#crimson rain bts

[minoots]

The most sincere ghost king in the world

[liveyun]

h a e g e u m | 02 (repost)

banner by @archivededits ♡

—pairing : yoongi x female reader

—genre : mini series, crime au, thriller, angst, eventual smut

—w : (M) non-Idol!BTS; barely edited ; italics are the flashbacks , explicit scenes in form of injuries, blood, angst + amygdala lyric parallels, please, this fic is not for minors at all, reader is kept hostage for a while ; slight gore ; multiple POV’s, cameo of a certain bunny (classic) , (explicit scenes of) panic attacks, mentions of being drugged, sexual harrasment innuendos and slight mentions, yoongi and the chopstick scene, rifles and Jeongguk, someone gets actually k#lled by them, passing out of exhaustion, Yoongi is slightly mean.

part 01 | next | 2009 | chapter index | taglist

03. WHOSE FAULT?

a/n : hello!! if you're bumping across this twice, that's right. it's reposted because this damned site glitched bad while all what i tried to do was to edit. also, i’ve made some minor changes, too :D happy reading!

Your throat burnt.

At first, you couldn't understand why did you wake up— your head felt heavy on your neck, eyes burning at the sensation of keeping them open. Throat felt as if raw salt was rubbed furiously over a wound. Sweat stuck on your flesh like your second skin, and your muscles felt painfully sore.

I don't know your name

Raindrops. The raindrops felt gently on your cold, yet burning skin as you struggle to keep your eyes open. It was dark, dark all around. Your ankle was in pain, yet you remained lying down in the floor, listening to the rain drumming on the roof. You felt your jacket cling uncomfortably to your damp skin and you shiver at the feeling of the your blood mixing with the rainwater which clung to your flesh. You don't honestly remember wearing a jacket, because you were dressed in a tee..

You felt the dotting scabs on your skin moisten as water dripped down, feeling your body convulse with the cold which blows over the haunted room.

As rain pours outside, the shelter's pathetic state becomes even more apparent. Water drips incessantly from the leaking roof, forming puddles on the uneven ground. The walls, once painted but now peeling and discolored, offer no insulation, allowing cold drafts to permeate the interior. The musty smell of dampness and blood and lingers lingers in the air, making it difficult to breathe.

A journey through memories

Your hair falls on your sight of your now blurry vision. Your eyes are tired, and irritated. They feel painful to be opened, and cold droplets travel down your cheekbones, dripping down your hair tresses. You gasp pathetically trying to breathe, twisting your head to find a certain someone.

Him.

You spot him, lying right beside you. His white tee, transparent due to the rainwater, sticks to his pale skin, propped half-way through his upper torso. His messy parted bangs fall over his eyes, making them disappear.

His lips are slightly parted, trying to gasp air just like you, water dripping down his temple just like yours, his skin shining with the small droplets of water taking homage on his small, button nose. He's drenched as you are. And even more injured; his jeans, once a light faded uraniun blue, is now soaked with blood and mud, ripped open at his knees. The flesh of his right thigh was sliced open, blood clogged down in between the fabric and his flesh.

A blood chilling shiver runs down your spine at the sight; at how you feel the pain in your chest despite yourself.

His white tee is already ripped in half, a long, throbbing scrape extending from his sternum to his belly button.

Your vision travels upto his face, noticing bruises on his neck and cuts on his lips, and when you reach his eyes, you notice that..

His scar is bleeding.

Though you don't see the whole of it, covered with his mass of hair, but you see a droplet of crimson bleed out of the scar, now a maroon transversal thick line, dried scab. It bleeds out and mingles with his silky, wet skin with the rainwater, but the bleeding didn't cease. A drop falls out, slowly, slowly.

Your chest tightens at the sight, yearning to reach out to him and wipe it off, and even without thinking twice, you cup his cold, wet cheek. Wiping off the blood which trickles down. You wonder if it hurts him as much as it hurts you to look at.

Though you yourself feel shocked at your action, you don't budge. You simply stare at him, and your touch has maybe stirred something in him. You see the brown of his eyes sparkle open at your touch, barely a creak, as he sighs, softly in your touch.

How do you feel these days

“ Run. ” his voice came out rather hoarse, as if not been in use since a long time.

Tears threaten to well up in your eyes at his words.

“ But Yoongi, you're injured..” your voice is shaky by the time it reaches out of your throat. He shakes his head, a small, tired huff coming out of his lips which sounds quite like a laugh.

“ I'm all fine, Bonbon.. ”

and when his eyes meet your own, a thunder cracks up in the now distant, weeping sky.

And the rain increases in its entirety when his blood soaked hands reach up to cup your cold, now drying cheek, wiping off a lonely tear with his thumb which made its way down the confines of your eyes.

A sob threatens to bubble up it's way up your chest seeing him so weak, so vulnerable like this, all this because of you, you feel like drowing and never getting up. His brow furrows as more tears slip down your eyes, a sob spilling out of your lips as you break down completely in his touch.

“ I can't leave you like that, Yoongi, please..” you're sobbing by the time you hold his wrists cupping your cheeks. He pulls your face closer to his, not untill your foreheads touch. His breath mingles with your own as his eyes locked to yours own, and even if they weren't clearly visible, they were filled with emotions, glossy.

You cannot afford to lose him. You cannot be selfish. You want to stay by his side, hold his hand and treat his injuries. Just not the physical ones, but also the ones which take time to heal, leaving behind scars for eternity.

“ Bonbon, you have to stay strong for me. You would, won't you..? ”

You have to stay strong.. for him?

A small cry of his names leaves your lips as you hiccup, his gentle, yet patient fingers caressing your burning skin with delicacy.

It's just not a simple question, it's a ask for a promise. A promise which you grant him with shaky hands and trembling voice, with slurred sobs and a broken heart.

You know that he's hurting as much as you are, even if his own emotions are buried inside for your sake. He's not pretending, he's being real here. If you die, you both will die. It's funny really, how you feel your heart cracking as pain blooms from the lower ribcage to right at the centre of your chest, the tightening knot in your chest which threatened to break at any moment.

But if one of you escapes, you— you don't know.

The shed under which you're resting feels small as you run, run in the downpour which doesn't seem to cease at ay point. The earth is gloomy with grey skies and grey beach sand as the shine, leaving behind footprints of your own. You struggle to see your path infront because of the never ending tears welling in your eyes as your body screams to stop, stop behind and take him with you, take his pain away with you, your whole being screeches with pain.

But you don't stop, because you have made him a promise.

Memories I want to have erased

–

You gasp as your eyes fly open, searching frantically for whatever you just saw infront of your own eyes. But what your eyes met..were certainly not what your dreams did.

A wave of darkness washes over you, seemingly suffocating the air. Nostalgia floods over you for some unknown reasons, because this reminds you of something you don't wish to remind yourself. The walls, once painted a faded shade of white, are now covered in peeling, cracked wallpaper, revealing the decaying plaster beneath. The faint scent of dampness permeates the room, hinting at years of neglect and abandonment, along with the rough years of angst it might've faced throughout its years of youth.

You realise that you're alone and helpless. You do not wish to pry on your nerves any longer, because you remember him, and his face the last thing before you're met with darkness. You huff a small breath, you're alive.

But at what cost?

Dim light from an unknown source filters through the tattered, moth-eaten curtains, casting eerie shadows across the room. The floorboards creak underfoot, as if whispering secrets long forgotten. Cobwebs drape from the ceiling like forgotten tapestries, swaying gently in an unfelt breeze caresses your skin, comforting you in an eerie way. Overall this room is awful in its appearance, yet it's not so disgusting as you'd imagine it to be.

You soon realise that your hands feel numb, almost dead from the lack of circulation. It doesn't take a rocket science genius to find out that your wrists are tightly tied behind the chair you're seated, and so are your legs together. Your wrists jerk as a reflex as soon as you realise that you're still in your uniform, now soaked with sweat and your hair is tied in a ponytail, though you don't remember doing so anyway.

You exhale out a sigh through your nose as even you're gagged with a cloth tied over your mouth, feeling perspiration accumulate on the underside of your eyes are droplets, blinking away. The room feels awfully quiet except the obnoxious winds blowing and the sound of rain mixing together, and you realise that you're done. Your eyes scan over to the room, squinting hard to make out the objects you can visualise in the centre.

In the center of the room, an antique wooden table sits, covered in a layer of dust and neglect. A single flickering candle, its flame struggling against the darkness, casts eerie, dancing shadows that seem to mimic the macabre atmosphere. A weathered, leather-bound journal lies open on the table, and you wish if you weren't seated so far away, you could've moved forward to take a look at the browned pages which seem so inviting right now. Alas, you're bound up.

It's actually intresting to you to know that you're still alive and not dead.

Your eyes scan everywhere they can, except that the room is bland. In the further corner of the room,there resides a weathered brown piano, standing as a silent sentinel of forgotten melodies. Forgotten, just as the memory you unlocked in your dream.

A lump makes it's way to your throat at the awakening of the nostalgia seeing the old brown piano. The piano's once-polished wooden surface has dulled with age, now adorned with a delicate layer of dust that tells tales of neglect and solitude. Its deep brown hue, once vibrant and lustrous, has mellowed into a warm patina, revealing the passage of countless years. It seems like the piano hasn't been used since decades, the thick layer of dust being evident for the proof enough.

The instrument's elegant frame, though showing signs of wear and tear, still exudes an air of dignified grace; almost as if it weeps silently for it's forgotten, yet it keeps its head high, gracefully. The ornate carvings along the piano's legs and edges, while faded and partially obscured, hint at a bygone era when craftsmanship held great significance.

As your gaze moves closer, the intricately designed ivory keys come into view. Once pearly white, they now bear the marks of age, with slight discoloration and tiny cracks that betray the passage of time and the touch of countless hands. The ebony sharps, though darkened, provide a striking contrast against the aged ivory.

A sense of melancholy hangs in the air, as if the piano yearns to be awakened once more, to fill the room with its resounding melodies and evoke emotions long dormant. Yet, the room remains silent, with only the soft whistling of the wind filtering through the cracks in the timeworn walls. You can only let out a longing sigh, wishing if you could help the piano with it's melancholy. Again, you're left with no hope.

A tattered sheet of music, yellowed with age, rests upon the closed lid of the piano, its notes long forgotten and its pages delicately curled. It speaks of past performances and cherished moments, now preserved only in the fading ink and fragile paper. There's something written in dark amd bold, a funky handwriting in black stands out the papers above all, but it's far away for you to read it. Only the winds which blow occasionally along with the splutters of rain reminds you that you're kept hostage, in an unknown place, now just a commoner, a no one.

You close your eyes.

You do not absolutely wish to dwell on your memories as a cop. You've tried to always be honest in your pathway of work, always working hard; but universe has always got different plans for people like you, and karma goes in her reverse path during times like these.

The same man who saved you from your demons, is now the same man who's possibly keeping you hostage, away from the world.

Yoongi.

Now known as agustD.

The room is filled with silence untill there is a creak of the floorboard underneath your feet; cracking obnoxiously. You know you had to be imagining things, but who knows? Anything can happen.

You do not know how much time has passed since you were drugged and terminated as an officer, but you're sure it hasn't been way too long. You were possibly shot a dose of pentobarbital, and because the toxins are relieved from your body, you wish to pee so bad. Your throat is dying for a drop of water. You gulp down your own saliva painfully, thanks to the gag you're bound with. It cannot be more than 48 hours; and pentobarbitals aren't really such strong of drugs to be used. The floorboard creaks again.

The air grew colder, carrying a faint scent of floral smear and an unidentifiable, sickly sweetness which you cannot recognise, but the smell floods you with an unknown memory which you cannot seem to unlock, yet.

Soon you can make out a silhouette in the dark, visibly a thin figure, possibly a man. If you're kept hostage, there's no need to pretend. You may will die or whatever, so pop off. The stranger's steps were unnaturally silent, barely making a whisper against the cracked floorboard; and you try to concentrate more on the noises of the crickets outside more than the throb of your head or the incoming steps of the stranger. His steps near you, this time, a bit louder, and suddenly comes to a stop.

Almost as if they're surprised to see your presence.

Your inner self is screaming over and over again to look up and take a peek at the stranger who's presence is felt in this room, and you finally raise your head up.

Your eyes widen.

Large, doe, coffee coloured eyes meet your own, and you swear you were just an inch away from gasping loudly into the cloth refraining you from doing so. His eyes are always capable of expressing his emotions, though his face remains perfectly stoic; slight almond shaped eyes with their gentle corners widen nevertheless his expression, and you can tell that he's as shocked as you are.

Jeongguk.

“Noona..?”

Aw hell man.

His voice has matured a lot, though the ridges of his voice retain the boyish charm you were once familiar with. It's now a lot more deep, more like a rasp in the beginning to a slow hum in the end, and you swear you feel your heart paining.

This kid has grown up to a man.

You're very well aware that he has grown lot much taller than he was, taller than how you are.

He has a well built figure though he remains clocked in his midnight black shirt and skinny jeans. His short sleeved shirt gives you a full view of his arm littered with art pierced on them, and so are his eyebrows done with. His face is a lot more angular and defined than how it was years ago, now slightly tanned, even, with his midnight blue hair flowing over his eyebrows.

You hum back a greeting to him, muffled.

“ Noona.. ”

He repeats again, almost as if he's trying to work his own brains out. His voice comes out as a statement of confirmation rather than a question, this time.

Your eyes never leave his own, as if you're questioning him all the questions you've ever had in your mind ever since you've come here.

You couldn't imagine that even Jeongguk would be with Yoongi, but somehow you had to keep that in mind, that Jeongguk grew up with Yoongi, practically. Even if that meant that Jeongguk was just a young teen when you left Yoongi, and you are only left to wonder what does the neglect of youth does to people. The innocence behind his bambi eyes retain themselves, and it aches you to the core to know that Jeongguk is just as pure that he chose to be with him, even if that meant that he has lost all of his means to live in a world of normal adulthood.

Why didn't you leave Yoongi? Why do you still work with him? Do you not know the dangers he possesses? But these questions don't enter the air freely, because either you're bound up, or you just don't want to speak.

Jeongguk takes a few steps forward, his brows creased. But freezes immediately as you two hear the presence of another person. There's a small thump nearby, and you almost visualise his bunny ears peeking up at the noise, getting alert; only the difference was that he was a grown up man now with a huge body. He turns away immediately his arm slides over the door to wham it open and stride over to see who's the intruder in the dark night.

You're left alone, again.

But not for soon, though. This time, the woodboard creaks again, and this time you feel a lot more anxious than how you felt earlier.

Your heart thumps wildly in your chest, perspiration gathering in yoir temples, and you breathe in wildly. The air around you feels suffocating as suddenly there's a gaint man in the entrance, stumbling his way inside. He sways on his toes as he walks with steps, with a flushed face and an disheveled appearance. You freeze in your chair immediately as you realise that this man is drunk, watching his dirty clothes and drool slipping over his overgrown hair, screaming lack of personal hygiene.

This man instills a sense of danger and unease with each step he makes inside the room, suddenly taking homage on the floor with his upper half propped up on the wall nearest to the door.

He slurs something in his speech which you don't quite understand, but you do catch on his satoori dialect as he speaks.

You just pray to God Jeongguk appears soon as possible, because your restraints are bound quite tightly, a way where you feel is almost impossible to open up so that you can run. But you fear you cannot do it with how limp your body seems to be now. Even in a situation like this, you trust Jeongguk more than anything else because if he had any notorious intentions, he'd have executed it by then, but he didn't really, did he? You tug faintly at your wrists, only to feel a jerk of pain shooting up your arm at the loss of circulation.

Please, no. You cannot even fight back this man in this state. Even if you wrte trained enough for situations like these, panic fills your veins. You desparately try to free yourself without making any possible noise, as you see the man grunting to himself.

That's when his rusty eyes meet your own.

Shoot. His lips stretch to a grin, more like a smirk, and you know you're damned. He stumbles to get up properly, mumbling incoherent words as he nears your chair with such loud steps that they alone makes you want to throw up. You don't know whether to panic even more and trash around in vain, or just sit in silence and accept your destiny because this would happen whether you do something about it or not, no matter how strong your efforts are, but your body gives up.

You're kept in hostage by Yoongi, and you're bound to be eaten alive by monsters in the dark. You're about to die being captured by the flames you, in your whole career fought to extinguish all the life. His leather shoes are seen in your vision, telling you that he's standing infront of you.

Did Yoongi honestly hate you so much, now to have you in this situation?

Tears sting in your eyes as soon as you watch the dirty, blood scabbed, glove clad hand of the man resting on the hand rest of your chair, right above your own. His hand feels disgusting to be on the top of yours and he fucking reeks of weed and cheap booze. His breath really brings up bile from your stomach, and your head feels light headed. You harshly turn your head to the side, hoping to cut off some of the stench.

That's when you feel rough fingers grip your chin and turn your head to the person standing infront of you. Oh god, the stench is so fucking disgusting that you now seriously think you're either going to pass away or throw up all over. Harsh fingers raise your chin up and you finally get to see the man hovering over you.

His eyes partially hidden behind long, unkempt bangs, adding a mysterious and unsettling element, adding to the dread already setting down your stomach. His gaze is intense, malicious even, piercing through you with an unsettling combination of amusement and malevolence. It's as if he knows something you don't, and he derives pleasure from your unease and discomfort. His body is so close to yours that you almost feel squished in between the chair and him. You wish to deliver a straight punch and run away from this punk, but maybe…this is your fate.

You squeeze your eyes close tightly, not wanting to face that motherfucker any longer. You feel his stinking breath near your lips, and you nearly lose it all. You grit down on your teeth, feeling your body give up as longer as you resist the restrains on your wrists; as you try to trash up your wrists in an attempt to free yourself up. But that goes vain when the front legs of the chair lift themselves up and the hind legs fall behind. Perhaps you lose your balance, or the chair gives way unexpectedly. As you tilt backward, your feet lose contact with the ground, leaving you momentarily suspended in mid-air.

A sudden rush of adrenaline courses through your body as you realize you're falling backward. Your arms instinctively shoot out to either side, attempting to grab onto something for support, but the momentum is too great. Time seems to slow down as you brace yourself for the impact, your heart pounding in your chest, realising that you're still very much bound and the man is free. You did the stupidest thing ever, and now he has access to you in a better position.

The chair tilts further back, and with a mix of surprise and panic, you feel the sensation of weightlessness. The man leaps forward, and you anticipate the harsh fall and the impact on your head as you'll fall. The chair's backrest supports your upper body, while your legs dangle in the air. As you continue to descend, you feel a moment of weightlessness..

But the fall never comes. You expect the impact of the hardwood; of the pain, but that never comes..

Only, it feels as if time as frozen— your eyes shoot open as you do realise that you're frozen mid air. The man is no where in front of you now— atleast not in your immediate vision. You realise that your chair is being held by someone in the position as you were.. You crane your neck, and what you saw was what you definitely did not imagine in the wildest of your dreams.

A single gunshot shatters the stillness. The sound reverberates through the room, jolting your somewhat sleepy and mild sense; A muzzle flash momentarily illuminates the darkness as the bullet is propelled forward at an incredible speed, and you're very well aware of the impact, because you expect yourself to flinch, but maybe years of handling a rifle gas taught you better.

Time seems to slow down as the bullet finds its target, the shabby man. It strikes with unyielding force, tearing through the air. The man's body jerks backward, caught off guard by the impact. Pain and shock register on their face as they realize the gravity of the situation.

A red stain begins to spread rapidly across the man's clothing as blood seeps from the gunshot wound, right on his left, clothed calf. He stumbles forward, struggling to maintain balance, but the force of the shot proves too much. With a gasp, his body collapses down with a loud swear on the floor, the blood quickly forming a small puddle.

Your heart rate is thrice the rate as it was a few moments ago, knowing that the man was shot right infront of you by someone who's most likely holding your chair in the same position as well.

Your breath gets clogged in your throat as you process the information, watching the man grunt and look up at the source of the gunshot; only for him to snarl with a curse, muttering something out with his arms trashing wildly in air, looking for leverage.

“ You're not a m..man..if you try sav..ing sl-sluts like he—”

You do not even have the time to blink when wiith lightning-fast precision, a shadow in the dark launches forward, almost like a wild cheetah hunting on his prey, closing the distance between them.

Only then you realise that in the faint lighting, you saw a pair of chopsticks grabbed tightly in their pale, right wrist, hovering mid-air as he hunches the sticks forward, right where their target is. They strike with the precision of a predator, targeting vital points on the startled man's body, who screams in agony from the sudden attack.

