t recall this being in your job description, Officer.”

Is he teasing you? There’s a definite lilt to his voice that points signs toward yes, but you can’t help but give a serious answer. “But sir, I did say that I could never lose you. And besides, every time a person tells me that they would do everything in their power to keep me alive, I must do the same, sir. So you don’t have to thank me. You would’ve done the same thing if you were in my place,” you say, though your hands begin to sweat at your own boldness.

The General raises his eyebrows. “You’re right, Officer,” he says. “I would’ve done the same.” He pauses. “But you make it sound like multiple people have told you that they, in fact, would do everything in their power to keep you alive. Is that true, Officer?”

Your eyes widen. “No, sir! I don’t think I could ever handle that. Even with you… I…”

“You…?”

“It’s selfish for me to say, but I was scared, sir. I was terrified. I didn’t think you’d make it out alive. I already lost Doyun—I-I… I didn’t want to lose you too. But I also know how stupid my thoughts were when you were probably facing terrors much more justifiable than mine.”

“It’s not selfish of you to feel emotions, Officer,” the General says. “I was never afraid of my own death, either, so you needn’t worry,” the General says. He suddenly shifts his position on his cot, his hair falling forward to cascade over his eyes. “What I was afraid of was you.”

“Me, sir?” you ask, astonished.

“You are kind-hearted, Officer, no matter how humble you are about it. I was afraid that another death would push you over the edge.”

You nod. That’s fair, considering how you’d reacted over Doyun’s passing. You’re just about to reply and tell him that he’s the kind-hearted one for worrying about your wellbeing while he was the one on his deathbed when the General unexpectedly continues on—all the while avoiding eye contact:

“I was afraid that you’d care about me more than you really should,” he says, his voice much huskier than before. “I was afraid that all you’d remember about me if I died was that last, horrible conversation we had.” He stares up at you, the movement clearing the hair away from his face and revealing his softened eyes. “All I could remember were the mistakes.”

Your heart feels like it’s in your throat. What does he mean? Questions are brewing in your head faster than you’re getting the answers, and suddenly, your head feels like it’s about to burst. He was afraid that you’d care about him more than you really should? What the hell is that supposed to mean? You didn’t even think the last conversation you had with him before his injury was that horrible—just puzzling. And the mistakes? You can’t recall a single one.

“I’ve thought about what I’ve said, Officer,” the General continues, slowly, almost cautiously. “I’ve thought about the gravity of it. I’ve thought about the repercussions. I’ve thought about how you’ve taken it, too. It’s all I thought about since the moment I gained consciousness, Officer.”

“Sir…” You have no idea what is coming next. And suddenly, you’re feeling a new kind of fear.

“I should have never put you in that position,” he says. “I should not have told you the things I told you that day, Officer. It was inappropriate of me, as your General and superior, and I… I sincerely apologize for my misconduct.”

Does he mean…?

I can’t lose you. I can’t bear the thought.

I’ll do everything in my power to keep you alive.

It’d really kill me to lose you too.

His voice echoes in your head for the thousandth time.

Did he say those words out of desperation? Is he only apologizing now that he realizes they aren’t true? Or did he really mean them? Is he apologizing because he believes that you don’t feel the same?

What do you say? How do you respond to this?

He didn’t need to apologize. Not if he truly meant those words. Not if you would say them back in a heartbeat.

The words spill out of you before you can swallow them in cowardliness. “But I care about you too, sir,” you say.

He completely freezes.

“I care about you as you are my General, but you are also a person I trust and admire and support. Even if you were stripped from your position and your title, I would be by your side, sir. T-To be honest, I have also been ruminating over our last conversation. And I… I just can’t seem to discern the line. You tell me that you’ve grown to care about me and that it’d kill you to lose me, but in that same breath, you demand orders from me and dismiss me from your presence as a superior. I don’t know what to think, sir. And for Sooht’s sake! I can’t stop calling you ‘sir,’ and you have yet to cease to call me ‘Officer.’ I will always be your offi—I mean—captain, sir. And yet… yet I’m confused. Because when you tell someone that you would do everything in your power to keep them alive, there are certain connotations that come with it that you cannot deny! M-My point is, if I even have a point within all of this nonsense, it’s not misconduct if both parties feel the same way!”

You pant for breath, feeling almost dizzy due to an outburst that you hadn’t planned to have at all. It’s only when you feel your legs nearly give out from underneath you that you realize that you had been standing. Somewhere along your nervous speech, you’d stood up, and in your frenzy, you hadn’t even noticed.

It’s only for a few seconds, but it feels like an eternity, this silence. And in those seconds, you observe him, his countenance. Does he look horrified? Had you drastically misinterpreted every single one of his words? Had you crossed the line?

But no, he looks the same. He has an unreadable expression on his face—one that instills fear in you all over again. Does he think you’re delusional? Does he still believe it is misconduct and now you’re guilty of it too? In that case, you should apologize immediately. But before you can get a word out, he speaks:

“Love and war is dangerously precarious.”

Your heart sinks at his words.

“Do you remember that, Officer? We’ve established that over a year ago, did we not?”

“Y-Yes, sir,” you say, lowering your head. “Of course I remember, sir.”

“Have your opinions changed?”

“T-They haven’t, sir.”

“Mine have not, either,” he replies. He lets out a shaky breath that makes the fear within you grow stronger. “We haven’t been able to change each other’s opinions, my officer. But then again, we are stubborn people, aren’t we?” He smiles, though you can’t necessarily say he looks happy. “I speak to you as a Solarian—without my title, my position, my honor—but you were right to say that there are certain connotations that come with declaring responsibility for another’s life. I cannot deny this. In fact, everything I’ve told you remains true.”

Oh.

There’s an emptiness that rings inside of you for just a moment before the floodgate of thoughts opens up.

So there are feelings. You hadn’t been projecting after all. But instead of feeling relief, even a bit of happiness, you feel despair. Because even if you were something more than an officer and her General, you could never be together. It wouldn’t be fair to either of you. You can’t imagine having a broken heart during a war—especially not as a captain. You’ve seen what love can do to people. You’ve seen how it made Doyun. You’ve seen Taehoon volunteer to fight to be with Hana. You’ve seen couples torn apart, couples brought together. But there always comes a time when one of them dies—if not both. You can’t deal with any more sadness. You can’t have another death like Doyun’s.

“If there was no war,” you whisper, “do you think…?”

The General doesn’t meet your eyes. “I wouldn’t doubt it for a second.”

It hurts. Not in the kind of pain you felt when he was slowly dying on that same cot over a week ago, but in the kind of pain that just rips you apart from the insides—it’s so quick, so sudden that you feel numb afterward.

It’s just not meant to be.

The two of you have come to such a precise conclusion, strangely enough, considering that everything about this conversation had been crafted by reading between the lines. Yet it’s a conclusion nevertheless, and it’s best not to dwell on things that you cannot change.

“But Officer, I don’t want you to think for a second that this will change how I feel for you,” the General says. “I will always regard you highly. I will always feel happy when you are in my presence. I will always worry when you worry. I will always become angry at the things that have hurt you. But I… I am a General, Officer. I am the General of the fucking Solarian Army, and if I misstep, if I lose my vision, my goal for even a millisecond, I will be putting thousands of lives in danger. I cannot risk that, my officer. I’m sure you understand.”

It kills him to have to admit this.

And a small, deep part of him is angry about it, too. He never wanted this responsibility. It was forced onto him. It was his birthright, but never once had he ever sought power and fame. He wants to love, too. He wants to feel things other than anger and hatred toward the Darlaeans. He wants to be happy. He wants to know what it would be like to be with you. But as the last of the Min Clan, he must fulfill his duties, and it’s too late to back out now.

“I do, sir,” you say. He can’t read your face today. It’s so guarded, though he sees an occasional flash of vibrant emotions in your eyes. “I understand.”

“You may leave when you wish, Officer.”

You linger, which he notices. It makes him wonder if everything you and he had just concluded had been a giant mistake. So what if love and war is precarious? Who’s to say it will fail every time? Was it foolish to not give it a chance? But no… To have the General of all people involved in romance and feelings and emotional affairs. He shudders. He can just hear the rumors that would spread like wildfire.

Instead of saving lives and leading battles, he’s stuck in the arms of his own officer!—the same officer he appointed in a suspiciously expedited process! He won’t let her fight to protect her but forgets to protect the thousands of soldiers under his rule. How pathetic! He could be thinking of Solaria, his own nation, but he’s too busy thinking of his officer to even properly tend to his duties! What a disgrace they both are, canoodling around and wasting precious time when they could be doing their jobs!

Yoongi can’t let that happen. He doesn’t really care if they drag his name through the dirt and blood and grime. But he knows that these rumors also won’t leave you alone. He can’t have that. This kind of gossip is the same one that could quite possibly lead to insubordination. Your own soldiers might cease to listen to you, respect you. He could never allow that to happen.

But…

To think that you’ve felt the same all this time. To think that you could’ve lost sleep over this. To think that in another time and place, this could’ve happened.

He doesn’t know what to think.

He just wants to lie down for a very, very long time. And he knows he can do it, too. Because for the first time in his damn life, he has all the time in the world.

⨰ previous | series m.list | next

⨰ a/n: oops! is this anything like you expected? with just two chapters left in this act, there's going to be some more ~drama~ anyways, have a fantastic new years; i'll see you with another chapter in 2023! (p.s. i just wanna give yoongi and oc a hug 😭😭)

please consider telling me your thoughts with a comment, an ask or a reblog :) i love hearing readers' impressions/rambles/predictions! if you want to join the taglist, send in a private message, ask, reply to this post or reblog with your request!

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notsquid · 1 year ago

Note

Love your fucked up n evil pepp n pizzelle content v much, my friends keep sendin me it cuz it reminds em of my sizzle n sever au (which I need to post about more) and its v epic

Also. *eats ur artstyle*

Aaa THANK U IM GLAD THAT YOU LIKE IT

#DIES SDDOJIOHIDSOIJSDDJIODDSJPODDS/POS

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flurrys-creativity · 2 years ago

Text

Devotion

Pairing: Ten (NCT) x Fem!Reader; Genre: Supernatural AU, SMUT, hints of horror at the beginning; Rating: 18+, nsfw, MDNI; Warnings: darkness, being imprisoned, being chained up, witch Ten, unprotected sex, making out, grinding, riding, marking; Wordcount: 1.668

Summary: You saw it - no - him. Every night in your dreams. You saw him, spoke with him, touched him. He seemed to know exactly what was happening while you stumbled through the dark. Yet you were drawn to him. Enough to fulfill any request that spilled from his lips.

A/N: This is my second idea for my own collab, which resulted in me abandoning the first idea to finish this one... but no worries the next one will be written too! ANYWAY the inspiration for this was Ten’s Birthday MV and that fricking hat with the veil

Darkness. Nothing else surrounded you at first. It took several moments before you noticed a slim trail of light. You turned towards it and slowly moved through the dark, being pulled towards the light like a moth to a flame.

A door creaked open in front of you, showing a mostly empty room. One small window towards the ceiling of the room let some light into it. Though the light got disrupted by the bars in front of the window.

You walked further until you stood inside of the room. The door shutting down behind you with a loud bang. Alarmed, you turned back around and grabbed the doorknob, trying to open the door again. The door rattled but didn’t budge despite the force behind your tries.

You looked down to your hands with a frown, feeling panic rise inside of your chest. After another fruitless try you dropped your hands to your side and leaned your head against the door. Your breathing turned irregular and you closed your eyes, hoping to calm yourself down again. When you opened your eyes, you noticed shackles around your wrists, attached to chains that led into the middle of the room.

With every pull against the chains they became shorter and shorter, pulling you further into the room and at one point down to your knees.

You grabbed the chains and pulled at them again, groaning from the strength you put into it. Your hands slipped from the chains, palms getting cut from sharp edges of them.

Blood dropped on the floor, sizzling upon contact. Little smoke clouds raised from the floor and obstructed your vision.

You blinked several times and waved a hand in front of your face, halting as you appeared to be free again, standing in one corner of the room. Your eyes slowly wandered to the middle of the room, seeing a figure crouched down on the floor. Chains surrounded the figure and a wide brimmed hat with a black veil covered most of the figure’s features. The chains clattered loudly within the room when the figure moved.

Your breath hitched and the head of the figure snapped into your direction. “You came again”, a melodic voice filled your head. You frowned and shook your head, unsure whether you just imagined the voice just now.

“I’m quite surprised by your devotion.”

“Devotion?” You crossed your arms in front of your chest, feeling a shiver running down your spine. “I don’t even know where I am.”

The figure chuckled and offered you a hand, beckoning you to come closer. When you didn’t move the hand dropped again, followed by the clicking of a tongue in disappointment.

“You’re visiting me every sweet night”, the voice told you, “brightening my dull imprisonment ever since they threw me into this hole. Yet you never remember.”

“How- how long have I been visiting you?”

The figure contemplated your question. “A while.”

“Why?” You bit on your lower lip, fingernails digging into your arms as the frustration overwhelmed you. “I don’t understand! How can I be here?”

The figure chuckled again, the chains rattling once more. “What do I get when I tell you?”

You cried out in frustration and slumped down on the floor, running your fingers through your hair. Tears welled up in your eyes and you silently sniffled. “Wha- what do you want?”

Out of nowhere you got slammed to the ground. The figure hovered above you, holding you down and in place. A scream got stuck in your throat as you stared up into their face, pure white eyes meeting your gaze.

“Help me!”

You swallowed harshly, not able to tear your eyes away. “How?” You watched the eyes turn from stark white to a warm brown, the figure appearing a lot more human now. Despite being pinned down and not knowing this person you didn’t feel threatened. Instead you saw past the eerie tension around it and discovered a young man - an incredibly handsome man.

He smiled softly and caressed your cheek with the back of his hand. “I need a marked spot outside of these walls for my ritual to work.”

“Ritual?” You still laid underneath him, feeling his defined body pressed against your own. Even though he didn’t use any force on you, you didn’t dare to move at all. Instead you just continued to stare at him.

“I’m a witch or wizard or whatever our kind gets called nowadays”, he explained simply. “The tenth in my family and probably the last. Unless…” He didn’t finish his sentence. Instead he shrugged with his shoulders and looked at you meaningfully.

“So you have the magical power to perform rituals that will teleport you of some sorts?”

Ten pursed his lips. “You’re taking this information quite well. This time around.” Hope sparked within his chest and it took him every ounce of sense to hold back and not mess up. Not like the last times you had visited him in your dreams. Determined, Ten sat up and pulled you with him, looking at you intently. He still hadn’t figured out how you found him despite your power since neither of you knew each other. At least when it happened the first time. Though he had a feeling his familiar - a cat - had something to do with this.

You bit on your lower lip, a wave of guilt hitting you, as you thought about how disheartening your other encounters with him had to be for Ten. You didn’t even want to think about the countless times you possibly freaked out or instantly refused him. Hesitantly you glanced at him, taking his lean figure in.

New determination flooded your mind and you turned towards him. “You said you needed a mark outside these walls. Do you have it with you and I’ll just get it out of here?” You looked around inside the dark room. “However, I'm able to get out of here again.”

Ten took a deep breath and straightened his back, eyeing you warily. “Close.”

You got on your knees and placed your hands on your thighs, hoping to show your willingness to help him this time. A slight shiver ran down your back when he gently touched your lower arm, his fingers ghosting over your bare skin up to your shoulders and back down to your hands.

He pulled you closer to him until you straddled his lap. His eyes travelled all over your face, trying to catch every single reaction you showed. Carefully he dropped his hands to your hips, circling his thumbs at the hem of your top. “I need you”, he whispered, his tone edging on desperation. “I want you.”

Your insides clenched around nothing while your heartbeat sped up and your breath got caught in your lungs. You wanted him too.

As if he read the desire in your eyes, he pulled you closer to him, pressing your core against his hardening length. His fingers slid underneath your clothes and ghosted over your skin. He licked over his lips, mouth open as he wanted to ask for your permission but the words got stuck within his throat.

Painfully slow you leaned forward, getting ever so slightly closer to him. With one last tentative look between his eyes and his lips you closed the gap. Your breath got caught in your lungs, feeling his soft lips pressed against yours.

What started as a careful and tender kiss grew more and more desperate and rough with each passing second. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed yourself as close to his body as possible. Your hips started grinding down on him, eliciting soft moans from the both of you.

Before you even knew it, the two of you had thrown your clothes somewhere into the room, leaving your naked bodies with only air between them.

Your mind focused on the pleasure, his dick rubbing against your core, his hands caressing you with utmost adoration combined with the coldness of his shackles against your skin and his lips leaving a trail of red marks along your neck and collarbone. Even though the hard ground felt rough against your knees, you didn’t wish to stop grinding down on him. No, you wanted even more.

One of your hands travelled along his chest, making Ten shiver with the feather light touches. Until you reached his hard cock, pumping it almost leisurely before you aligned it with your entrance.

Your head rolled backwards with the stretch you felt from sinking down on him. Your mouth hung open and soft moans filled the air.

Ten slowly thrusted into you, meeting your own movements with precision and hitting your soft spot every single time. He wrapped his arms around your torso, holding you tight and increasing the sensation of his thrusts with the limited space for you to move.

You held onto his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as you felt the knot building inside your lower stomach. Your moans turned higher with Ten increasing his pace, thrusting more deeper and harder into you now. Your walls clenched around his dick, sucking him right back into you whenever he pulled out.

Only after Ten pressed his thumb against your clit did you reach your climax. Your legs trembled uncontrollably while you saw stars in the dark. A string of incoherent begs left your lips as Ten helped you through your high, finishing himself shortly after with the way your walls continued to milk him.

You collapsed against his body, trying to catch your breath. A thin sheen of sweat covered your bodies and the cold air made you shiver. Ten gently caressed your back, making you drowsy. It became harder and harder to keep your eyes open even though you tried fighting against it. “I still don’t know how to help you”, you mumbled against his neck, inhaling his calming scent.

Ten chuckled softly. “You already did. When you wake up at home, I’ll be there with you.”

Taglist: @xavi-in-kpopland

#supernatural collab #thrill me chill me fulfill me #kwritersworldnet #kdiarynet #wkcnet #kvanity #ten #nct ten #nct smut #ten smut #devotion #one shot #kpop #idol

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sundaysundaes · 4 years ago

Text

Started With A Kiss

Lee Donghyuck/Haechan X Reader | Actor AU, Smut, Fluff, Humor | NC-17 | 10K

Summary: Rookie actor, Lee Haechan, desperately wants to get the lead role in the highly anticipated upcoming TV drama. He’s sure he has what it takes to fill the part. Acting as a hero? No problem. Pretending to overcome his traumatic experience? Consider it done. A bed scene? Easy—wait, no. That might be a problem. But he should be fine as long as he gets to rehearse, right?

Warnings: protected sex, oral sex, crude humor, swearing, literally 10k of sex with very little plot, a lot of playful banters between sassy!hyuck and equally sassy!Y/N

Wrote this for my love Kira @flopim who’s been having a tough time lately. I hope this will cheer you up bb! ❤️

“I want you to make love to me.”

Standing there, still dressed in your bright pink pajamas with your hair resembling a bird’s nest, you can only blink once, twice, and several times more because surely, your ears are playing tricks on you. There’s no way that your best friend, the cutely annoying and annoyingly cute, Lee Haechan—the one who’s been practically glued to your skin like a conjoined twin of yours for the last two years—is asking you to make love to him.

Surely, this is not what you’d expected to see when you opened the door to your apartment, ready to bark at whoever it was who dared to disturb your beauty sleep (since it is seven in the morning on a Sunday), only to see him standing in his blue ripped jeans and black Michael Jackson shirt with his cheeks flushed, his bag hanging loosely on his shoulder, brown eyes desperately begging for your attention.

And you’re most definitely sure that he’s not asking you to sleep with him when you still have drool on the corner of your mouth and a terrible morning breath (in your defense, you have brushed your teeth but that was, like, six hours ago).

But when seconds have passed and Haechan still looks like he badly needs to hear an answer, you have very little options but to ask, “You want me to do what to who now?”

Catching a sniff of your mighty dragon’s breath, he promptly takes a step back, scrunching his nose while frantically covering half of his face with the script he’s been holding. “Eew, God, what is that smell?” Ignoring your glare, he repeats his words, voice muffled by the papers. “I said, I want you to make love to me.”

“What—”

“Damn it, woman, just brush your teeth and let me in!”

When he’s stomping his feet while whining that loudly—loud enough for your fucking landlord to hear, along with everybody else in the building (including your cute neighbor, Jaehyun, oh dear God, no), he doesn’t give you any other choice but to invite him in, does he?

You step away from the door, flatly muttering, “Please, come in, why don’t you.” Haechan doesn’t waste any second waiting, making sure to run and stay as far away as possible from you so he won’t inhale the poisonous air that’s tainted with your breath again.

You roll your eyes. Dramatic little shit. But just to be on the safe side, you make your way to the bathroom.

***

The scalding hot shower you just took was comforting but not enough to wash your entire drowsiness away. You’re in dire need of your caffeine intake. “Would you like some coffee, my king?” You ask between a yawn, hands finding their way to the coffee jar on your kitchen counter.

Haechan throws his bag to the floor, body sinking into the comfort of your couch. “With milk, please.”

"I’m kidding.”

“Well, I’m not.” He throws one of those cheeky grins that you adore—no, wait, you hate—as he settles his legs on your coffee table. “Less sugar but more milk. I’m still growing.”

“Growing what, your balls?” You pour him a cup of coffee as requested, yes, because to balance his demonic behavior, you have to act like the perfect angel that you are. “Since you don’t have any?”

“You mean, like your boyfriend?” Haechan retorts before he gasps dramatically, his palm going to his mouth. “Oh, I’m sorry, you don’t have a boyfriend.”

You hover above him from behind the couch, bringing two mugs filled with sizzling hot coffee. “Want to repeat that?” You tip your mug just a little bit until it nearly spills on his forehead.

Haechan winces, attempting to grin. “I’m sorry, I love you, please don’t ruin my face. It’s the only thing that’s good about me.”

“It surely is.”

“Yah, what does that mean?”

“Take it as a compliment.”

Sitting next to him, you sip your coffee and curse silently when the liquid burns your tongue. “Okay, so what about this ‘make love to me’ thing you said earlier? Please tell me it’s just a figure of speech or something.”

“I wish.” He drags his legs away from the table so he can lay his cup down because apparently, he means business. “Okay, I know you’re gonna kill me after you hear—”

“After? I’m about to kill you now, actually.” You scoff. “Don’t you remember what we’ve agreed on? You cannot bother me when I’m still too sleepy to smack you in the head, Haechannie.”

“When did we ever—” He stops. “Why are you going to smack me in the head?”

“‘Cause you’ll say something stupid.”

“Who says I’m gonna say something stupid?”

“You always say something stupid. You’re saying something stupid now!”

“It’s not stupid.” He sighs exasperatedly but when your flat, degrading stare comes into view, it morphs into a groan. “Well, not that stupid. I’ve thought about this—really thought about it—and I can’t find anyone else to do this but you since you’re the only girl I’m friends with. I mean, I can pick random girls, I suppose—you know how popular I am. They just can’t stop talking about me. My hair, my eyes—”

“—your tiny dick.”

“But I don’t want to break any girl’s heart by doing something that’s gonna make them feel like I’m just using them to get a job, you know? I know I’m hot but these good looks aren’t meant to trample people’s hearts.”

“And you don’t care how I’m gonna feel?”

He has the decency to act like he’s thinking about it, but then, “No, not really.”

“Thanks.”

“Look, I really need your help.” He takes it as further as holding your hand between his, puckering his pouty lips, and blinking his eyes in a way that’s cute enough to leave you in daze so you pretend like you’re about to vomit your insides to cover it up.

Okay, so there’s one thing—one little thing that nobody knows—that you’re too ashamed to admit and that is the fact that you have a massive crush on this boy who sits in front of you with his socks unmatched. Well, no, not massive. It used to be massive during the first few weeks you knew him. How could you not? Haechan was so cute, you wanted to turn him into a doll so you could carry him around in your backpack and squish his cheeks whenever you feel like it. Sure, he’s not all jawlines and dimples like that neighbor of yours (Jung Jaehyun was probably sculpted by God himself ), but Haechan has his own charms. His devilish smirk, his loud, contagious laughter, his naughty eyebrow raise, and his lips—God, his beautiful plump lips, the way they look so pouty and soft. Honestly, you can write a whole essay about his attractive features (not that you haven’t already).

You knew you were crazy for him when the antics he did annoyed the hell out of his friends but to you, he was just plain adorable. And you realized you were pretty much fucked-up when Jeno said, “Fucking Lee Donghyuck said he forgot his wallet and robbed me this morning. Who the fuck orders a freakin’ wagyu steak for breakfast?!” and the only thing you could think of was how nice it was to go on a date with him and how your first kiss with him was going to be like (poor Jeno, though).

It’s not that you love him or anything. It’s mostly physical, nothing more—at least for now anyway. It’s not your fault that he’s so fucking pretty that he ends up showing every now and then in your fantasy, doing indescribable naughty things that will definitely make Mark splash some holy water on your face if he knew what was going on in your head.

Fortunately, now that you’ve been friends with him for two years, that massive crush you had has turned into something normal, something you can easily hide. And can be forgotten even, whenever another cute guy—like Na Jaemin, for example—takes you out on a date or two. It’s easier to breathe these days.

“Hello? Are you there?” Haechan snaps his fingers, waking you up from your reverie. “What’s your answer? Do you want to make love to me or not?”

‘It’s easier to breathe these days?’ More like fucking kill me.

“Can you stop saying that?” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “You’re giving me headaches.” Or a heart attack, more accurately. “Assume I said yes. Don’t you think it’s gonna get a little weird between us?”

“What is so weird about it?” He throws his hands in the air, exhausted and impatient. “It’s just gonna be two friends, pretending to be in love with each other, hugging, kissing, touching, and having sweet, tender sex.” Realization falls upon him and you resist the urge to exhale loudly. “Yeah, okay, so it is a little weird, but it should be fine, right? It’s just acting. It’s not like you have any feelings for me, do you?”

If by feelings you mean picturing you naked in my head with your mouth sucking on my neck, then yeah, I do have feelings for you. Plenty of that. But on the outside, you say, “Eew, God, no.”

Haechan squints his eyes at your response. “Can’t say I’m not hurt with the way you said it, but eew, God, no to you too. Well, if that’s the case then I’m sure we’ll be fine,” he says, sipping his coffee, and retracts his mouth as soon as the flavor hits his tongue. “What the hell is this?! Did you spit on my coffee or something?”

You didn’t but for your amusement, you throw him a sly grin. “A little.” It’s satisfying to see him looking like he’s about to pass out. “I’m still worried how it’s gonna affect our friendship later on though.”

He simply shrugs. “Meh. We’re not really that close to begin with anyway.” He takes another sip of his coffee by accident and nearly vomits for real. “Fucking hell—take this shit out of my face.”

“I'm still not sure about this, Haechannie.”

“Look, I don’t know why it’s such a big deal to you, we’re just going to pretend! Acting!” He exclaims as if that was the most normal thing a friend could ask another friend. “And you’re gonna be acting out a love scene with someone as hot as me. Consider yourself lucky.”

“Consider yourself dead.”

“Damn it, my audition is in two days and I really want to get this role!” He’s whining, tugging at your hand like a baby as he practically throws himself at your feet, graveling for your mercy. “You’re the only one who can help me with this. How can I act properly if I don’t have enough experience to perform a freaking bed scene?!”

“I don’t think actors who have to play dead have enough experience of, you know, being dead.”

“Excellent point.” Haechan stares at you blankly, unimpressed. “Do you hear yourself when you talk?”

“Do you?”

A few seconds passed by in silence with the two of you exchanging sinister glares until he finally surrenders with a prominent pout on his face. “Fine, if you don’t want to.” Haechan exhales dramatically, his shoulders sagging and when you don’t respond, he sighs again only louder this time. “I guess, I have to force Mark to make out with me. Again.” He sneaks a glance to see your reaction. “And have my face slapped with a Bible. Again.”

You wince at the thought. “How did you force him, exactly?”

“Just…” He timidly scratches his nose. “Kinda attacked him in his sleep.”

You nod in understanding even when it’s the most idiotic thing you’ve ever heard. “Well, maybe he would’ve been fine with it if you had taken him out for a nice dinner before that.”

Haechan smiles a little at your words, and even a little glimpse of it is contagious enough to make your own spread wider on your face. Small chuckles resonate through the air and he playfully bumps his shoulder against yours, his palm resting on your knuckles.

“On a more serious note,” Haechan says, “I know that asking you to rehearse a bed scene with me is too much and way out of line. But I swear, I’m not gonna touch you if you’re so uncomfortable with it. Won’t even hold your hand, I promise.” Then he notices he’s still holding your hand from earlier. He drops it immediately, clearing his throat. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” It’s more than fine. His hand seems to fit yours in a way that nobody ever does but there’s no way you’re gonna tell him that. “So, we’re just gonna be practicing lines?”

“Exactly.” He rubs his nape, suddenly a bit bashful. “Well, I was hoping to at least kiss you—just to, you know, know how it’d feel like.”

“You’ve never kissed before?”

“I have, obviously.” He rolls his eyes, disgusted at your question. “I’m not a fucking virgin if that’s what you’re assuming.”

“Chill, don’t get your panties in a twist. Nah, I know you’re not a virgin from how many times you’ve had sex with yourself.”

“Hey!”

“But then, why do you need to practice? Can’t you just go straight to your castmates, and kiss the bejeezus out of them?”

Donghyuck runs a hand through his face. “It’s… I’ve never done it for a role,” he professes, faint blush blooming on his cheeks, “And the scene is supposed to be intimate and I’ve never… You know…”

You gesture at him to clarify more with your hands. “You’ve never…?”

“You know…” The color on his face turns brighter. “T-the thing.”

“What thing? Never made-out in public? Never had sex outdoor?” You act clueless just because you’re liking his reaction. “Never had a finger stuck in your ass? What? Please do enlighten me.”

“I’ve never been in love, you witch!” Haechan is adorable when he’s fuming. Nostrils blaring, eyebrows knitting together in an angry frown, scarlet cheeks all puffed out. He looks like a terribly pissed Pomeranian.

Man, if I could just take a picture. “Oh, okay. So have you had your finger stuck in your ass?”

“I swear to God—”

“Kidding. I know you have.” But even when Haechan is nearly ripping your cheeks apart from your face, your giggles are never-ending. “So, you’re nervous?” You snort, raising an eyebrow. “You, the obnoxious, desperate-for-attention Lee Haechan, are nervous?”

“Will you help me out or not?!”

You pretend like you’re contemplating about it when truth is, every part of your body and mind is just screaming what the heck are you waiting for? He’s asking you to rehearse a bed scene—a. bed. scene! And he said he wanted to kiss you, for God’s sake! So, really, what else is there to say but “Okay.”

Haechan widens his eyes. “Okay?”

“Okay.” You try your best to appear nonchalant. “But you’ll owe me a favor. A huge one.”

“Anything,” he instantly agrees, “As long as I’m not dead, you have my words.”

You’re not yet sure what you’re planning to ask him but seeing his enthusiasm, you know it’s going to be good. “Great. So, umm, do you want to do it now or…?”

“Whenever you’re ready.”

“Here?”

“Wherever you want.”

“Man, you’re giving me too much power. I should’ve agreed to this way sooner.” You can practically feel your face splitting in half from how wide you’re grinning. “My room, then? I mean, a bed scene requires… a bed, right?”

Haechan laughs and even after two years, it still sounds like your most favorite thing in the world. “No, it doesn’t necessarily require a bed but sure.” He jumps out from the couch, taking you by the hand, and only by that, you can already feel your heart thumping a tad faster. But the second he walks into your room, he makes a face. “Why does it smell like something died in here?”

“Because something did die. Your dignity.”

The tickling fight doesn’t occur very often between you and Lee Haechan but once it starts, it means war.

***

“Okay, so…” Haechan hands you the script, already opened to show you a page filled with dialogues and short narratives. He scoots closer on the bed, his knee a few inches away from grazing yours as they dangle from the edge. “Just from the top of the page, here.” He points with his finger and you do a quick scan, trying to get a picture of the intimate scene you’re going to do. “So, a quick summary. Your character, Aeri, has been in love with my character, Donghyun. In the earlier scene, you’ve confessed your love to me but I rejected you because we’ve been friends for so long and I didn’t want to ruin what we have. But then, later on, some things happened and I ended up catching feelings for you and this is the part where I’m gonna be telling you how I really feel and then we start kissing and—”

“Then we have sex,” you utter in dismay, but butterflies are erupting from your stomach due to the anticipation.

“No,” Haechan corrects you, “We make love.”

“Is there any difference?”

“There are more feelings involved, not just out of sheer passion. It’s slower. Tender. Intimate.” And when he notices you raising a questioning brow at him, he sighs. “That thing you did with Jaemin? Fucking like bunnies? The opposite of that.”

You mock him by imitating his sigh exaggeratedly and receiving a flick on the nose in return. “Is it just me or is the script pretty lousy?”

He nods. “But they’ll pay you good money for this.”

“I thought the reason you became an actor was to create art not money.”

“When I’m rich, maybe. Right now, I gotta pay for my rent. And apparently, Jeno keeps chasing my ass, forcing me to pay him back. It was just a wagyu steak for fuck’s sake.” He grumbles to himself, momentarily distracted. “Anyway,” he cracks his neck, “I’ve memorized my lines. Wanna give it a go?”

“Okay, let’s try. I guess I’ll be fine if it’s just kissing. Even if it’s with you.” When in reality you’re only agreeing to this because it’s with him.

Haechan’s eyes gleam brighter, ears practically perking up like an excited puppy. “Really?”

“You’re that excited at the thought of kissing me?” You play smug but you could practically hear your heartbeat blasting through your ears. “What else have you been thinking about me?”

“I’m not excited at the thought of kissing you, dumbass,” he spits back, the spark in his eyes vanishes in an instant. “I’m excited that finally I can practice kissing scenes with someone who’s actually willing to do it, and not, you know, like with the back of my hand or something.”

“You…” Failing to hold back a grin, you burst out laughing. “You made out with your hand?”

It’s funny that even when his skin is golden as if it was kissed by the sun, it still shows vividly on his face whenever he blushes. “I didn’t mean it literally—”

“I can’t believe you made out with your hand.”

“Would you just—” He nearly suffocates you with your pillow but you quickly retaliate by kicking him in the stomach.

Tears are prickling at the corner of your eyes. “Man, that mental image of yours making out with your hand will live in my mind rent-free for as long as I live.” When you still can’t stop laughing, Haechan is practically baring his teeth. “Okay, I’m sorry. Let’s get this going. If it gets too uncomfortable for me, I’ll stop.”

“Of course.”

“At any time I want.”

“Your call.” He nods in agreement with the most serious expression you’ve ever seen him do; it almost doesn’t seem like him.

“Good,” you say. “Now, I’ve never acted once in my life so if you laugh at me, I will sneak into your room at night and pour hot coffee on your computer.”

There’s fear fleeting through his eyes but he gives another nod. “Deal.”

“All right…” You take a deep breath, willing your heart to stop hammering against your ribcages, and for once, focus more on the script instead of the shape of his pretty, pretty mouth. “What are you doing here?” You follow the script, voice a little bit shaky as you’re still embarrassed with everything you’re doing. Haechan closes his eyes and you’re about to throw a joke to tease him about actor Haechan coming alive but when he opens them and gazes at you, you sit still, frozen.

“I wanted to see you,” he says, voice so delicate, it startles you. He’s so serious about this that you don’t find the strength within you to tease him like how you usually do. Somehow, the little gestures he makes, the changes in his expression alter the air along with the tension in the room. Suddenly, it feels like you’re standing next to him under the spotlight, hundreds of pairs of eyes following your every movement.

“It’s—” You swallow your breath, tongue lays heavy in your mouth. “It's pouring outside, why are you—”

“I love you,” he vocalizes, his eyes gentle and heartbroken. His voice suddenly sounds a pitch lower, reverberating through the air until it sends goosebumps to the tiny hairs on your nape. He waits for your reply and you have to blink twice to slap yourself back to reality.

“W-what?”

“I’m sorry it took me this long to realize, but I do. I’m in love with you, hopelessly so.” He reaches out to cup your cheek, his thumb caressing your cheekbone. Though he has pretty hands, his fingertips are not as soft as you had imagined them to be, but they feel better, feel real. His warmth is unfamiliar to your skin but it feels more pleasant than anything that ever touches you. “Maybe you’re unaware of this, but it kills me to know that I’ve hurt you because I simply couldn’t be brave enough to accept my feelings. The reason why I didn’t want us to be together was because I didn’t want to ruin what we have, not knowing that we could be something more.”

Haechan’s lines fit your situation so much that you wish he wasn’t acting. It’s amazing how he’s changing into an entirely different persona and yet, it feels so natural as if he has been that person all along. Your breathing gets heavier as you take a brief look at the script, searching for your lines. “This feels unreal…”

“Do you still love me?” Haechan lifts your face by the chin, his touch is paper-thin.

You wet your lips, head swirling. “But Donghyun—”

“Do you still love me?” He repeats, emphasizing with his tone. His eyes are peering into yours and you wonder maybe the quote eyes deeper than the sea refers to his gaze. “Or is it too late for me?” His thumb drifts to your lip, caressing your bottom one, your lip balm sticking to his skin.

“I do,” you reply. He’s so pretty. You’ve never taken a glance longer than a few seconds at his close-up face, but now that you’re in this close proximity, you can finally witness the two tiny moles on his cheek, the beautiful shape of his dark eyes, the delicate curve of his lips… “I do love you, Donghyuck.”

A few seconds of silence hangs in the air when Haechan stops, his eyebrows furrowing. “Umm—it’s Donghyun, actually.”

Fuck! “Right!” You nearly leap out of your bed, face aflame. “Donghyun! Of course! I don’t know why I said that. Donghyuck is your name, I know that—” Fuck, fuck, fuck, just fucking kill me. “Sorry, umm—nervous.”

Fortunately for you, Haechan buys your bluff. “Rookie mistake,” he chuckles and you exaggeratedly roll your eyes to play along. “Okay, let’s start over. Do you still love me?”

“I do,” you respond too rigidly, making him glance away so he won’t break into laughter. “I do love you, Donghyun. Dong-Hyun.”

“Good,” he improvises, as it’s not written in the script. He has a tiny smile on his face and you like to think that it’s just him doing a terrible job at hiding his amusement. But when he swats your bangs out of your eyes, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, he seems like he’s seeing the most beautiful thing he has ever seen in his whole life. The adoration in his eyes, his loving gaze—they are so vivid, they nearly consume you. “Because I don’t think I can resist this any longer…”

You’re lost in his eyes, lost in his touch, lost in his warmth. It’s until Haechan nudges his head slightly, indicating you to wake up, you’ve got a line to say, that you jolt, eyes hurriedly going down to the script, seeking your lines. “Umm—“ You flinch. You sound so jittery, it’s terrible. “R-resist what…?”

But Haechan doesn’t pay a mind that you just stuttered from saying two words. He doesn’t ask you to start over. Instead, he presses his forehead against yours, his breath mingling in the air and you can taste the scent of sandalwood and summer. Combined with his soft breathing, you’re almost stuck in a haze, just reeling in the feeling of how this man is now closer to you than he has ever been in the past two years and it’s better than anything you’ve ever imagined.

“Resist this,” he whispers and before you can look down to check whether you have more lines to say, Haechan dips his head, his lips brushing against yours, ever so faintly at first but when you gasp, he presses harder, framing your cheeks with both hands before he moves one down to your waist. Unlike his fingertips, his lips are soft—softer than silk or the cotton candy he once bought you. But it’s not the way they feel or the way he tastes that distract you the most. It’s the way he moves them, parting his lips slightly so he can blend with yours, your lower lip fits perfectly between his plump ones. It’s the way he sighs, so contentedly, as if kissing you was everything he ever wanted.

You close your eyes, hands reaching up to his collar, wanting to feel him more, wanting to touch him—

Haechan breaks away, placing both hands on your shoulders. “How was it?”

You’ve never had someone splash cold water on your face but you figure it might feel something like this. Your voice grows hoarse when you speak. “How was what?”

“The kiss!” Haechan’s eyes are filled with concern, analyzing your expression. “Was it romantic enough? Tender enough? Did it properly convey the desperation and longing my character feels for yours?”

You knew this was a bad idea. You fucking knew it. So, why are you still hurt when he acts like he feels exactly nothing by that kiss? This is just an acting lesson for him. You should have been prepared.

“It’s good,” you answer, averting your gaze and hiding your eyes behind your bangs. Your heart is still running a thousand miles an hour but somehow, it doesn’t feel as pleasant as before. “So, next scene—”

“Wait, are you okay?” Haechan asks, bending slightly to catch a glimpse of your face. “Was it too much? Do you want to stop?”

Truth is, you’re conflicted. You’re going to catch feelings—you most likely already are. But Haechan only treats you as a friend and nothing more, and this is the only chance you have to be this close to him. The temptation of continuing the kiss, to just hold him close for one more time, stands stronger than anything else so you say, “No. I promised you I’d help.”

He’s still unsure, eyes glinting in concern. “It’s okay if you want to stop, I—”

“Let’s just do the damn scene, Donghyuck.”

Haechan freezes on his seat, eyes searching yours as you now have the bravery to look at his face. Knowing you came on too strong, you try to ease it off with a smile. “I’m fine, don’t worry. It’s just my first time doing this—acting, I mean. Can we try again?”

He spends another few seconds trying to decipher the true meaning behind your smile but eventually nods his head at your command. He drags his finger back to the script. “Then, umm… Let’s start from here?”

You don’t even look at the page when you give affirmation. “Go.”

Haechan takes a moment to prepare himself and when your eyes meet each other again, he’s a different person once more. “The reason why I didn’t want us to be together was because I didn’t want to ruin what we have, not knowing that we could be something more.” His voice is so soothing, you almost forget that deep down you’re immensely upset knowing that the kiss didn’t have the same effects on him.

This time, when he frames your face with his palm, you lean into his touch, eyes never leaving his. “This feels unreal,” you say and for a second—just for a split second—you notice Haechan breaking out of character, surprised by the gentle expression on your face. Because you’re not acting out his script, you’re acting out on your feelings. It’s your only chance to be honest with him without forcing him to respond. So you pour all these feelings you have for him out in the open—ones that started from a mere physical attraction to something more as his presence grew bigger in your life, you’re acting out each and every one of them.

“Do…” He inhales sharply, trying to focus. “Do you still love me?” He’s doing the same thing as before, placing his thumb and index finger on your chin but before he can say his lines, you see how his eyes fall on your lips.

And you kiss him. You kiss him with everything you have, hands going to his face, fingers slipping between his strands, and Haechan gasps against your mouth, his fingers curling around your wrist. You know he’s about to push you away so you quickly murmur, “I do,” against his lips, breath stuttering, “I do love you.”