The man's eyes widen in shock as they feel the initial stinging pain, realizing the severity of the situation. The man's strikes are precise and calculated, finding vulnerable spots between the man's ribs and joints. Each jab and stab of the chopsticks draws blood, causing the man to weaken with each passing moment, grunting and screaming out curses. Blood squirts out with each jab, but the hunter never ceases his torment.

Despite his struggle, the man's strength begins to wane, his movements slowing as life drains from his body, with a final grunt.

And that's when the hunter raises their raven haired head up, to meet your eyes with his own, blazing with red hot anger, still hovering over the corpse of the man.

The same, pitch black, cold, raging, feline eyes which your vision last perceived before you passed out some forty eight hours ago.

The same eyes whom you recognised deep inside yourself the apparent first time you saw them through a camera, but you were caught in the strings of denial for yourself, all throughout.

Yoongi.

Who just murdered a man right infront of you.

With a pair of chopsticks.

Your exhale comes out rather as a stuttering breath when you realise that a match target rifle rests on the chair edge, right beside your shoulders.

Your eye follows the trail to the owner of the hand, the very beginning of tattoos littered on the tanned skin which glistens in sheen layer of sweat.

Jeongguk.

Your thoughts raced like wild stallions, colliding into one another, as a desperate attempt to grasp reality became futile.

Logical reasoning became a fragile thread, threatened to be severed by the onslaught of irrational fears; sure, you’ve done this countless times in the stretch of your career, but for the first time, you actually feel your heart thumping wildly at the sight of a rifle which, not even a few minutes ago, had someone fall victim to it's cruelty.

Your mind was slowly becoming labyrinth trapped in a conflicting emotions, unable to distinguish between genuine danger and figments of imagination, trying to process if any of these were even real.

Your neck hurts by the time you're looking up at the younger man, still holding your chair in mid-air.

His facial expression remains quite unreadable, with a hint of confusion in them; but as soon as your eyes meet his own puddle of coffee, they soften like butter kept in the open rays of warm sun. His ridges of eyebrows, though, remain a bit rigid as if still aware of the danger lying in the surrounding. But his voice comes out soft, soft, as he speaks to you,

“ Are you alright, noona..? ”

You almost wish to answer him; you truly do.

Your chest heaved as a response from the adrenaline rush dying in your bloodline, leaving your body lax in the restraints. Your dry lips open themselves to speak, but close immediately as you find your throat dry, and the gagged cloth prying your vocal chords.

“ It's not the time for this shit, JK, ”

a rogue voice interrupted your little trance you had fallen into, and you watch Jeongguk’s eyes travel to the source of the voice, of course, it's Yoongi. His brows furrow as you try your best to keep your eyes open, trying to turn your head at the man again, blinking with difficulty.

The more your tried, vision blurred, colors blending into an indistinguishable haze.

The piano reflecting a ray of light falling on the worn out ivory, a mass of raven black in the middle of your gaze, and a pale face. You try to clear your visions by blinking rapidly, but the attempts to steady yourself proved futile, as your body succumbed to the overwhelming burden of exhaustion, your unconscious mind succumbing to the blurred voices you hear, but failed to actually perceive them.

“ Hyung, listen to me. Noon— ”

“ Did you really think that she was in the condition to talk to you? ”

And finally everything was a darkness.

You were far lost to realise that the raven head tried his best to not actually prounce on the younger man, with anger, keening to accept that something far more dangerous could've taken place if the man to whom he laid down the responsibilities to atleast keep you safe for the time being could've not heard the other bastard.

You were far too fragile in a situation like this where he knew he had to do something to make sure you were okay, atleast, but right things never came in the right time for a man like Yoongi. But he knew that maybe it wasn't Jeongguk’s fault, entirely.

Good things never came to Yoongi themselves. Or even if they did, his presence, good fortunes wilted, for his company was a forerunner of demise. Like a toxic rain, his aura destroyed every gleaming opportunity that dared to approach his path. Blessed were those spared the touch of his presence, for in his wake lay the ruins of countless dreams, crushed beneath the weight of his cursed existence, just like how he crushed you.

reblogs and replies are always appreciated! 🌹

[the-red-butterfly]

20 Questions for fic writers

Tagged by @bad-at-names-and-faces and @i-did-not-mean-to

Thanks guys!!

1. How many works do you have on AO3? I have 96 works in Ao3 BUT I have 104 on Fanfiction (yes, I still post there don't judge me.) I think there are just like 3 works that I have on Ao3 that I didn't pu up on FanFiction.

2. What's your total AO3 word count? 411,089 (Not too bad, not too bad)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Primarily I write for Tolkien works, Star Wars and Batman (bat fam to be more specific). But I'm very much a, write one for each thing I love kinda gall. Honorary mentions include Sandman, Frozen, Twilight Avengers, Merlin and Teen Titans.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Lonely Stars Drifting In The Black (Star Wars) (so not surprised XD)

Kudos: 2,276

The Unexpected Pop Of Things (Lucifer TV)

Kudos: 1,265

This Isn't What It Looks Like (Lucifer TV)

Kudos: 762

Death of a Star (Lucifer TV)

Kudos: 760

Alone Never More (Batman comics) (you are just an okay story, why are you here? 😭)

Kudos: 729

(I'm kinda surprised and offended that I didn't put Lucifer on the honorary mentions and it still took places 2, 3 AND 4 👁)

5. Do you respond to comments? Oh yes (though I might take a couple of months if I some slip my mind). Almost all of them. I tend to not answer back to emojis because I'm like... I don't know what to answer?

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? This was kind of a hard question and it took me way too long to answer, so here, have the three runner ups.

A Crime Of Passion (Twilight: New Moon)

Ends with: Carlisle being forced to drink blood and being unable to deal with it.

At The End Of The Earth (Hellboy del Toro movies)

Ends with: John Myers being mauled by wolves and his last thoughts being of how alone he feels and of dying alone.

She's not a very good mother (Batman comics)

Ends with: Janet Drake dying as she chokes on poison and regrets she wont be able to do better by her son. She always thought she'd have more time.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Unlike the last one, this one was so easy to pick because, yeah... I'm an angsty girly for sure so the pool for REALLY happy endings was SMALL.

Drizzle Bt The Sea (Teen Titans cartoon)

It's quite short and all around just happy in vibes. Just Robin and Jericho playing by the sea under the rain.

8. Do you get hate on fics? I don't remember that I ever have? Thought I thought a couple might get hate, they didn't.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? I tired it ONCE. And you know what happened? The sex was interrupted by trauma and they characters had to top to talk about the whole thing.

There is also that other one time but we're not going to talk about it.

But all in all I'm much more interested in exploring gen stories ✨

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? I LOVE crossovers. I don't have many, but I am plagued mentally by them. I have 3 posted (only one on Ao3). And I'm not sure which one's craisiest. But the 2 on FF are both Rise of the Guardians crossovers, one with Avengers and the other with LES MISÉRABLES. What was younger me smoking? I would really like to know.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I'm aware 👁

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? I think someone might've asked one or two times? But I honestly don't remember, if it ever happened, it was ages ago.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Oh yes! It's always so fun to me. I've done it a couple of times with @slightly-crimson-tornado and I'm currently working on one with @pushing-daisies-renaissance ✨

14. What’s your all time favourite ship? Hmmmmmmmmmmmmm. Steve Trevor x Diana Prince I think. Close runner up is definitely Satine Kryze x Obi-wan Kenobi. And I'm VERY fond of Bruce Wayne x Selina Kyle.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I have a stupid amount of wips so I'll just go by posted ones. I have this story idea that I REALLY Like but I came up with it ages ago, and though i still like the idea I'm doubtful that I'll ever give it the time it deserves to go back to ):

Because the truth was too terrible (Avengers)

It's a story about Natasha being trapped inside her mind and Thor getting in to wake her up. I'm still pretty fond of the general gist of it. But it's OLD now.

16. What are your writing strengths? Aaaaaahhh. Trauma management? Like, they way people go about it and navigate it; how they talk about it with others? At least I THINK that's my strength. People keep complimenting those things XD

17. What are your writing weaknesses? I am too flowery with wording and I get sick of myself. It's out of control and I sometimes can't help it.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I love it. If I can't get help I'll just wing a google translate, or god forbid do some research on structure. I'm BAD at it, but I love it and use it frequently.

19. First fandom you wrote for? Inazuma Eleven (anime) hehe. Love of my youth, protect me.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written? I love this this Twilight one-shot I wrote some years ago. It made me suffer a lot (for reasons you can find in the author's notes) but the idea has always had a tight grip on me. I really like it (and hope to got I can get the sequel out one day).

A Crime Of Passion (Twilight: New Moon)

BUT two honorable mentions. One, my Star Wars series where Obi-wan get's rescued from Death Watch by Jango Fett. And Two, my VERY self indulgent crossover between Avengers x Merlin, I love the story and I'm really super fond of what I've gotten down so far.

Celestial Bodies Of The Lonesome Variety (LSD) (Star Wars)

Of The Old Things Hidden In The World (Merlin x Avengers crossover)

Ya know, just in case you feel like it, tagging @slightly-crimson-tornado , @cilil , @dottie-wan-kenobi , @fishing4stars , @arlenianchronicles , @scary-grace

[bobasheebaby]

Trivia Tuesday: Crimson Rain

@darley1101 shared this post and I decided to try a few. I didn’t have anything for Six Sentence Sunday and I’m finally breaking through my writer’s block thanks to a prompt push from @sirbeepsalot. @darley1101 mentioned wanting Behind the Scenes for The Rise and Crimson Rain, I’m gonna have to spend some time thinking about The Rise, maybe I can give you some glimpses next week. But Crimson Rain I’ve got some goods for you! *digs through notes* Please don’t read if you aren’t caught up through chapter 13, because a bunch of spoilers.

1. Liza almost slept with Percy again 🙈 I know it was a major freaking struggle to keep those two from falling into bed together. Every time this song came on my muse was trying to push them together, I had to skip it every time it came on until I finally got Bastien to Seattle cause it so almost happened.

I was so close to writing the damn scene just to get my muse to shut up. Had I given in it would have been a permanent outtake from the start because I couldn’t do that to Bastien or poor broken Liza. The Way It Was by Backstreet Boys was also becoming problematic.

2. This is not how it plays out, you’ll have to wait for the actual scene in a future chapter (might be chapter 14 but I’m not telling) but I wrote this over a month ago. I feel safe in posting this outtake simply because this Drabble I posted Sunday already seriously hints at it happening plus it’s not really a spoiler if I changed it right? And who doesn’t like a good outtake?

“Marry me.”

Liza looked at him with tear filled hazel eyes. “How can you still want to be with me?”

Bastien stood up, pulling her into his arms. “Because I love you.” He kissed her crown. “Please marry me.”

“Bas—”

“Poppy, I told you I wanted you no matter what and I meant it. I was going to ask you then.”

“You were?” She shook her head, purple black curls flying everywhere. “I ruin everything.”

“You ruined nothing. I love you and I waited because I knew it wasn’t what you needed then, but I can’t wait any longer. Please, Liza make me the happiest man on the planet and agree to be my wife.”

“Yes.”

3. A little inside scoop on Hope. The details may or may not be included in the series but I have quite a few facts brewing in my head that help me know who she is.

Hope Iris Casey (Lykel)

Hacktivist

Smart, incredibly so, she takes to everything she tries quickly, much to Linda Casey’s dismay when she started hacking. She has a strong urge for social justice, and isn’t afraid to get her hands dirty. She’s basically a social activist, she may do questionable things, but she is careful not to cross the line too far. She does what she does for the right reasons, not that it excuses her. She was hacking by the time she was 13, she was desperate to find any clue about her family and started by hacking into her adoption records. She was a ward of the state because of her mother’s condition, father unknown and Linda Casey her mother’s doctor adopted her to keep them together. She was frustrated when she couldn’t learn anything she didn’t already know but she did find she enjoyed hacking and started to see what else she could hack into. She would never tell Linda, but a few of the patients that were nearly kicked out of the nursing home where saved by her wiping their debt. She found that she liked using her skill to do good, and thus became a social activist hacker. Many people can thank her for having their homes saved from foreclosure, and credit debts wiped. She is very good at covering her tracks and has never gotten on any police radar, although she had been caught hacking social services and adoption records by Linda. She promised Linda she would stop hacking, but she can’t, she NEEDS to help these people, she needs to use her skills to help.

She is outgoing, growing up around the nursing home she was used to being around relative strangers. She got to know many of the residents and their families and loved cheering up the residents.

She can be somewhat silly, hates tension and feels the need to ease it.

Despite growing up with her biological mother essentially locked away, and no knowledge of her father she is very happy go lucky. She loves to laugh and smile and do things to bring a smile to the face of others.

She can tell when someone is being dishonest or hiding something. She learned to tell if everything was being disclosed by growing up with a doctor for a parent. She quickly learned when Linda wasn’t telling her everything about her mom’s condition and was able to translate her ability to others. It’s very rare that anyone can fool her. (This tidbit may be important soon)

4. Liza’s first miscarriage happened at 12 weeks and she was 4 months along when Neville stabbed her. The other losses were between 6-10 weeks. The muse has decided to disclose the gender of the child she lost due to the hit, it was a boy (not that they know that).

5. I originally considered having Raven be Leo’s half sister before I made her Mara’s daughter. Before you freak out, she would have been Leo’s mothers child and no relation to Liam, but still it was too weird even for me.

6. It was always going to be Mara. I really find her to be inept in the third book and she was the obvious choice for me. I purposely gave a few clues along the way that would have pointed to Mara, Regina, or Bianca. I wanted the reader to not be sure who it was. Clues include:

Brown eyes

Someone who seemed trustworthy

One of the few women in the “family”

7. The ex was almost Rashad. In my mind that’s who it was until @darley1101 gave my muse the idea of AU Percy. He was also originally supposed to be low level, and then I got the idea that he be the son of the boss to make things more interesting.

8. If you guys made it this far I figure you deserve a treat. This is the J (Jolly Joker) in @cora-nova ABC of Love. I’m still working on a few of the other letters for them so that’s why I haven’t posted this Drabble yet, so pure fluff for your amusement, I blame the attached photo and @stopforamoment for encouraging me.

Liza let at a loud snort of laughter from her end of the couch, feet kicking in the air. Bastien rolled his eyes towards the ceiling. “You’re looking at it again aren’t you?”

“Yup.” Liza said through laughter as she clutched her sides.

“You know it’s not that funny.” He said trying to sound annoyed. “I would have thought you would be over it by now.”

Liza looked at him, her face blank like she couldn’t comprehend what he was saying. “What are you talking about? It’s hilarious!” She held her phone up to him, picture in question on the screen. “I mean look at you! You’re always so pulled together and here…” She snorted. “...here your hair is all over the place. I mean how did you even get it to fluff over your face like that?”

“I’m never going to convince you to delete that am I?”

“Nope.” She said popping the P. “I’m keeping this forever.”

@speedyoperarascalparty @liamxs-world @annekebbphotography @syphaxs @hopefulmoonobject @itsstillnotwhatyouthink @riseandshinelittleblossom @cocomaxley @ao719 @blackwidow2721 @katurrade @leelee10898 @stopforamoment @akrenich @gardeningourmet @bella-ca @carabeth @bobbersb @endlessflame @brycelahellyeah @innerpostmentality @imma-winchester-addict @tornbetween2loves @cora-nova @indiacater @traeumerinwitzhelden @blackcatkita @darley1101 @choiceslife @alexpottrechoices @lolablackwrites @daniv2278 @sleepwalkingelite @gibbles82 @zilch3 @sirbeepsalot @blackcoffee85 @galaxyside-0 @dcbbw @alicars

[jungk0oksthighs]

To Be Damned | The 7 Deadly Sins

Chapter 3, Subterranean

Pairing - jungkook x reader, bts x reader

Genre - angst, slow burn, E2L, F2L, fluff, smut

Word count - 6k

multipart series, multimember series, college au, fantasy au, demon!jungkook

Warnings: swearing, one mention of sex, drinking, the smell of pot? one mention of cocaine

“Explain to me why you’re not going to see the doctor about this?” Lisa stands in your bedroom doorway, having just delivered some soup for you. Today was the first time you’d seen her in over two weeks, a record for the two of you. “You’ve had a migraine for almost a week now.”

Unable to lift your head from the pillow you groan, glaring in her direction. “I know.”

“Y/N you never get sick, or complain of aches and pains…or miss your classes, you need to get it checked out.” She scolds, crossing her tiny arms in an attempt to appear intimidating.

“Yes I know, I know…” Even the sound of your own voice hurt your head, it was absolutely bizarre you’d never suffered with any kind of headaches before and yet there you were, physically wincing at the slightest sound.

Sitting on the edge of the bed she sighs, “Jungkook asked about you today, he seemed worried.”

Ah yes, Jungkook.

To tell the truth you hadn’t seen him in a while, partly because of the new throbbing sensation your brain decided to make whenever you moved, partly because you weren’t sure what to say to him. Lately you’d been having the craziest dreams which incidentally began the same time as the migraine. The dreams were vivid, a little too vivid for your liking.

Every night for the past week and a half without fail you’d dreamt of a field, an old barn, red lightning and trees… The air in the dream was damp, thickened with hatred and then you’d see him standing there, his eyes black and his smile weak, dark hair framing his chiselled face as he opens his mouth to tell you something – and then you’d wake up. Every night. For days.

The reoccurring dream started after Halloween, at first you assumed maybe your brain had been working overtime for your local urban legends assignment but now, you weren’t sure what to make of it. Jungkook’s face flashes in your mind constantly now, maybe that’s the reason your head hurt so much. 

It’s overwhelming to say the least.

“He said he’s messaged you a few times but you’ve not responded… Has something happened between you two?”

“What?” You force yourself to sit up in bed, gripping the blanket tightly, “No, I just-, I don’t feel up to a lengthy conversation about whatever it is he wants to talk to me about.”

Shrugging, Lisa offers a small smile, “I think he just wants to know you’re okay Y/N.”

“Well you can tell him I’m fine the next time you see him.” You say, “I ordered some really strong pain medicine so hopefully I’ll be right as rain when it arrives.”

Except you weren’t.

Two weeks pass and your head still feels like it’s going to explode, the dreams of Jungkook standing in a grassy field are starting to feel more and more real if that were even possible. It was as though he was trying to tell you something, you could feel how desperate he was to say something but you’d always wake up right as he opened his lips to say it. Another thing, his lips weren’t pierced in the dream you’d noticed, everything looked like it was from a different time, he was dressed differently, the air around you smelled differently… It was all so different.

Your head hits the pillow and you begin to doze off when suddenly you see it again.

The sky is almost black, heavy with rainclouds as the heavens open and soak the dirt beneath you. There are seven trees in the distance equally spread from one another, the ground is swarmed with tall grass blowing against the high winds. You feel it under your bare feet, the change in the Earth as something rumbles below. Crimson red lightning strikes the area, scorching the greenery in a pattern akin to a star, it’s hot in the air and you hear the panicked cries of men from afar, coming from the trees.

Long strides take you across the field to the sound of their wails, effortlessly missing the lightning that continues to pound the dirt from above. There’s an old barn behind you, a very old barn, or at least the shell of one – it looked like it had been burned down, smoke still stained the atmosphere and flooded your nostrils as your feet dragged you to the largest tree in front.

“What did you do?” Jungkook sounds equally terrified and confused, his back pressed to the tree with rope keeping him in place. “Please,” He pants hopelessly, “What did you do?”

“Nothing yet.” You feel your lips curve into a wicked smile.

He looks scared.

You gasp for air as the dream abruptly ends and you wake, jumping up beneath the sheets. What the hell. Rubbing your temples you audibly exhale, wishing this headache would finally disappear, along with these crazy realistic dreams. What did it all mean? You’ve Google searched over and over but found nothing beyond articles and papers discussing the supposed Thornheart witch trials 330 years ago.

It’s bright outside, too bright for your liking. The heat manages to penetrate your window and feels nice against your skin. Rhythmic vibrations beneath your pillow grab your attention, somebody’s calling. 

Jungkook.

“Not right now…” You groan, cancelling the call. He’d been trying to contact you every day since you’d last seen him, calling and messaging you non-stop. Guilt eats away at your insides for not responding to him for weeks now, but you couldn���t bring yourself to speak to the man who was haunting your sleep. You couldn’t act like everything was okay but on the other side of that you didn’t exactly want to tell him you’d dreamt of his face every single night for weeks.

Since you first met he always found a way to push himself to the forefront of your mind, even with a throbbing headache he still occupied your thoughts. You still hadn’t figured out what he wanted from you and the truth was you didn’t know what you wanted from him either. You’re lost in thought, pouring a glass of water in the kitchen when your dad walks in.

“Morning. How’s the headache?” He sounds concerned.

“Still here.” You sigh.