When you take his bottom lip between yours, teeth grazing against his supple skin, Haechan lets out an involuntary moan at the back of his throat. The butterflies in your stomach come alive, pumping a rush of adrenaline through your veins and suddenly, you’re brave enough to glide your tongue across his lip. His hold tightens around your wrist but instead of pushing you away, he tugs you closer and you fall into his chest, hands breaking free from his grip to wind around his neck. Your fingertips are scraping against his nape before they move upward to yank at the roots of his hair. “Fuck,” he breathes out, almost inaudibly, as if he didn’t mean to let the word slip from his mouth and it makes your heart jumps straight out of your chest. The second he responds properly, Haechan kisses like fire, all passion and urgency, and you really don’t mind being consumed by his flames.

His hands are on your waist, pulling you closer and closer until you’re almost sitting on his lap before he jolts awake, pushing you away so abruptly, you almost fall from the bed.

“I’m—We—” he stammers, looking everywhere but your eyes. His cheeks are flushed, his lips bruised and red from your kisses. “I think we should—I gotta go—“

He stands up from the bed like the sheets are catching on fire, picking his script from the floor and gathering all his belongings at once before he runs toward the door. He turns on his heels, wanting to say something to fix the goddamn situation, but when his eyes land on yours, his words vanish without a trace.

“I—I’ll call you later,” he finally says and doesn’t wait for your response. The front door closes with a thud.

And then silence comes to answer.

What just happened?

Your heart is thundering inside your chest, you’re starting to feel nauseous. What have I done? You keep asking over and over. You thought everything was going to be fine. He responded to your kiss earlier, didn’t he? You were sure you didn’t imagine the whole thing. But now he’s gone and you’re not sure whether he’s gonna come back as the same Haechan—the old, bratty but caring Lee Haechan. The one who snickers loudly when you fall face-first on the ground but always steals secret glances at you to make sure you're not hurt. The one who makes jokes about your love life but never forgets to show up at your apartment with a thoughtful gift right at the minute you turn a year older.

Things are not just gonna get awkward, they’re ruined.

When nearly half an hour has passed by and you’re still left alone in your apartment with no signs of him coming back, you’re about to go insane. You can’t stay still, walking back and forth your living room with the tip of your thumb between your teeth.

Should I chase after him and explain that it was just me trying to improvise? You hesitate with your hand lingering on the doorknob. But with your knees nearly giving up under your weight, you decide to stay put. It will probably just gonna make it worse. He’ll see through my lies, he always does.

You’re straying away to the kitchen, hands placed on the counter. You can feel your head spinning, stomach somersaulting. Damn it, why did I have to do that?! Why couldn’t I just—

The front door slams opened and Haechan barges in with his hair messy, ruffled by the wind, and his bangs sticking to his temple. Stunned, you stand still on your ground. Your heart is the only one that’s moving beyond control. His eyes scan your apartment until they land on yours and for an instant, everything seems to fade away.

“Fuck it,” he says, dropping his bag to the ground and making his way towards you in such a hurry, he nearly trips over his feet. “You’re not that good of an actor to be faking it.” Before you have the chance to even take a breath, Haechan’s lips are smashing against yours.

“Hae—” Haechan’s kiss is insane. So forceful that you can barely keep up, taking every bit of air directly from your lungs. He has you backed against the kitchen counter, the marbled edge digging into your skin. His hands frame your face, sliding against your cheek until they cup the backsides of your neck, his thumbs resting against your ears. You curl your fingers around his wrist, gasping, “Wait—”

He pulls away, lifting your face so you can’t bring your gaze anywhere else. “You like me?” His eyes are just as intense, begging for answers. “Please tell me I’m not imagining this.”

But behind that passion, his confidence is wavering. You can tell by his quivering breath, the little tremble running through his fingertips, and at that, you’re drowning in relief. You don’t think he’s that good of an actor to be faking this too.

“I do,” you admit, heart pounding so loudly that you can barely hear your own voice. “I like—”

His mouth is on yours again and it feels like he’s kissing you in a hundred different places at once. “Jesus Christ, why have you kept quiet about this for so long?” he says, tasting your breath and skin at the same time. “Two fucking years. We wasted two fucking years.”

The words this isn’t happening endlessly run through your head but all your senses scream that Haechan is really here, in your arms, his nails clawing against your shirt and there’s nothing left you want from this world.

When you reciprocate to him properly, your palms sliding up his chest, over his shoulder, until your arms circle his neck, Haechan sighs in content. His kisses grow slower—more relaxed—but deeper, his tongue peeking out shyly at first but not for long. He still tastes faintly like the coffee you made and something else entirely different. Something pleasant that’s just exactly how you’ve fantasized him to be, if not more.

He pulls away to catch his breath with his eyes still focusing on your lips, thumb rubbing your lower one. “Does this feel weird to you?” He whispers, his temple pressing against yours.

You’re intoxicated by his sweet scent though you’re not sure whether it’s the smell of his shampoo, his cologne, or just him altogether. “No,” and as soon as the word comes out, his lips are chasing after yours once more.

“Good, ‘cause I don’t think I can stop.” He’s breathing heavily against your mouth as you are against his. With his fingers twisted in your hair, making a messy ponytail out of it, Haechan peppers open-mouthed kisses on your neck, tongue pressing against your pulsating vein and a whimper escapes your mouth.

Your dreams, your fantasies—they all fall pale in comparison to reality. When you vocalize his name, it almost sounds like a plead and Haechan slants his mouth back on yours again, giving you another taste as he is not satisfied with yours just yet. “Your lips taste amazing,” he breathes out and it’s so quiet, it seems like he’s intending to say the words in his head and not with his mouth. But as his words fall on your ears, they send tingles down your spine.

“So do yours,” you reply, attempting to make him blush in return but if he does, he doesn’t show much. “Never pegged you as a man who wears lip balm.”

You can feel his smirk directly with your skin. “I’m not wearing any.”

“You’re not?” You lightly giggle, swiping your tongue across his lower lip. “Then your lips do taste amazing.”

Haechan’s hand is slipping underneath your shirt, fingers hovering above your bra. “Guess there are still a lot of things you don’t know about me, huh?”

“I’ve got a hunch you’re about to teach me?”

“Only if you’re eager to learn.”

The kiss becomes heavier that you’re lost for words, entirely consumed by his passion, until he breaks away, muttering, “Off, off, off, off, off,” as he struggles to tear the fabric away from your body. You titter at his desperation, raising both hands to help him out of his misery. The second it’s off, he lifts you by the waist and places you down on the counter.

“I’m amazed you could lift me,” you coo, admiring the sight of his lean stomach as he pulls his shirt over his head. His silver necklace hangs loosely around his neck and you hook a finger around it to yank him back to you.

He doesn’t seem to be able to detach his lips from yours for too long, especially when you keep sneaking glances at his. So when he speaks again, his every word is painted directly to your skin. “It wasn’t easy.” He settles between your thighs, mouth latching against your collarbone. “You weigh a ton.”

“Yeah?” You bite your lip, holding back a moan as he sucks bruises on your neck, the edge of his fingers trailing over the seam of your bra. “Then you must be so strong.”

“I am, haven’t you noticed?” Haechan pulls away just to showcase a mischievous grin. “I work out, you know.”

You blurt out laughing. It’s not solely because of the mental image of Lee Haechan—a full-time gamer, Lee Haechan—doing push-ups seems so funny to you. It’s more about the way he wiggles his eyebrow, trying to be sexy about it when you know he’s the weakest one in your group. Flustered at your reaction, he flicks your nose. “What is so funny?”

“I’m sorry,” you apologize though it doesn’t seem that much sincere with the way you’re still giggling at him. “It’s just that an hour ago we were two friends making fun of each other and now we’re here, in this position. I don’t know, it just feels surreal to me.”

An adorable pout blooms on his face. “I thought you said this didn’t feel weird.”

“No, it’s perfect. I want this.” You wrap the end of his necklace twice around your index finger. “I want you. It’s just… I’ve been imagining this to happen for such a long time and now that it’s happening, I’m feeling a lot of things at once.” You place a reassuring kiss on his temple. “I’m nervous.” This time landing one on his cheek. “I’m relieved.” When your lips hover above his, you notice him parting his own slightly in anticipation. “And it feels so good, I don’t ever want to stop. Even if that means we can’t go back to being friends.”

Haechan can’t form a response as you don’t let him, your mouth swallowing the tiny moans he emits. “We’ll talk about that later,” he hastily replies, “I still haven’t had enough of you yet.”

Without warning, he lifts you off the counter, making you yelp and wrap your legs around his waist for support. “Haechannie!” With you holding onto him, he takes a step forward, ignoring your call. “Where are you taking me—"

“Wait, no, back pain, back pain.” Both of you nearly tumble down to the ground from how he’s harshly placing you back to your feet, wincing at the ache erupting from the strained muscles in his spine. He’s groaning in pain, massaging his back with both hands. “Fuck, you’re really heavy!”

“That’s no way to talk to a lady.” You throw your slipper at him, missing his head just a few inches, laughing all the way. “What exactly were you trying to do?”

“I was trying to move us to the couch.”

“All you had to do was ask.”

“I was trying to be sexy.” He juts out his lower lip, and it takes all control of your body to not squeeze his cheeks from how adorable he looks.

“Honey, you are sexy, believe me, but you’re also weak as fuck. Consider hitting the gym for real next time and then carry me.”

“Shut up,” he sighs, holding out a hand for you to take. “To the couch, please? And maybe a massage after this ‘cause my back is killing me.”

Shaking your head in amusement, you take his hand, intertwining your fingers with his and drag him over to the couch. He’s in the middle of asking, “Do you want me to be on top or—” when you push him down and straddle his lap without warning, legs tangling around his hips. “Oh, okay.”

You run a hand through his hair, pushing them back so you can witness the glow in his eyes. “You look sexier with your hair pushed back.” You love the way he stares at you, eyes half-lidded painted with lust and desire. And combined with your commentary, he now has his cheek tinted with red. “Do you have a problem with me being on top?”

His eyes quickly run down to the place where your denim shorts are riding up your thighs, your zipper pressing against his groin. With a noticeable gulp, he stutters out, “N-no.”

You smile, patting his cheek. “Good.”

The kiss starts slow as you focus more on moving your hands down his body. Haechan shivers a little when your palm is pressing against his bare chest, sliding down to his navel. When you pull back, raising a questioning brow at his reaction, he bashfully says, “Your hand’s cold,” looking like a nervous little boy who’s a stark contrast to how he usually behaves.

He’s so cute.

“Well, I know a way to warm you up.” You smirk, almost cringing when you hear your own words but Haechan seems to like it.

“Oooh,” he coos, grinning against your lips. “Are you offering what I think you’re offering?”

“I don’t know.” You kiss your way down from his jawline to his chest, pushing yourself off his lap so you can kneel on the floor, your fingers unbuckling his belt. “What do you think I’m offering?”

Haechan’s eyes are glowing with anticipation. He curves his fingers around the edge of his seat, wetting his lip nervously when you pull his zipper down. You release him from his boxer, stroking him to life and he sinks his nails further into the couch. A train of expletives breaks free from his mouth but he’s so quiet, you can only hear his ragged breathing.

But by the time you run your thumb over his slit, your hot breath hitting his sensitive skin, Haechan melts into a whimpering mess. “Please don’t tease,” he begs.

“I haven’t even started, Haechannie.” And he looks like he’s about to say something but it only turns into a mewl when you press a kiss to his tip. “You’re so cute,” you comment, and he shivers when the vibration of your voice meets his skin.

Haechan tries to act composed. “Of course I’m cute, it’s—”

You cut his line short by darting out your tongue, giving kitten licks at the side, smiling satisfyingly when his eyes meet yours. As you give him a little suck around his tip, he throws his head back, his lower lip between his teeth. “I—I said don’t tease.”

“I’m not teasing you.” But you are. How can you not? He looks so fucking cute. You’ve never really enjoyed giving head before, especially when your opponent gets rough and ends up pushing too deep until you gag. But with Haechan, you feel like you can do this for hours. He’s so nervous and shy, doesn’t even dare to place his hand on your hair, and his reaction to every bit of your action is honest even when his words aren’t.

“Here.” You take one of his hands, moving it to your head. “You can use me as much as you want.”

“Use—” he crumbles at your choice of words. When you suddenly envelop him with your mouth, moving from the tip to the base in one quick motion, Haechan instinctively grabs a handful of your hair, flinching. “Goddamn, why are you so fucking hot?”

You giggle, sliding his cock out of your mouth with an obscene pop. “Thanks.”

“No, I mean your mouth. It’s so fucking warm.”

“So, you’re saying,” you dip your tongue into his slit, eyes seductively peering into his. “I’m not hot?”

“You’re—Fuck, fuck—” Haechan seethes, hips buckling when you bob your head down again, tongue pressing against his veins. Shivers run through his fingertips when he slips them between your locks, pushing your fringe back to have a good look at your face. You catch a glimpse of him, his lips unconsciously moving to form words that you can’t hear. So pretty, he seems to say, and the thought of it makes your stomach lurch in delight. Taking him completely in your mouth, you hollow your cheeks, swallowing around him. He tightens his hold around your hair, cheeks flushed and you expect him to hold you in place so he can thrust against your mouth but what he does is pull you away. “Stop, stop, stop, stop.”

Wiping a string of saliva away with the back of your hand, you ask with a frown. “Something’s wrong?”

Haechan hides his reddening face behind his fingers, quietly answering, “I was about to come.”

You hold back a grin. With a nonchalant hum, you dip your head down again, this time engulfing him until he hits the back of your throat.

“Jesus Christ.” His sanity is deteriorating, he can feel it.

“Don’t bring Lord’s name when I have your dick in my mouth, Haechannie. Mark would kill you if he knew.”

“Fuck Mark. Come here.” He rushes forward, forcibly pulling you up with both hands clamping your arms. When you follow his order, settling back down on top of his lap, he confesses with his lips grazing against the shell of your ear. “I really won’t last long if you keep doing that.”

Despite your previous teasing and confidence, you squirm inside his arms, feeling warmth spreading from your chest to your cheek. “So I have these effects on you?”

He’s almost growling when he retorts, “You don’t even know.” Haechan pushes your bra strap until it falls off your shoulder, teeth marking your supple skin until you hiss in both pain and pleasure. He presses a softer kiss to soothe away the bruise. “Sorry, I… You’re gonna need to cover it up tomorrow.”

“It’s fine.” You stroke his cheek, tracing the tiny mole on his jawline. “Seems like you have a biting kink.”

He sheepishly chuckles, “I don’t know. But if you let me, I’d love to do that again.”

Something about him saying it in the most sincere way possible, almost too formal even, makes you crave more for him and everything he does. “You’re allowed to do whatever you want with me, Lee Donghyuck.”

Haechan swallows hard, barely has the bravery to look at you in the face after hearing your words and his real name tumbling out of your mouth. His fingers are now on the hem of your shorts, trembling a little bit. “Umm—may I?”

Helping him further, you stand on your knees, unclasping your bra first to his surprise and pulling your denim shorts and panties down to your thighs. Haechan watches with his eyes wide open, mouth parted in awe as he commits every bit of your curve and movement into memory. It feels so thrilling to be this wanted, to be ravished by his eyes, until you begin to struggle to push your clothing away from your legs.

“Need some help?” He asks, lips pursing as he tries to hide a grin.

You exhale loudly, detaching yourself from him. “Let me just—” You jump off his lap, standing back with your feet on the ground, and kicking the clothing away with annoyance—why in the world did you have to wear shorts this tight—and slap him in the chest when he’s chuckling at the sight.

“Maybe you should stop trying to be sexy too,” Haechan snickers.

“Shut up.” You crawl back into his lap. “Go back to staring dumbly at me like before. I’m naked.”

“I wasn’t staring like tha—oh,” he inhales sharply as you grind your heat against his cock, amazed at how warm you are despite your cold palms. The sensation of skin meeting skin feels much more different. There’s really no going back this time. Somehow, it feels dangerous, as if you’re doing something forbidden and it makes your skin crawl with excitement.

And by the look on his face, seems like he feels the same way.

“Lost for words?” You taunt him with a smirk, hands on his chest. “That’s new.” His glare is menacing but it falters away the second you rub your arousal against his.

His head falls to his shoulder, eyes tightly shut. “God, baby…”

There it is again. The funny feeling in your stomach. “Baby?” You simper though your heart is palpitating like crazy. “We’re moving on to giving each other pet names now?”

If he can blush any harder than this, he probably might but with the way you’re grinding shamelessly on his cock, letting him get a glimpse of how wet and warm you are, he’s all maxed-out.

His earlobe lays between your teeth when you whisper, “Shall we put it in?”

Haechan’s nails are sinking into the skin of your hips, both to hold you in place so you’ll stop torturing him and to press you down harder on his crotch. “I…” He’s so distracted, he can’t even think. The way the side of his length is pressing against your folds is pushing every little bit of self-control he has to the back of his head.

“Haechannie?” You giggle, moving your hips. “I kinda asked you a question here.”

“Yes, fuck, yes, please.” Haechan tries his very best to not sound that desperate for your touch but he is that desperate. “Wait—aren’t we—shouldn’t I wear a condom first?”

You blink, halting your movement. “You brought a condom with you?”

He nods as he leans forward, fingers searching frantically at the pocket of his jeans that hang low on his knees. “Here.”

“Why do you have a condom with you?”

“‘Cause I bought it downstairs just now.”

Your jaw grows slack at the realization. “Is that the reason why your hair was so messy and you were sweating when you barged in here? ‘Cause you ran downstairs, trying to find a condom?”

“I’m sorry, are you really complaining about this now?”

At the feeling of his member twitching underneath you, you sigh. “You’re right. Let’s discuss that later.”

It feels a bit awkward when you stand on your knees, giving him some space and wait until he finishes wrapping the rubber around himself. The silence that hangs between you is almost deafening that by the time he’s done and you fall back to his lap, sitting on his thighs, it feels like you have to start over again.

You diffidently smile. “Hey.”

Haechan is equally as embarrassed, mirroring your gesture. “Hi.”

“I guess we’re gonna have sex.”

“Guess so.”

Another few seconds pass by where you can only meet each other’s eyes, feeling your heartbeat racing louder and louder. It feels like you’re about to burst, honestly, but fortunately for you, Haechan leans in, his fingers tentatively caressing your cheek. “Can I kiss you?” He questions.

You melt under his gaze, his gentle touch, his honey-like voice. “Yes, please.”

Your lips start the connection and the rest of your body follows, fitting every curve of his perfectly like you were made for him. The way Haechan sighs against your mouth sends sparks of electricity all the way down to your toes and you don’t waste any more time. With his mouth latching on your breast, tongue flicking against your nipple, you lower yourself on him.

Haechan’s hold your waist tighter, eyebrows adjoined in the middle at the sensation, his moans muffled. He presses his spine back against the couch, admiring the sight of his member disappearing inch by inch into you. His eyes begin to droop when he’s completely sheathed inside, his bruised lips parted. He cups your cheek, kissing you softly on the corner of your mouth, making you shiver at the sudden tenderness. “I guess we are having sex,” he murmurs with a bashful smile.

You can’t help but laugh a little. “I guess so.”

It starts slow, with you placing both hands on his chest and him swallowing his breath at the sight of you moving up and down his length. You hiss slightly at the friction, adjusting to his size.

“Does it hurt?” He asks, tucking a few loose strands behind your ear.

“A little.” You reassure him with a grin. “Relax, you’re not gonna break me.”

You expect him to send back a snarky remark but what he does is press his forehead against yours. “You’re so warm,” he whispers, tasting the skin that connects your shoulder to your neck. Something about his words, his sensual kiss and his tender touch makes you squeeze your walls around him and he clutches harder around you. He glides his hands lower to your hips, silently urging you to pick up the pace and you follow.

Breathing heavily, Haechan has his thumb grazing your lower lip. “You have such a pretty mouth,” he professes as if he was in a trance.

You seductively bite his thumb, still working your hips. “You’re saying that ‘cause I just sucked your dick.”

“Yes, that too, but really.” It’s as if he’s staring at a work of art, eyes twinkling with admiration. Sometimes, when you’re hitting the right spot and quiver around him, a small moan escapes his lips and you feel him twitching inside you. “It’s—ah—It probably doesn’t sound sincere when I’m saying this now, but I’ve always thought you had a pretty mouth. And lips. I’ve thought about your lips a lot.”

“Yeah?” You mouth against the sensitive skin below his ear, sinking harder on his length. “What else do you like about me?”

“Y-your voice—” You can actually feel him shivering. “You have such a—fuck—I just—I really love your moans.”

You’re not sure whether he’s saying that because he’s so distracted with the way you’re breathing in his ear or he genuinely loves it. Either way, it’s a pleasure to know how much you’re affecting him with your actions. With a chuckle, you say, “You’re rambling, baby.”

“And your hair,” he adds, probably losing every bit of his self-control by this point. “I love your hair. Looks so soft.” Haechan cards his fingers through your strands. “Feels so soft.”

You hum in response, hoping that your flushed face doesn’t look as apparent as you think. “Anything else?”

“Your—” He shudders when you paint a mark under his collarbone. “Your ass.”

You stop, pulling away to give him a look and he whines at the loss. “My ass?”

“What—” The tips of his ears are turning red, steam practically coming out of them. “Why are you staring at me like that—you have a great ass!”

Teasing him is such a joy to you. “Then, let’s do it this way.” You part away from him, landing back on the carpeted floor so you can turn around, giving him the chance to ogle at your behind, before you ease yourself down onto his lap once more.

“Fuck—” Haechan’s hisses, his hands going down to your hips again. The new position doesn’t allow you to meet his eyes but with the way he’s whimpering behind you, fingers trailing over the curve of your ass, the sensation increases.

“You okay back there?” You taunt smugly, chuckling a bit because Haechan sounds like he’s losing it. His nails are sinking into your skin and you just know that’s gonna leave a nasty bruise tomorrow. “You seem like you’re enjoying this way too—“ You’re interrupted by your own moans when he suddenly has one hand massaging your breast and another one sliding down your stomach to find your clit. “W-wait, Haechannie—”

“You’re such a tease,” he breathily whispers into your ear, his chest pressing against your spine as he leans forward, pulling you into his embrace. “Isn’t that supposed to be my job?”

His fingers are rubbing you in circles, making your thighs tremble. “You’re right.” You move your hips harder, going out of rhythm with how fast you’re going and Haechan sinks his teeth to your shoulder again.

At the sound of his name departing your lips in the most sinful moan he’s ever heard, Haechan curses. “Shit, you’re not gonna let me enjoy this longer, are you?”

“There’s always a second round, Haechannie.” You smirk, raising your hips all the way up in intention to slam it back down again but Haechan catches you and pushes you forward until you land on the coffee table, stomach pressing flat against the wooden surface. “What—"

“There’s always a second round, right?” His lips are brushing against your ear as he positions himself behind you. “Then I’m going all out.”

When he slams his hips in one swift motion, hard and deep, he knocks all the air out of your lungs. “Wait—” You choke out, can barely keep up with his pace. “Oh God—”

“Now, now,” he coos, his hand finding its way to your throat, fingers pressing against your veins. He raises your face, his chest completing the dip of your spine. “Don’t bring God’s name when I’m fucking you like this, baby.”

You can’t even find the strength to retort, eyes shutting tightly until you see stars behind your eyelids. It almost feels unreal how fast he can go from being awkward and tentative about all of this to raw and wild within a few minutes but Haechan has always been fast adapting to new situations and you have been teasing him way too much. It’s about time that he snaps.

Haechan moves you down to the floor, forcing you to stand on all fours and you’re so glad you follow his lead. “Spread your knees. Bring your head down,” he instructs and you do as you’re told, extending your arms in front of you. Haechan has his hand on the dip of your shoulder blades, holding you still until you have no choice but to press your cheek against the carpeted floor, ass in the air. “Good girl,” he praises, kneeling behind you and rubbing his tip along your folds. “Ready, baby?”

He doesn’t wait for your answer.

With only a few minutes in, you know you’re getting close, you can feel it. He has switched from giving deep, hard thrusts to quick, shallow ones and it’s driving you insane. “H-Haechannie, I—” you whimper, “I’m close—”

And he knows it too, of course he does. He can tell by the way you’re clenching around him. But instead of going harder and driving you completely over the edge, Haechan suddenly laces his fingers with yours, his lips painting soft kisses from your nape down to your spine, his hips hitting another angle that feels just as amazing even when he slows down the pace. The intimacy surprises you as you don’t expect him to be this tender. Suddenly, it doesn’t feel like you’re doing this out of sheer passion. With his palm covering the back of your hand, fingers slipping between yours, somehow, everything feels more sentimental, stronger, crossing the lines.

With a moan of your name, Haechan flips you to your back, fingers framing your face, lips meeting lips as he thrusts back in, gasping against your mouth. “I want to see your face,” he says when he pulls away, his half-lidded eyes boring into yours, thumb slipping between your lips. “Not sure if I’ve told you this before but…” He snaps his hips, and you tangle your legs around them in response, fingernails digging into his upper arms. “You’re so beautiful.”

The knot in your stomach untangles without warning and your orgasm hits you so hard, you nearly sob at the sensation. With the way you’re quivering and squeezing around him, Haechan follows right after, his face sinking into the crook of your neck, hips stuttering as he rides out his own orgasm.

***

With his jeans back on and his used condom thrown away to the nearest trash bin, Haechan joins you back on the carpeted floor as you still haven’t found the strength to get up and get dressed after that. He shamelessly lays his body down on top of yours, his cheek pressing against the valley of your breasts. “I’m spent,” he mumbles, feeling drowsy.

“Haechannie?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re heavy.”

“I know.” But he doesn’t get up, only moving his head slightly to press a tiny kiss to your bare chest before he lies his head down over your heart again. You give up with a smile, wrapping your arms around him, fingertips stroking his hair. Haechan sighs contentedly under your touch. “Man, that was…”

“That was?”

“Amazing.” He props himself up on his elbows so he can meet your eyes. “You’re amazing.”

Your heart jolts at the sincerity in his words but you cooly smile back. “I know.”

“And I’m amazing too, I’m sure?”

“Meh,” you shrug. “Could be a little better but I’ll let you practice on me for free.”

“Jesus Christ.” He shakes his head, his strands tickling your nose. “I don’t even have the strength to join your banter. You know, I’ve always wondered since you’re pretty much shit at everything, there must be something you’re good at. But I never thought that something would turn out to be sex. I can’t even believe I’m saying this but you’re really, really amazing at it. I feel like I should give you a medal or something.”

“Thanks,” you flatly mutter. “Not sure if you’re praising me, though.”

“Oh, I am praising you, believe me. And you know me, I rarely praise.”

“Stop it,” you use your robotic voice. “You’re making me feel so special, I’m about to cry.”

Haechan playfully nips at your nose, forcing you to break off your act and laugh directly into his mouth. “Seriously,” he says, breaking off the kiss. “If I were to pay you for sex, I would give you everything I own. Even the clothes I’m wearing. Hell, I’d even sell my grandma but don’t tell her that.”

Your laughter has reduced into small giggles. “That’s comforting.”

“So…” The way Haechan is caressing your hair is so soft, almost like a mother to her sleeping child. “What should we do about this?” When you raise an eyebrow, he tensely adds, “Do you, umm… I mean, do you want to, like—”

“You’re rambling.”

“I know, God, I’m so nervous! I may look like a naughty, sexy bad boy—”

“No one is saying that—“

“But I actually suck at this—as in, I don’t really know how to date a girl.”

“You don’t even know how to talk to a girl, based on the conversations we’ve had,” you comment and you know it’s not helping but it’s worth seeing his adorable pout. “Then don’t date me. If it’s hard for you to date, then let’s just keep being friends—"

“But I want to continue this!” He says it so fast and firmly that you don’t even have time to feel hurt about your offer.

It’s not like you crave a relationship with him—you haven’t thought about it that far—even just holding him like this is enough for now, so the fact that he’s so excited to have this going makes your heart swells with joy. “Well then, we’ll be friends who have casual sex anytime we want,” you suggest.

He blinks twice, a bit amazed at your offer, but to your surprise, he seems rather… disappointed? “What happens if we start catching feelings?” He quietly asks.

“Then I guess we’ll start dating for real.”

“Then…” He runs a hand through his hair, nervous. “What happens if I already have feelings for you?”

He states it so quietly, it’s a miracle you can even hear him. “Do you want to date me, Haechannie?”

He looks away, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. “Do you want to date me?” He murmurs against your skin, unsure and flustered.

You heave the heaviest sigh you’ve ever done in your life. “You’re unbelievable. I’ll decide for us then. Starting now, we’re dating.”

He lifts his head, and if he were a puppy, he would’ve had his tail wagging behind him, even when his face doesn’t show much. “That easy?”

“That easy. What, you have something to complain about?”

“No.” He grins, pressing a chaste kiss on your lips. “Hey, girlfriend.”

“Ugh, get off me, you’re gross.”

But no matter how hard you push your palm against his face, Haechan only giggles and turns you around so this time, you’re lying on his chest. “So,” he pushes a few strands of your hair behind your ear. “You like me, huh?”

“No, what makes you think that way?”

“Says the girl who just slept with me.”

“I slept with you ‘cause I was just curious about your dick. Jeno said you had a dick that was the size of his thumb.”

“Excuse me?!”

“Didn’t you see his InstaStory last night?” You reach up to gather your phone from the coffee table. “I took a screenshot of it actually. Man, you should’ve seen the comments. They’re hilarious.”

Snatching your phone away, Haechan runs his eyes along the words written on the screen. “That son of a bitch!”

Simpering, you sneak a peek under his boxer. “Well, he’s not wrong.”

“Oh, it’s on,” he deadpans, throwing your phone away and pushes you back down on the floor. His eyes glinting mischievously.

“What are you doing?” You’re still half-laughing when he brings your hands over your head, holding your wrists together with one hand as he settles between your thighs, his fingers hovering dangerously close.

“I’m gonna make you take your words back.” He wets his lip, one corner of his mouth turning upward. “Time for the second round, baby.”

***

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lunasilverpelt · 1 year ago

Text

I forgot to post the Sizzle N Sever AU.

It's an AU where Peppino's a cannibal yea but I kinda take it a lil light heartedly lol

( Other Peppino (Tower Peppino) by @mr--stick )

( That last image is Mr. Stick's head getting shoved in a blender!! Imagine THAT babes, woohoo! )

I'll make another post with a bunch of discord ramblings, this AU lives rent free in my brain tbh.

#luna does art #pizza tower #pizza tower au #sizzle n sever au #blood #body horror?#(cuz fake peppino's light limb twisting n stuff)

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blackbat05 · 2 years ago

Text

Clean Success

Shang-Chi x Reader (Cop AU)

A/N: Initially had a buddy cop idea but plot wise led me here? Hope you enjoy! Feedback and reblogs always appreciated!❤️ Did you also see the DC references?😉

Warnings: None. Pining idiot perhaps?😬

Summary: A mission leads to certain confessions.

“Remind me why we are eating Japanese Barbecue again?”

You take the tong from Shang-Chi’s hand, flipping the piece of sirloin. “That’s Yakiniku to you. And we’re here because of your intel so would you stop being so fidgety and eat!” You grit through your clenched teeth.

Shang-Chi stabs the cooked meat, bringing it to his mouth like a child who had just got told off by his mother not to play with his food.

Walking into the restaurant had assaulted his ears, from the sizzling of meat on the hot plate to the clinking of drinks in the form of beer glasses. A gust of steam blows in his direction, making him push his chair back immediately.

“That was low.”

You give him a withering stare, putting the meat on his rice once again. “Quit being such a baby. It’s all part of the experience.”

“What is? The part of being suffocated by smoke?”

“I thought you liked barbecue.” You asked, genuinely puzzled at his grumpy demeanour.

“Yeah, but have you seen how cramped this place is?” And the fact that my plans on taking you to have the exact same barbecue is ruined. Shang-Chi conveniently leaves the latter out.

The tables were haphazardly arranged that the chairs could be touched at an arm’s length. Still, it was a typical barbecue restaurant setting. You wanted to nudge him a little further, only to be interrupted by a new presence.

“Wait! The target’s arrived, at your six.” You take a sip of iced tea, eyes following the movement of the supposed target in question. Shang-Chi pretends to stretch, turning his back to see the mysterious man clad in a burgundy suit. How was he not sweating in this man- made heat?

“Damn it,” you hissed. “Lost visual. We need to find out what’s in that case. The moment he’s gone, we can kiss that case goodbye.”

Shang-Chi sees a waiter hurriedly throwing on an apron, promptly getting to work. He sees the staff room and gets an idea…

***

“This is your idea. Really?”

“Hey! You want to get that case or not?” Shang-Chi pushes the cart of meat that was meant for the private room where mystery man was inside.

Masquerading as waiters, all that had to be done was to get in and grab the case without them noticing. Simple right?

As the two of you neared the room, you managed to peek through the tainted glass. Although you couldn’t get clear visual, that armour gave you a good idea of who was the buyer.

“God damn it Shang-Chi does your informant not tell you anything at all?”

Puzzled, Shang-Chi beckons you to move. Another man with silver hair sits opposite the target, carefully inspecting the case while his guard stands behind, as if daring burgundy man to make a move.

“Oh shit.”

Oh shit was the right word. In the room sat crime boss Carmine Falcone and Slade Wilson - aka Deathstroke, assassin for hire.

“Forget the target! We need to bring them in!” Shang-Chi is brought back to the present, seeing you remove the pistol from your holster. Oh this was going to be very bad…

“No! I know what you’re thinking but no!” Shang-Chi is firm on this. “Fury said minimal damage and the case is of priority. Falcone and Wilson can wait another day.” He stealthily snaps several pictures of the meeting.

“Who did you- oh never mind. Just follow my lead.” You make a beeline for the staircase to exit the restaurant.

“What lead?” Shang-Chi was left utterly bemused as to what kind of signal you would give.

What he did not expect, was a gunshot through the windows, throwing the private room into chaos.

“God damn it!” He grits through his teeth. You could have at least given him a warning. Now the men in the room were simultaneously running for cover towards the sliding doors where Shang-Chi was standing like a deer in the headlights.

The situation left him no choice but to go on the offensive. You always left him with the dirty work.

While everyone in the room was trying to find the source of the gunshot, Shang-Chi maintained his guise as waiter, dodging past the barrage of security and Slade himself to grab the case that was left unattended in a corner. No time to waste.

Shang-Chi had barely gotten a foot out when-

“Wait! Where’s the case!” Falcone bellowed, looking around the room before setting his sights on Shang-Chi’s retreating back.

Just perfect.

“GET HIM!”

Shang-Chi didn’t need to be told twice, speeding down the stairs and out of the restaurant, he removes the apron, throwing it behind him.

Legs pumping, he looks back to find that the assassin was gaining quickly on him. His brain was on overdrive, considering all possible escape routes.

A pair of hands reach out to grab his sleeve, pulling him into an alleyway. Shang-Chi is finally reunited with you.

“I said to grab the case not bring a bloodthirsty assassin with you.” You and your smartass remarks.

Shang-Chi comes up with a retort but finds it stuck in his throat, seeing how close he is to you in this tight space. “Not my fault that you left without instructions!”

“Oh, so you finally admit I’m the brains between the two of us?”

Somehow, Shang-Chi is sure you’re doing this on purpose to get under his skin. And he likes it. But he can’t let you win this quickly. He still has his own pride after all.

“No… what I’m saying is that you need to work on your communication!” He stumbles and fails to hide it miserably. You smirk.

“Don’t you?” You move closer to him.

Shang-Chi blinks, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Funny but a little bird told me about a certain someone wanting to have Barbecue this weekend with me but didn’t have the… guts.”

Damn it Katy. He tries to ignore the close proximity of your lips as you teased him.

“Perhaps that was why he was so grumpy when we had a mission here.” You pretend to tap your chin thoughtfully. “Maybe I’ll bring agent Spector here next time-”

That’s it. Shang-Chi locks his lips with you, pressing his body into your own. He’s not going to stop anytime.

In fact, he’s going to make it the most mind blowing kiss you ever had. So good that you won’t be able to remember another man’s name.

Parting slowly, you lean your forehead on his.

“Wow…”

“Don’t blame you, my kiss is literally breathtaking.” Shang-Chi is back to his usual self as he banters with you once more.

Your eyes dart nervously around your surroundings before bashfully slapping him on the shoulder. “You had to ruin the moment didn’t you?”

“You liked it.” He grins, raising his hands in defeat. “But you got me. I was planning to take you out for dinner… if you’re still up for it?”

How could you say no to those doe-eyes?

“Of course, I would love to.” You nod, forcing back a laugh at your smiley partner.

“Although I hate to break up the moment but we should really get this case back to Fury before Wilson or anyone else finds us stuck in between this sorry excuse of an alley.”

“Oh- oh yeah!” Shang-Chi snaps out of his bliss, remembering the mission.

Taking the case in one hand, he offers his free hand to you which you gladly take, running to the rendezvous point.

Falcone and Wilson may have escaped, but today’s mission was a clean success.

#xu shangqi #shangqi x reader #shang chi x reader #simu liu #shang chi #shang chi x reader fluff #shangqi x reader fluff #xu shang chi #xu shangqi fluff #shang chi fluff #cop au

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helpimhyperfixating · 3 years ago

Note

AU where Jotaro is a human who somehow gets turned into a merman, and while Y/N and the rest of the crusaders are desperately trying to find a way to turn him back he's actually so much happier that way

Change - (Mer!)Jotaro x Reader

Word Count: 5280

Glaring at the Stand user, Jotaro and Polnareff stood in a defensive stance, sizing the enemy up.

For several minutes they had been dodging beams of green light, shot from a strange shadowy Stand who seemed to be having difficulty keeping together.

Dio had been defeated a day earlier - everyone recovering in the hospital before making the trip home - only it seemed Dio wasn’t out of followers just yet.

Taking a step forward, Polnareff readied Silver Chariot. “I’ve had quite enough of this guy! Let’s finish this, Jotaro!” Letting out an affirmative noise, Jotaro brought Star Platinum up and, feeling confident, Polnareff charged forward.

The Stand user’s eyes widened as he saw Polnareff running directly for him, scrambling to put his Stand in front of himself as it fired another of the green bolts.

Polnareff quickly dodged out of the way by jumping to the side, letting out a triumphant laugh as he continued running, dodging another attack before he got close enough, bringing forth Chariot and turning the guy into a pincushion.

“Voilá! That’s what you get for jumping us.” Polnareff cockily spoke and turned around with a grin, only for that grin to fall when his eyes landed on Jotaro, a green mist sizzling on the torso of the teen from where he was hit.

The delinquent had been right behind Polnareff as he charged, only, while the Frenchman saw the attack being both made and fired, Jotaro did not see it until Polnareff dodged out of the way, leaving no time to dodge.

It hit him square in the chest, yet after the initial hit, it didn’t seem to do much.

“Jotaro-! Merde, you got hit! You’re alright, right?! …W-Wait-!” As a thought shot into his head, Polnareff rapidly turned back towards the enemy Stand user and back at Jotaro, looking frantic. “I took the Stand user out, didn’t I? So, why is that glow still there? The attack should go away!” Polnareff quickly looked back at the user in a crumpled heap on the floor again, the wounds from silver chariot fatal.

“I don’t-“ Jotaro started to answer but then Polnareff took a step closer, reaching out, and he quickly stepped back, shouting out, “Stay back! We don’t know what this does!”

The green hanging on his torso suddenly started spreading, rapidly growing and extending until every part of him was covered.

“Jotaro, what-“ Polnareff start, only for Jotaro to suddenly flinch back. It felt like he all of a sudden got hit in the chest with something, all the air being forced from his lungs with an invisible blow.

Staggering on his feet, Jotaro felt a pain flare from the place where he’d been hit, white hot and burning, starting to spread to every part of him - even his fingertips. An unwitting grunt escaped him as he clutched his chest, Star Platinum flickering and fading as his breathing became laboured, almost unable to take in any air at all.

An immense pain suddenly dug deep into every fiber of his legs and he instantly collapsed, just unable to keep standing as a genuine whimper of pain left him.

“Jotaro-!”

“Call… the old man!” Jotaro managed to strain out, cutting Polnareff off before he could panic.

Standing still and undecided for only a second, the Frenchman bolted, running to the phone the two had passed not too long ago, leaving Jotaro on his hands and knees on the ground.

Heaving with every breath, Jotaro cursed the Stand user. What kind of Stand effect was this?

Bringing his legs together, the pain he felt got somewhat relieved. Still unbearable, but better than before. Right as he felt he had a grip on the situation, a heat crept up his spine, onto his neck, and the moment it reached it, it felt like the sides of his neck were being split and ripped open.

Biting down on his tongue, a barely held back yell of pain left him. Something was happening with his hands and fingers too but he just screwed his eyes shut, not wanting to watch and just trying to bear the pain.

“Jotaro! They’re coming! Hold on!” Polnareff came running back onto the scene, gasping as he saw Jotaro in this state. “Mon Dieu, your legs.” He breathed out, looking at the now brightly glowing appendages, the mist swirling around them rapidly.

Taking a step forward, Polnareff reached out but Jotaro flung himself back as much as he could while in so much pain. “Don’t touch me!” The shout was harsh and the jerking movement caused him to smack onto his back, but really it was all just in fear. He didn’t know what would happen if Polnareff touched him, and the last he wanted was for his friend to get affected by the stuff too and feel the same pain he was right now.

Gasping on his back, it felt like his legs were being stabbed over and over. Having experience with knives recently, he could safely say that. Only, it felt much worse. As if the knives were stabbed in as deep as possible before being dragged out sideways, tearing his flesh before it moulded back together and repeated. Over and over and over again.

His mouth suddenly started tingling and Jotaro’s eyes widened as he flipped over onto his hands and knees and lurched forward, slapping a hand over it as the stabbing pain spread to his gums.

Something warm coated his fingers and Jotaro looked down in terror to see blood starting to drip from between his fingers.

Up until now, he thought the Stand was just causing unexplained, unbearable pain, no actual physical damage. But with this, it might not be so.

And then, as if everything wasn’t enough already, a splitting headache racked through his head, gathering by his ears. He shot his hands up to cradle them, leaving him to balance only on his knees, the pain immediately causing him to fall onto his side.

Frustratedly yelling out in pain, Jotaro covered his ears as if the sounds were too much, yet blood continuously dripped from his mouth as he just tried to do anything to stop the pain, curling up into a ball. His broken bones from the fight with Dio were way in the back of his mind, not even holding a candle to the pain he felt everywhere else.

And then, as abruptly as it came, everything stopped.

The pain lifted off of him like a blanket taken off and Jotaro finally felt like he could breathe again.

Too late did he realise everything was going black, exhaustion setting in before he passed out on the ground.

Polnareff had simply been watching in horror for the last three minutes, his hands covering his mouth as he saw his friend and companion in so much pain. Yet nothing prepared him for the Jotaro that lay in front of him right now…

- - - -

His whole body felt sore.

Jotaro let out a barely audible groan before he turned his head, feeling how it was on something soft and just trying to bury his head deeper into it.

From far away, he heard someone softly calling out to him, a gentle and relaxing movement suddenly on the nape of his neck. Right now he just wanted to rest however. He felt nothing but pure exhaustion, and so he allowed himself to slip back into that dark.