“You know your mom used to get headaches when we were in college, I wonder if it runs in the family…”

“Maybe.” You shrug, “Even the new pain medicine from the doctor isn’t touching it though.”

“Your mom used to add lavender to her tea, swore blind it got rid of her headaches.” He plucks one of the purple flowers from the beige pot on the windowsill, “Give it a try.”

You nod, pulling a mug down from the shelf before making a cup of tea. At this point you were willing to try anything, no matter how eccentric it sounded.

“Jay and I have been sorting through the boxes in the garage, we found some of your mom’s old college books in there.” He takes over making the tea, insisting you sit down at the breakfast bar.

“Oh yeah?” You hum, “Mind if I take a look at them? They might come in handy actually.”

“That’s why they’re already in a paper bag in your bedroom, by your desk.” He chuckles, passing you a steaming cup of lavender tea. “Here, I hope it works.”

“Mm, you and me both.”

Conversation flows a lot easier with your dad as you drink more, to your utmost surprise the pulsing in your skull begins to fade to a dull ache, and eventually fades to nothing. Finally.

“Holy shit.” You smile, not missing the frown plastered on your dad’s face, “Sorry, but my headache… It’s gone?”

“Really?” He’s equally shocked, “Well what do you know.”

“Mm, oh my god finally I can think straight.” You sigh, “We definitely have to stock up on lavender immediately.”

Your dad gestures to the window, “There’s a load more in the garden, your mom always made sure she had it growing.”

“I can see why, god if only I knew about this when it first started.”

“I don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner actually, your mom always suffered with headaches I should’ve realised-“

“Hey dad can you drop me off? I’m going to the gym.” Jay jogs into the room wearing matching navy blue sweats, “How’s your head now?” He looks at you.

“Better actually, thanks.” You take another sip, lavender was an acquired taste but at least you didn’t wince at the sound of your own voice anymore.

“Oh good.” He grabs a water bottle from the fridge, “Does that mean you’re feeling well enough to go to Lisa’s party tonight?”

“That isn’t til Saturday.” You snort, “Dad do you think we could infuse vodka with lavender? Asking for a friend.”

“Today is Saturday.” They both say in sync, dumbfounded that you didn’t already know that.

“Jesus, how long was I asleep?” You mumble inwardly, Lisa had popped round on Tuesday with soup, that was four days ago.

“At one point I thought you were dead, I don’t think I’ve actually seen you once this week.” Jay says with a deadpan expression.

“Thanks for that.”

“Sooo… Lisa’s party?” He looks hopeful before throwing your dads car keys at him, earning himself a not so silent curse from his father.

“Why are you so interested in what I’m doing tonight?” You frown, seeing straight through his bullshit.

“He said I can go if you go.” Jay points to the older man.

“Don’t you have your own friends?” You mock, downing the rest of your tea. “Go do something with them.”

“They’re going to Lisa’s tonight, hence why I wanna go.” Jay’s rushing your dad to move, “You didn’t think I’d wanna hang out with you and Lisa all night did you?”

“Well definitely not me, but Lisa…” Your brows raise knowingly, “Her boyfriend’s gonna be there you know, you sure your heart can take it?”

“Ha ha, very funny.” He pushes your head as he walks past, escorting your dad with him, “That was like 10 years ago, jokes old now.”

“Okay fine if you say so, what time does it start again?”

“Seven.”

You spend the afternoon drinking lavender tea by the bucket while getting ready and checking your messages. How it was even possible you weren’t sure, but you really had done nothing but sleep for a whole fortnight, you had tonnes of text messages from everybody checking in on you and one new voicemail message that was left earlier that day.

“Hey Y/N, it’s me, Jungkook… Again. Just checking in on you, hope you’re okay. Text me when you can cause uh-, cause I need to talk to you about something. Okay, get well soon.”

Your lips purse, you felt guilty for not responding to him for so long. What were you supposed to say to him? Hi, sorry I’ve been ignoring you I’ve been dreaming about you nonstop for weeks. No, of course not. But it’s not like you can pretend everything is fine and go back to normal either. Whatever normal means for you and Jungkook. You did wonder what he wanted to speak to you about, but it didn’t occupy too much brain space until you left the house.

You hope he isn’t going tonight,

The car is nearing Lisa’s house when your dad pulls over, Jay barely said a word before jumping out the back and walking up your best friend’s driveway. Your dad gives you the talk, ‘make sure he doesn’t get too crazy, look after him, keep an eye on him’ etc. He offers you both a ride home later if you struggle to get a cab and you thank him, finally exiting the passenger seat.

The wind is cold as it wraps the top of your exposed thighs, the only area of your legs that the long black thigh-high boots you wore didn’t conceal. You were wearing a little black dress that didn’t reveal too much, but it didn’t leave much to the imagination either.

Music floods the air as Jay swings the front door open, Lisa’s home is already filled with people swaying to the beat with sweat-beaded faces. You smile at Jay who gestures to a group of boys at the back, presumably his friends, ‘it’s fine, go’ you mouth, and he leaves you standing at the bottom of the staircase alone.

It’s not long before you’re stood in the kitchen tucked away to one side, unable to find Lisa, sipping at a very large cup of vodka lemonade with a dash of lime. Parties tend to remind you of your early teenage years, getting drunk with Lisa and Jackson in a random house until curfew and having to act sober as soon as you got home. You smile fondly at the memories, it seems like such a long time ago now. You hadn’t seen Jackson since Lisa’s last party, it was a shame that with adulthood came friendship drifts and responsibilities. You missed how easy things used to be.

Attempting to find Lisa you make your way through the crowded living space, there’s fruity vape clouds polluting the air and the undeniable stench of pot. You cringe, praying to God your little brother isn’t the one responsible.

“Ah there you are! I was worried you wouldn’t come!” Lisa beams brightly, a familiar tall dark and handsome photography student by her side. “Are you feeling better now?” She asks, and you respond.

“Yeah I am thanks,” You offer a polite smile, “You look soooo great!” You gesture to her small barely clothed body, she was wearing a tiny pink cropped shirt with the word princess written across the chest and a shiny baby pink leather skirt. Her signature bedazzled white boots stomp on the hard floor with each step, she looks just like a limited edition Bratz doll.

“Doesn’t she?” Taehyung purrs from her side, towering over her. He’s wearing a light floral shirt with the top three buttons undone, black slacks and loafers. He looks like a god damn runway model, nobody else you knew could pull off this look yet there he was making it appear effortless.

It was interesting watching the two of them interact, physically it made perfect sense, their children would be spoiled, genetic lottery winners with an amazing sense of style. But there’s something about the way he looks at her, something dark and mysterious, something akin to raw sexual desire, that sparks a pang of jealousy within you. Not because you wanted Taehyung, no, you couldn’t stand him – but it would be nice, more than nice, to have somebody look at you like that.

“Does your dad know Jays here? I was gonna ask him but he ran off somewhere…” Lisa brushes past you, Taehyung in tow, to the kitchen countertop to pour more drinks.

“Yeah he knows, he’s fine with it. Thanks for checking though.” You chuckle.

“He’s basically my little brother too! Gotta look out for that little dork.” She grabs three shot glasses, and you know exactly where this night is about to go.

“Don’t let him hear you say that, he’ll cry.” You help pour each of you a shot, “I was planning on taking it easy tonight yknow… Guess that’s out the window now.”

“It went out the window the second you arrived.” Lisa claps animatedly, bouncing up and down with joy, “I’m so glad you’re feeling better! Did the pain medicine finally work?”

“No actually,” You pinch your nose in preparation of the shot, “I put lavender in my tea, weird right?”

“What the hell? Lavender?! You’re telling me prescription meds couldn’t get rid of your migraine but… Lavender did?” She looks just as baffled as you and your father this morning.

“Yep,” You neck the shot of vodka before passing Taehyung his, “Apparently my mom used to get migraines too and that’s what she did. I don’t know if its placebo or what but-“

Your eyes are drawn to Taehyung who looks visibly in thought, it’s the first time you’ve seen him look something other than horny. His brows are drawn together, eyes fixated on the shot glass he holds. It looks so tiny in his large grip.

“-Are you okay?” You gently nudge his shoulder.

And just like that he’s snapped out of it, “Of course. Bottoms up.” The liquid slides down his throat, “So lavender cured your migraine? That’s…” He cocks his head to a side, “Interesting.”

“I know it sounds made up but really, it worked!” You justify yourself to the two, eyes wide with surprise. “I feel completely fine now, it’s the weirdest thing.”

“Weird,” He agrees with a small smirk, “Very weird.”

“Well I’m very grateful it worked because it wouldn’t be a party unless my best friend was here to celebrate with me!” Lisa winks, already pouring a second round.

“Right… And what are we celebrating?” You pass her your glass.

“Umm…” She chews her lower lip, scrambling her thoughts for an answer, “Life? College? The weather? Your recovery!”

The two of you burst out laughing, making small talk about anything and everything as she pours shot, after shot, after shot… After shot. Taehyung disappears soon after the third shot, presumably annoyed because you and Lisa were known for being lightweights at the best of times, never mind after a whole bottle of vodka between you.

“I, I-, uh god…” She burps, “I should find Tae, I feel bad.”

“Have you two… yknow,” Your eyes widen, “Have you finally had a sleepover yet?”

Lisa sighs, “We’ve had… naps… Haven’t quite made it to the full sleepover yet.”

“Okay, okay, wait I don’t follow-“

“I’ve sucked his dick a few times and he’s fingered me, and I know what you’re thinking because I’m thinking it too, how fucking old is he who even fingers anyone anymore we’re not sixteen in a movie theatre but-“

“Actually I wasn’t gonna say anything…” You throw your head back to laugh and it hits something hard behind you. “Oh my god,” You jump, turning round.

Shit.

“Hi.” Jungkook stares through you with an expressionless face, “Guess you’re feeling better then?”

“Uhh, yes. Thank you for asking.”

You couldn’t ignore the icy glare he was giving you, or the equally as cold rhetorical question he spat at you between his teeth. It made sense for him to be angry, you had been ignoring him for a long time and you did just headbutt his rock hard chest, accidental or not. He looks fucking hot. He was wearing a zebra print silk shirt, the top three buttons undone just like Taehyung’s, except Jungkook wears his shirt with black jeans and a deep red bomber jacket.

“I’m gonna go-, and find Tae…” Lisa shoots you a reassuring smile, though her eyes are screaming good luck with that as she saunters off into the crowds.

You can feel your cheeks burning with equal parts embarrassment and shame, “How have you been?” You manage to smile even though you feel tiny under his dark stare.

“Fine. How have you been lately? I wouldn’t know since you’ve been ignoring me for almost three weeks.” He looks pissed, his jaw is set so tight you’re certain it’s about to snap.

“Uh-, I’m sorry.”

He scoffs, eyes never leaving your face, “Yeah, you looked really sorry about it when you were throwing shots down your neck.”

Alcohol and sheer awkwardness take over, you quickly cover your mouth but it’s pointless, you’re laughing loud enough for people to hear you and turn. You’re laughing in Jungkook’s face, and he’s looking at you, no, he’s looking through you with disgrace.

“Get off my back, I had-, I wasn’t well…” You grin, “But I feel better now! So I’m with my best-, my best friend having a good time. You need to calm down.” You sniggered, pissing him off even more.

He grips your wrist tight enough to bruise and leads you to the garden patio, “You’re drunk.”

“Yeah no shit that’s kind of the point of alcohol.” Your steps are messy as you try to keep up with his long strides. His chest is heaving up and down, he looks so fucking sexy but so so scary at the same time. “What’s with you?” You frown, “Why are you so mad at me?”

Jungkook pauses, he’s standing in front of you now, having let go of your wrist, “I really need to talk to you about something.”

“Then just talk to me instead of getting angry at me.” Your shoulders bounce, amused.

“Why are you acting like this?” He asks, a cocktail of confusion and rage evident on his annoyingly perfect features.

“Why am I acting like what?” You pinch the bridge of your nose, “You’re the one that’s mad at me… For being sick.”

“What? No,” He shakes his head, “That’s not why I’m mad. I was worried about you and you didn’t even bother to pick up your fucking phone and let me know you were alive.”

A breathy giggle escapes you before you can catch it, “I literally slept all day every day, I had a migraine. The last thing I was going to do was pick up my bright ass phone and hurt my head even more.”

“A migraine?” He repeats, and you nod. “Y/N you’re swaying, how much have you had to drink?”

“Ughhh,” You groan with an overly-dramatic eyeroll, “Just get off my back already! I’m sorry I ignored you because I was sick, but I didn’t want to speak to anybody let alone you.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” He’s really mad now, his raised voice winning a few curious stares from strangers in the garden. “Let alone me?” He points to his toned chest, eyes never leaving yours.

“You’ll think I’m a freak if I tell you, it’s best you don’t know.” You try to push past him but he’s too heavy, he doesn’t budge at all, only looks down at you with an unrecognisable expression. “Get out of my way Jungkook.”

“No, I need to talk to you.” His voice is low and dry, unamused.

“And we’ve talked already, please move.”

“No.”

“Jungkook-“

“Why would I think you’re a freak? Did you really have a migraine all this time or are you lying to me?” His question catches you off guard and when you open your mouth to say something no words come out. “What’s going on Y/N?” He asks again.

“Oh my god-“ You feel like screaming, “Is this what you wanted to talk to me about? To ask-, to force me into giving you my medical history?! Yes, I had a migraine. I had it from Halloween evening until this morning, I drank tea and now I feel much better. Is that all Dr Jeon?”

He’s visibly taken aback by your drunken slurs, his eyes are wide and rounded from surprise and his profile has finally softened into a less pissed off looking version. Now he looks… Apologetic? No, now he’s pissed off again.

“I’ll talk to you about this when you’re sober.” He spits.

“Fine. Now move.” You try to push past again but he doesn’t give in, still standing in your way. “Jungkook-,” You huff, losing patience with him, “Get out of my fucking way!”

Glass shatters from behind him, Lisa’s French glass doors having just seemingly exploded out of nowhere. Jungkook turns to sound but unlike the others in the garden, yourself included, he doesn’t look scared or shocked, no, he looks as though he saw it coming. He quirks a brow and sighs, shaking his head.

“Now look at who needs to calm down.”

“What?” You scoff, “I didn’t do that! I’m standing right in front of you, there’s no way I did that. I wouldn’t damage Lisa’s mom’s property! You seriously need to get the fuck away from me.” 

Lisa and Taehyung rush outside as people begin to panic and start leaving.

“Is everybody okay?!” Lisa yells, she looks worried, “What happened?!”

“It just… happened, I didn’t see anybody throw anything. I’m not sure…” You try explaining to her, not missing the way Jungkook and Taehyung appear to already be in deep conversation next to you, though you were still blocked from moving further forward. “I don’t know how it happened… Somebody must’ve smashed it, but, I didn’t-, I didn’t see…”

“Y/N it’s okay, wait are you alright?”

The next thing you know you’re falling to the floor fast, your knees buckling beneath your weight as everything turns black. Thankfully Jungkook sees this happening and rushes over, catching you in his strong arms before you hit the ground.

“Do you have a room I can lay her in?” You hear him ask before you fully black out.

Feeling oddly sober you suddenly become hyperaware of your surroundings, you’re in Lisa’s bedroom laid beneath her pink satin sheets. Taehyung and Jungkook are stood by the window, and you’re certain you just heard Lisa say she’ll be back soon and asking them to watch you.

“Lavender?” Jungkook whispers, “No, there’s no way.”

“So that window shattered all on its own did it?” Taehyung sounds irritated.

Jungkook sighs, “No, I know-, but I know for a fact she’s not a witch. Memory fog wouldn’t work on a witch.”

“Something must’ve triggered her powers since then.” Taehyung breathes, “What happened the last time you saw her?”

Jungkook takes a beat, “Nothing.”

“Hoseok said he saw you in that field with her.”

“Mm. What about it?” He sounds annoyed.

“Maybe you and her together, there…Maybe that’s what did it. Lisa said she had a migraine ever since that night. What are we supposed to do if she knows about us?”

“She doesn’t,” Jungkook exhales, “What makes you say that?”

“She’s been avoiding you right? Maybe she knows what you are.”

Silence follows.

You stir on the bed now starting to fully wake up, unsure of what’s real and what you’re dreaming at this point. There’s a dull ache in your head again earning you to groan in discomfort. Your eyes flutter open and reveal Jungkook looking at you curiously, Taehyung stands next to him but he’s too busy texting to notice that you’re awake.

“My head.” You’re quiet, “My head hurts.”

“I’m not surprised.” Taehyung looks up, “Lisa called your dad he’s on his way, your brothers waiting for you downstairs.”

“What happened?” You sit up, rubbing your sore temples.

Neither of them respond.

--

It’s the third cup of lavender infused tea that saves you from another hellish migraine, though a bad hangover still lingers in your sore muscles. You don’t remember much of Saturday night, it’s Tuesday now and you’ve just got home from class and your body still doesn’t feel recovered. It feels weak, as though you’ve used all your energy on something and you’re going to be permanently drained forever. It feels akin to a comedown after a wild night of heavy cocaine use. Not that you know what that feels like...Of course.

Taking a seat at your desk you sigh, feeling somewhat exhausted recently.

Ironically Jungkook’s been ignoring your messages these past few days, you’d simply apologised for causing a scene and for ignoring him, not realising he was so upset by it… Only to be ignored yourself. He wasn’t in class today either, or yesterday. The world really does have a unique way of fucking you over. At least it had been a few days since you dreamt of that red thunderstorm though, thankfully Jungkook’s face had stayed well away from your dreams recently.

Smoothing your plain beige shirt you swivel on your chair, noticing a large brown paper bag tucked neatly beneath your desk. Ah, your mom’s old college books. Figuring now was a good a time as any you reach into the bag and pull a large, red leather bound journal from the top of the pile. It was beautiful, in a is this actually a book about sadism way.

You trace your fingertips over the patterns littering the front cover, smiling to yourself at the mental image of your mom choosing this journal in a store. She would’ve been so excited about it, you wonder what made her pick this particular one. The way the details were engraved into the leather? The deep crimson red colour? Maybe it was the paper quality of the pages, they seemed pretty thick you notice as you open the book.

This journal belongs to Patsy.

You read on.

September 1st 1987

Day 21 since find out I’m a witch.

“Holy fucking shit.” You gasp, “What?”

My head is POUNDING and I mean POUNDING, I can’t eat or breathe without this ringing noise flooding my ears. It’s been three weeks since mom told me that I have powers, just like her and all the other women in our family, at first I thought it was complete bullshit because well who wouldn’t right? But the more I learn to control it, the more mom teaches me about my lineage… The more everything makes sense. I’ve always known I was different, from a very young age. And this isn’t going to be one of those ‘WOE IS ME’ diaries artificial intelligence will find and read in five thousand years’ time when humanity ceases to exist because we’ve all killed each other with our god damn egos and think to themselves WOW humans were really depressing. No, this journal is for me. I want to document this journey, I want someone to talk to about this, even if you are just a blank page. I need to get these thoughts out of my head before it explodes.

Your jaw is on the floor, eyes wide and round with disbelief. Your mom was crazy, that’s the only logical explanation, your mom was fucking crazy. Cringing and scolding yourself at the fact you’re mentally calling your dead mother a psychopath you find the strength to turn the page.

September 12th 1987

Lavender eases the pain, mom says it’s to due with it’s natural calming qualities and because we draw our powers from the Earth, there’s magic in many natural substances if you’re able to feel it. I still don’t know how to control my powers yet, the other night I was driving home and I hit every single red light there, I got so pissed off that all the traffic lights in a six mile radius exploded, someone could’ve died due to my recklessness. I know mom said it takes time, but Granny prepared her for this from a young age, she knew what she was from the age of ten and it’s just been sprung onto me out of nowhere. My powers were triggered by some loser demon who got into my head and tried to make me forget that I’d ever met him, at first I did forget but as the headaches are staring to wear off I’m remembering more and more. Apparently the headaches only last a year, that’s when we’re fully developed and at my strongest.

I’m glad mom is helping me though, I don’t know what I would do without her. She says this is more than genetics, I don’t know the full story but what I do know is that we’re related to the strongest witch ever known. Y/N. It’s a nice name really, maybe if I have a daughter one day I’ll consider it. Y/N was the witch responsible for the creation of the seven deadly sins, the seven original demons, the strongest of their kind. Nobody knows what happened to her but she’s obviously dead now and legend has it there’s only one witch who will ever be stronger than she was, and she will be born into this family, her own bloodline, it could be me for all I know! Nobody knows what Y/N looked like because obviously there was no cameras 300 years ago but as far as the books go the one who can lift her curse is said to be her doppelganger.