- - - -

The second time he woke up, he felt more awake. Slowly starting to blink and half-open his eyes, he still felt that soft movement on his nape. Curious about what it was, he managed to sleepily open his eyes, coming face to face with a familiar shirt.

He was still groggy but his eyes immediately shot open, looking down and— yep. He was on your lap, his head buried in your stomach. And thus he concluded the soft scratching on the back of his neck was you as well.

Abruptly shooting up into a sitting position, something of him - he didn’t know what - felt like it was being crushed.

“Woah! Jotaro, no wait! Don’t sit up yet!” You frantically called out and Jotaro only had enough time to look down briefly, seeing his legs and then some covered by several felt blankets before you gripped his shoulders and pulled him back onto you, his head falling down onto your thighs with a small grunt.

“Y/N?”

“Turn to the side.”

Jotaro’s brows furrowed but he heeded your request, feeling the pressure of whatever was being crushed disappear when he did so.

Feeling more awake yet still sluggish, Jotaro looked up at you. “What happened?”

Before, you had held a book, which you now placed to the side, turning your full attention to the man on your lap. “After getting attacked and hit by the Stand, you passed out. Me, Mr. Joestar and Avdol arrived about three minutes later and…” Jotaro noticed how you bit your lip in worry and he immediately wanted to cup your cheek in consolation. Or was that being too forward?

For the entirety of the trip, Jotaro had had to hide his crush on you. He was planning on confessing after the fight with Dio but hadn’t really found a moment alone with you. Would now be a good time? Maybe if he just-

He almost reached up again when you looked down into his eyes and spoke up again. “With the help of the speedwagon foundation we got you to the sea but other than that we haven’t been able to do anything.”

For once, Jotaro couldn’t follow a thing of what you were talking about, any thought of confessing tossed to the back of his mind. “Do anything for what? We’re no longer in Cairo?”

“No, we’re in Suez now, on the edge of Egypt. More specifically at the Suez Canal, right there.” You pointed past Jotaro and he looked down his body to indeed see the water right there, exactly where the blankets stopped. “And do something for you, Jotaro.” You continued again and he turned to look at you. “That Stand attack did more than cause pain. It physically changed you, Joot.” You uttered the nickname with such a small voice and Jotaro now brought his hand up, not even thinking and just automatically doing it as he placed it on the side of your face.

Yet this action allowed him to catch a glimpse of his hand. Sharp, claw-like nails adorned his fingers and he brought his free left hand up in confusion.

“I, uhm, I have a mirror.” You spoke up as you turned to your right, away from Jotaro who pulled his hand back from you, sitting up sideways now, leaning on his arms.

You held up the mirror for him and he took it, his brows furrowing even further as he took note of his reflection.

“Shark fins?” He muttered, looking at his ears before noticing the gills on his neck and the gleam of teeth. “What the fuck?”

Snapping his head to his still covered legs, he threw the mirror back into your lap and reached over, grabbing the blanket and ripping it off himself, his newly formed claws accidentally puncturing through with the move while Jotaro was suddenly left to behold his new tail.

The blankets had all been stitched together, so he had thrown them all off in one go - his eyes wide in shock for all to see for once.

Before him, lay a stark black fish tail. More specifically that of a shark, judging by the tail fin as well as the pectoral fins jutting out from right below where his hips were supposed to be.

He had turned into a fucking merman? What kind of Stand power was that?!

“Jotaro, you’re awake!”

The poor teen jolted in shock, his focus having been so fully on what the hell happened to himself that he didn’t notice the small group approaching in the commotion. Quickly, he grabbed the blankets and yanked them over the base of his tail. Unfortunately, with that move he accidentally elbowed you in your ribs, not having realised you had scooted up beside him.

You let out an ‘oof’, doubling over to the ground in pain before letting out a laugh while Jotaro apologetically looked at you.

“Y/N, I didn’t mean to.” Jotaro hovered his hands over you, wanting to help you but not daring to risk scratching you. You quickly sat up however, a hand on your ribs and a smile on your face, indicating you were fine as you patted his shoulder.

“You don’t have to assault Y/N to try and hide, Jotaro, we all have already seen and know.” Mr. Joestar scratched his beard with a somewhat awkward smile and Jotaro glared up at that, a growl leaving his throat at the mention of him hurting you that surprised all around - including Jotaro himself, who grabbed at his throat for a second before recovering and glaring up at his grandfather.

“In case you haven’t noticed old man, I have no fucking pants.”

“Yeah, you tore out of them when you transformed.” Polnareff piped up, earning a glare from Jotaro and a slap from Kakyoin, who was surprisingly enough with the rest of the group, despite him suffering the worst injuries of everyone; now standing there on crutches.

“I feel. Naked.” Jotaro just reiterated with an annoyed voice. “And where is my hat?”

“Oh, right here.” You spoke up at that, bending over and reaching to grab something next to your book, coming back with his signature hat in your hands. “Here you go.” You handed it to him with a soft smile and Jotaro instantly felt a bit better, taking it with a very small ‘thanks’ before he put it on his head.

A small silence fell over everyone, broken by Kakyoin. “So, what do we do now?”

“First, we need to get Jotaro in the water, I think.” Avdol calmly spoke up but Jotaro scoffed when both Polnareff and Mr. Joestar stepped up.

“I’ll get myself in the water.”

“Wait, Jotaro.” Your voice stopped him from moving and he looked back at you. “I think you should maybe at least take your jacket off. Maybe your shirt too. It’ll get ruined in the water and maybe you’ll feel less uncomfortable about… having nothing covering your lower half.”

Looking into your eyes, Jotaro found nothing but sincerity and so he closed his own, sighing. Not saying a word, he started to strip. In goddamn front of everyone no less. Bringing his tank top over his head revealed his torso, completely smooth with scales like that of his tail running up from his waist, up the sides and all the way to his pecs, where they flared out a bit to the sides, lightly littering both his chest and shoulder blades. With that done, Jotaro wasted no time in leaning forward and getting on his elbows. He in fact felt very naked, so he just wanted to get to the water and get this over with, feeling everyone’s eyes on his side and back.

With how he sat now, with his tail, he had basically made a full U, the end of his tail next to him. Goddamn the thing was massive.

It was nothing like the stories of mermaids he had always seen where the tail was as long as human legs, maybe a bit longer. No, this thing was three times that. It must have been three to four meters. How was he ever going to use it?

Starting to drag himself forward over the sand, it was fine until he had to actually start dragging the massive, useless, flopping device behind him. It was basically a workout and, while he felt like he should be sweating, he wasn’t.

His hands touched the water, followed by his forearms, and for some reason, he wanted to let out a sigh of relief.

Quickly continuing, Jotaro dragged himself until his stomach hit the water, then the base of his tail with the pectoral fins, then the middle.

His arms were now fully stretched to still touch the sand under the water and keep his head up. Turning around, Jotaro tried moving his tail towards himself, getting the last bit into the water, and it surprisingly enough did just that, the shark tail fin being pulled and disappearing in the deep.

He drifted a little bit forward, keeping everything but his head under water, just discreetly letting out a heaving sigh through his nose, cause damn that feels good.

The group slowly approached the water’s edge and you laid out the blankets Jotaro’s tail had been under, sitting down on it a second later and basically using it as a picknick blanket.

Kakyoin walked over to you on his crutches and you stood up, taking the things from him and putting them on the floor while he leaned on you for support.

When Jotaro saw you stand back up however, Kakyoin wrapping his arms around you so you could help him sit down, the growl once more bubbled into his throat. It was slow and low this time, Jotaro being far enough away that no one noticed luckily, but inside his head, he was just immensely confused as to why he was doing that. Inside, he didn’t want Kakyoin to touch you like that, holding you so close. It was selfish, Jotaro knew it was. So why did he all of a sudden feel like that? Seeing to the irrationality of his thoughts, he tried to ignore it.

Once everyone was seated, you all looked at Jotaro and he furrowed his brows.

Given as the silence was getting them nowhere, Joseph decided to take the lead. “Jotaro, do you remember anything from how you got like this?”

“Pain.”

Everything fell a bit quiet at his answer. Seeing as to everyone’s reactions, the delinquent tried to elaborate just the tiniest bit.

“I was hit, nothing happened and then all of a sudden everything hurt so bad I couldn’t think.”

“I remember it all started happening once he took a step back.” Polnareff suddenly spoke up and Joseph hummed.

“Either way I don’t think that would help us too much in undoing what happened. He has moved and it’s not as if he has turned back.” Kakyoin rationalised.

“We need to figure out the nature of this Stand power.” Avdol said and then you spoke up.

“Maybe Dio kept a record of all the Stand users working under him. Maybe at least a book where he recorded all the Stands they possessed and their abilities. At least, I would have if I were Dio.”

While Joseph praised you on the good idea, starting to make a plan of how they would do things, Jotaro stopped listening. Just the name Dio visibly ticked him off. To combat this, he shoved his face into the water to cool off.

“Jotaro, you still listening?” His grandfather’s voice suddenly spoke up and Jotaro felt like sighing, bringing his hand up and motioning a ‘keep going’ motion while not lifting his head. His ears - or, ear fins rather - were still above the water so he could hear everything perfectly.

That was, if he had the want to listen. For, right now, Jotaro suddenly took notice of the water passing through the gills in his neck. At his grandfather’s words, while he didn’t sigh, he seemed to have opened the gills on his neck instead.

Lifting his head and neck from the water again up until his shoulders, he experimentally tried to close them, focusing on the muscles of his neck, which he had never really done before, feeling the gills suction themselves to his skin, closing and allowing him to comfortably breathe through his nose and mouth again.

He could breathe underwater.

The realisation only just now hit him as he sat up on the ocean floor on his tail, bringing his hands up and looking at the claws on them. Looking up, he noticed you all were discussing places to go to search and whatnot. Seeing as to the state he was in, this wasn’t of any use to him.

So, while you were all discussing, Jotaro just dipped under.

- - - -

It took a few minutes for anyone to notice your black haired companion was no longer where he once sat.

You just looked in Jotaro’s direction, only to see nothing, making you perk up in worry. “Hey, where’s Jotaro?” You spoke out loud and the conversation abruptly stopped, everyone now looking at the sea.

Leaping up, Polnareff ran to the edge of the water, shouting the teen’s name. “Jotaro!?”

But no response.

“I’ll use Hierophant Green.” Kakyoin summoned his Stand, having the most range out of anyone in the group, and moved his Stand into the water without hesitation.

Hierophant slowly started to unravel the further it got and you anxiously bit your thumb.

“Wait, what if he lost Star Platinum thanks to turning into… that… and can now no longer see Hierophant Green?” Polnareff spoke up and your eyes widened, yet Avdol interjected.

“Stands are a matter of the soul, not of appearance. Let us assume he still has Star Platinum.”

“But if he doesn’t, what then?” Mr. Joestar now spoke up but you tuned the conversation out, just looking at the water. You were concerned for Jotaro. Not necessarily because he disappeared right now, but just in general. You can’t imagine how he must feel right now.

“I found him!” Kakyoin’s shout brought you back to the present and you looked down at him.

- - - -

Back in the water, Jotaro had simply just been looking around. His vision was fantastic and he was slowly learning how to use his new tail, trying to move through the water. Down here, the world just seemed to stop. Dio was gone, his mother had woken up and was alright. There was nothing Jotaro had to do or worry for.

Never before had he felt such peace of mind.

Strangely enough, there was no worry in him about turning back. He didn’t know why but it just wasn’t on his mind. He had always held an affinity for the ocean, wanting to one day visit and scuba dive in a place like right here. But this was so much better.

The water was the perfect shade of blue, water plants swaying in the current, small fish and crustaceans foraging and swimming around this close to shore. With calm movements, Jotaro was just languidly following a small school of fish. He didn’t know exactly what kind they were, but they looked pretty, so maybe he could find out later. He could maybe ask you to bring him a book on marine life. You liked the ocean too, so you’d be just as curious as him, right?

That was when the first pang on doubt shot through him. You…

With him looking like this, what would you think? He had tried so hard to get closer to you, to spend time with you whenever he could; he really just wanted to not be alone for once. His happiest memory of the trip was when the two of you sat underneath the stars in the desert. He had felt so at ease that night; quietly talking away half the night, leaned back into a rock together. You had both fallen asleep like that and when he woke up, you had been leaned against him, your head on his chest and your hand resting, entwined with his in his lap.

It all made him doubt. Nights like that couldn’t happen anymore now. With all of this, should he still confess? Or was it too selfish to throw that on you now? He didn’t know... He-

“Jotaro!” The sudden calling of his name made him shoot his head up and look to his right, seeing the upper torso of Hierophant Green, the rest of its body unraveled behind itself, reaching out to him.

Had he really swam this far from shore already?

“Kakyoin.” He sighed, staring at the Stand.

“Everyone is worried, why did you leave?” The teen’s voice echoed in his head and to that, Jotaro had no response. He didn’t even want to answer. What was he to say? That he left the conversation because he didn’t know whether or not he actually wanted to turn back to normal or not? “Jotaro?” Hierophant echoed his user again when he got no answer.

“I’m coming.” The raven curtly spoke back via Star Platinum before swishing his tail with as much confidence as he could muster, going back in the direction of the beach.

Though he moved easier through the water than he expected he would, it would still take a long time before he’d get the hang of it…

- - - -

“Y/N, you look exhausted.” Jotaro remarked from the water in front of you. You both were sitting in a cove, Jotaro leaning his arms on the rock that you were sitting on, his lower half still in the water.

“I’m fine.” You smiled back, giving a small dismissive wave with your hand, but this made Jotaro bare his teeth, a displeased noise that sounded somewhat like a growl leaving him; a noise you had become increasingly familiar with.

“Don’t lie to me. Did you get any sleep last night?”

His eyes were so intense as he stared you down and you couldn’t help but swallow. “I did but uh… not that much.” You chuckled nervously but Jotaro’s glare hardened - his unspoken question abundantly clear: ‘how much?’

“About two hours.”

You yipped when he abruptly shot up onto the rock, easily lifting himself up from the water, droplets dripping from his lower half and splashing loudly onto the rock as he turned around and sat sideways, facing you with hard eyes, the majority of his tail still hanging down off the rock and in the water.

“Why do you insist on working so hard?”

You blinked a few times, your heart slowly slowing down to a normal pace again, and that’s when you saw how much softer Jotaro’s expression had gotten. He still looked stern, but it was abundantly clear now that it was in concern for your own well-being.

“You keep going back to that damn library even though every book has been looked through. You know that.” Jotaro continued, shifting just the tiniest bit so that he sat more comfortably on his fin. “Jiji and the others already gave that lead up so why didn’t you? Why, Y/N?”

“I- well…” Averting your eyes, you started wringing your hands together in front of yourself. “I care about you, Jotaro. A lot.” At this, you briefly flashed your eyes up at him before looking down at the water again and Jotaro felt his heart skip a beat. “And I don’t want you to be in pain and lose the life you had. I don’t want to lose you…” Your throat clamped shut a bit when you said that but then continued with more confidence. “I know the answer is somewhere in Dio’s library still. Someone must have missed something. I’m sure of it, I-“

A warmth enveloped your hands, stopping you from wringing them as you quieted mid-sentence.

“There is nothing more in that library. Not something that can help me.” Jotaro’s fingers were wrapped around your hands, gently yet firmly holding on, forcing you to focus on him as you swivelled your head to look at him.

“No, don’t say that. I have this gut feeling. It has to be there.” You spoke, your eyebrows creased in an almost pleading look, almost as if you were begging Jotaro to agree with you.

Jotaro however, just sighed. It was bound to come up at some point. And now that Jotaro had finally, truly, made up his mind, he couldn’t stay quiet and allow you to keep working yourself to the bone for a fruitless chase.

“No, what I mean, is I don’t want it.”

As he saw your brows furrow in confusion, the merman sighed again, letting go of your hand to give you some space for what he was about to say, even if he would like nothing more than to keep holding on.

“Even if a solution could be found to change me back. I don’t want it.”

“What do you mean?” Your voice was small as you spoke. “You want to stay as a merman?” However, other than what Jotaro expected, there was no judgement or malice or distrust in your voice. Instead it was soft, calm. You weren’t in disbelief trying to change his mind. You were trying to understand.

“I’m… happier like this.” Jotaro spoke, clenching the fist by his side once, twice. “Though… I’m sorry, Y/N. You searched for nothing.”

“When did you realise this?”

Jotaro looked to the side, down at the stark black shark tail hanging in the water. “I had a hunch from the beginning. But yesterday I truly realised.”

“Then I didn’t search for nothing.” At this, you grabbed Jotaro’s fist that was still clenched at his side, bringing it up in between your bodies as you made him relax the appendage, uncurling his fingers.

Jotaro’s head turned to look at you holding his hand, tracing the claws he now held, to which he spoke, “Careful, they’re sharp.” A soft, almost whispered mutter while he was lost in an almost gentle trance-like state as his eyes followed your fingers.

A sweet and quiet chuckle left you at his words, making him dart his eyes up briefly before looking back down with a small blush marring his cheeks. He no longer had his hat to hide behind so the best he could do was keep looking down.

“Are you sure you’ll be happy like this?” The both of you were sitting so close together that there was no need to speak loudly and Jotaro finally raised his head.

His eyes had regained their confidence as he looked directly at you. “There is nothing for me on land that makes me want to change back.” Jotaro spoke before looking down, turning his hand around in your hold to instead grab your wrist, his free hand travelling up to cup your cheek, looking into your eyes. “Except-“

With that, Jotaro stopped pussyfooting and leaned forward, connecting his lips to yours.

Not expecting the move, your eyes widened big as you took in a surprised inhale through your nose.

Feeling Jotaro’s lips pressed up against yours, a million thoughts raced through your mind, but seeing his eyes closed and feeling the warmth of his palm on your cheek, you calmed down and tentatively melted into the kiss.

The moment he felt you do so, a wave of relief rushed over Jotaro and he gently squeezed your wrist before letting go, starting to carefully kiss you in more earnest, gently moving his lips against yours while his hand moved to rest on your waist.

With just a careful push, Jotaro urged you to slowly lean down until you were on your back with him hovering over you, never breaking the kiss as he instead deepened it, his hand under your head to act as protection from the rocks while he savoured every second of your lips on his.

When he finally pulled away, you both were breathing more heavy and - more instinctual than conscious - Jotaro soon leaned down again, burying his head in the side of your neck as he breathed in your scent and nuzzled you.

“You are my only doubt.

I love you, Y/N.”

#jotaro x reader #jotaro kujo #mertaro #mermaid au #finally some new writing #I did it 😂#jjba sdc #jojos bizarre adventure #bit of body horror

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taesspark · 3 years ago

Text

A Normal Friday Afternoon

drabble #1 from the Spellbound series

pairing: Jungkook x reader

genre: enemies to lovers (but mostly enemies so far oops), hogwarts au

word count: 2.2k

warnings: violence (oc punches jungkook in the face), swearing

It’s a normal Friday afternoon at Hogwarts, meaning everyone is going insane. You wonder why Professor Snape even bothers teaching Potions right now since it doesn’t look like anyone is paying the slightest bit of attention. He even chose a hard potion for the class to make, individually this time. As if making it an individual assignment could stop a group of annoying 17-year-olds from wreaking havoc.

You flicker your eyes in annoyance at Jeon Jungkook and his rowdy group of friends. They had created a game where they launch the ingredients into each others’ cauldrons, giving each other points based on how close it got. Usually you try to get along with your classmates, especially fellow Gryffindors, but Jungkook has always been the sole exception. There’s something about him that grates all of your nerves like a carrot. Maybe it’s the way he’s good at all the same things you are, but he makes it seem more effortless. Maybe it’s the way everyone thinks he’s so innocent and kind, when he’s been metaphorically (and literally) pulling on your hair since first year.

It started with the little things. You were friendly to him, like you are to everyone, and as an 11-year-old, you had nothing to complain about. Something changed one day when you were walking past him in the hallway to class and he hit you with a hex that he hadn’t mastered yet. You remember falling to the ground in pain, watching your stinging flesh go boneless. And Jungkook? He was laughing.

You’re no less of a witch or a Gryffindor though. With your limp arm, you cast the strongest dancing hex you could muster. It worked, of course, and Jungkook was known as “Happy Feet” for at least another year for the way he danced around Hogwarts that day.

It’s a memory you keep close, as a reminder to never trust the sweet smile and starry eyes of Jeon Jungkook.

If you looked at all of the detentions you’ve served in your 6 years of being a Hogwarts student (and there are plenty), you’re sure 99% would have been from fighting with Jungkook, whether it’s yelling at him, cursing him, or swatting him with your broomstick in midair during Quidditch practice. Because of course he would join the Quidditch team at the same time you did.

You’re not in the mood for fighting today, though. You’re exhausted from a frankly awful week, and you just want to finish your stupid potion, get your stupid grade, and go to your stupid dorm so you can sleep.

Your only good friend in this potions class is a Ravenclaw girl named Nina. For a Ravenclaw, she’s chatty, and she flits around you while you grind up asphodel root for your potion. With a quick slide of your knife, you dump the crushed root into your potion. It bubbled. Beside you, Nina bubbled even more, her personality like soda that had been shaken too hard.

“-and then Emilia told me that she asked Irene if she would go with her to Hogsmeade next weekend, but Irene said she’s already going with Jieun, but Sam told me that Jieun is going alone, so what’s even the truth? You’d think that she’d at least-”

“Maybe you should mind your business.” You give her a sour look, and you hope it isn’t too harsh. “Just a thought.”

Nina’s mouth curls into a rueful smile. “You’re spending too much time with Yoongi lately.”

You crack a smile at the thought of your best friend and his (only partly true) reputation. No one dares cross Min Yoongi, a 7th year Slytherin with a killer poker face. As one of his best friends, you can see right through it.

“There’s no such thing as too much time with Yoongi,” you grumble.

Nina leaves you alone after that, thank god. You usually have a higher tolerance for her chattiness and gossip, but today your patience is running thin. Luckily, she knows you well enough to not seem upset at your attitude.

You sprinkle a serum into the potion before stirring it clockwise ten times. It’s the last step of the potion, and yours is already turning the perfect shade of mint green. You count to yourself as you stir: One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight-

You don’t make it to ten. You were so goddamn close.

“Oh, shit-”

You don’t register who curses. All you can see is a bottle of serum—someone else’s bottle of serum— being launched straight into your cauldron, and your entire potion splattering onto your front. Your robes sizzle where the potion hit them.

“Oops.”

You recognize that voice. How could you not? You almost want to laugh.

Fucking Jeon Jungkook.

The leech lumbers up to you sheepishly, scratching at the back of his head. “My bad. We were playing a game, and I missed pretty bad.”

He chuckles a little, surveying the green ooze all over you. “Green is your color, Y/N. Maybe they should’ve put you in Slytherin.”

You’re seething.

A temper is not one of the traits associated with Gryffindor, but at that moment, you think maybe it should be. Lions do roar, after all.

And roar is exactly what you do. Roar and knock Jungkook the fuck out.

The room is in chaos: Professor Snape is yelling, Nina is telling you to calm down, Jungkook is on the ground in front of you, more shocked than hurt, and half the class is chanting “Fight!” because the adolescent urge to create violence never truly dies.

“Take this outside!” Snape shouts at the two of you, grabbing you both by the collar of your robes. “Fight in the hallways, I don’t care, but this is not going to happen in my classroom. When you’re done, head to McGonagall’s office. I’m sure she’d like to have a word with you two delinquents.”

Jungkook stares at you, rubbing at the bruise blooming on his cheek.

The door swings closed, slamming in your face. With a huff, you turn around and vanish the potion residue still left on your clothes with a quick spell. You barely spare a glance for Jungkook. He stands several feet away, opening and closing his mouth like a fish.

“Do you have something to say?” You snap.

He opens his mouth. Then closes it.

You roll your eyes. “Listen, Jeon. I know you did that on purpose. Very funny prank, absolutely hilarious. Truly, I’m rolling on the floor laughing right now.”

Jungkook’s eyes drop to the floor as if he expected to see you there, laughing.

“Let’s just go to McGonagall’s already,” you say, posture slumping at the thought of being yelled at by the intimidating professor.

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” he says. Jungkook rolls his shoulders, and you see him gain some of his usual bravado. “We were playing a game, I already explained this to you.”

You bark out a laugh, just one. “I’m not stupid.”

He cocks a brow. “Are you sure? I bet my potion was better than yours even though I was dicking around for the entire class.”

“Fuck off.”

“Hit a nerve?”

“No.”

It’s like this, for the long, long, long trek from the dungeons to Gryffindor tower where McGonagall’s office is.

“You know, you don’t have to be such an asshole all the time,” you say, turning the corner. Jungkook jogs after you to keep up.

“I don’t? No way, all this time I thought it was mandatory.”

He sounds more upset than snarky, and in your present state of blind rage, you don’t have a single clue why he would be upset. He’s the one who ruined your potion and got you sent to McGonagall’s office. He’s the one who has been a splinter the size of Greenland in your thumb for five years and counting.

“Besides,” he adds, as if you wanted to have a conversation with him, “you’re the one who fucking punched me in the face. It’s kinda hypocritical to call me an asshole in this situation.”

“That’s a really big word, Jungkook. Did you finally learn how to read?”

Jungkook’s face crumples into a frown. “Shut up.”

“Hit a nerve?” You mock.

You think getting to McGonagall’s office is a relief until you’re finally there. McGonagall is all but screeching at the two of you. You’ve heard the same lecture several hundred times, but never in such a high pitch. You offer to make her some herbal tea for her throat, and she only gives you the evil eye. Jungkook snorts beside you. You ignore him, nudging him in the ribs with your elbow.

“Never in my days…”

“...Such stupidity from my own students!”

You fade in and out of consciousness during the lecture, and one look at Jungkook tells you he’s doing the same.

“Detention for both of you. I will see the two of you here at 9 pm sharp every day for the rest of the week,” McGonagall finally says.

Jungkook groans.

“I’m being generous,” McGonagall says. “If I see the two of you acting like violent animals again, I can and will suspend you both from the Gryffindor Quidditch team.”

You and Jungkook both make sounds of protest, only to be drowned out by McGonagall.

“I hate to see my own team lose, but it has been five years of your childish fights. You two will learn to be civil to each other, and I will make sure of it.”

The tone of her voice makes you uneasy. Jungkook beats you to the question that’s on both of your minds. “What are you going to do to us?”

The fear in his voice would make you smile if you weren’t practically shaking in your boots yourself.

“As you know, in Transfiguration, I am going to be having everyone work in teams this year. I was going to let you choose your partners, but you two have not earned that privilege.”

You turn to face Jungkook. He’s staring back at you in wide-eyed horror.

“You both are now partners in Transfiguration. Sit by each other and complete the projects together. I will not tolerate any misbehaving in my class, and if you don’t work as a team, you will be risking your own grades.” McGonagall stares at the two of you with the smallest of smiles, disgustingly smug. She’s enjoying this, and you hate her for it.

“But-”

“Professor!”

“I won’t hear it!” She shouts. Jungkook recoils. “This is final. If you have a problem, you should’ve thought about that before brawling like wrestlers in Potions.”

You hang your head, staring at how the end of your robes skims your shoes. You don’t like to be dramatic, but this sure feels like the end of the world. The rest of your year is probably ruined, thanks to McGonagall essentially sentencing you to Jungkook duty. Not to mention Transfiguration is your hardest class, even without having to compete with Jungkook. You don’t doubt that this would make everything so much harder.

“That’s all I have to say to you. Please leave,” McGonagall says, pressing a thumb and index finger into her forehead.

The two of you file out of her office, stumbling down the empty hallway. You walk in silence, thankful that classes aren’t out yet. You stop a few corridors down, and Jungkook stops next to you.

You look at him, really look at him. Other than the bruise on his face a la you, he has a sweet face and kind eyes. You remind yourself that it’s fake.

You take a step closer to him, and he tilts his head at you, nonplussed.

“Y/N?”

You brush a hand on his cheekbone, where you hit him.

“Does it hurt?” You ask.

The hallway is empty, but Jungkook still looks both ways before responding to you, as if you were a car hurtling towards him on the street. He gulps at your proximity to him, how he can feel your breath mingling with his own and your fingertips’ gentle pressure on his face.

“A little,” he says, quieter than you. “You really know how to use your fists, huh?”

He laughs. To your ears, it sounds forced. You smile. Checkmate.

Without warning, you grab his tie and jerk his face down to yours, leaving just a breath of space between your noses. You lean even closer to Jungkook, and a smile ghosts your lips when you feel him moving closer to you at the same time. You wait for one more moment, letting your warm breath hit his skin. The moment he closes his eyes, you whisper, “Good.”

His eyes flutter back open, confused, and you take your foot and slam it down on his. He all but howls in pain, nearly knocking his head into yours as he hops away.

"What was that for?"

"If you still don't know, then maybe I need to step on you again." You narrow your eyes at him, still close enough to register the clean linen smell of his clothes. “Do not cross me again. I need a good grade in Transfiguration this year, and I won’t let you ruin that for me.”

"McGonagall is right there. I could go tell her," he threatens. His eyes are wide, and you pick up on the slightest fear under his façade of arrogance.

"Okay, do it. See if I care, asshole."

You spin on your heel and storm down the corridor, leaving a stunned Jungkook in your wake.

#bts fanfiction #bts au #bts drabble #bts writing #bts scenario #jungkook scenario #Jungkook Fanfiction #jungkook #jungkook x reader #spellbound #bts hogwarts au #bts fic

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softyoongiionly · 4 years ago

Text

For Whom the Bell Tolls

Just outside the boundaries of your town, deep within the trenches of the forest sits a massive tower made from smoke-stained ivory. Decrepit and ominous, it looms over your town like a warning- like a shadow...

There are opposing rumors as to what resides in the tower.

One of them, the one that just so happens to appeal to you the most, is that there is a deity living in that tower.

The one who knows.

The one who blesses and curses the deserving and offers wisdom that no mortal can.

And now, faced with the imminent demise of your family- you have no choice but to seek answers in the darkness.

What, in god’s name, will you find?

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Genre: demi-god! au, demi-god! Jimin, mythology, slight angst, smut, fantasy

Word count: 8k (THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE PWP)

Warnings: likely inaccurate representations of greek mythology lmao, unprotected sex (wrap it up plz), mentions of violence/death, slightly spooky??? allusions to corruption and murder (non-explicit), JIMIN (cause he’s always a warning), probably a messy plot cause I went feral with this one. parts are unedited oops.

A/N: i have nothing to say. this was supposed to be demon porn and now we have a completely new au. SOMEONE PLEASE STOP ME. okay anyways,,,, i love u.

Corruption.

It ran rampant through your town like the plague, devouring everything in its path. One right after another, you have seen it swallow those who you had come to respect; good town folk, who at one time, moved through the world with a moral compass stronger than the one you felt you possessed, had now fallen ill to the disease.

And you understood...to an extent. The universe was not a benevolent dealer. It randomly assigns cards to its patrons and cares not about the outcome- or the losses. You understood that sometimes people were simply without a winning hand.

But the need to win was still present.

However, your town was spoiled with a type of greed that wafted through the streets and turned everything to mold. Neighbor betraying neighbor, partner betraying partner- even mother’s betraying their children...

All to please one man...

Lord Instinctus was the ruler of your province. Born into nobility, he took over the position after his father passed away and began turning the tides in his favor. Taxes were raised, work hours following suit and, harsh punishments were administered to anyone who dared questioned the new system. He forced your town to pledge their loyalty to him on the day he took over and sent ‘enforcers’ to hide out in the town in search of any signs of rebellion.

However, his cruelty was not unique. Too many men have followed the path paved before them and suckled at the teet of avarice, until they were compelled to out do one another.

To outkill one another...

What made Lord Instinctus unique was the fact that he had never shown his face before. During his initiation into the noble court, the townspeople were given blindfolds and told to face away from their Lord and simply listen. Few people broke the rules but, the ones who did were immediately executed.

You still remember the shudder that ran through your body as you heard the sound of your townspeople hitting the pavement. From that point on, the tone was set. Insubordination means death; the terms were simple.

The lack of knowledge and the possibility of death didn’t stop speculation from blooming. In fact, the appearance of the Lord was essentially the usual topic of conversation at every pub on the main street. After the freeing of spirits, both liquid or otherwise, the rumors begin pouring into the atmosphere.

“He’s probably horribly deformed...”

“Inbreeding is common amongst the nobility; it would make sense...”

“My cousin walked by the villa the other day, he said Lord Invictus had a tail!”

“A tail you say?! So is he some sort of hybrid?!”

“Oh please, that’s preposterous- he's probably just hideous...”

You bite your bottom lip, as you wipe the whiskey from the chestnut countertop, resisting the urge to smirk. Bartending was certainly not a glamorous job but, it paid your taxes and helped put food on the table for you and your family.

Glamorous it was not but, amusing it definitely was.

“I bet you he still beds a new woman every night though...”

“A pretty face ain’t worth more than all that gold he has aye?”

“Maybe he’s cursed...”

“That wouldn’t surprise me either- I hear noble families make deals with the magic folk all the time.”

“If you all want to know so bad, why don’t you just pay the tower a visit?”

With that meager suggestion, the bustle of the pub comes to halt- all eyes now on the man who mentioned a topic that is normally banned from public spaces.

“What? You can’t tell me you haven’t wondered what was up there...”

“We know what’s up there-”

“Or rather- who's up there.”

It’s said to be the home a monster.

The tower was used as a prison for the most dastardly of criminals. For years, just before the establishment of your town, it served as a last resort for the rotten underbelly of society. Countless lives were taken, madness ensued- until the revolution came. The tower was set aflame by revolutionaries but for whatever reason, it did not crumble.

The ivory merely sizzled and turned gray and then over time, it turned black. For years it was abandoned until one day, just after sunset, light emanated from the tower once more. Onlookers who were near the building went inside to see if some vagrant had moved in.

And they never returned...

Several spiritual advisors have visited the town, including religious figures from various faiths, and they have all arrived at the same conclusion: a demon has taken residence in the tower. Despite the efforts to bless the building, the light comes on every evening.

Thus, it is assumed that the demon remains unharmed.

“What about Mrs. Jeon? She left offerings for the beast and her son was cured of the plague the next morning.”

“Or Mr. Kim- he left one as well and found gold in his backyard that very night...”

“You aren’t suggesting there is a benevolent being in that tower, are you? Should I remind you of how many disappearances have occurred?”

There are opposing rumors you suppose.

One of them, the one that just so happens to appeal to you the most, is that there is a deity living in that tower.

The one who knows.

The one who blesses and curses the deserving and offers wisdom that no mortal can.

“Hey here’s a thought- how about Jacob tests his theory eh? Why don’t you go down and find out yourself? Report back to us with your findings...”

The pub erupts with laughter now, the uneasiness slowly melting away from the room.

You elect to keep your thoughts to yourself, as you finish up counting the money you had made from that evening- making sure to leave a portion for the incoming team.

The bite of the winter wind is harsh and untamed as it scraps across your skin, causing you to hurriedly put your coat on. It feels like winter never ends in your town and if it weren’t for the fact that your family stocks up throughout the year, you would be worried where your next meal is coming from.

Walking down the street towards your home, you catch sight of the tower in the distance. The way the windows begin to glow, almost makes you feel like it’s somehow staring back at you- taunting you.

You would be lying if you said it didn’t tempt you.

It always has.

Even as a young girl, you remember being drawn to the infamy, to the danger...

Your mother always told you that being curious was a good thing, that it led the greatest minds of humankind. You kept that with you as you moved through life, trying your best to understand what your purpose was.

But times were hard...

With a malevolent lord hanging over the morale of your town, digging his fingers into the heart and soul of your people and crippling them with eternal debt, it was causing you to look for answers.

And you were beginning to look in some unorthodox places.

Dinner with your family soothes the aching curiosity in your chest as you try and remind yourself of all the things you have to be grateful for. After your meal, you wrestle your little brother into his bed before telling him his favorite bedtime story. Once his eyelids have kissed, you turn out his light and move into the main room to wish sweet dreams upon your parents.

And although the pleasantries are nice, there are a few things throughout the evening that disturbed you.

The limp in your father’s movement.

The blisters on your mother’s hands.

The bags beneath the otherwise unburden gaze of your little brother.

Exhaustion was palpable.

Living beneath the weight of a corrupt leadership will do that to you.

As your head hits the pillow, you can hear your mother murmur in desperation.

“I won’t have enough to pay him this week...what are we going to do?”

“I can work extra hours at the mill- we will figure it out.”

“How could you possibly work any longer-”

You feel your chest twist with guilt as you hear the crack in your mother's voice.

“You’re falling apart my love...if you continue pushing yourself this way, I’m afraid I will lose you and I can’t- I can’t-”

The muffled nature of her cries suggests that your father has pulled her in for a hug, trying to erase the inevitable with his affection.

“We will endure, I promise. Just hang on a little longer.”

With your father’s final words, their conversation begins to die down.

This can’t possibly go on much longer. You might be able to pick up more hours at the pub and, perhaps procure a second job but, the dues will never end.

Your family will never exist for any other reason aside from paying to the noble family.

So you make a decision. Hard work clearly isn’t the answer and revolution would only shed innocent blood. If the practical world had nothing else to offer then, you would seek answers from beyond.

Your parents retired to their rooms shortly after their conversation but, you wait until you’re sure the house has fallen silent before you make your next move. Embarking on this mission would be simple but what lies at your destination is anything but; so, you try to be prepared for the possible outcomes.

Wrapping yourself in the thickest coat you can find, you slip your dagger beneath the onyx material and slowly creep out of your bedroom.

The streets were still bustling with life; your town rarely ever rests and the pubs and shops are open well past midnight.

It might sound like the product of a vibrant town but, it’s mainly due to the ever-present demand for profit.

Limited hours mean limited sales.

Thankfully, no one really notices your presence as you traverse your way down the streets and through the alleyway. The noise echoing from the main street slowly diminishes and makes way for the sound of the wind dancing through the trees. The forest itself does not frighten you. You grew up memorizing it with your father as he taught you the fundamentals or foraging and gardening. The sound of the owls is expected as is the chill that runs up your spine with the increase of the breeze.

However, as you near the tower- fear begins to slither its way into your veins. It’s quite a sickening feeling as it seems to stop you in your tracks but, you push on anyway- determined to finish what you have started.

The wrought iron surrounding the tower is stained with rust, corroded and crackling with age, the creaking of its bars alarms you, stopping you in your tracks and forcing you to look up.

And there it is: the tower.

It stands above you like a menacing giant and although it’s presence should deter you, it doesn’t. Making an effort to be as silent as you can, you slip past the opening in the gate and begin walking up the broken cobblestone pathway.

There is nothing but dirt surrounding the perimeter of the tower and other than the moon, the only light before you is coming from the very top window. It’s glowing but the color isn’t stable- it's as if it were shifting slowly from red to green to blue and then back again. Faced with the wooden French doors, you question the idea of knocking.

If someone truly did live here, it would only be polite...right?

With a shaky hand, you knock three times as loudly as you can. For a moment there is nothing, but just as you ready your hand to knock again, the door groans and begins to slowly creak open.

The already unstable heartbeat in your chest begins to rattle without mercy as you brace yourself for whatever horrible creature might lay on the other side. Instead, however, there is no one.

The door opens entirely to reveal that instead of the simple but filthy interior you expect from an abandoned tower such as this one, there is a rather decadent home. Large marble pillars extend upwards seemingly holding nothing in place while glamorous furniture positions itself through the foray. Everything is cooled tone with greys and shades of blue, black often lining the borders of the funiture. There is no lantern, the moon lighting up the interior of the room just as it led your path up to the door.

The layout doesn’t make sense.

The tower is cylindrical and doesn’t offer enough space for such an open floor plan so, how is it that the inside looks like lavish mansion?

You swallow your fear and newfound confusion as you tentatively look around the expanse of the room.

“Hello?”

Nothing.

You take a deep breath and decide that the likelihood of someone (or something) answering that call is slim, especially given the way you were welcomed into the tower in the first place.

You place your hand inside your pocket, gripping the dagger for good measure before beginning to make your way towards the staircase. The moonlight is sufficient enough at first but for whatever reason, as you begin making your way up the stone staircase, the interior of the tower seems to slowly darken. Your grip on the dagger tightens as you stop walking, frozen in your steps, cursing yourself for embarking on a journey so reckless.

Suddenly, all of the light from the room vanishes, forcing a gasp from your throat. You manage to grip the railing to steady yourself but you have no idea what you are to do next.

And then, someone speaks.

“Well- you’re awfully far from home...aren’t you?”

The sound of the voice rushes through your senses much like the wind did. It’s too sweet for your liking but, it entrances you none the less.

“Who are you?”

As much as you try to steady your breathing, the way your voice cracks, gives you away instantly.

Laughter bounces off the stone walls, sinister and playful all at once before the voice speaks again,

“Don’t you think that’s a question I should be asking you? You are the intruder after all...”

Disembodied or not, the voice makes a valid point. You did walk in unannounced and you most certainly weren’t invited.

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” The strength in your voice comes back slightly as you grip the railing a bit tighter, “I came here because- “

“I know why you’re here...” The voice is much closer now, likely positioned at the top of the stairs, “Humans are so predictable; always looking for a handout.”

This offends you greatly and regardless of the amount of danger you might be in, you let the voice know anyway.

“I am not looking for a hand out. My family and I work from sunrise until sunset to make ends meet. I’m here to make an offering- not merely to take whatever miracles that you make.” Stronger and stronger, your voice rises to the occasion, preparing itself to either spar with the beast or scream for help.

“Miracles hm?” Sinister laughter slinks down the staircase, practically teasing the exposed skin of your neck, “Is that what you think I do?”

You swallow the bile that creeps up your throat, “I’ve heard many stories- but I wanted to see for myself. Some of my people claim you’ve blessed them but, the clergy said a demon lived here...”

“Oh?” It rises with inquisition, “And you came anyway? Do I have a heretic in my presence?”

Shaking your head does nothing in the darkness but it’s instinctual, “I don’t believe in demons- at least, not the kind who dwell in abandoned towers.”

“Is there a kind you do believe in then?”

There is something in you that urges you forward, captivated by the sweet sound of the voice above you, desperate to view the owner and desperate to see the moonlight again.

“Hell is nothing but a metaphor and it’s demons all the same. There is plenty of evil here, plenty of suffering- by definition, there is a demon ruling over my town- he is draining us of our resources for his own gain. I couldn’t imagine a more accurate representation.”

Suddenly, you hear the sound of boots clicking slowly and steadily down the stone stairs. You brace yourself, still feeling frozen in your place- wishing to see whoever or whatever is front of you.

“If I did make miracles,” It muses and, now you’re able to discern that it’s only a few steps in front of you, “What exactly would you be offering me in return?”

Taking a deep breath through your nose, you place all your effort into trying to make out whether or not there was an actual owner to this voice. Finally, your eyes adjust enough to see the faint shadow of a figure which appears to be sitting on the second set of stairs.

“Name your terms, I will do my best.”

“Ah ah-” The voice corrects along with a side of twinkling laughter, “That isn’t how this works...”