You slam the book shut, gasping for air as your chest grows tighter and tighter. This isn’t real. This isn’t real. This isn’t real. Is this real?

Remembering the way the glass shattered at Lisa’s party the second you got angry makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. You’re a witch? No. Witches aren’t real. Are they?

Standing quickly you start to pace the bedroom floor, muscles no longer aching and instead full of adrenaline, vibrating with anxiety as the reality of this situation starts to dawn on you. The headaches, check. The glass shattering occurrence, check. Loser demon getting into your head?

Jungkook.

“Oh my god…” You clutch at your chest, eyes frantically looking for your phone.

Was this what he wanted to talk to you about? Did he know? Was he a demon? Are demons real? You exhale, head spinning. He wasn’t scared by the glass shattering, but you don’t remember much of that night after that moment. Is this why?

You scroll your contacts list until you find his name, thumb hovering over it.

No. Because if he was a demon… Demons are bad. Right? He’d never done anything ill-willed towards you, in fact he was always nice, overly nice in fact, until you ignored him anyway. No. He can’t be a demon. What even is a demon? The legends say they look just like normal people do, they can blend into a crowd easily it’s what makes them so dangerous. Is Jungkook dangerous?

Deciding against calling him you lock your phone and toss it onto the bed. God you wish you’d never read that stupid book. Did your dad know about your mom? Did anybody? Sue must’ve known they were best friends. Best friends, Lisa is your best friend she’ll understand. You scramble for your phone and send her a text:

Y/N: Are you free?

Within seconds she replies,

Lisa: Just at Taehyung’s, are u okay?

Taehyung. Taehyung noticeably freaked when you mentioned the lavender tea at the party, and he knew and lived with Jungkook… Along with-, wait… How many? Okay, there’s:

Jungkook Taehyung Jimin Hoseok Namjoon Yoongi Seokjin

Seven. Seven men. Seven men who live together and just happened to move here all at the same time... To find an old friend of theirs, who didn’t have any social media… Memories of Jungkook pushing you for information on the witch trials in the library start to make you go dizzy, all the comments he’s made about witches and demons… Always asking for your opinion on the idea of it all, every conversation finding a way to lead back to it. Of course he knew that demons can’t read fucking minds, he is one.

At least you think he is. No, he can’t be. Can he?

“What the fuck is going on?!” You almost yelled, shaky hands reaching for your phone once more.

First things first, you need to get Lisa out of that house.

x

[deepdarkdelights]

Predator (Jungkook x Reader)

Pairing: Vampire Jungkook x Reader

Word Count: 8.2k

Series: (1/7) Predator Universe

Warnings: 18+, Yandere, Vampire Jungkook, Stalking, Obsession, Manipulation, Forced Relationships, Blood (Lots of it), Fear, Panic/Anxiety Attacks, Mind games, Tormenting the MC, Discussions of discovering dead bodies, Jungkook frightens the mc, Jungkook watches the mc sleep

I do not condone the acts displayed in this story nor do I believe any members of BTS would actually engage in this type of behavior. This is simply written for entertainment purposes and should not be taken as a reflection of my own values, opinions, or morals. 

Preview:  There was someone crouched down in between the trees and ferns. It wasn’t a stance that had suggested they had fallen or were looking for something, it resembled that of a predator patiently waiting for it’s innocent prey to come stumbling by. You could make out a few of its features, although it was mostly concealed by the greenery. Pale flesh stretched over it’s limbs, so light that it appeared like it hadn’t ever seen a ray of sunlight. There was a mop of unruly, dark curls poking out from the leaves, and worst of all, piercing red eyes that were staring back into your own. They resembled thick pools of blood, a deep crimson color that forced trembles throughout your once still form. You were certain you were staring into the eyes of a demon, there was no way that was a human hiding in there

A/N: Did anybody ask for a supernatural AU? The answer is no but I wrote it anyways and scared the shit out of myself. I hope you enjoy it if you read it, I finished this surprisingly quickly and it was really fun! My fingers are numb now though and I’m going to bed. Also, this is my first fic post Bouquet Series! Happy reading, I can’t wait for asks and to see you in the comments 😊💜

READ PART II - PREY

The scent of sulfur was thick in the air.

Your fingers fiddled with the string of your one untied shoelace as you gazed up into the sky from your spot seated on the covered porch. You gently leaned your face into your hand, cupping the full flesh as you rested your elbow on your bent knee, your other leg extended out in front of you as you rolled your ankle from side to side.

It was raining now, the soft tapping of the rain against the soil would have been enough of a melody to send you off to sleep had it not been for the sudden crack of lightning that shattered and broke off creating thin scars in the sky. 

You loved the smell of rain, sweet yet earthy, it reminded you of home. You closed your eyes for a moment, listening to the rain and the soft rumble of thunder in the sky. You could hear the light creak of the old wooden porch swing mere feet away from you before another flash lit up the sky, this time far brighter than before spurring your eyes to snap open and trace each splinter of light. 

You then began to count; 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 - another flash. The storm was about a mile away, this was a neat trick your grandfather had taught you years ago. You knew it wouldn’t be long before the light rain developed into an angry torrent and you would be forced back inside. The storms there weren’t very forgiving and it wouldn’t be surprising if the rain began to slant and drenched you completely through. 

With a soft sigh you drew both your legs to your chest and settled your chin on top of your knees, determined to remain in your spot until you had to retreat into the warmth and safety of your house. You loved your house dearly, it had been your grandparents before they moved down south and was then passed onto your parents. The siding which was once a pure white was now faded and peeling away at the corners from years of weathering. The porch swing was creaky and wobbly, and the stairsteps squeaky and in need of a fix. But you still loved it. 

You probably loved the backyard the most though, it was relatively large and melted into the edge of the forest behind it. The trees had been there far longer than the house and now towered over it. It was a little alcove away from everyone else, and at one point you had treasured that. But now with your parents gone, headed south to help take care of your grandmother who had just had her second heart surgery, it was far too quiet and incredibly lonely. There was something undeniably eerie about the house, now that it was empty like the life had left with your parents. But you knew you couldn’t be selfish, your grandparents needed help and you had school. Classes didn’t stop for just you. 

You raised your hands from your legs, pressing them palms down against the porch beneath you. You swiped the grainy planks of wood mindlessly before you pushed off of the ground, the rain had finally arrived in heavy, thick, wet streams. That was your queue to retreat back into the empty, quiet house behind you. 

Back to being alone once again.

The sad truth though, was that you were far from being alone. If you had waited a few more moments, if you had stopped to watch the next flare of lightning, then perhaps you would have seen the silhouette of the figure crouched down in the tree line across the street. Maybe you would have gazed back into the deep, red irises that glared at you through the dark shadows via the thick cloud cover. Maybe you could have ended the game that was about to ensue before it even started. 

If only you hadn’t gone back inside.

You had just changed out of your clothes, dampened from the light mist that had fallen earlier, when you heard the knocking at your door. You had stood there for a moment, confusion evident on your face. You hadn’t been expecting anyone tonight, no family was coming over, you hadn’t ordered any food, and there weren’t any packages you were expecting. The knocking came again, harsher and more frantic this time. You quickly shrugged your hoodie on over your head as you rounded the corner, popping down each step of the stairs in a rush. 

You jumped up onto the tips of your toes, peering anxiously into the peephole of your front door. There were officers on your front porch. Your heart thumped deep in your chest as you quickly flicked through each page of your mental catalogue, recounting everything you had done that day. You couldn’t think of anything, not even a minor transgression. 

Loud knocks pounded against the door once more, vibrating it and causing you to flinch back in surprise. You shook your head from side to side, attempting to collect yourself with a deep breath before you undid the deadbolt and pulled the door towards you. 

You stayed behind the mesh screen door as you greeted the duo with a nervous smile, interacting with others was hard.

“Evening, miss. Are your parents home?” The man to the left asked. 

Your brow twitched in irritation, you had been cursed, some say blessed, with a baby face. It wasn’t uncommon that you, a twenty year old, were often mistaken for a fourteen or fifteen year old. It was cumbersome and annoying. 

“It’s just me, my parents aren’t home right now.” You responded, clinging to the door in unease.

“Well, alright then. We’re just going door to door and making sure no one has seen anything...suspicious lately.” He replied, his eyes flicking over to his partner who looked at him in confusion. 

“Suspicious?” You echoed, your face scrunching up, equally as confused as the other officer. “Um, no. It’s pretty quiet around here.” 

“Alright, well, give us a call if you notice anything, okay?” He asked, you merely responded with a swift nod before sliding the door shut in a hurry, their surprised expressions from your actions cemented in your memory. You had quite literally slammed the door in their faces.

You leaned your forehead against the cool steel of your front door, breathing in slow and deep breaths as you attempted to calm your rampaging heart. 

“Why didn’t you tell her?” You heard an unfamiliar voice question. They hadn’t left yet. You quickly popped back up on your toes and looked out through the peephole once more.

“What did you want me to do, scare the poor girl? She’s home alone, the last thing she needs right now is to hear about the bodies in the woods.”

Your entire form tensed at his words, a chill curling down the curve of your spine. Bodies...in the woods?

“That’s a pretty important thing to know!” The once quiet officer whisper yelled to his partner. 

“Fine then, why don’t you tell her about the poor hiker they pulled out of the river an hour ago? I’m sure she’d love to know!” He snapped back. 

The other officer remained quiet for a moment before he removed his hat, running his hand through his hair in stress. “I dunno, man. Something’s really wrong. She couldn’t have been gone for more than what, fifteen minutes before they pulled her out? She had no wounds, no bruises, nothing. So, how was she completely drained of all of her blood?” 

You were shaking now, your knees felt weak like they were mere seconds away from collapsing underneath you. There were no external signs of injury or death, yet all the blood in her body was missing? How was that even possible?

“Do you think we’ve got a serial killer on our hands?” The quiet one said after a few moments of silence. 

“Don’t go talking about that, not here, not now. The last thing we need is to cause a panic. A small town with murders like these? That’s just asking for trouble and stress.” The partner replied. 

“You have to admit it though, it fits the bill. It’s been going on for more than a month, there’s been several bodies, all found the same way, he even took one of her earrings today like a souvenir. Who’s to say it’s not one person picking off all of these people?”

Another long moment of silence passed between the duo as they stared at one another. You could tell, the other one did not want to admit what both of them knew to be true. There was someone out there in the depths of the forest that was killing hikers in the most bizarre of ways and dumping the bodies in the river. They were most definitely dealing with a serial killer. One of them was just too afraid to admit it. 

“I think it’s time we head back to the station.” He simply responded before turning on his heel and walking down the front steps of your house. His partner followed suit, effectively leaving you alone once again.

Your chest felt so tight you were unsure if you could even get a breath of air into your lungs. It wasn’t hard for you to figure out what river they were talking about, you had spent your childhood hiking those trails with your family. It was only a few miles away and far too close for comfort. 

But, perhaps what was even more chilling, was the fact that she had died recently. That could only mean one thing, the killer was nearby. And what could be worse than being all alone in your eerily silent house with a serial killer stalking the trails in the woods. Your once safe alcove had quickly become a stifling bubble, you were surrounded by trees, the whole town was. You essentially lived in the very forest this predator hunted in. 

And you were utterly alone. 

You made sure to double check every window latch and both door locks that night before you retreated to your room and hid under a flimsy shield of blankets and pillows.

~~~~~~~

Your fear had not been forgotten upon waking up the next morning. 

When you had rolled over to silence your shrieking alarm, you thought you had mistakenly set it for the wrong time. Your room was still plunged in darkness with only a thin film of light making it through the window and past your curtains. 

You stumbled out of bed tiredly, your hair a wreck and your clothes askew as you groggily pulled the curtain away from the window. It was still raining, a light drizzle but the thick black clouds above you threatened to release another waterfall’s worth of rain. And, you still had class today. 

It was a miracle that a town as small as yours had a college campus, but you supposed there were towns much smaller than your own. It wasn’t a gorgeous campus or anything to marvel at, it was a few old buildings that had been renovated into a school for higher learning and that was all. In your mind, it didn’t really matter what college you attended, so long as you could get your degree and eventually find a job and start your own life. Not to mention, you were tired of being a burden to your parents and still living in their household. 

You dressed in a hurry, grabbing a quick breakfast to go before you locked up the house and set out for the day. The second your feet landed on the porch though, you were met with the thick foliage of the forest across the street. Another sudden chill spread throughout your body, there was a predator lurking in those trees. 

Needless to say, you rushed absurdly quickly to your car and immediately locked it once you were seated and the door was closed. You really didn’t want to be outside any longer than you had to. 

The drive wasn’t long, as to be expected, but it did fuel your anxiety. Not only were you surrounded by the dense growth of trees that were making you feel insanely claustrophobic, but you were also heading to a place chalk full of people. You weren’t very good with people.

And that was fairly evident in your own mannerisms. You walked by yourself to class, earbuds nestled securely in your ears with your hood protecting you from the rain. You clung to the walls as you passed through to get to your class, trying to maintain as far a distance from others to the best of your ability. When you entered your classroom there were familiar faces, but none that you recognized as a friend. You chose your seat closer to the front, not many sat there, and settled yourself against the wall and window situated to your left. It made you more comfortable to have something solid to your side, something to cling to. 

You had a few moments to yourself before your seat partner arrived. She was a rather studious person, she also received high marks and took the neatest notes. It made sense why she chose to sit near you, she liked being in the front so she was able to follow the lecture and ask every question she had without any inhibitions and she also knew you wouldn’t bother her.

Every time she entered the room she would shuffle her backpack off and settle it down beside the table and before taking her seat she would shoot you a smile in greeting. You could only manage an awkward grimace back which was rather ridiculous, you knew how to smile but everything became harder when strangers got involved.

It was hard for you to be around other people, call it self consciousness but you just never felt good enough or worthy enough for other people. Most days, it was easier for you to see the glaringly obvious faults you had than the good things about yourself. You couldn’t fathom why anyone would want to sit next to you or even worse, smile at you. You were just grateful she never attempted to talk to you, she was like you in a sense, she too appeared to be alone but it was by choice. From what you could tell, she devoted her life to her studies. You were certain she would excel in a professional setting when the time came. But you...you weren’t so sure about yourself. 

In your mind, it was much better to be alone despite the crippling weight it forced upon your shoulders. It was better to be lonely than to be disappointed or be a disappointment. At least, that’s what you continued to tell yourself.

The lecture itself was fairly boring, at best. You had read the chapters in the textbook the night before and taken your own notes. For the most part you were simply hearing the textbook being reiterated, so your notebook sat in front of you untouched while your seat partner scribbled away frantically, the ball point pen scratching furiously against the surface of her papers.

You were very obviously not paying attention, your head angled in the direction of the window and your eyes gazing out into the tree line that melted away from the edges of the school grounds. You could faintly hear the professor's voice fading away, the sounds of pens scribbling down notes gradually being carried away and accompanied by a soft buzz echoing in your ears.

But, most importantly, you could feel someone’s stare burning into you. 

Your eyes hesitantly flicked around the classroom but everyone else was immersed in the lecture. You turned back towards the window, tracing your view from right to left before your entire body tensed in unadulterated fear. 

There was someone crouched down in between the trees and ferns. It wasn’t a stance that had suggested they had fallen or were looking for something, it resembled that of a predator patiently waiting for it’s innocent prey to come stumbling by. 

You could make out a few of its features, although it was mostly concealed by the greenery. Pale flesh stretched over it’s limbs, so light that it appeared like it hadn’t ever seen a ray of sunlight. There was a mop of unruly, dark curls poking out from the leaves, and worst of all, piercing red eyes that were staring back into your own.  

They resembled thick pools of blood, a deep crimson color that forced trembles throughout your once still form. You were certain you were staring into the eyes of a demon, there was no way that was a human hiding in there. A surprised choke escaped your throat as it slowly tilted it’s head in curiosity, refusing to break it’s stare. A sudden horrific image filled your mind as you thought of a twisted figure peering at you in that manner, shifting it’s head in a menacing gesture.

You were paralyzed, unable to break the horrifying staring contest you had been unwillingly trapped in. You could see it shifting around in the undergrowth, it’s eyes narrowing in a threatening glare. You could hear your heart pounding in your ears, your body erupting with tingles as you stared back in horror.

It was the sudden touch of a hand to your shoulder that sent you flinging yourself against the wall and slamming your eyes shut. The hand retreated just as quickly as you had and was soon followed by a voice. 

“Hey, uh, class is over. You okay?” A soft voice asked. 

You slowly peeled your eyes open and surveyed the forest once more. The person, the thing was gone and the sky had let loose the thick rainfall it had been holding back all morning. Whatever had been watching you had slunk back into the depths of the woods. 

You swallowed anxiously before turning to see your seatmate looking at you with concern in her eyes. Her backpack was slung over her shoulder and the hood of her jacket was already fixed upon her head in preparation for the downpour. 

“I’m fine.” You responded shortly, your voice coming out much weaker than you had wanted. Good job at starting a conversation, that’s exactly how to turn people away from you. 

“Are you sure?” She asked, her gaze shifting out to the window like she was attempting to look for what had captured your attention. 

You simply replied with a strong nod, refusing to look anywhere but your hands that were cradling one another in an attempt to stop their trembling. 

“Uh, okay. I’ll see you Friday, then.” She said with a gentle smile, before turning on her heel and walking out of the room.  

You were the only one in the room now. You took a deep breath to collect yourself, maybe what you had seen was just a byproduct of your imagination. What those officers had said frightened you to the core and your sleep wasn’t exactly restful. That was what you tried to tell yourself, but you knew what you had seen was real. That person, or thing that you had seen was solid and tangible. You just desperately wished you were going crazy instead of it being real. 

You stumbled out of your chair, picking your bag up from the floor and flipping your hood over your head. The classroom was empty now, the professor long gone and the students having disappeared instantly at his dismissal. You were alone again, and that thing was out there still. You had to be quick if you wanted to make it back to the parking lot and back to the safety of your car. Normally you would be happy you only had one class that day, but that also meant you had no reason to stay and there was only one path that led from that building back to the lot. 

The feeling of your shoes against the soft, wet dirt and the click of the heavy door behind you echoed with an air of finality. All you could do was stare ahead of you at what lay in wait: a narrow dirt pathway surrounded by thick groups of trees on either side of you. If you hadn’t been caught in that staring contest, you would have been able to hide in the group of students as they exited the building. But now it was far too late, and you could only move forward.

You huffed out a deep breath before beginning your trek, your legs aching as you took long and fast steps, your hooded head bent down as your eyes pinned their sights on your shoes. The lace was still untied, your rush this morning preventing you from fixing it. But that was merely a thought hovering around the back of your mind, right now all you could focus on was your pounding heart and shallow, nervous breaths that were leaving your lips. 

“It was all your imagination, it wasn’t there, it wasn’t real, it wasn’t real, it wasn’t real.” You were whispering to yourself, quickly, and quietly like a mantra. If you said it enough, then maybe you would actually believe it. 

It’s too bad that it was listening. 

A choked scream burst out from your throat as you felt a sudden force grab onto your backpack and lift. Before you could do anything you felt your feet leave the ground and the next thing you knew you were airborne. That horrible dropping sensation churned in your gut as you flailed your limbs wildly before you hit the ground, hard. A spray of dirt kicked up around you as you rolled a few feet only to be stopped by the thick base of a tree.

You stayed still, your body thrumming in pain as you desperately tried to blink away the black dots that were clouding your vision. You felt like you couldn’t move, not after you had just been thrown so violently. A wheezing moan of discomfort gurgled in your throat as you forced yourself to roll to your side, new buds of pain blooming throughout you as your fingers sunk and dug into the dirt as you pulled yourself up, breathing heavily.

You surveyed the area around you, you could barely see the pathway you had been walking on moments prior, you had been thrown rather far. Your eyes darted frantically, trying to see where that thing that attacked you was. And your question was quickly answered as you heard a faint rustling. 

There it was, crouched again behind a tree and the thick growth of ferns, it’s eyes blood red and wide in alertness. You could have sworn your heart stopped, this was the closest you had seen it, and it was uncomfortably close. You scrambled backwards on your rear, attempting to crawl away from it only to be stopped by the tree behind you that had gone forgotten. 

It’s eyes narrowed again, the slow, menacing head tilt returning as it rose up from it’s position in a languid, elegant motion. That was when you realized “it” was very much a human, well it at least passed as a human, it was man. 

His skin was incredibly pale, devoid of life. You could see the hallows of his cheeks accentuating his cheeks bones that were slightly obscured by his mop of inky, thick, wet curls. He was rather tall, his shoulders wide and his waist small from what you could see. He was dressed in clothes that looked like they had seen better days. His pants were littered in rips as well as the thin shirt he wore under a jacket that looked far too big for him. He was undeniably attractive, the fear he had once inspired in you was momentarily forgotten, that was of course until you came to a realization. The crimson of his eyes wasn’t the only shade of red that he adorned on his body. 

The center of his lips was stained a deep shade, the tips of his fingers, the toe’s of his thick combat boots, and the hem of his shirt were all wearing poorly washed deep, dark stains. There was that fear again. 

You squealed in terror as he began to approach you. He moved like a jungle cat, each step was strong and sure with a seductive sway that radiated power, danger, and death. You felt as if you were balancing on a ledge, mere inches away from being pushed off and plummeting to your certain demise. 

In seconds he had cleared the distance between the two of you, his blood stained hands curling around the collar of your jacket and lifting you up, pinning you against the tree behind you. You were terribly frightened, you felt as if you could faint. 

The look on his face wasn’t one of anger, deviousness, or hate. You could see hunger swirling in the depths of his eyes. Without any warning, he dove his face into the juncture of your neck and took in a deep inhale, his body shuttering in what could only be described as ecstasy. 

“You smell so good.” He groaned to himself, rubbing his face into the flesh he was enraptured with. You could feel his chest pressed up tightly against your own, there was a faint thrum emanating from it that reminded you of a cat purring. But, it was by no means comforting, in fact it sounded more like a growl growing in the confines of his chest, a warning that you weren’t to move away from him. 

You swallowed harshly, blinking away the tears that were forming in your eyes before you attempted to speak. “What, what do you want from me?”

“Mmm, I want to play a game.” He hummed to himself, nudging at your neck again and just barely brushing his lips against it before pulling back and staring into your eyes. You noticed in fright that he didn’t blink, not once. 

You stayed silent for a moment, unsure if you wanted to ask the question he was waiting for. But, if it was a game he wanted to play, then maybe there was a way you could win your way out of the death you had been anticipating mere seconds earlier. 

“What game?” You finally asked, your voice just barely above a whisper. But he had no problem hearing exactly what you asked. 

A dark smile carved it’s way into his pale cheeks revealing a set of sharp canines in his mouth that sent a shock of terror throughout your injured form. He then gripped your chin in between his thumb and forefinger, jerking your head up to look at him. His skin was ice cold. 

“Have you ever heard of cat and mouse? I want you to run, I want you to be my little mouse. I’m going to hunt you down until you’re too tired to keep playing, and then I’ll pounce.” He explained, his blood red eyes shining with a childlike yet sadistic gleam. 

“Won’t you play with me?” He asked, cocking his head to the side, drawing your attention to something that had reflected the soft light filtering through the trees. 

He was wearing one earring, it was rather long with a delicate metal chain and a silver piece of metal. You suddenly felt like you were going to be sick as you remembered the conversation the officers had had on your porch. He stole the hiker’s earring, he had taken a memento from her after he had killed her and carelessly thrown her body away.

You were terrified, but you still had some sense of self preservation. You knew that if you wanted to buy yourself some time, you would have to agree to play with him. 

You finally nodded in agreement causing him to pull away from you in excitement. 

“That’s a good girl.” He chuckled before extending his arm out to the side in a ‘after you’ motion. 

Without another thought you rushed by him as quickly as possible, adrenaline pumping through your body and numbing the pain that had once paralyzed you. You just knew that you needed to get out of there as quickly as possible. Just as you were about to exit the thick overgrowth and set foot onto the pathway again, you heard his voice directly behind you.

He had been following behind you closely and you had not heard a single footstep besides your own. You were fucked. 

“Little mouse,” He laughed, “My name is Jungkook, I want you screaming it when you beg for your life.”

~~~~~~~

Jungkook knew that it was poor etiquette and a display of bad matters to play with your food, but he just couldn’t help it. His brothers were much older than he was, more disciplined and well mannered. He was far too young to understand why they were the way they were, he was young, he was rebellious, and he liked to play games. 

He knew he was a bit of a sadistic bastard, but he was much too preoccupied with the unquenchable thirst that plagued him, he always felt a crippling sense of hunger. He also loved to endure the pain of bringing himself to the very brink of hunger, he would be lying if he said he didn’t derive a sick sense of pleasure from it. 

And with you, there was no way he couldn’t play with you. Hands down, you were the best smelling human he had ever caught the scent of, he was planning to drag this out for as long as he could. Well, as long as his body allowed him to before he succumbed to your undeniably seductive scent. 

He loved to play games, loved to track down fickle humans and send them into an erratic panic as he hunted them down. He had been so sure that you would be exactly the same. 

But you were a strange little human, that he was certain of. From his own experience and the prey that he devoured, he knew that humans were social creatures, they clung to one another in fear and desperation and sought one another out. But you were a lonely little thing, his little mouse that scurried around inside a big empty house and flinched away from the touch of your kind. You were interesting, a variable that was sure to make his game all the more entertaining. 

He wondered how long it would take before you broke. 

He did admit, the hiker had been a rather tasteless accident he hadn’t intended on ending. At the time he had been starving, tailing someone else when she happened upon him. He just couldn’t help but gorge himself, she had just been at the wrong place at the wrong time. But she did leave him a nice memento afterall, she had rather good taste in jewelry. 

He knew that he wanted to take something from you, he definitely wanted to remember his little mouse who smelled so sweet. He just wasn’t sure what he wanted yet. 

He had seen you for the first time the day before, right before the rain had broken free from the thick clouds and drenched him down to the bone. You looked so meek curled into yourself waiting for the storm to roll in, the scent of rain making you smell all that much better. You really should have known better than to be out in the open all by yourself, you made yourself out to be the perfect prey. He knew right in that moment that he wanted you, the lonely little mouse. 

But, he had to plan out just how he was going to get to you. 

~~~~~~~

Horrified wouldn’t be quite the right word to describe how you were feeling after the incident at your campus. Paranoid might be better. 

He was essentially the perfect predator, his footsteps were so quiet and so quick you hadn’t even heard them right behind you. He was incredibly strong as well, the ache in your back thrumming as a reminder from his display of strength. If you hadn’t known what he was, what he was capable of, you would have called him gorgeous. Fuck, you had even remembered the sweet scent that permeated from his skin when he had been so close to you. He was a perfectly designed killer, he looked so inviting from the outside that it was made to distract you from the monster that hid underneath the surface.

Perhaps if everything that had occurred never happened, if he had approached you normally while you were seated under the cover of your porch, you would have spoken to him. You may have been charmed by him and his stunning face, who knows what you would have done. On the inside, you feared you would have done whatever he asked. You may have very well followed the pied piper to your own untimely death. 

He was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, a terrifying monster. 

And what was to come in the days that followed only became worse and worse. He was everywhere you went, you were drowning in paranoia. You felt like no matter where you went, he was surely following you. You jumped in fear at the sight of the slightest movement in your peripherals. You could remember how quick he was, for all you knew he was dancing around the corners of your vision, making you feel as if you were insane when you turned and couldn’t catch sight of him. He was fucking with your head.  

You had taken to staying in your house, or only going to crowded, public places despite the discomfort it caused you. And, like the good college student you were, you had gone into research mode. If anyone could see your recent browser history, they would surely think you were insane. 

“How to kill a vampire.” Was glaring back at you in the search bar of your browser. 

Each result that you browsed through was more ridiculous and gruesome than its predecessor. You almost laughed as you read about a classic wooden stake through the heart, getting them in the sunlight, attacking them with a gravedigger's shovel, invoking the power of god with a crucifix, and the worst of them: decapitation and incineration. 

You could feel your heart drop into your stomach as you slammed your laptop shut. Could you do something like that? Could you murder something so ruthlessly that looked so much like a human? You couldn’t see yourself decapitating him and at least having the force behind your arm to accomplish it. 

He was a killer, but could you become one too? 

Who would really be the monster then?

Besides, all of the results you had thumbed through seemed too outlandish. Who was to say this creature was some hell spawn and not just another life state the world wasn’t aware of? There was no telling what holy water, stakes, or sunlight truly did to him. In fact you had seen him during the day, albeit the sun was covered for the past week but there was no telling if he would burn from a ray of sun. 

You had nothing to go on, no sure route that would tell you what to do and how to survive this. Jungkook had been watching you, that much you were sure of. You had grown accustomed to his stare burning into your skin despite your inability to see him. He said he wanted to hunt you down until you were too weak to fight back. He had done this before, and you had never tangled with anything remotely like him. Ironically, the amount of interaction you had with him was the most socialization you had ever had. And that was why you were sure he had targeted you, you were a pariah. A human that couldn’t function with the rest of society, someone who rejected her own kind. Because of your own inability to socialize, because of the loneliness and self hatred that had festered inside of you, you had made yourself the easiest target he would ever encounter. 

You were going to die. 

A loud bang against your window startled you causing you to leap out of your chair in fright. He was already here. You had backed yourself into the corner of your room, your hand laying over your rapidly beating heart. You could see those eyes, glowing a deep, ominous red in the darkness. You could see a flash of pale flesh raise up and pound against your window again while the rain gently tapped against the surface of the glass. 

You shook your head wildly from side to side, slamming your eyes shut as tears slowly began to pour down your cheeks. He had barely given you any time, were you already broken enough that he was ready to claim your life as his own? 

You could hear his fist slamming against the glass still as you slid down to the floor, your hands raising up to cover your ears in an attempt to muffle the sound. You could hear it despite your best efforts, the glass was going to give away. The crisp, crackle of spiderweb cracks echoing throughout the silent and dark room. 

You shook harder with each sob that broke free from your body, the slamming only growing louder and louder with more frequency and intensity as you felt a scream bubbling up in your throat.  

And then it was suddenly gone. 

You choked out another sob as you slowly raised your head up, your knees tucked into your chest as you stared at the window. Just as you had anticipated, the glass was decorated in splintering cracks. And you could see him still there, crouched on the tree branch settled outside your room. He was smiling, the light of the moon glinting ominously off of his pointed canines. He merely waved to you, cocked his head to the side and laughed before he disappeared. 

And you were alone again. 

~~~~~~~

Jungkook realized that he quite liked that you were alone all the time, it was much easier this way to break you down slowly and methodically. He wanted to frighten you, but he also wanted to keep you all to himself. 

You made it challenging for him, he would give you that. You had been somewhat brave as of late, venturing too far into public where he couldn’t follow. He refused to test his control and spoil his own game by lunging on someone who smelled far less appetizing than you did. That was why he had to remind you that the game was between you and him, he needed to scare you into submission and he had done just that, chasing his little mouse into a corner. 

He was sure you would break soon, and he was excited for it. He couldn’t wait to finally get a taste of you after all of the time he had spent watching you.

He followed you everywhere, to the best of his ability, and he could see how it was wearing you down. You were so frightened and so utterly adorable. 

He had toyed with the idea a couple times of keeping you, maybe making you last as long as he could. Like he thought, you were adorable, easy on the eyes for a human. He had fantasized quite a few times of what you would look like, trembling under his touch as he finally pierced the supple flesh of your throat. He knew your cries would sound so sweet as he drained your limp body, you would look perfect like that. He wanted to know what your eyes would like when you would feel the initial pain of his bite before succumbing to the ecstasy that accompanied it. For creatures like himself, there was always an innately sexual nature that came with feeding although he never tended to focus on it. He liked to hurt the others, make them writhe in pain as he traded their life for his own.  

He had never thought of his prey in the way he thought of you. The first time it happened he had been watching you sleep peacefully from outside your window, not being allowed to enter without your invitation. Where at first he had been dwelling in his mind numbing hunger, it quickly devolved into...something else. He took note of your sleeping form, arched rather invitingly as your head had rolled to the side, the curve of your neck beckoning him and sending him into a rage as he couldn’t force his way in. 

His crimson gaze traced over your sleeping features, rolling over your brow, down the curves of your cheekbones, and flickering over the flesh of your parted lips. A sudden image entered his mind that had him tensing, a growl rumbling in his chest. He couldn’t help but picture your lips tainted ruby with your own blood after he laid a parting kiss to your still mouth. 

That was when he knew, he wanted to break you down until you couldn’t deny him, and then he would keep you. 

He spent the next few days tormenting you, watch you jump in fright and peel away from the touch of others. He knew he was going to take you before you did. 

He was watching you again, seated outside your classroom in the overgrowth of the forest, his keen eyes tracing the soft curves of your form. You were shaking, your eyes glazed and unfocused as the instructor babbled on. You looked defeated, your body limping lying against the wall as your seatmate looked at you full of concern. 

He felt his entire body still in agitation as her hand lightly rested itself atop your own. He felt a snarl curling in his throat, he didn’t like competition. He didn’t like the look she was giving you as you pulled away from her. He was certain she felt something for you, so he knew once he had his fill of you he was going to have to kill her too. 

Once the class was over you rose robotically from your seat, struggling to throw your jacket on as your seatmate continued to look at you. She rose slowly, as if she didn’t want to startle you, before she spoke.

“Hey, are you feeling alright?” She asked, leaning down a bit to look at your face. You looked sickly. 

You numbly nodded in return, throwing your backpack over your shoulder as you stared at the clean white board. 

“If you need anything, if you need help, you can ask me. Okay?” She said, slowly resting her hand on your shoulder in what should have been a comforting manner. She was ever observant, she knew something was wrong. 

“Let me walk you to the parking lot.” She firmly said, it sounded more like a statement than it did a suggestion. 

You didn’t reply, your glazed eyes merely rolling in her direction. But it looked like you were staring through her, not at her. 

She said nothing as she pulled her arm behind your back, resting her hand on your shoulder furthest from her as she guided you out of the classroom and out onto the dirt pathway. You were trembling beneath her touch and you were sure she could feel it. But she didn’t mention it. She was kind. 

“Little mouse.” A voice called from behind the two of you. The shaking intensified. “Come here.”

The two of you stopped walking, her hold on you became firmer as she realized he was the one causing your state to worsen. 

Your eyes slipped shut again as you balled up your fists, your nails sinking into the skin of your palm creating small crescent moons in the stretch of skin. 

“She’s going home.” Your seatmate responded, her voice firm and strong in a way yours had never been. 

The silence that followed was deathly, you could feel something in the air shift. He was going to get angry. You turned to look at him, his bright eyes already pouring into your own. You could tell what the look he was giving you meant. If you didn’t come with him, two people were going to die that day.

You were better off alone, just like you had always thought. You weren’t good enough for her, or good enough for friends. You would only get her killed. 

“I’m fine.” You told her, that was the second time she had heard those words falls lifelessly from your lips. The only words you had ever spoken to her. 

Without saying anything else, you shrugged her arm off of you and stared death in the eyes as you walked away from her. It was better to be alone than put other people in harm's way. 

You felt his cold grip around your forearm and her concerned stare in your back. You stood still for a moment before you turned around and returned the gentle smile she had given you every day before Jungkook tightened his grip and tugged you off of the path. 

After all of your time spent accepting, crying, and worrying over your death you had run out of tears to cry. It was fine, you told yourself, your parents were safe and your classmate wouldn’t be harmed. You were okay with being the sacrificial lamb. 

He was pulling you deep into the woods, you supposed so no one would hear you scream. You could hear the distinct rumble of thunder above you, it was the biggest storm that week that was finally coming to fruition. He had roughly pulled you in front of him and pinned you against a tree trunk when you knew he was growing restless, tired of waiting. 

“Hello, mouse.” He purred, smiling at you in pure delight. 

You did not respond, staring over his shoulder into the ferns and moss of the forest, the babbling of a brooke singing behind you. You supposed it was a pretty place to die. 

If he was annoyed by your lack of response, he did not show it. His blood red gaze danced over your passive features as he leaned in closer, his face returning to the crook of your neck it had been buried in days ago. 

“So sweet.” He groaned to himself before you felt his tongue lazily roll out of his mouth and swipe against the bare flesh of your neck. You jumped in disgust as you felt the newly wet skin tingle in response before going numb. 

His hand cupped the curve of your jaw, cold fingers soothing the smooth flesh as he pressed his lips to your throat. They were surprisingly soft, like rose petals lightly tickling your skin. You twitched in surprise and fear as you felt him pressing kisses into your delicate skin. What had happened to the ruthless predator that tore apart their victims and threw them into the river?

He was teasing himself, groaning into your neck as he felt the hunger raging inside of him as he was moments away from relief, one bite away from piercing his teeth into your paper like skin. But even someone as patient and sadistic as he was could only hold out for so long, especially when he slid his other hand in between the two of you, resting it against your clothed chest. He could feel your heart beating violently, thrumming like a hummingbird's wings and exacerbating your scent.

The sharp cry he elicited from you was like music to his ears as he finally dug his teeth into your waiting skin. He couldn’t stop the moan from shaking his chest as your blood finally pooled into his mouth. It was better than he could have anticipated, the sweetest delicacy he had ever had the privilege to taste. And he was desperate for more, pressing himself as close to you as possible, your grip tight on his shoulders as he forced more onto his tongue. It was euphoric. 

Your eyes were clenched shut but your face was relaxed, he could feel you shaking beneath him in pleasure. He wasn’t surprised, the substance that coated his teeth was much like an aphrodisiac as well as a drug. You were blissed out, the only prey he had ever allowed to experience this with him before. 

As soon as he ripped himself free from your neck he sealed his blood coated lips against your own in a frantic kiss. Your mouth was pliant beneath him, willing and sweet as you lay limply in his hold, your tongue quickly becoming tainted with the coppery, heavy taste of your own blood. 

You could feel his forehead press against your own, heavy pants falling from his lips onto your own. His thumb swiped over your lower lip, collecting the blood that coated it and bringing it to his own mouth, laving his tongue over it.  

Your eyes finally fluttered open, surprised that you were still alive. Your pupils were blown out, a high still swirling around in their depths after your kiss of death.

“Kill me.” You whispered, spurring a smile to return to his ruby red lips. 

“No, I think I’ll keep you instead.” He purred before running his tongue over the puncture wounds in your flesh. 

You were being resigned to a fate worse than death. 

“Don't worry, my little mouse. You’ll never be alone again.”

[bukojuiice]

something in the rain   — todoroki shoto

ೃ you and shoto were once childhood best friends and sweethearts who had lost touch and communication. 12 years has passed since then, and on a fated summer day in june, there was something in the rain that brought two lost souls back to each other’s arms.

ೃ  pairing: shoto todoroki x fem! reader

ೃ  tags: childhood friends to lovers, tooth-rotting fluff

ೃ  warnings: none! 

ೃ wc: 1k

ೃ  my nav  →  my mha writing masterlist  → my katsuki bakugo x reader smau

ೃ  please do reblog if you enjoyed!! it really helps writers and content creators on tumblr!  if you want to be a part of my mha taglist. send me an ask!  ♡

ೃ song inspo: film out by bts

Puppy Love…

What a sweet and trivial concept.

Was it not?

You and Shoto met each other at the tender age of 7. Roughly two years into his intense and odious training brought upon him by his father. His mother who still unwaveringly continued to support him, would sneak the half and half boy out in between his trainings. Whether to bring him out to play in the local playground, run around in the flower fields, or to just go shopping in the local grocer. These simple things were enough to make the boy happy. Even for just a short moment.

Then, during one fated day, the sun was about to go down, and no other child was frolicking around the playground.

It was just you.

Alone on the swing, your eyes cast down on the ground, wriggling your feet and dipping them into the play sand. You hear a faint creaking sound of the seat next to you and now you were accompanied by a boy the same age as you were. Heterochromatic eyes filled with innocence and love, a smile that looked like it never left the curves of his face, floofy half red and white hair that gave him a very distinct yet striking appearance.

“Why are you all alone?” He inquires, tilting his head. “It’s almost night time too. It’s going to get scary…”

“You came here alone too.” You snapped back, averting his gaze and your mouth forming into a pout.

He shakes his head, “No I didn’t. My Mommy is just there.” He points to a faint silhouette of a woman not far from the two of you.

“Oh.” You blink. “Well, um- my house is just over there! So, my parents don’t need to always keep an eye on me!” You cross your arms, pointing to your house a few feet away from the playground.

“You’re lucky. My dad keeps an eye on me a lot. He’s scary most of the time too and I think it’s because of my quirk…” His shoulders visibly slump as he breathes out a hefty sigh. “Mommy takes me out to go play when I’m done with my training and I’m happy because of it!”

“D-do you wanna play on the slide?” You ask him, twiddling with your fingers. A faint shade of pink present on your cheeks. “If it’s okay, I wanna share my happiness with you!“

His eyes sparkle. “Sure! But…. wait! I don’t even know your name yet!”

“Ah my name’s (Y/N)!”

“I’m Shoto!” He grins, his eyes sparkling once more and you can’t help but become flustered even more.

 Oh, how you wish to see those bright blue and grey eyes again. His fluffy white and crimson hair, and just… feel his lingering presence in your life once more.