You’re growing frustrated with the apparent mind games but, you know it’s in your best interest to be patient; you still don’t know what you’re dealing with.

“How does it work then?”

Silence passes through the air for a moment before the voice speaks again, “You must bring me the thing you treasure the most so, that I may know your true intentions- I cannot help you until I can see you properly.”

You snort, “You’d be able to see me if you hadn’t wiped the light from this room...”

Laughter comes again but this time, it’s lower and deepened with suggestion, “I’m not referring to physical sight, human. You might not be able to see in the dark but, I can.”

For whatever reason, its response sounds salacious and riddled with an innuendo that you’re slightly afraid to comment on.

And the reaction it creates within you, only frightens you further.

“I’ve just told you that I barely have enough money to scrape by- I don’t have anything of value to give you.”

“I never asked you to bring me anything of value nor did I ask you to give it away- you’re not listening very well...I don’t know how I’m supposed to help you if you can’t follow instructions.”

It sounds irritated and fond all at once, prompting you to nod immediately, not wanting to upset your only shot at freedom.

“I’m sorry.” You breathe, “I’m just-”

“Don’t lie to me...”

Your gaze strains to try and make out the expression of the figure in front of you but, its futile- the darkness impeding your effort.

“What do you mean?”

“You were going to tell me that you’re scared.” The voice accuses, “But you’re not- even though, you most certainly should be.”

It wasn’t wrong. You should have ran when the door opened on its own, when the lights began to dim, when a voice began speaking to you...

But you didn’t.

You were undeniably intrigued.

“Are you going to hurt me?”

An insidious bought of laughter comes from the figure before it sighs, “Hmmm, maybe a little bit.”

When your lips part with something that resembles shock, the laughter comes again only slowing to a halt for the sound of the figure’s tongue tutting against its teeth.

“You are a curious girl...” It observes, “...promises of harm should not excite you and yet- excitement flows from you anyway. Why?”

It kills you to refrain from denying it but, you have no choice.

“Your voice-” A sigh leaves your lips, “it’s very intriguing.”

Maybe it’s part of the creature's abilities, you think, its voice is the main weapon to lure unsuspecting and vulnerable humans into its clutches. The only question is- what happens once it has you.

“Is it now?” The voice sounds intrigued, “Most humans don’t seem to think so. Are you sure you’re hearing me right, girl? I’ve been told my voice is the thing of nightmares.”

This perplexes you; how could anyone possibly think such a voice was frightening? Despite this creature being anything but human, it sounds very much like a man- a warm and mischievous man who seems hellbent on getting you into bed.

“What does my voice sound like to you?” It asks, a smile in its tone.

You ponder this question for a second, realizing very quickly that you can’t exactly tell this creature that it sounds like it’s trying to seduce you. But still, that does seem to be the only appropriate description.

“Sort of...like a melody.”

Laughter comes again but, this time it’s paired with the moonlight slowly fading back into the tower, covering every surface until it finally reveals the appearance of the figure.

Beautiful.

Not an it but a he...

A man with wings.

On the steps before you, he stands, leaning casually against the railing now. Atop his head is a tousled mop of sapphire hair, just below are his eyes- nearly black and hooded with the same seduction as his voice and cloaking his figure is a black linen ensemble fitted only by the same color corset. His pillowy lips and soft skin would be a masterpiece on their own but coupled with the giant pair of onyx wings protruding proudly from his back- his visuals become simply devastating.

“What do you see?” He smirks, licking over his lips.

Unable to resist, you shake your head in complete awe, all of the sensible words dying before they leave your throat, “You- are you an angel?”

The light allows you to see him now as his head tilts another round of laughter, “Try again...you’re very close.”

Perhaps the clergy was right...

“A demon then...” You resign because despite your previously-held beliefs, if this really was a demon, then you know very well you shouldn’t be dealing with him. “I should go.”

His smirk broadens, “But I thought you didn’t believe in demons?”

“I didn’t but, that’s clearly what you’re alluding to. If a winged man tells me he’s a demon, I think it’s wise that I return home.”

Through your moment of clarity, your desire for him persists- especially now that you see what he looks like. But you know better than to make a deal with a demon, even if you are desperate.

“Do you think the universe is that simple? Angels and demons? Good and evil? You don’t think that maybe- in all of his vastness, there is a chance for the inbetweeners?” He presses and now his black eyes seem to glow, his gaze slightly hypnotic.

Tightening your coat around your body, you stay staring at him for a moment before you respond, “Is that what you are? Something in between?”

He licks his lips, his eyes finally allowing themselves to wander over your figure. There isn’t much of you showing but, he still drinks you up regardless, exposing and exciting you all at once.

“I was sent by the underworld to do business for the gods...” He drops his voice to a near whisper, his gaze burning a hole in you, which now aches to be filled.

You take in a shaky breath through your nose, nodding in understanding, “Did you kill the people who disappeared here? Is that what happens when their judgment goes south?”

He arches his brow, tilting his head with his inquiry- his voice dripping with darkness, “Maybe I did...maybe I didn’t. I don’t see how that’s relevant- especially since you’ve already decided you were leaving. Which of course-” He waves his hand then, the wooden door behind you creaking open, “-you are free to do.”

There is something about him you haven’t touched on but, it’s beginning to eat you up inside. He may be an otherworldly being, possessing the tower like a beautiful virus but, he is starting to look familiar. This of course, is hard to imagine because his beauty is so striking that you don’t see how you could ever forget it. But nonetheless, you feel like you’ve seen him before.

And this is what has kept you frozen.

“Will you not give me any answers?” You border on pleading but, attempt to keep your tone firm.

He chuckles, “You didn’t come to me for answers. You came for help- which I’ve already agreed to give you.”

The supernatural discourse that has transpired, thoroughly distracted you from the reasons for seeking him out in the first place. Your situation had not changed; you were still desperate for money, desperate for justice and desperate for peace.

“You won’t hurt my family...” It’s not a question, and it leaves no room for any other response aside from the one he gives you.

“I won’t.”

Nodding, you glance behind your shoulder towards the door, “I have to go home. I don’t have the item you asked for. I can be back within the hour...”

For the first time, he looks slightly disappointed but as you complete your sentence, he shakes his head, “No. Don't come back tonight.” He insists, “If you wish to do business with me- you must return tomorrow after midnight. I will wait for you at the shoreline.”

This confuses you, “The shoreline? Why can’t we meet here? The water is dangerous after dark.”

The smirk returns to his tender lips, “I know.”

With that, he waves his hand again- causing the door to swing open and slam against the tower walls.

Jumping at the sound, your gaze shoots back behind you before returning to where the creature stood.

But he had vanished.

You have no choice but to heed his requests and rush away from the tower, the curiosity inside you almost too much to bear.

Nothing is out of the ordinary as you walk back home, at least not at first. But when you pass the massive clock tower in the center of town, you realize something strange...

The clock hadn’t moved, not even a second.

You remember very clearly reading the time as you hurried past it on your way to the tower and now, even as you’re staring at it, it stands perfectly still. Until suddenly, without warning, the hands of time begin to move again. The clicking almost startles you, your brain filling with a million questions despite your decision to turn away and return home.

Time had seemingly stood still whilst you were in the tower.

Slipping beneath the covers, you try your hardest to get to sleep despite being bombarded with images of the haunting man you had just encountered.

You know you should be terrified.

You know you should be wary.

But the familiarity of him has possessed you and, you’re determined to understand why.

The next night, with your treasured object tucked securely in your coat, you make your way back to him.

You make sure to check the clock tower before you do, logging the time away for later to see if last night had been more than just a fluke.

12:32am.

The clock tower has never lied but, you’re starting to think it might be influenced by whatever resided in the tower- magic, beast, or otherwise.

As you pass through the many trees, you begin to hear the chaotic crashing of the waves in the distance. The tower may be frightening but, few things could match the malevolent temper of the sea. In fact, you’ve always believed that nothing could. The sea was unrivaled in her cruelty, consuming the world at will, just for the fun of it- you've theorized that she likes the screams. During the day, she simmered- blue and serene, allowing boats to decorate her surface like candles on a birthday cake. At night though, her temper worsens and it’s as if she suddenly remembers all the injustice she has faced. Her waves swell to horrific heights, smashing into the seawalls built around your town, creeping over like a titan looking for vengeance.

You’ve always felt pity for her. It must be hard: being the heart and soul of humanity, being responsible for the very nature of things- only to be forgotten. Only to be mistreated...

Your boots are discarded near the last patch of grass before the sand and, your toes brace themselves icy chill of the sea breeze. You’re especially thankful for the coat now as you suspect that your teeth would have already begun chattering had it not been for the thick fabric protecting you.

The waves haven’t begun their violent dance just yet but, you can sense their temper beneath your feet. They will begin soon.

“The sea-” The voice from the tower is behind you, “it suits you.”

Breathless, you turn to face him and even though you’re more prepared for his beauty than you were last night, it still shocks you.

He’s wearing a black silk gown, that drapes effortlessly off his body, the sleeves made out of French lace and extending well past his fingertips. His wings are shuttered behind him, folded almost modestly against his back.

“Thank you.” It’s the only response you have before you reach into the fold of your coat, “I have the-”

He holds up his hand, his voice commanding but gentle, “Wait. I want you to walk with me first. I don’t like rushing through my business deals.”

Your hand slowly retreats from your coat as you warily look behind you, “You want to walk along the shoreline? I told you, it’s too dangerous- at least for me it is, I don’t exactly have an escape mechanism attached to my back.”

He smirks, his tempting gaze flourishing with fondness you cannot place, “What causes you to mistrust the sea so much? Surely she wouldn’t hurt one of her own...”

Your brow furrows, “What do you mean?”

Extending from the confines of silk, his fingers reach out to you, fluttering with invitation, “I will show you.”

And really, you’d be a fool not to accept.

Interlacing your fingers with his, you feel electricity simmer ever so slightly beneath your skin. You’re assuming it’s from the power that likely resides within him but, you don’t expect it to affect you so much.

The sound of the waves begins to softly roar in the distance but the water isn’t close enough to the shoreline to pose any immediate threat.

Not yet at least...

You begin walking alongside him as he leads you both in the opposite direction of your town border. For quite a few moments, he just gazes at the eternal stretch of sand before you, his soft mouth curved up ever so slightly. He looks pensive and serene all at once and, it confuses you.

“May I tell you a story?”

His request surprises you but, you aren’t really in a position to say no. And if you’re being honest, you really didn’t want to.

“Yes.” You murmur, feeling compelled to keep your volume at a minimum.

He smiles softly to himself, glancing towards the water briefly before beginning.

“The water has many gods...” He speaks softly, letting out a sigh, “Lir, Irish god of the sea, Tefnut, Egyptian goddess of the rain, Amimitl, Aztec god of lakes and fisherman...” His explanation already has you interested. You were taught much of the stories beyond your land but, it had always fascinated you, “The gods of the sea are known for the temperate nature, they often stay away from humans and avoid interfering with the mortal coil. Death by water is merely a request they carry out for the gods of death and destruction and thus, there is goddess who rules over the violence of the sea itself.”

Just as he finishes his sentence, the temper of the sea seems to roar to life, the swollen waves crashing aggressively, still not close enough to reach you.

Not yet at least...

“Cymopoleia, is the goddess of violent sea storms. Poseidon, her father, tasked her with overseeing the malignant waters and tending to the causalities. She was not the creator of the storms but she carried the ability.” He moves through the story as if he has told it a 100 times but he seems captivated by it nonetheless, “When it came time for her to bear a child. She conjured up a spirit from within her very core. She crafted them out of the essence of the sea and placed them inside of clamshell in her palace. She was awaiting the full moon when someone snuck into the depths of the ocean and stole them from her.”

The gasp that leaves your lips cannot be helped, you didn’t realize how engrossed you were until suddenly you recognize the port from another town nearby.

You had been walking awhile.

“Why would someone do that?” You press, shaking your head.

He sends a solemn look your way, “Many thoughtless humans believe that if they capture the essence of a god, they will become one themselves. Foolishly, he opened the clam shell and released the spirit into the world. By the time the goddess found him, it was too late- but she delegated his fate anyway. She took his life beneath the depths of a violent storm and placed a curse upon anyone who shared his bloodline. She made it so that any one of his descendants would bear the physical embodiment of his fate.”

“So, they look like they’ve died at sea?”

He can’t help but smirk, a bit of the darkness you saw at the tower, beginning to creep back. “Indeed. They are horribly disfigured and regardless of their efforts, they all meet the same fate. His lineage believes that if they send enough offerings out to sea or if they build high enough walls, that they will somehow escape their deaths. But of course, this if futile- the goddess vowed that she would continue to collect them until her spirit was returned.”

His story ends and it’s like something clicks within you. Without warning, you squeeze his hand, slowing both of you to a stop, just before the light of the upcoming pier hits you.

“Does this have something to do with my town? Is that why you’re telling me this?”

Lord Invictus certainly fit the description for a descendent of this thief and, although it bores no sense of logic- you have no choice but to believe it anyway.

It all fits together too well...

He turns towards you now, his smirk now a small smile, “It has to do with you Y/N.”

Your brow furrows, “Me? What do you mean?”

He nods to your coat, something otherworldly lingering in his eyes, “I’d like to see what you’ve brought with you now.”

Still riddled with confusion, you reach inside your coat and find that the item you had brought with you (a beaded necklace gifted to you at birth by your parents) had turned into something else.

And now, sitting in the palm of your hand- was a clamshell.

“What is this? This isn’t what I brought to you- I-” You begin to panic, confusion and fear starting to take over, “Did you do this? Did you take my necklace?”

Finally, the sinister smirk returns as his wings begin to unfurl from behind his back. Along with his shift in expression, another danger is brewing very close to you- you can feel it.

The sea is growing irritated and whipping the wind and the water up into a frenzy. As you look toward the water, you have no choice but to look on in horror as you see the beginning of something deadly.

A rogue wave.

The grip on your hand tightens as his extraordinary strength keeps you in place.

“I think it’s time I formally introduce myself-” His voice is loaded with bad intentions but it sounds sweet anyway as he burns his gaze into yours, “My name is Jimin. Son of Tartarus, the god of punishment and Nyx, the goddess of the night.”

Your eyes are wide with desperation, not fully registering what he said before he’s yanking you against his chest and turning you to face the sea. Standing behind you, he unleashes a spell of wicked laughter as his wings unfurl from behind is back to wrap around the both of you, so that the only thing you’re able to see is the wall of water coming for you.

“I have to come to send you home Y/N...your mother has been waiting for you a very long time.”

His arms are wrapped around you now, crushing you against his chest as his wings begin flapping- the wind picking up furiously around you.

“Jimin!” You scream, eyes welling up with tears, “You promised you wouldn’t hurt me! You promised! Why are you doing this to me?!”

He laughs at you, and it isn’t necessarily malevolent but merely amused, as if he in on a joke you weren’t part of.

“Shhhh, quiet down my little sea nymph...” He whispers salaciously into your ear, “...your fate will be painless.”

You’re crying now, digging your nails into his skin, attempting to break free as the massive creature that is the ocean rushes towards you without mercy. The crest of the wave arches above you proudly, the swirling darkness of the water mocking the mere audacity of your existence but, as you brace for impact- it never comes.

Only the darkness does...

And it’s the darkness that consumes you.

“Jimin!” A voice breaks into your subconscious, luring you out of what you hope was a nightmare, “You couldn’t have brought her home without scaring her? She was practically driftwood when she arrived here.”

That familiar twinkle of laughter sounds then and, it forces your eyes open.

“I’m sorry your grace- it's just in my nature.” He defends poorly, still chuckling to himself, “I can’t imagine my brothers are doing much better.”

You are somewhere extraordinary, that much is certain. Above your immediate line of sight is an ornate glass ceiling that seems to glow a cerulean blue. All around you are gold furnishings, each decorated with various moldings of sea creatures.

“She’s awake!”

Your vision, still slightly cloudy, now lands upon a being so beautiful- that you have to blink a few times to ensure you’re seeing the right thing. Draped in blue silk and decorated with gold and pearls, is a woman who looks at you with nothing but love in her eyes.

“Oh my- its really you...”

She seems tentative but, you’re suddenly overcome with joy- filled with an almost cosmic sense of peace.

“Mother!” You cry, rushing off of the bed you were laying on and into her arms.

She takes you in her arms immediately, her skin cool against yours like the tepid waters of the bay. She sniffles, tightening her grip on you,

“I knew you’d come home...I knew one day I would find you.”

And it really doesn’t make much sense does it?

How could your life swing so violently from one direction to the next?

Your life on earth seems so insignificant now...now that you’re back with her.

Cymopoleia- queen of violent sea storms and, your mother.

She explains it all to you, gently stroking your hair and fawning over you.

The spirit in the depths was you. Born into a human body, you were fated to one day meet with the demi-god of darkness, who with a bit of trickery- would return you to your rightful place in the cosmos.

Your mother assures you that your mortal family would be relieved of your memory until it was safe for you to visit them, until the gods of fate decide. In addition, Lord Invictus would be the last of the bloodline to pay for what his ancestor had done and, the fog of greed and corruption- which begin the day you were born, would soon be lifted.

The explanation is long and doesn’t leave you completely fulfilled but, your mother assures you that you have all the time in the world to understand the complexity of the universe.

Hours later, after you’ve had a decent feast, your mother instructs Jimin to escort you to your bedroom.

As he leads you down the hallway towards your chambers, you send a playful glare his way, “So- how much of what you told me was a lie?”

He merely smirks, “None of it.”

You scoff, “Even the part of about your voice? And all that nonsense about excitement and me being curious? You knew all along what was to happen- you just tricked me.”

Jimin chuckles darkly, stopping just outside your bedroom door before turning to you, “The part about my voice frightening people wasn’t a lie, Y/N. My father is the god of punishment, any mortal that hears my voice usually cowers in fear...”

“Is that why I felt so drawn to you? Because you were meant to take me home?”

His smirk broadens, “No...you feel drawn me because you want to fuck me.”

Your mouth goes completely dry at his bold statement but, you are unable to deny it- your fingers suddenly twitching at your side.

“Wh-”

“It’s not your fault really...” He murmurs, his body shifting towards you, “...it’s just the way I was made. I am used to people lusting after me- however,” Jimin reaches out then, to brush his thumb over the swell of your cheek, “-I have never known true lust until I had the pleasure of meeting you.”

“You lust for me?” You whisper, completely drawn up with desire- finally allowing your true nature, the nature of a demi-goddess pour out of your soul.

He licks his lips, his gaze upon you timid as he presses his thumb into your face, “I do.”

You turn to the side suddenly, capturing his thumb between your lips, “Show me.”

It's all it takes: that one phrase of consent being enough to unleash all the urges within him.

You’re inside your chamber seconds later, Jimin clawing at the fabric of your robe, his fingers digging into your skin as he does, his lips latching on to every part of you he can reach.

“I knew the moment you walked into my tower-” He grunts, “I knew- there was no way a mortal could be tempting, so dreadfully seductive.”

You sigh hopelessly, raking your hands through the sapphire tendrils on his head, your lips ghosting along the swell of his cheek, the tail of his brow, the shell of his ear...

“In the underworld...” He’s practically growling now, scratching his nails up the newly exposed skin of your back, “We are never taught to refuse our desires. You were my greatest challenge- it took everything in me not to devour you right there.”

You smirk now, positioning your lips at his ear, “I wouldn’t have known what to do with you though- aren't you glad you were patient?”

He grunts again, pressing his hips against yours defiantly, “Patience is for virtuous gods- “ He doesn't answer your question but, you know that he means yes. In spite of his darker nature, Jimin still believes in doing the right thing.... most of the time.

He has you on the bed moments later, his wings spreading proudly. He’s panting, his eyes completely black with lust as he nudges your legs open, determined to finally taste what he’s been craving.

For the demi-god of darkness, denying his desires for even a second is painful. He aches to fufill them over and over again...

You were certainly no exception.

But you want to keep teasing him...

Reaching down, you spread yourself open for him- feeling the visceral substance of your arousal sticking to your inner thighs.

“What are you waiting for then?” You lean up, grasping your hand behind his neck and staring directly into the abyss that is his gaze, “Defile me...”

Jimin growls, sliding into you instantly, his hands quickly bracing themselves on either side of your head. He smirks as your eyes roll back the sheer pleasure of him inside of you causing your nipples to harden.

“Oh look at that-” He chuckles, his own expression unstable with pleasure, “Are you going brain dead already hm? Is this cock that good?”

Your eyes come back into play as you stare up at him, your hands gripping either side of his face as he starts a power rhythm within you.

This wasn’t meant to last long, the carnal desire too much for either one of you to handle...

Perhaps, if your feelings permitted it- you'd make love another time.

Nodding, you moan as he increases the rhythm, pressing your forehead against his own.

“You feel so good.” You whisper, “I didn’t know it could- oh...” A whimper leaves your lips as he hits that spot inside of you, the pleasure completely ruining your ability to speak.

“Of course you didn’t- you’ve only ever let mortals play with your pretty cunt haven’t you?” He laughs, mocking you and cooing all at once, “And now that I’ve gotten ahold of it, you’re never going to want anyone else. I will ruin you ugh-” He finally breaks, his own brow furrowed with the onslaught of his release as you tighten around him, “-ugh fuck yes. I can feel how badly your cunt wants me- it's like you’re begging me to cum.”

“I want you to cum,” You whisper shakily, kissing at his mouth, “Fill me up please, I need it.”

He growls, kissing you back with just as much fervor, his hips moving so fast that the pleasure fucks with your vision.

“I’m going to make a mess of you, they will smell me on you until I can come back-” He promises, smirking ever so slightly, “and then- I'll paint the inside of you all over again won’t I? Such a masterpiece this cunt will be...and you’ll be all mine, cumming only for me.”