Why did time have to go by so fast?

Why did he have to leave?

After a year of feeling nothing but the purest and most blissful emotions whenever you were with him, that all came crashing down when Shoto and his family moved to another city. The reason why was because the neighborhood that you lived in wasn’t “healthy” for him or rather, it was too friendly and Shoto was getting attached to you even though he shouldn’t.

Heroes are built to be as strong as steel after all. Emotionally and Physically. Endeavor doesn’t want his son to be a soft little marshmallow who only beams so brightly whenever he hangs out with the little girl from the quaint neighborhood.

…It’s been 12 years since then.

You’re now a perpetually tired and no-nonsense sophomore college student. Studied hard enough to get a scholarship at one of the most prestigious universities in Japan and now it feels like you’re drowning in a massive amount of school works and extra cred.

Now, looking back at your whimsical childhood life that was only made possible because of one particular Icy-Hot boy, you get a sudden feeling of euphoria course through you as you reminisce the good times.

There was a feeling of inevitability when you met Shoto.

There was something about him that drew you in.

Even at such a young age, you had the sense that the two of you would be together.

That a moment in time would come in where he would look at you in a certain way and the two of you would cross the threshold of friendship into something so much more.

Which proved to be true, as he has always felt the same way as you did.

The two of you knew each other a little better than everyone else.

All the little secrets shared through giggles and fits of laughter, the embarrassing moments shared in a small and dusty playground, and the sweet little memories that the two of you were too young to understand, but what your prying yet loving mothers both noticed.

Your lives were fated to converge like some cosmic dance. Like two shooting stars descending from the night sky. It was always fate.

It was fate that the two of you met. It was fate that the two of you would become friends, playmates, and childhood sweethearts.

But you guess it wasn’t fate that the two of you would remain friends forever.

You are still hoping for a sign in the sky or a word from the stars.

If the two of you are fated to meet again.

The soft boom of thunder and sparkle of lightning awoken you from your slumber.

You had fallen asleep whilst studying for your finals. Just ten minutes of rest. You whispered to yourself.

Those ten minutes ended up becoming an hour and a half wasted and instead of studying and memorizing the chemical formulas, you ended up dreaming about ramen instead.

Some pages of your chemistry book were creased as you had ended up using it as a pillow. You pay this no mind as you mindlessly rub your eyes out of habit, looking out the window, as rain had begun to pour outside.  

You continue to observe the rainfall as the soft sound of droplets hitting the windowpane was so soothing to you, giving you a momentary peace of mind.

Your short meditation moment was soon interrupted with the grumbling of your stomach.

“Mom and Dad aren’t home till 9…” You stretch your arms, groggily murmuring to yourself. “Might as well have a trip to the convenience store.” You hop out of your chair, reaching for a grey hoodie and matching sweatpants from your closet, trying to channel the comfy girl look as you head out.

You lock the door to your house, opening your umbrella as you whistle your way to the convenience store, taking each step carefully hoping you don’t step on any dirty puddles and hoping you see some cute little frogs on the pathway.

You stop in your tracks when you notice a black sedan parked not too far from your house. You raise suspicion a little bit until you remembered that a new family was moving in the house near you, so you decided to just brush off your skepticism.

“Welcome to Conbini! May I kindly ask you to leave your umbrella by the door?” The cashier greets you, trying to force a customer-friendly smile. They might have had a rough week and you don’t want to be labeled as those jerk kinds of customers so you nod at her and leave your parasol at the entrance.

“Oh my god.” You were about to drop the bags of food in your hands when you notice that your umbrella was gone from the parasol stand, another customer possibly mistaking their umbrella for yours. You sigh in defeat. “You know what, heck it. I could care less at this point.” You pull up your hoodie, dashing your way back home, hoping you don’t end up getting sick from this careless situation you’ve put yourself into.

You stop in your tracks once again when you see a dashing-looking man standing in front of the gates of your house.

tall, well built, half and half colored hair that was wet and tangled, wearing a long and patterned coat, hands in his pockets… it felt as if he was waiting for someone to come out of your home.

Could this be…?

He was alerted by the sound of your steps rippling with the puddles in the pavement, turning to face you, his umbrella twirling with him.

His eyes grow wide at the sight of seeing you, and you notice his chest rise up, like a feeling of relief and of hope.

“(Y/N)…?”

“S-shoto?”

These are still the beautiful heterochromatic eyes you know and love. Only this time, it had a darker hue reflecting from his orbs. These are eyes who have seen and who have gone through so much.

You can’t even believe it.

Here he was, standing right in front of you. The boy you loved all those years ago.

Even more handsome, mature, and striking, and yet you could feel this broken emptiness radiating from him. Emotional scars that still run deep through him and… at this moment, you just want him to bare his heart to you. All this pain and suffering he has felt all these years.

You feel droplets of water sliding down your cheek like crystal teardrops.

“It’s really you…” You were about to drop the bags of food in your hands due to your blissful bewilderment but Shoto rushes to you with his umbrella, shielding you from the storm.

He was a bit too close and you could feel the heat rush up to your cheeks again, a feeling you have not experienced in so many years.

“Ah. I’m sorry.” He steps back a little from you and you can hear yourself internally monologue “nooo” as he takes a few steps away. “It’s been 12 years isn’t it?” He catches your attention again.

“It is. Yeah...” You nod, still looking up at him, a certain twinkle in your eyes and an inexplicable feeling growing in your chest. “W-what brings you here?” You add, your voice soft and sweet, whether you did this on purpose or not will forever remain a question.

“My family… we’re moving back here.” He replies quickly. solemn, yet there was a tint of excitement in his tone. “My father thought it was best if my mother, my siblings and I lived in a different house than him after… all the pain that he made us go through… and so… here we are.”

“Oh! Would you like to come inside and have some coffee?” You ask, pointing your finger to your humble abode. “We have a lot of catching up to do.” You giggle jokingly, trying to keep the atmosphere light and warm despite the cold weather present around you.

You start heading to the direction of your house, knowing that Shoto will follow you inside until… 

he grabs you by the arm, enveloping and pulling you in for a tight yet soft and comforting hug. A feeling that you’ve been wistfully longing for such a long time. 

A feeling that only Shoto Todoroki could give.

“I missed you so much (Y/N)… can you share your happiness again with me?”

In the midst of the rainy summer season that brought nothing but dim and grey skies, wet and damp atmosphere, and endless floods of sorrow, you were his spring. The rosebud opening in the watery sunshine.

The whimsical girl with grass-stained knees running around the meadow with him… like a prophecy telling him that new beginnings were about to come, your personality and your appearance reminded him of the cherry blossom trees that symbolized a time of renewal.

You were the rainbow after a storm. Spreading light and color to those around her…

The one who brought back light and color to his life again.

 “from all the memories stored in my heart”

I only picked up and connected the ones of you.”

  ೃ taglist: @chibishae34  @lovelytarou​ @ramunegoddess​, @serossimpy @laudthingcat​

[random-mha-thoughts]

Boy in Luv (Midoriya x Reader)

Pairing: Midoriya x fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff/crack

Summary: Midoriya has a crush on a girl in his class, but he has no idea how to confess to her, enlisting the help of his two good friends.

Inspo: Based on BTS “Boy in Luv” MV

Word count: 1,802

Tags:  @liviitehe @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog @bunnythepipsqueak @yuki-osaki

a/n: As promised, here’s the post!  And with this, I’ve officially added Midoriya to the list of characters in the Touch Starved collection.

Enjoy the cuteness and, mostly, the crackhead friendship between the main 3 characters!  And even though I’m really late, happy 6th anniversary to Skool Luv Affair!

Midoriya, Bakugou, and Todoroki sit on the front stoop of their dorm building, enjoying the good weather since it was raining the past few days.  They've been practicing all day and decided to take a break and snack together.

Midoriya munches on his stick of string cheese.  "Do you guys get the math stuff?  I'm still having trouble with integrals and stuff."

"Tch, you're falling behind again, Deku," Bakugou scoffs, ripping open a bag of spicy chips.

Todoroki, the only one of them who decides to snack healthy with some fruit, chews for a moment before offering, "I can help you if you're stuck, Midoriya."

"Like you're any better, Icyhot.  You went completely frozen trying to figure out that problem in class yesterday," Bakugou points out smugly.

"I was simply calculating the answer mentally before writing down my work," Todoroki answers, cool and collected as ever.

"Don't make me laugh!  Just admit that you can be dumb sometimes too!"

Midoriya laughs awkwardly, stuck between his two friends as they argue - more like one of them screaming while the other brushes them off calmly.  The boy raises his eyes out to the distance, widening his eyes at what, or who , he sees.

The girl jogs towards the dorm building with Yaoyorozu beside her.  Her face lights up into a smile at whatever they're talking about.  A black windbreaker jacket is thrown over her golden honey colored sports bra that shows off her lean abdomen, and black leggings with a matching yellow stripe tracing down the side hugs her toned legs.  Midoriya doesn't want to admit it, but he can't stop staring.

The two girls slow to a stop in front of the group of still-bickering boys.  "My, they're always fighting, aren't they?" Yaoyorozu shakes her head.

The girl lets out a few chuckles.  "That's just how they are, I'd be more surprised if they stopped, honestly."  She turns to the green-haired boy and offers him a beaming smile, her eyes crinkling up.  "You still holding up, Midoriya?"

At first he's dazed, staring at the way her chest heaves as she breathes and the thin sheen of sweat on her face glistening in the fading afternoon light.  At his name, he sobers up and his cheeks flush from what he was staring at.  "Oh, uh, yeah, somehow," he sputters.  "Did you guys just come back from training?"

"Yeah, we had a pretty good session."  She stretches her arms over her head, letting a few hums of pain escape her.  "I'd love a good shower and my bed right about now, but I still have homework to do.  See you tomorrow!"

The boy watches as the girls retreat back into the building.  I never thought yellow would look good on someone besides Kaminari, he finds himself thinking.

"Midoriya, are you okay?" Todoroki's concerned voice scatters his thoughts.

"Huh?"

"Your cheeks are red and hot like you have a fever."  The heterochromatic haired boy leans forward, about to touch his face.  "Are you coming down with something?"

"No, you clueless idiot, he's in love," Bakugou barks, "He's got the hots for (Y/n)."

Midoriya jolts up.  "Is it that obvious?"

"Maybe not to Icyhot, but yeah, you look at her like she's your entire world or something."

The boy's emerald eyes drop to the ground and he hugs his knees to his chest.  "She's a really down to Earth person, and she's really easy to talk to.  And...the way her smile lights up her entire face."  His goofy smile and warm feelings fade as he sinks his head down to rest on his knees.  "I don't really know how I should tell her though."

Todoroki takes a bite of his orange slice, pondering the situation.  "Give her a lamp?  Since you said she lights up easily?"

Both boys shoot him a confused glance.  "I don't think that would impress her."  Midoriya gives it a thought.  "She likes coffee, maybe I can get her a thermos for the morning?"

"Give her a new set of pens, she has a bad habit of always losing her own."

"Maybe buy her a new pencil case to match?"

"Buy a plant for her dorm to brighten it up, like a cactus."

Bakugou finally throws his head back and groans at their stupidity.  "You guys are such idiots!  Neither of you know the first damn thing about romance?"

The two other boys slowly shake their heads dumbly

The ash blond groans again.  "Okay, let me tell you what you should do, Deku, since you're obviously clueless."  After explaining a somewhat elaborate plan to the two other boys, he leans back, a triumphant grin on his face.

Midoriya's eye widen, blush coating his cheeks again at the thought of the scenario unfolding.  "Wow Kacchan, I never expected you to be a romantic."

"Yeah, it's because you idiots are totally clueless.  You need me to educate you."

"If you're so good, why are you still single?" Todoroki asks simply.

Silence.

"SHUT UP ICYHOT! DON'T MAKE ME KILL YOU!"

Two days later, the three boys decide to go through with Bakugou's scheme.  After class, Bakugou silently follows the girl, waiting for her to stop talking to the rest of the girls to get her alone.  After spending an annoyingly long amount of time outside their classroom talking to Mina and Tzuyu, she finally bids them goodbye and makes her way to the library to study.

Unfortunately for her, she never makes it.

Just before she opens the door, she notices a shadow looming behind her.  Turning around, she's startled to have Bakugou's piercing crimson eyes boring into her's.  She backs into the door and he slams an arm by her head.  She's shaking like a leaf.  "W-What do you want, Bakugou?  I didn't do anything to you."  Despite trying to seem strong, her voice comes out feebly.

A sinister smirk crawls across Bakugou's face.  "How'd you like to go on a little trip?"

Before she can scream bloody murder, he grabs her arm and pulls her away on a little "joyride."

Meanwhile, Todoroki and Midoriya move all the chairs and desks of an empty classroom towards the walls to make a clear space in the middle.

The nervous, freckle-faced boy nervously paces around the room, going over the lines in his head while his fears wreck his quivering body.  "I can't do this, Todoroki!  What if she says no?  What if she laughs at me?!  What if she tells everyone?!  I'll be absolutely humiliated!"

"Midoriya, calm down," he stares at the jittery boy with a level gaze.  "Bakugou said he's very confident this will work.  He's sure she also harbors feelings for you too."  He places a warm hand on Midoriya's shoulder to stop his anxious habit.  "Besides, since she likes you, she would appreciate your nervous stuttering because she would find it endearing and think it's genuine of you.  Sounding too practiced ruins the natural anxiety of the moment."

The boy stares back the Todoroki's stoic expression, letting his words sink in.  "So I need to make sure I don't overpractice or else she'll still reject me?" he whines.

The half-hot-half-cold boy sighs, being cut off by his phone ringing.  "It's Bakugou, he says they'll be here shortly.  And he says, 'Don't mess this up, Deku.'"

The boy cries out, feeling his entire body suddenly lose all heat to hysterical cold.  Todoroki turns off the lights and closes the window shades, plunging the room into darkness only to light the few candles scattered across the room, casting a dim golden ambiance.

For the final step, Todoroki produces a single rose out of the inside pocket of his uniform jacket.  Walking over to Midoriya, who's mumbling strings of inaudible, neurotic fears to himself, he juts the rose out in front of him, cutting off his speech.  "Relax, Midoriya.  Just say what comes naturally."

Midoriya blinks, delicately holding the rose by the stem, Todoroki moving to stand behind the door to be out of the way.  The smaller boy feels sweaty, shaky, sick.  His uniform tie is suffocating around his throat, stomach heavy in anticipation and fear, heart hammering in his chest and ears.

Finally, the door swings open and his heart almost stops completely.

Bakugou walks in first, holding the girl by the arm.  The first thing Midoriya notices about her is her insanely windblown hair and dazed eyes.  Bakugou said he would take her out on a ride around school, hitching her on his back, jumping out a window, and using his quirk to rocket them around the school building once.  He says it would get her blood pumping, adrenaline rushing, and cheeks blushing; the perfect primer for riling her up for the big finale.

"Take it away, nerd," Bakugou makes a dramatic sweep of his hands towards Midoriya, and he knows it's his turn to shine.

The girl blinks back into focus and surveys the layout of the room, scanning the messily pushed around desks, the candles, and finally resting on the boy with the rose in his hands.  Her blush intensifies at the last thing.  "M-Midoriya, what's all this for?"

The boy goes cold all over again, perfomance anxiety getting to him.  "I... Uh, (Y/n)- You-"  All the different ways he could possibly start his monologue jumbles together to produce a mishmash of word vomit.  Pull yourself together, don't mess this up!  He takes a deep breath in and clears his throat to start over.  Whatever comes natural.  "(Y/n), you are the most amazing,  bright, fun, cute person I know.  Just seeing you smile makes my day and manages to tongue-tie me.  I'd really like to be...more than friends."  He holds out the flower with both shaky hands and dares to look in her eyes.  "W-Will you...go out with me?"

Her silence seems to last agonizingly forever.  Her entire face seems to lift as she flickers back and forth between the boy and the flower he clutches to keep from coming undone.  She finds it endearing.  In a swift movement, she gently grips his hand, leans in close, and places a kiss on his freckled cheek.  "Yes, I'd love to go out with you, Midoriya."

The boy lets out a strangled yelp of excitement, before slapping a hand over his mouth in embarrassment.  "I'm sorry, I'm just really happy!"  Sheepish chuckles bubble out as he throws his arms around her, and she welcomes his embrace with her own delighted laughter.

The other boys look on at the scene before them.  "The nerd did better than I thought he would've," Bakugou mumbles, shoving his hands in his slack pockets.

"At least his confession was accepted.  Don't know what would happen if you tried this, though," Todoroki comments, his dig smoothly executed.

Bakugou grips the boy's shirt.  "YOU WANNA DIE ICYHOT?!"

[thebiasrekkers]

Shadow’s Birthright | MYG

Chapter 00: Prologue

Plot: Riding in on thunder and lightning, two princes are born. But a crown cannot be shared. It can only be worn by one and one alone. The hands of man have separated the brothers, allowing one to live in wealth and comfort inside the palace while the other grows up among commoners. But Fate cannot be destroyed by the hands of man. A shared destiny reunites the brothers; one to become a king who descends into madness and the other will rise as a dragon whose journey has only just begun in order to claim a crown he does not desire to have.

Rating: NC-17 // NSFW

Genre: series | historical!au | fantasy!au | angst | romance | drama | tragedy

Pairing: Min Yoongi (Lee Yoon) x Female OC (Kalina Shuri)

Warnings: Historical setting, caste system, magic/sorcery, graphic violence, disturbing graphic images, religious tones, angst, slow burn, smut

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 2,128

Tag List: @luxekook​, @pinkpjmin​, @btsaudge​, @flowerwrites06​, @stillcopingxx​, @taevkimchi​, @aroseforyoongi​

AN: I’ve teased you all enough with this. I’ve been doing it since Yoongi dropped that damn MV (you all know it by now, don’t act like you don’t). And now here we are. Me. Again. Teasing you with a prologue. But it will be worth the wait, my loves. It will be worth the torture that I am about to put you all through. Because it’s a story I think needs to be told. I know I’ve seen some one-shots out there, and while that’s great, I want to put my Korean History knowledge through the ringer and really put you guys on a roller coaster. If you love this story, show it love. I’m writing this because it’s a story featuring a subject I’m passionate about and one that I will put all of my heart and soul into. Just like with Make It Right. So I present to you the start of this journey, this trilogy series (yes, I said it) full of heartbreak, magic and love.

P.S. Please bear in mind that while the historical accuracy will be mostly correct, I am setting this in a time period in Joseon history where there was no such thing as a king who had a twin brother. Obviously that’s where the fiction/creative freedom is going to come in. Everything else will be period accurate, trust and believe. 

© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

“The more a thing is perfect, the more it feels pleasure and pain.” - Dante Alighieri - The Divine Comedy

Thunder rumbled across the skies as a pained scream tore through the night. 

Hurried footsteps echoed through the palace halls as maid servants and eunuchs piddled about. Some carried brass basins full of water, others had armfuls of fresh linens. Royal physicians moved in and out of the White Lily Pavilion, urgency in their steps, and everyone was talking at once.

“The water isn’t hot enough!”

“Are those fresh linens?”

“The tonic is almost ready!”

“She’s sweating far too much!”

“We need another pillow!”

“Her legs are swollen. We need cold compresses!”

“Elevate them for now!”

“Her Majesty needs some water!”

Suddenly, there was a sharp gasp from one of the maidservants as an approaching eunuch appeared, followed by a small entourage of soldiers, eunuchs and handmaidens. She stumbled forward when another servant ran into her back, nearly knocking the fresh basin of water from her hands.

“His Majesty, The King, has arrived!”

Those who were able to, prostrated themselves before the king immediately. He wore deep crimson robes with golden dragons embroidered on the sleeves and chest. The topknot was held together with a golden ornament that resembled flames - a dragon pin pushed through to hold the item in place. His eyes were wide, full of concern, and burned a rich umber that was reflected from the crack of lightning that lit up the sky.

“How is she?” he asked as the royal physician approached, wringing his hands clean of blood. “It’s been hours!”

The Royal Physician sighed, sweat beading out over his forehead and nose. “It is a difficult labor, Your Majesty. Truthfully, I’m worried about Her Majesty’s safety.”

The King glared at him, causing the doctor to flinch slightly. “If she dies, I will have your head. Do you understand?”

The physician bowed deeply, as did his assistants. “Forgive me, Your Majesty. I will do everything in my power to ensure that the Queen has a healthy delivery.”

Suddenly, one of the maid servants appeared, a smile on her face. “The baby is breaching, Sir!”

The Royal Physician made haste, following after the servant and back into the pavilion. The King watched, his hands locked together as he began to silently pray for the safety of both his Queen and his child. His eunuch and bodyguard sidled up on either side of him, whispering encouraging words to help ease his anxieties. 