And he wasn’t wrong because, mere seconds later- the two of you are cumming all over one another, ruining the silk sheets with your release and clawing desperately at one another.

With the mutual utterance of your names, Jimin collapses beside you and, moments later- when you get your wits about you, he is ushering you onto his chest.

Sweaty, exhausted and satisfied, you lay together in silence for quite a while.

Until finally you speak, “I’m not quite sure what came over me.”

Jimin chuckles but this time, the sound is much warmer than you’re used to, “Immortal lust, it’s a blessing and a curse but, eternal life has to stay interesting somehow.”

You trace patterns on his chest whilst he covers your body with one of his wings, the feathers teasing at your sensitive skin.

“Did you mean it?”

And he doesn’t even bother asking, he knows exactly what you’re referring to.

“I want you.” He affirms, “If you’ll have me- I felt quite possessive of you then but, I won’t insist on anything you aren’t comfortable with.”

You smile, tracing a heart directly over the spot where his heart would beat, “It fits doesn’t it? You and I?”

If the past few days have taught you anything, it is that sometimes- it is appropriate to succumb to fate. Sometimes, believing in the simplicity of destiny works out. Being with Jimin felt right and, for now, this was enough.

“It does.” His statement is simple but his expression says it all: he is elated.

You fall back into comfortable silence once again before one more pressing question leaves your lips, “Did I hear you mention something about your brothers earlier?”

Jimin nods, his eyes half-closed as he cuddles closer to you, “You did. I have six of them.”

“Are they- like you?” You murmur, unable to stop your curiosity.

He nods again, “They are.”

You think one more question will suffice but, his answer will unfortunately bring about a thousand more, “Are they all on missions too?”

Jimin’s trademark smirk shows itself once again as he snickers, “They are-” He repeats before a great sense of pride comes over his expression...

“I was just the first one to return.”

A/N: should this be a series? asking for a friend...

#ficswithluv #bangtansorciere #jimin #park jimin #bts #bts jimin #jimin smut #jimin x reader #bts smut #bts writing #jimin writing #jimin fanfic #bts au

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cinnaminsvga · 4 years ago

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🌷 social media au where y/n posts an advertisement looking for a new place to stay that is closer to campus, causing seven upperclassmen to make it their mission to recruit her into their dormitories 🌷

A/N: THIS TOOK FOREVER AND I KINDA RUSHED IT AT THE END BUT HOPEFULLY IT MAKES SENSE?? anyway, yoongi didn’t do anything stupid (depending on your definition of stupid) so no need to worry about him being cringey,,, i spared you all from the secondhand embarrassment but i won’t be so kind next time!! anyway... enjoy || W.C. 3.8K

prev // part 11 // next masterlist here.

By the time Seokjin’s phone begins to ring, Yoongi can already feel the dread settle deep inside his bones. The familiar coil of anxiety tightens around his throat like a vice, and Yoongi has to remember how to breathe to keep himself from fainting like a corseted Victorian lady.

“Well, that must be her!” Seokjin chimes, promptly declining your call without a glance. Yoongi catches a glimpse of your contact photo anyway: it’s an unflattering angle of you from below your neck, giving the illusion of a multitude of chins. If it were any other time, Yoongi might have smiled like a lovesick fool.

“Don’t you dare let her in here,” Yoongi seethes. He tries to sound menacing, but the effect is severely diminished by how badly his voice cracks. He tugs at Seokjin by the sleeve, but the older man refuses to budge. “Hyung, I’m serious. I know what you’re trying to do.”

“Are you done live-tweeting your confusion now? Finally got the memo? I always knew you were a smart boy,” Seokjin laughs, patting Yoongi on the shoulder with his tomato sauce-covered tongs. “Since we’re on the same page now, why don’t you change clothes while I finish cooking? I know your entire wardrobe is composed of the free t-shirts you got from job fairs, but it would do well to wear a clean, unstained shirt.”

Yoongi swipes at him, hissing like the catboy that he is. “You’re the one who wiped shit on me, asshole. And yes, I figured out what you are trying to do. You think you’re so slick, but I know that you’re just trying to embarrass me in front of Y/N!”

Seokjin shrugs. “It isn’t like I’m trying to be slick. I embarrass you all the time. Besides, I’m setting you up on a date with the love of your life! You should be thanking me, if I’m being honest.”

Yoongi stammers, his jaw dropping in shock. “Love of my–?”

Seokjin waves his tongs in his face, silencing him. “Oh, hush. Don’t even try to hide it, Yoongi. I figured out that you like Y/N. Your weird behavior finally makes sense! After years of you avoiding her, I always thought you were just bad at forming human connections, but turns out you’ve got a gigantic heart boner for my best friend!”

“Please don’t phrase it like that,” Yoongi groans, smashing his head against his kitchen counter. He hopes a few brain cells might have died, just so he can stop processing the words coming out of Seokjin’s mouth. “Actually, just please stop talking.”

Seokjin snorts in exasperation as if Yoongi was the dramatic one between them. “Point is, this is a favor that I’ve chosen to grant you from the goodness of my heart! As I said, I’m giving you the love life you deserve! So stop whining and get moving before Y/N gets up here.”

“There isn’t any goodness nor a heart inside of you. And more importantly, when was the last time you did anything for free, you capitalist bastard!”

Seokjin clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “That’s where you’re wrong, Yoongi-chi. You’ve already paid me for my services by offering me front row seats to watch you lose your fucking mind. And that, my friend, is priceless.”

“Aha! So you do admit that this is all just a ploy to humiliate me!” Yoongi shouts. He grabs a knife from his scabbard, pointing it threateningly at Seokjin. He doesn’t even flinch, instead gently guiding Yoongi by the wrist over to the chopping board where he had placed some garlic cloves beforehand. Without prompting, Yoongi’s hand begins to move, his culinary instincts taking over.

“Yes and no,” Seokjin admits as he grabs Yoongi’s cast iron pan from the top shelf (which he has never gotten to use since he bought it, ever since Seokjin had borrowed it once and placed it too high for him to retrieve.) “I’m honestly trying to help you out here, my dude. Besides, even if shit hits the fan, Y/N isn’t gonna think any less of you. She’s too much of an idiot to resent anyone.”

“Speaking from experience?” Yoongi huffs, eyeing him with intense vitriol. “Can’t say I understand how she’s gone this long without killing you.” The next time the two of them are alone together in the wilderness, he can’t promise that his hands won’t find their way around Seokjin’s throat, and it won’t be sexy.

“Hmm. Yeah, definitely,” he says, nodding absentmindedly. As he begins to season the steak, he hands the cast iron pan to Yoongi. “Start preheating this. We need it to be smoking hot before we can place the steak on there.”

“I know how to cook a steak, fucker. And who said you’re allowed to serve my Wagyu steak? I was saving that for a special occasion!”

Seokjin looks up from his ministrations long enough to raise a brow at him. “So going on your first ever date with Y/N isn’t considered a special occasion?”

Yoongi falters, eyes widening. “N-no, that’s not what I mean!” he defends hotly, but he quickly snaps out of it. “Wait, no! This is not a date! Not when both parties did not agree to any of this!”

Seokjin pauses from his cooking to place a perfectly manicured hand on his hip. “I mean, Y/N agreed to it, so are you going to reject her? Huh? Too good for her and my spaghetti?”

Yoongi scoffs, rolling his eyes. “No, she did not agree to this. She doesn’t even know you’re forcing her to eat lunch with me.”

“How can you say that with such certainty?” Seokjin challenges, puffing his cheeks. “You don’t even know what I told her!”

Except I do know what you said, Yoongi thinks darkly to himself. And more importantly, I know what she thinks you were implying. He is pretty sure that the words “crush on him during high school” have seared themselves underneath his eyelids forevermore.

But instead, he says, “Yeah, well. If what you told her is as vague as what you told me, I have a pretty good hunch that this is going to blow up into a huge misunderstanding.”

Like the absolute menace that he is, all Seokjin does is shrug nonchalantly. “Suppose you are right… Who cares? It’s not like the two of you are strangers, so I’m sure this is going to go great!”

“What the fuck? She is a stranger! I’ve literally only spoken two words to her in the past four years!” Yoongi seethes, his temple throbbing from an oncoming migraine.

Seokjin ignores him, as per his want. “Grab that plate, will you? I gotta plate the pasta before Y/N starts calling again to let her into the building,” he says, nudging the tongs into Yoongi’s hands. Yoongi squawks, quickly turning the stove off to keep the food from burning.

Seokjin tears off his (read: Yoongi’s) apron off, wiping his hands on his jeans with a quick smile. “Great! While you finish up here, I’ll distract Y/N for a bit in my room before I lead her in here, alright? You better hurry unless you want to keep her waiting!”

“Oh, like how you kept her waiting downstairs for the past–” Yoongi checks his wall clock, “–seven minutes?”

Seokjin cackles madly, rushing out the door. “Well, that’s where you and I differ, Yoongi-chi! I give no shits about how Y/N thinks about me, so good luck!” After sending Yoongi three flying kisses for good measure, Seokjin slams the door shut, leaving Yoongi to simmer in his bad life choices.

The worst choice that he’s ever made? Being friends with one (1) Kim Seokjin.

“God, just end me,” Yoongi mutters, placing his $80 steak on his pan. It sizzles deliciously, much like how his (nonexistent) love life is about to get burnt to a crisp.

x x x x x

“Took you long enough.” You watch as Seokjin taunts you with a funny little dance by the lobby of his dormitory, the building receptionist not even batting an eye at his eccentricity. That’s the sad side effect of living in close proximity with Seokjin: you start getting desensitized to most things, not even flinching at the sight of a man without a functioning central nervous system.

Seokjin slides his card to open the door, finally allowing you entry. “Sorry. Got busy preparing your lunch! Which by the way, you should be thanking me for.”

“The moment I thank you for anything is the day that you slip on your own cum and die,” you grouse, nudging past him to get on the elevator first. You punch the button for the 5th floor before rapidly trying to close the elevator door on him. Unfortunately, Seokjin makes it in time before his ass gets clamped by the two steel doors.

“Thinking about my cum? Oh my, Y/N… I know you’ve had a dry spell for too long, but I didn’t think you’d be that desperate for some of my butter,” Seokjin says, leaning closely to wink at you.

Against your will, your cheeks brighten furiously, weakly pushing Seokjin away from you. “You wish. At least I don’t spend my spare time loitering outside the campus gym to ogle all the sweaty hot people.”

“And the invitation to join me still stands by the way!” Seokjin singsongs, leaping out of the elevator once you reach his floor. You walk side by side until you reach his room, but you catch him shooting a furtive glance at his next-door neighbor.

“Is Yoongi joining us for lunch?” you ask, failing to keep your curiosity from showing in your voice. If Yoongi does end up joining you for lunch (which has never happened in the past four years, convincing you that he must have a personal grudge against you), then at least it can confirm to you straight away that whatever this “date” is just another prank by Seokjin. You don’t know if you should be disappointed or grateful if it is just a joke.

Seokjin beams in response, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “You know what? He is going to join us, actually!”

He had been in the midst of unlocking his dorm when he changes direction, leading you to Yoongi’s door instead. He rifles through his other keys, and you notice one of them looks similar to his own house key, except with a Hello Kitty sticker on it. He pulls that key out and promptly unlocks Yoongi’s door without missing a beat.

What kind of weirdo must Yoongi be to give Seokjin a spare key to his dorm? You’d rather shit out a cactus than let Seokjin have free entry to your home whenever he pleases.

You hesitate by Yoongi’s door, feeling nervous all of a sudden. “Um, Seokjin? Are you sure it’s okay for me to–?”

“HONEY I’M HOOOOME!” Seokjin’s loud guffaw cuts you off before you can finish your question. He bursts through the door and leaves you by the hallway, and you watch as he nearly tackles Yoongi to the ground.

Yoongi, despite looking like he’s half the size of Seokjin on a good day, manages to keep upright despite how his back is now bent parallel to the floor. “Get off me!” he yells, roughly pushing Seokjin off of him.

Seokjin tumbles to the floor, but the shit-eating grin on his face hardly wavers. He points at you by the doorway, a cheeky grin on his lips. “Look, Yoongi-chi! I brought a guest!”

Yoongi spares you half a glance before returning his attention to whatever he was cooking. “I suppose you did.”

Okay, this date is definitely a joke. Why the hell did you even think for a second that Seokjin might have been into you?

“Um,” you stutter nervously. You grind your heel into the carpet self-consciously, your gaze downcast. “Hello, Yoongi. Sorry for the intrusion, by the way…”

“It’s fine,” Yoongi replies, albeit a little curtly. He clears his throat, his face still tilted away from you so you can’t tell if he’s genuinely annoyed or not.

You point a glare at Seokjin, who looks shamelessly pleased with himself. After taking a deep breath, you take your first steps into Yoongi’s home before gently closing the door.

As you look around at your new surroundings, you notice that his home is a lot cleaner than you would have expected, though you’re not exactly sure what you should have expected in the first place. It’s minimalist, but not in a barren type of way; it’s seems like Yoongi is fond of simple designs more than anything. It’s certainly a nice change of pace compared to Seokjin’s abomination of a room, with his vaguely yellow-stained bedsheets.

The smell of freshly cooked pasta and meat being grilled catches your senses immediately. You watch as Yoongi flips over a hefty piece of steak, the aroma causing your mouth to salivate instantly.

“I… What is… Huh?” you start, not knowing what to ask. You catch Seokjin snickering quietly to himself, but promptly shuts up when you mime punching him in the dick.

“It’ll be finished in a second. Why don’t you sit down?” Yoongi announces quietly, his gaze still fixed away from you. Confused but left with no other choice, you tentatively make your way to his couch, unable to relax as your spine remains ramrod straight and your jaw stays clenched.

You hear Seokjin shuffling behind you until he eventually makes his way to sit with you, plopping onto the couch as if it were his home. “Ah… I’m soooo hungry. Smells good, doesn’t it?” he asks you, his brow wiggling too much to be considered normal. Either that, or he was having a stroke.

“Yeah, it does,” you say, greatly uncomfortable. You peek at Yoongi once more, who is still dutifully attending to the steak. Making sure he isn’t looking, you twist Seokjin by the nipple, causing the elder to let out a high-pitched squeal. To an outsider, it might have almost sounded like he was being pleasured.

“Ouch! What the fuck was that for?” Seokjin whines, rubbing his tenderized nipples.

“You know what that was for,” you hiss, keeping your volume low. “What the hell are we doing here? Why are you making Yoongi cook for us?!”

“For us? It’s for you!” Seokjin snaps back. “Didn’t you say you would only come over if you got fed? Well, this is how you get fed!”

“I was under the assumption that you would be feeding me, not him!” you seethe. You check back on Yoongi, who still hasn’t looked your way once. “The poor boy… No wonder he doesn’t like me! He must think I’m as bad as you!”

Seokjin snorts. “Of course he likes you! This whole lunch date wouldn’t have even fucking happened if he wasn’t assdeep in lo–”

“Lunch is finished,” Yoongi interrupts loudly, his spatula rattling loudly against his pan. The sudden noise makes you jump away from Seokjin, who appears vaguely triumphant.

“T-thanks,” you stutter, standing up and resisting the random urge to shake his hand. Everything about this situation is so tense and awkward that it feels like you’re being filmed for a prank Youtube video or something. Knowing Seokjin, the odds of that happening are great.

“That’s my cue to leave then! Bye! You guys have fun!” Seokjin says, jumping to his feet.

You vaguely hear Yoongi gasp quietly when you launch yourself at Seokjin, just narrowly keeping from escaping. “Oh no, you don’t! Who said you could leave? You’re not going anywhere!”

But like the slippery snake that he is, Seokjin manages to wriggle out of your arms and hop over Yoongi’s coffee table to get to the door. “Too bad! I have classes to get to, so I gotta blast! Use this time to get to know each other or whatever it is that kids do these days,” he says, winking salaciously. With one final sputter of (evil) laughter, Seokjin makes his exit, leaving you and Yoongi to fester in some good ol’ fashioned discomforting silence.

“Um,” you say, just as Yoongi opens his mouth to say something too.

“No, you go first–”

“You go ahead–”

The two of you pause mid-sentence, staring at each other. You grin sheepishly at him, motioning for him to speak first.

He returns your smile half-heartedly. “So, um… I just wanted to say I’m sorry for letting Seokjin rope you into this. I tried stopping him, but… You know how he is.”

You laugh, sounding a little crazed even to your own ears. That’s the longest sentence you’ve ever heard him speak!

“Yeah, believe me… I am intimately aware of how he is. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t,” you joke.

Amazingly, your little quip makes his smile widen, his cheeks puffing up imperceptibly. “Glad we can agree that Seokjin has the amazing ability to ruin people’s lives. It’s almost welcoming to find solidarity in a shared experience.”

“Shared experience? Try shared trauma. That dude is a walking serotonin sucker,” you say dryly.

You don’t think what you said was remotely funny enough to warrant a laugh, but it causes Yoongi to let out a loud snort regardless. But the amusement on his face is short-lived, his cheeks going red in embarrassment. He slaps a hand to his mouth, breaking eye contact once more. “Oh fuck, that was so unflattering,” he groans, clearly mortified.

His blush, multiplied by his shy demeanor, makes you want to coo at him, but you doubt he’d take that too kindly. So instead, you change the subject to save him. “So, uhh… The food? You don’t have to give me any, by the way. I wouldn’t want you to waste your lunch on me or anything.”

Yoongi snaps out of his previous embarrassment, returning to the more familiar stoic expression you’ve come to associate with Yoongi. “No, that’s fine. Seokjin–er, rather… I made enough for two people, so it would be a waste if you didn’t eat at least some of it. But I don’t care either way if you want it or not.”

For two people? you wonder. So Yoongi had known Seokjin wasn’t going to join for lunch?

“Oh, if it’s fine with you…” you trail off, meekly making your way towards him. The spaghetti and steak look absolutely delicious, though you don’t need to tell him that when your stomach speaks for you. “Oh shit, that’s so embarrassing,” you say, your cheeks heating up this time.

Yoongi chuckles, shaking his head. “Haven’t eaten breakfast yet, I assume? That’s pretty stupid if you ask me. Don’t you have class until 5? How the hell would you have survived until then?”

You choke in surprise. Where did all that sass suddenly come from? “Excuse me? I’m not stupid! I would’ve been fine with a sandwich from the cafeteria if you must know!” you say indignantly. You’re too busy being offended that you don’t fully comprehend his words, failing to notice how he had known you had class until 5 in the first place.

“Sure, whatever you say.” Rolling his eyes, Yoongi starts shifting through his cupboards and pulling out a pink tupperware. He begins to load them with food, nearly overflowing the containers with how much he tries to stuff in them.

“H-hey! What are you doing?”

“Packing your lunch. You have class in a bit, yeah? It’s almost 11:50 and it takes around 15 minutes to get to the main campus. You won’t have time to eat here and make it in time,” he says, pointing you with a look. “Wait. Did you have coffee this morning?”

“Yeah? So?” you ask, defensive. “Are you gonna call me stupid again for not having caffeine or something?”

“No,” he grunts. “If you’re caffeinated, then that means it should only take you 7 minutes to get to class.”

“That doesn’t even make sense!” you exclaim, but you can’t help letting out an incredulous laugh. “Wow. You’re kinda weird, did you know that?”

“You barely even know me, so how would you know?” he retorts. He finishes placing food into the tupperware and promptly clicks the lid in place. He offers it to you, smirking slightly.

You huff, but your ire is all for show. You aren’t actually annoyed by him–he’s just… different from what you expected. A little shy, a little rough around the edges… but you can tell he isn’t a bad guy. You understand why Seokjin loves to torment him; he seems like a fun person to tease.

“That can be amended,” you respond, taking the tupperware from him. Your fingers graze the backs of his hand by accident, causing him to quickly retract his hand as though he’d been burned. You nearly drop the container in surprise, but luckily your reflexes save your precious food just in time.

“Sorry. About… you know.” Yoongi gesticulates wildly, his gaze darting anywhere but at you.

You smile secretly to yourself, amused. Ah. He’s like a human seesaw. Blushy one second and grumpy the next. “No worries, Yoongi. I’ll be sure to return this container soon, so don’t you worry.”

Yoongi shrugs. “Keep it if you want. I don’t care either way.”

Says the guy who has an entire cupboard full of color coordinating food containers. “Roger that, Yoongi.”

Yoongi walks you out the door, pausing outside the hallway with you. “Do you…” he hesitates, swallowing loudly enough for you to hear. “Do you… want me to walk you out?”

His sudden offer almost makes you want to laugh, but you have a feeling he wouldn’t find it amusing at all. Instead, you just shake your head with a smile. “Don’t worry. I won’t get lost. I think I remember where the door is.”

He pouts, his lips jutting out cutely. “Yeah, well. I was just trying to be nice, but you do you.”

You giggle lightly, patting him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. You were more than nice,” you say, winking for added effect. It does more than you thought it would, causing Yoongi’s cheeks to bloom once more.

With one last wave, you make your way out of the dormitory, your heart a little lighter than before.

“Huh. That was weird.” You glance at the pink little tupperware in your hands, its warmth keeping your hands safe from the winter chill. As you walk to class, your thoughts are filled with nothing but a shy boy with soft hands and even softer cheeks. Maybe Tuesday isn’t going to be so bad after all.

#btsghostie #bts social media au #bts smau #bts texts #bts fake texts #bts x reader #bts smut #bts fluff #bts #bts scenarios #bts imagines #jungkook x reader #taehyung x reader #jimin x reader #yoongi x reader #namjoon x reader #hoseok x reader #seokjin x reader

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