After what felt like hours of listening to the doctors and servants yelling encouraging words to the Queen, a shrill yell of agony broke through the night. On the tail end of the scream, a baby’s cry could be heard. The King felt his legs give way and he was held up by his attendants as he laughed in relief. But just before he was allowed to enter his Queen’s chamber, he heard something concerning.

“My Lord! Another one! Another child is pushing through!”

“What?!” the physician yelled, confused. This concerned the King, but since the Queen was still in labor, he was not granted entrance into her chambers. “Bring more linens and fetch Her Majesty’s tonic! Hurry!”

More urging words were given to the Queen as she continued her labor. The tension was so thick in the air that it could be sliced completely in half with a sword. Every so often, an attendant would tap at the sweat collecting on the King’s brow and temple. The storm that threatened to rain down on them continued to make itself known until another young voice pierced through the sky.

The King didn’t bother halting his steps as he all but ran toward the entrance of the Lily Pavilion. He kicked off his boots and his sock-clad feet thundered against the polished wood flooring. Two servants quickly slid the doors open to allow the King to enter the Queen’s chambers. His haggard breathing escalated when he saw his Queen’s complexion was even paler than when he’d last seen her. The servants and physicians quickly moved aside to allow the King to situate himself at her bedside. 

“Choon-jung,” he whispered, his hands immediately moving to grasp her own as she reached out to him, “you did very well.”

Tears leaked from her eyes as she smiled weakly up at him. “Cheon-ha,” she managed to croak out, her dark bangs clinging to the sweat on her forehead and cheeks, “forgive your servant for her lack of grace.”

“Nonsense.” He stroked her cheek with as much affection as he could without allowing his emotions to overcome him. “You must rest now, my Queen. It has been a long night.”

“Your grace is immeasurable.” Again, she smiled. For a moment, all they did was look at each other. Finally, she huffed out a breath and craned her neck in different directions. “The Royal Physician?”

“I believe he went to go fetch your tonic, my Queen.” The King watched her nod again. Just as he was about to speak, two maidservants appeared. Each of them were holding thick silk blankets; one gold and the other emerald green. The King’s happy mood slowly grew dour. “Are they princes or princesses?”

The two servants seemed to sense the tone shift in The King’s expression and voice. They both looked at one another before lowering their heads solemnly. When he slammed his hand on the floor, they immediately fell to their knees while cradling the children and prostrating themselves at the Queen’s bedside.

“Forgive us, Your Majesty!”

“My King,” called his Queen, attempting to soothe his ire, “please, you must remain calm.”

“Are they princes or princesses?” He asked the question again through clenched teeth. He would not ask a third time. 

One servant lifted her head to meet the King’s harsh gaze, gasping and then dipping it back down again. “F-Forgive your servant’s insolence, Your Majesty,” she stammered, clinging to the emerald blanket for what he could only assume was out of comfort, “they are both healthy princes.”

“Dojin-ah,” the King called, his hand already extended out in waiting. His bodyguard approached and placed a small dagger in the King’s palm. The two servants huddled even closer together as the King stood. “Which of the princes was born first?”

The Queen sat up fully, arms flying outward to cling to the lower half of the King’s robes. “Cheon-ha! I beg you to show mercy!” She tightened her grip on the silk fabric and he could only flash a pained expression as he stared into her fearful eyes. “They are your sons, My King!”

“You know that I cannot do that, Choon-jung,” he replied softly, his brows furrowing, “twin sons will only create turmoil in the Royal court. I do not want my sons fighting over the throne in the future. Nor will I have them be used as tools by any of the noble factions to obtain more power for themselves.” 

Tears spilled from the Queen’s eyes and her hands slowly slid from his robes. He knew that she couldn’t argue with him. It wasn’t her place, and even if it were, she had no counterargument to dissuade him with. Reaching down to stroke her cheek, he gave her a silent apology with a mere look. He slowly unsheathed the dagger, his gaze hardening as he looked back at the two maidservants. 

“Which of the princes was born first?” he asked again, pointing the tip of the dagger in their direction. “Do not lie to me or I will take your lives from you. Do you understand?”

The girl holding the golden blanket shuffled forward on her knees, holding the child swaddled inside out to the King. “This is the first-born prince, Your Majesty.”

He hummed, turning to face the servant holding the emerald blanket. “Give me the child.” Her head shot up and she turned a frightful gaze to the Queen. For a while, all the Queen could do was avert her gaze. “NOW!” The King’s booming voice shook the young servant girl from her frozen state and she slowly stood to approach the King.

When the child was placed into his arms, the King looked down at the young prince. His hair was jet black and his complexion was a bit red from having been brought into the world finally. The child fought sleep for a few seconds before he blinked up a set of dark, curious eyes at him. The King’s heart skipped a beat when the child sputtered a tiny giggle and smiled at him. 

For a moment, the King of Joseon believed he would not be able to do this.

Before he could stop her, the Queen was up on her feet and wrenched the child from his grasp. She stumbled backwards, landing hard on her bedding. Her hair and robes were completely disheveled and her servants were immediately at her side as they began to straighten her appearance as best they could. Clinging to the child, she glared harshly up at the King.

He sighed. “Choon-jung,” he said slowly, his eyes narrowing, “do not do this.”

“I cannot let you kill him!” She pulled the baby up to her cheek and buried her face into the blanket, sobbing openly into it. “I will not let you do it!”

The King hated seeing his beloved Queen in this state. For as long as they’d been married, before he’d even been crowned King of Joseon, he simply wanted to live a fulfilling life with his wife. They’d tried many times over the years to bear children, but to no avail. And now, when they were finally granted a miracle from the Heavens, they were instead cursed with two sons. 

He’d never wished for the twins to have been princesses more than in that very moment.

Again, the Queen reached out to cling at his robes. He knew that she was desperate and he wanted nothing more than to grant her every wish she desired. But bloodshed often ran rampant in the palace. It took place when he was a child many years ago. He didn’t want that life for his sons. 

“Please, My King! If you must deny this child’s existence, then send him away!” Seeing her tear-stained cheeks upset him and he slowly lowered himself down to her. “Please don’t kill our son. I’m begging you!”

For a long moment, no one said anything. The only sounds that could be heard were the tiny coughs and sleepy sneezes of his sons. Finally, he sighed and lowered the dagger at his side. He could not win against her.

“Very well,” he said, causing her to release another sob; this time from relief. 

His bodyguard, Dojin, was about to retrieve the dagger. But before he could get his hands on it, the King shot his arm out to snatch his son out of the Queen’s arms. Before she could stop him, the King brought the dagger’s blade down on the child’s face. Blood wept from the right cheek and the infant screamed in pain. The Queen’s own screams intermingled with the noise and while it hurt his heart to do this, he knew that it had to be done. 

He rose to his feet, handing both the dagger and the child to Dojin. “Take him, Dojin-ah. Take him and leave the Capital at once.” His bodyguard blinked, holding the child close to his chest. “You are not allowed to return unless summoned. Do you understand?”

Dojin’s lips parted slightly. “B-But Your Majesty…” 

“He is your son now, Dojin-ah.” Reaching into the sleeve of his robe, he pulled out hiding inside of his palm and shoved it into the silk belt wrapped around Dojin’s waist. “When the time comes, give this to him. You will know when.”

He watched his bodyguard and dearest friend frown. “Your Majesty…”

“This is my decree.” The King placed his hands on Dojin’s shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze. “Go. Go now!”

He watched Dojin lower his head sharply and then hastily made his retreat just as the Royal Physician returned. He looked over his shoulder curiously and the King quickly swept his arm out across his body. “The Queen only gave birth to one son. That is what the entire Kingdom will know from this day forward.” His eyes narrowed as the servants and physicians all looked between each other. “If I so much as hear a whisper of anything else within these palace halls, I will bathe the royal gardens with your blood.”

Sharp gasps and hushed whispers were thrown between everyone. The King stomped his foot, commanding for silence. “Am I making myself clear?!”

“Yes, Your Majesty!” All the servants lowered themselves, their heads bowed deeply to hide their faces. “Your grace is immeasurable!”

[kpopfanfictrash]

The Elevator

Member: Taehyung (BTS)

Prompt: Song!drabble, inspired by Flower, Johnny Stimson

Rating: PG-13

WC: 1,320

↳ part of my 30K milestone drabble game

The entire month of November it rains.

Granted, it is only the third day of the month, so there is time yet to turn things around, but still. Three whole days is too much for any person to handle in good spirits. Shaking water from your coat, you dart into your apartment building. The elevator doors are already closing before you.

“Wait!” you call, rushing across the lobby. “Hey! Wait!”

A hand darts out, stopping the doors just in time.

“Thanks,” you pant, skidding to a stop. Damp hair falls into your gaze – you hastily push this backwards. “It’s been a shit day, and I –”

You look up. The guy staring back is ridiculously attractive. Shaggy brown hair, silver bespectacled gaze and a bemused look on his face when you stop dead in your tracks.

“Sorry about the day.” He smiles, taking a step back. “Floor?”

Walking into the elevator, you stubbornly face forward. “T-thirty six,” you say meekly, not meeting his gaze.

From the corner of your eye, you see him check you out. There is not much to see – your clothing is soaked, rain running in rivulets from your skin to the floor. Ducking your head, you loosely comb fingers through the snarls in your hair.

Thirty-seven is already lit up. You see this, then glance sideways but he is already looking down, scanning through his phone. Stomach sinking, you realize you missed your window and ride the rest of the way to your apartment in silence.

When you step out, you turn at the last moment. Lifting a hand, you offer a wave.

His eyes widen, hand jerking upwards to wave quickly back.

The doors shut between you.

Muttering beneath your breath about how awkward you are, you quickly turn and walk the rest of the way down the hall.

The rain stops the day following, but with it goes the temperature. Sooner than you would like, you find yourself dressed in your heaviest coat, stuffing your hands into gloves. When you exit each morning, your breath frosts in the air and when you return home each night, the sun has already set.

Cute elevator guy remains a mystery until a solid week later – this time, at 8:06 AM. You are mid-yawn, coffee cup clutched in one hand when the doors slide open and he is waiting inside.

His gaze widens. “Oh! It’s you.” Stepping gallantly to the right, he makes room for you to stand.

Shyly, you walk in and glance sideways at him. “Morning”

Not having yet had coffee, you cannot think of anything stimulating to say. And so, you reluctantly face forward to ride the rest of the way to the lobby in silence. As the floors swiftly tick by, you stare at the numbers – then sideways, at him.

He is already looking your way. When you turn, his cheeks flush crimson and he looks pointedly forward.

Hiding your smile into your coffee cup, the elevator dings at floor six for two more people to crowd on. They muscle between you and your stranger – who looks at you helplessly before moving aside. You shrug in return, attempting to convey your strong sense of sadness.

The new man in the elevator is wearing heavy cologne – nothing so delicate as the citrus and sage of your stranger. When you all exit the lobby, you immediately lose track of him on the street.

Luckily, you do not have to wait long to see him again.

The very next day, you pointedly wait until 8:05 before leaving your apartment. It is a long shot, but you are willing to risk being a few minutes late if it will mean seeing his face. The risk ultimately pays off because, when the doors slide open, he is already there.

Seeing you, his grin widens. “We have to stop meeting like this,” he jokes as you step onto the elevator.

“Before I drink coffee?” you say, facing forward. “I agree.”

His smile widens as the doors swiftly shut. The two of you hover, glancing sideways but never speaking. There are a million conversations happening in your head – when did you move here? Why haven’t I seen you before – but neither one has the courage to say them out loud.

As the floor number changes from 2 to the lobby, he turns sideways. “I’m Taehyung, by the way.”

Alright, maybe one of you has the courage.

Glancing at him, you arch a brow. “Y/N.”

His smile widens. His grin is boxy, highlighting the twin apples of his cheeks. “Well.” He pauses. “Until tomorrow, Y/N.”

With that, he steps from the elevator and into the lobby. You follow suit, tugging up on your collar and turning (disappointedly) in the opposite direction.

Taehyung does not appear the next morning.

You try not to be disappointed. Anything could have happened and again, it is not as though you two had a set date. It is not as though you planned to run into each other, or anything – although he did say he would see you tomorrow. Still, it could have been something as simple as timing. He might have taken the next elevator down. You try not to let this weigh on you the rest of the day.

Somehow, you cannot push Taehyung from mind. Taehyung. His name had a nice ring to it – it suited him, somehow. It suited the way his grin stretched to his eyes, the way his voice changed when he laughed and the way he said your name – firmly, as though he also liked the sound.

Exiting the office, you find yourself still thinking of him. You should think of something to say the next time you see him. Maybe you could tease him a little for missing the elevator in the morning. Or, maybe you could just ask him out.

Hunching into the wind, you hurry across the street. You are not the type of person who goes around asking people on dates – especially virtual strangers, ones as handsome as Taehyung. Still, these small slivers of time have been the highlights of your days. You cannot ignore this, and you cannot ignore that he is the cause.

As you enter your building, you tug hands from your jacket. Having forgotten your gloves in your cubicle, you went without on your walk home. Glancing up at the elevator, you nearly stop in your tracks.

Taehyung leaps up from the small, cushy chair in the lobby. “Hi,” he blurts, cheeks red – from embarrassment or cold, you are not sure.

“I – hi.” Glancing over your shoulder, you check to be sure he is talking to you.

“Y/N, right?”

You turn back. “Yeah. Taehyung?”

Slowly, he nods. “Sorry I missed our date this morning. I overslept.”

This explanation is given so seriously that now, your cheeks are the ones heating. Taking a step forward, you move from the revolving door’s way.

“I didn’t know we had a date,” you say quietly.

Nervous, he bites down on his lip. “Oh. Well, then, would you like one? With me. Would you like to go on a date with me?” he clarifies, then winces.

His adorable, bumbling manner does things to your insides. Everything flops and twists, making you nervous when he takes another step forward. Finally, you can get a good look at him, face to face. No more side-long looks and awkward glances. This close, you see the tiny mole on his lip and the one under his nose. His expression is open, earnest as he waits for your answer.

Suddenly, you smile and throw caution to the wind. “Yeah. I’d love that.”

His smile broadens. “Really?”

“Really.” You glance past him to the elevator. “How long have you been waiting down here?”

“Not long.”

You give him a dubious look.

Taehyung smiles sheepishly. “It was worth it. Now, about that date?”

Walking past, you glance over your shoulder. “Let’s talk about it in the elevator,” you grin, pressing the button.

  © kpopfanfictrash, 2019. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[ajokeformur-ray]

You give me purpose // Joker x Reader // clown lovings

Summary: Nothing is as serious to you as the love which you share with Joker. You do your best to show him each and every day but sometimes, the seriousness of your feelings becomes critical and he’s left stunned. Today is one of those times.

This lil’ daydream has kept me sane the last few days and I wanna share it. This is hella self-indulgent and very definitely self-insert but do I care? Nope. To set the scene, I listened to this - he’s my bias but the other 6 are wreckers skskskk <3333 I love BTS so so much.

Warning for swearing.

Word count: 1, 030.

You came out of the small kitchen clutching a steaming mug of coffee, raising it to your lips even as you walked through into the living room, your steps slow and stable as you made your way back over to the worn sofa, upon which was sat Joker, his legs crossed over at the ankles, his knees bouncing even with how relaxed his posture was.

You stopped dead at the opposite arm of the sofa, your eyes solidly fixed on Joker, who was doing his best to pretend that he was avidly watching the news, which was talking about the most recent riots which had broken out across the grimy, filthy streets of Gotham. 

There was something about Joker at this moment which positively squeezed your heart, so fiercely and so suddenly did those warm tendrils wrap around your soul that you almost dropped your coffee, and with fumbling, quick movements did you set it down on the coffee table; some spilled over the rim of the mug but you paid it no mind. Joker gave up his transparent pretence, then, and gracefully unfurling himself did he come to stand before you, hands tugging nervously at the sides of his red blazer as his green eyes like pins kept you in place even as a smirk started to grow inwards from the very corners of his real thin lips, which now perfectly matched the crimson red one painted upon his angelic face.

“Y/N, what is it?”

You continued to stare at Joker and you knew not what was on your face but as your vision blurred at the edges did Joker’s smirk fade almost as quickly as it had come, his eyes sharpening as he stepped forward to take the both of your hands in his, his fingers interlocking with yours as he flexed his fingers around yours in silent comfort.

“Y/N, what?” Urgency crept into Joker’s tone as he took another step towards you so that you were almost chest to chest now, his eyes pleading to understand. 

There was nothing you could say. You were feeling and thinking far too much, and with no thought at all did you take your hands out of Joker’s, your movements too fast for either of you to fully register them as you took his face in your hands and tipped his head down slightly so that you could rain erratic heartfelt kisses all over his face, your lips desperate, the moment crucial. Every kiss was punctuated with a verbal declaration as over and over and over again did you leave traces of your love all over Joker’s face, so acute was your need for him to know, to know, that you loved him.

“I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you - “ 

Joker’s soft noises of love and of disbelief broke up your kisses, your confessions, and they only fuelled your desire to love him so completely and so thoroughly that he was no longer able to deny your feelings, no, your love for him. This was more than love, you knew, and the things you felt for Joker had always been bigger than you. Ever since the moment you had met did it feel as though you had known and loved him just like this forever. You hadn’t met, no, but instead had your souls simply become re-introduced.

Joker’s slender hands wrapped cleanly around your wrists, his fingers over your pulse as he used your body to ground himself, so caught up in the moment and in what you were doing to him that he wasn’t entirely sure that he was awake, and that what was happening was true and real.

“Joker, Joker, Joker, I love you. My Joker. My Joker.” The last sentence was whispered against his painted skin, greasepaint all you could smell, the white of which was spreading thinly over the palms of your warm hands, the blue and red smeared and smudged into the perfectly imperfect jagged lines of the white which acted as the base for his makeup.

“Mm-hm,” Joker nodded his head, giggling, his words breathless, so shocked by and so in awe of this moment was he as you gave him everything that he deserved and more in a single pocket of time which was only ever to be experienced, known and remembered by the two of you. Private moments like this, carved out of your hectic lives, made everything else more than worth it.  “I’m yours, doll. And you’re mine.” He clutched at you like a lifeline, his breaths irregular and his heart jumping so hard that he thought it was going to burst out of his chest, his own overwhelming love threatening to drown him as he gave up, gave in, to everything that you were stirring within him, to the purpose of your existence, which was loving him just like this, today and every day, for as long as you both would live.

Yours, you thought over and over as you seized his lips with your own in a fiery kiss which quickly made you both dizzy, intoxicated with love which was so potent in the air that it was like a drug to the both of you, your fingers sliding into his dyed green strands as you pulled him impossibly closer to you. Yours, yours, yours.

Your coffee cooled and lay abandoned for the rest of the night, and when you poured it down the sink in the morning with a disgusted wrinkle of your nose at the white skin which had formed across the surface of the precious liquid did you realise all at once that Joker was the only person you would ever waste a single drop of coffee for. There were things that you wouldn’t do to or for anyone in your life, but for Joker... for Joker, you would do them in a heartbeat. He was the exception to your every rule, it seemed.

He really was, for better or for worse, your entire life, and nothing would ever be stronger than all that he was to you: your love, your life, your purpose.

Defense Squad @writings-of-a-gen-z              @x-avantgarde-x       @insomniabird      @mavalenovaninagavi     @itwasrealenough     @morrisonmercurymalek     @rand0ms-fand0ms     @rafaelina-casillas     @aclownthing       @vivft              @help-i-am-obssessed      @autumnaffection       @taintednihilist   @vladtoly   @mg-woolf99      @misstgrey92   @dopey-fandom-girl         @seeking-dreamland      @sweetheart-syndrome      @heartxfdesire     @xmusichealsthesoulx       @0callmejude0      @the-one-that-likes-riddles        @hannibalsslut       @folliaght            @freeeshavacadoo         @bingewatchingmylifegoby       @unlovedbyeveryoneandeverything @okamiredfoxx       @sp0okysp0oky  @the-pandorabox      @mardema @jibanyyan        @honeyflvredcoughdrop         @emissarydecksetter @jokerfleckk         @epidendroideae         @chuuntas          @stillmabel       @pumpkinpeyes       @onehystericalqueenposts          @the-jokers-wolf       @nalsswa  @justahyena       @arianatheangelworld  @soullessblondbitch @gothamslittlejester  @twentyonestarrynights  @sirianfromsixties @kissmeclownman    @joker-is-my-hero  @lazyloosah  @lovesickkloxx @ladylovelyluna      @live-love-loki  @clownerybbxx   @tragicarthur    @anmach123      @rommie-chan      @arthurflock     @lucyboytom                  @immortal-bi-bitch    @hearthurfleck     @jokersproperty     @curlystark     @hailmary-yramliah    @sagyunaro     @playinthedarktillitsgoldenagain     @jokeringcutio      @xenthefox   @mijachula    @stcrrynightsinneverlcnd      @cheyennejonas22     @pauli1100     @smitten-susie    @actualkey     @callmejokerfleck   @jaylovesbats    @itsforyoubitch      @ridiculousnerd     @killerprotector3579       @soulsdontbreaktheybeeend     @fantasticwinnerclodexpert                  @arthurs-sweater      @pinkie44pie    @tsukiakarinobara      @prettyxlittlexpsychoxprincess   @elodia-gahan   @yours-mia     @parkdonghoons      @lady-carnivals-stuff                         @hobi-hobi-kyo-kkyu      @jupiturde        @incognitofish      @j-sux      @nothing-but-a-comedy      @tahliamalfoydepp     @sgtsavoytruffle         @smol-nari       @pocket-clown    @driver-phoenix-writes    @millandram     @obsessedandthirsty   @holosexualunicorn7000    @anyatheladyclown   @imightaswellnotexistatall      @elusive-ivory    @funneeeh    @jokerhoe    @carnivalou      @floralhijabix         @sonrisa-yk     @livingmydreamsquietly    @marymadly     @that199xgrrrl      @mr–clown    @ezziesworld

[cialbi]

Imagine #1 - Fan Fictions

Scenario: BTS reading and reacting to fan fictions about themselves. 

Warnings: Language, Sex Talk

A/N: I kinda just had to.... If you liked this, please check out my other fictions here 

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Kim Seokjin: 

Jin would not read them of his own will. Either Hoseok or Yoongi would have somehow forced him as a practical joke, which by then he’d be totally emotionally involved. He’d be overly critical about his character and angrily question how he’s portrayed. 

Jin: Yah! Why am I always cooking? And eating?

Namjoon: Because you’re literally always cooking.

Hoseok: And eating.

Jin: Aigoo. The point of fan fiction is to be creative! Aish! And why am I always the fucking bottom?

Namjoon & Hoseok: *sniggers* 

Jin would print out some fictions and edit them by hand, making notes about all the things he didn’t like. He’d probably go as far as to write the author. 

Jin: They’re never gonna get me right unless I show them how.

He might even make his own fan fictions to demonstrate how it's done. Then he would make the other members edit them.

Jin: Here. Read this. *hands to Namjoon*

Jin would be especially upset by smut fictions, particularly the ones where he’s dominant and demeaning. His eyes would bug out of his head and his face would go crimson in rage. 

Jin: “I WOULD NEVER TREAT A LADY LIKE THAT!” 

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Kim Namjoon: 

Namjoon would read them on his i-pad, preferably in private but wouldn’t flinch if someone were to walk in. Unashamed about the dirty stuff, he would approach them logically because he understands we are all horny motherfuckers. 

He’d be self critical but in a funny way and would read them with a sense of humor. 

Namjoon: My dick isn’t that big *checks* yeah it’s really not that big…

Aside from the smut, Namjoon would also read fictions based on their real life experiences and reminisce about the good times. 

Namjoon: Oh yeah… I remember that day… God I was not in a good mood. 

To his dismay, Namjoon would realize that he actually does have a daddy kink and not know how to feel about it. He would then spiral into a self discovery crisis. 

Namjoon: Daddy? Why would I want her to say that?... *thinks* I guess I do say baby girl a lot… so does that mean I have a daddy kink? Do I want to be called daddy?... Does this make me a pervert?... HEY JIN, I HAVE A QUESTION! 

Jin: Aish! Keep your mid-life crisis to yourself! 

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Min Yoongi:

Yoongi would read fan fictions before bed, in the dark and on his phone. He would read all types and genres with secret intrigue, though he wouldn’t admit that he’s interested if anyone asked. Although at first it was morbid curiosity, he’d find himself reading on more than one occasion without any shame or guilt. 

Silent and expressionless, no one would even guess he was reading smut fiction.

He would ultimately cease reading after a particularly graphic piece of audacious porn where a girl licks cum off his shoe. Furrowing his eyebrows he would squint in disgust.

Yoongi: Fuck. What’s wrong with people? *shuts phone off and proceeds to roll over and sleep*  

Yoongi would also make random comments out loud like “what does that even mean?” referring to sex terms he’s not familiar with.  

Jungkook: What does what mean?” 

Yoongi: Nothing kid, eat your cereal. 

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Jung Hoseok: 

Hoseok would read them on his phone, deliberately in a public setting and laugh his fucking dick off. He would read things out loud that he’s super excited about or something he found funny and would make whoever is near him listen, whether they wanted to or not. 

Hoseok: OMG GUYS LISTEN TO THIS! *smacks Yoongi’s leg* 

BTS: *groans* Not again….

He would particularly like the fluff fictions but avoid the sad ones completely because he “don’t want nobody to rain on his parade.” He’d love the ones where he’s portrayed as a soft boy and giggle in delight. 

Hoseok: AWWWW Joon! I’m such a cinnamon roll! 

Trying to imitate positions he’s written as doing, Hoseok would realize that he can actually do them. 

Hoseok: DUDES MY HIPS CAN THRUST LIKE JESUS! 

Hoseok would get a kick out of humiliating his bandmates with the stuff that happens to them. 

Hoseok: AHAHAHAHAHA JIMIN READ THIS. YOU TOTALLY GOT BITCH FUCKED BY TAE. 

Jimin: Fuck, AGAIN? 

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Park Jimin:

Jimin would read them on his computer after Taehyung sent him an attachment to a fic about himself. He would typically read them in private, but emotionally invest them into his real life. 

Jimin: Why don’t people see me as more manly? *pouts* I’m manly! 

Jin: At least you’re not compared to a mother who only cooks and eats *rolls eyes dramatically* 

He would whine incessantly about being submissive and particularly self-obsess after reading a TaeMin fan fiction. 

Jimin: Why are you always on top? I could totally dominate you! And I’m older! I should definitely be on top!

Taehyung: *smirks* Sure hyung. 

To prove his point, he would actually then go and search for fictions where he’s deliberately on top. Proud of himself, he’d make damn sure to show Taehyung that he’s an awesome dominant, and that Taehyung is sorely missing out. 

Jimin would sob at the angsty fictions, and as a bundle of sniffs and tears he would go to check up on his fellow bandmates. 

Jimin: Hey Yoongi hyung, is there something you want to tell me? You know I’m always here to talk if you want, right? 

Yoongi: The fuck dude, it’s 4am. Piss off. 

Like when people have dreams about their friends or significant other betraying them, Jimin would have sudden outbursts during the day about things the other boys did in a fiction he recently read. 

Jimin: FUCK YOU HOBI! SHE WAS MY GIRLFRIEND FIRST! 

Hoseok: *goes a long* Shoulda fucked her better man, what can I say?

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Kim Taehyung: 

Taehyung would read them on his tablet while he’s eating, not caring if other members are present. As our honest boy, he would be outwardly proud about how he’s depicted as manly and a pro in bed. 

Taehyung: Oh yeah bro, I fucked her gooood. 

Sometimes uncontrollably turned on, Taehyung would get himself off by reading a fiction where he aggressively fucks the living daylights out of someone. 

Hoseok: *walks in on Taehyung jerking off* Hey Tae can I--oh shit! What porn you watchin dude?

Taehyung: That one where I FUCK YOUR MOM. 

Not liking to deal with heavy emotions, he’d probably hate the angst fictions, but at the same time he’d get super sucked into them.

Taehyung: No! Why!? Why’d you have to do it baby? I got you! I’ll never leave your side, just don’t go! Please! I’m right here! Don’t cry! 

Taehyung would have an outburst of rage at the things he doesn’t like or agrees with, particularly when it involves abuse and bullying. 

Taehyung: “OH FUCK NO SHEILA. NO ONE MESSES WITH TAE’S GIRL!”

He definitely doesn’t like clothes ripping foreplay. 

Taehyung: Bitch that was probably Gucci. 

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Jeon Jungkook: 

Jungkook would read fan fiction wherever he can get his hands on them, curiosity getting the better of him after hearing his hyungs conversing about their exploits. He would read super dirty fucked up stuff by accident and ask the other boys what certain things meant; particularly about sexual innuendos. 

He’s not dumb to sex, but as an innocent little smoosh, Jungkook is unfamilair with a lot of filthy things. 

Jungkook: Hyungs, what’s a blumpkin?” 

Hoseok: OMG let me tell him!

Namjoon: *sighs nonchalantly* be my guest. 

Jungkook would outwardly question some portrayals of himself, at first not agreeing with it but then realizing they’re totally accurate. 

Jungkook: Well I… yeah, I guess.

Like a toddler, he would endlessly ask about things he didn’t understand, like relationship problems and character development. He would blink in confusion and turn to his hyungs for clarification. 

Jungkook: Why?

Namjoon: *explains* 

Jungkook: Ok but why? 

Namjoon: *explains further* 

Jungkook: Yeah, ok but why? 

Namjoon: Fuck this shit. *gives up* 

                                                        방탄소년단

[jincherie]

fox rain | two

• ☽ — pairing: bts x reader • ☽ — genre: crack, fluff, angst, college/uni au • ☽ — words: 8.7k+ • ☽ — rating: sfw • ☽ — warnings: at last, it drops. tension! • ☽ — notes: things are beginning to shift!! lets get it fox rain!!!

— posted; 01.06.2019

When the love letter you wrote and submitted as an assignment is leaked to the entirety of your university, it becomes a race against time to dispel rumours and convince the seven suspected muses of the poem that they aren’t the subject before anyone realises that you are the author. Easy, right? Well… maybe not as easy as you think.

— • masterpost | prev. | two | next • —

If Hoseok is surprised at your somewhat frazzled appearance and contradicting smug smile as you enter the library with a skip in your step, he doesn’t show it. Instead, you receive a sudden and intense cross between Hoseok’s most prevalent (and your preferred) bubbly persona and that of a concerned tutee, which in this moment he very much seems to be.

“y/n, are you okay? You missed last weeks session and are super late today? Are you, like, dying?”

Blinking rapidly and halting in your steps, it takes you a moment to realise that Hoseok is holding you by the arms and looking slightly crazed. You chalk it up to concern, and reach up to ruffle his pink and purple locks before shuffling past him and plopping your belongings on the table he has picked out today.

“I’ve had a day,” you say simply, mulling over whether you want to share its events in detail with the male or not. Undoubtedly, he would be understanding about your Seokjin-related vexations, but also… you can’t reveal much at all without also in turn revealing that you’re the author of the poem. Which reminds you…

Hoseok is one of the few people listed as potential muses for the poem. Your mood sinks slightly as you recall that little tidbit, your previous joy from Seokjin getting his dues fading a little. Right, your job isn’t done yet—you can’t allow yourself to celebrate prematurely when your reputation is still at stake.

“A day?” Hoseok repeats, a note of understanding filtering into his voice. “It really be like that, huh. Well, at least you’re here now! You can count on me to cheer you up.”

You snort, turning to face him as you take a seat—it seems that his momentary ‘concerned tutee’ persona has left and now it’s the usual bubbly-seok. Again, your favourite of his usual two dispositions, so you’re not at all complaining.  

“What do we have to work on today?” you skip over his exuberant utterances for the sake of beginning the tutoring session that you were already late for. No sense in prolonging its start even more, since you have another one lined up right after. Which reminds you, you need to begin mentally preparing yourself for the transition between them.

“Some worksheets!” Hoseok chirps, finally joining you at the table. “And then, if we have time, would you be able to help me with one of my assignments? History of Music is kicking my ass!”

You’re a little taken aback by how cheerful he sounds as he says that, but settle for shrugging and moving on. It’s typical Hoseok behaviour, you’re not too concerned.

“Sure, whip ‘em out.”

Hoseok quickly does just that, opening up his bag and rifling through for the sheets he needs. The silence that falls over you is brief but comfortable, though you don’t get to enjoy it much before Hoseok is speaking again. He still hasn’t found the sheets when he opens his mouth.

“So, what happened with you on Friday?” the bright-eyed male asks, turning his head to peer at you over his shoulder while he tears his bag apart looking for his worksheets. “It was a bit of a crazy day, huh? Did you hear about what happened!”

You freeze instantly, saved from having your deer-in-headlights expression expose you by Hoseok turning back to his bag to glare inside it. Panic wells in the bottom of your lungs, inching higher with each second that passes. Fuck, you kind of hoped he wasn’t going to mention it but you can feel it now— he’s totally going to bring up the poem. Fuck—

“Who am I kidding, of course you did,” Hoseok continues to chatter before you can even begin to attempt kicking your brain into gear. Each word that falls from his lips feels like a slap to the top of your head. “Everyone knows about the Moon Poem and the mystery muse and author! I haven’t been able to scroll through my feed without seeing at least a dozen posts about it. And then, then, one of my English Lit friends send me something and it turns out I was included on a list that—”

Shit, you knew it, you knew it— okay, stay calm. You have to stay calm, if your Seokjin experience earlier today taught you anything, it’s that you need to tone down your approach or they’ll know you’re the author. You think this, and understand this, and yet the next words that leave your mouth are probably the most contrary and counterproductive things you could have uttered in this situation.

“You know you’re not the muse, right?” The second you hear the words pass your own lips you wish to tear your own head off and drop-kick it into the sun. That was mean, that was so so mean what the fuck! Why did you say that! You’re panicked but you’re not heartless! “I- I mean, there’s a l-lot of people—”

“Don’t worry, I never would have dreamed it was me!” Hoseok cuts you off before you can dig the hole any deeper, having found his worksheets and since  turned himself back to face you. He’s still smiling, apples of his cheeks coloured slightly, and his tone is as chirpy as ever, but you literally feel your heart drop so far to the ground it reaches the Earth’s mantle.

“I— wh—” you sputter, eyes wide— what the fuck? Such easy acquiescence after an entire day of dealing with Seokjin’s difficult ass is more than enough to throw you for a loop. The panic and sense of urgency that had been rising inside you had you so ready to persuade him he isn’t the muse, but at his reponse all you planned to say has died on your tongue and left a bad taste in your mouth. “Wh— are you sure?”

Hoseok tilts his head, smile still on his face but somewhat less bright than before. “Yes? It’s kinda unrealistic to think someone would write such a beautiful poem for, well, me.”

Completely contradictory to what you spent the entire day doing, you find yourself rushing to protest his words and soothe the painful ache in your chest that has made itself known in the midst of this conversation. “What, no! Dude, there is a reason you were listed as a suspect! A bunch of them, actually! Big starstruck eyes, the, uh, the dancing, the—”

“Didn’t you just say I wasn’t the muse?” Hoseok asks, completely bemused and bewildered.

You ignore him, even more zealous in your attempts to convince him. “And the moonshine?! That’s literally you right! That whole incident from last year with the moonshine and the  shit and Professor Jee’s exotic pot plant—”

“EVEN MORE REASON why it can’t be me!” Hoseok’s entire face has erupted into a violent blush, not even his ears safe from the wave of crimson as it flushes over him. His discomfort is palpable as he rubs the back of his neck, averting his gaze. “That whole thing is so embarrassing, and the reputation it gave me… there’s no way it could warrant something as lovely as that poem.”

While an incredibly small, vain part of you is flattered by his words, you’re also terribly affronted that Hoseok seems to think so little of himself. You can’t help but feel like you’ve gone and fucked up even more by attempting to fix your other mess and in the process creating a new one. “But—”

“Hey, let’s drop it and move on, yeah?” Hoseok’s voice has lost its bubbly undertone and it’s in this moment that you know you really have fucked up. A heavy weight settles in your chest. “We don’t have much longer of the session left, and I really should try and get at least these worksheets done.”

Your heart gives a painful, pitiful throb, but you can only nod, eyes taking in the sudden slump of his shoulders and the way his lips form a potent, subconscious pout. “I… yeah, alright. What is it you need help with?”

“This one,” Hoseok brings one of the sheets from the pile before him to the space between you. At his short response and flat tone, your feeling of dread and having messed up only increases. “The lyric interpretation.”

You get to work, guiding him through the sheets one by one and expanding on the points he’s most confused with. The entire time he gives you short, few-word responses and maintains his sudden disposition shift, confirming your fears. It seems Hoseok’s second, and your least favourite, persona has come to play— you like to call it grumpy-seok. You don’t get much out of him when he’s like this, and you don’t know how to bring him out of it either. You really fucked this one up, huh. While his bubbly persona is sometimes a bit much for you, you can’t help but miss it now more than ever.

You barely had half an hour left of the session when you started the work, and you just barely manage to finish the last sheet by the time it comes to an end. The whole time, Hoseok’s mood shows no signs of improving and you’re left with a sinking feeling of regret when the alarm on your phone goes off and Hoseok immediately begins packing his things away, remarkably less enthused and sunny than when the session began. If you could, you’d go back in time just to punch yourself in the face and stop yourself from talking and ruining Hoseok’s afternoon.

You finish what you’re explaining to him about the last line you were on, watching him gather his sheets and pencils with a heavy weight in your chest. So distracted by your remorse as you are, you completely forget about the other component of the days you spend tutoring that you should be worrying about.

“y/n! I’m home!”

You freeze, head whipping up to find the source of the voice. For a brief moment your gaze is caught on the reception desk, Jungkook perched behind the counter and looking out at your next tutee as he approaches with a look of resignation. You quickly move it over, however, zeroing in on Jimin as he bounces over with a shit-eating grin. He almost doesn’t see Hoseok— giving you a few moments of false hope that the usual ritual he likes to partake in between sessions won’t occur— but then he catches him standing from the chair and slinging his bag over his shoulder and lets out a shout.

“Jung!” Jimin hollers, entirely too loud for the library. You catch sight of Jungkook slamming his head against his desk in the distance. “Prepare yourself!”

Then, exactly as you expect, the crimson-haired male throws his bag to the floor and begins the usual breakdance showdown that happens when the two of them cross between tutoring sessions. He gets several moves and a body spin in before he realises Hoseok isn’t joining him as he usually does and slows to a stop, confused.

“Thanks for the help, y/n. See you,” Hoseok says with a tired smile, bidding you farewell with a wave of his hand. He turns and departs quickly after that, leaving you and Jmin in a state of shock. You feel terrible, and are incredibly confused.

Jimin, however, seems mostly disappointed. “Aw, I wanted to play with hyung today. What crawled up his butt and died?”

There was the slightest odd note of something else in Jimin’s tone, but you don’t recognise it enough to really dwell on it. Instead, when he turns to you for an answer, you grimace and shrug. It’s the best you’ve got to offer.

“Oh well,” Jimin hums, grabbing his bag from the floor and slipping into the recently vacated seat next to you. “I’m sure he’ll snap out of his funk by the next time we see him. Anywhores, what’s on the agenda today, y/n?”

You roll your eyes at his slang but can’t bring yourself to really laugh today. Almost robotically, you run through the session and work with Jimin on whatever oddball shit he needs help with this week— he always brings the weirdest shit to your sessions, you really have no idea what his major even is. You’re so preoccupied with deciphering Hoseok’s sudden cold snap and mood change that you completely forget that Jimin was one of the people suspected as a muse as well. Convincing him that he’s not the muse is so far from on your mind it’s not even the last thing, and so you go the whole evening without so much as a peep about it.

Jimin’s hour goes fast and it isn’t long before he’s hollering a goodbye over his shoulder, rushing down the hall outside the library to meet Taehyung at the other end. The tall male was looking at you when you emerged with Jimin, so you offer him a smile before turning and going in the opposite direction. With a half-hearted wave to Jungkook, who was trying to appear as though he hadn’t been listening in on the conversation you were having with Jimin on the way out by burying his nose in a book, you make your way home, relieved that the day is over.

A small portion of your time goes towards some half-assed attempts at study, but the rest of it is dedicated to sleep and the new robo dating sim you heard some of your classmates whispering about the other day. So, overall, after the stress of the past few days it is an evening spent well.

x     x  

When you awaken on that fine Tuesday morning, however, the first thing you recall is the events with Hoseok from the afternoon prior and your stomach sinks with guilt once more. Usually, every other time you’ve encountered grumpy-seok he’d already been that way from the start of the session. Never before had you been the one to set him off.

As you venture onto your campus for classes, you make it today’s mission to find out exactly why Hoseok has these spells of acting so off. The more you think about it, and the more you subtly ask your friends and classmates about him, you realise that despite tutoring him for more than several months now, and his reputation across campus, there’s not actually all that much you know about him. Save for Jimin, who you’ve read between the lines to realise he knows from outside of university, there isn’t anyone else you can think of that’s close to Hoseok; and even then, you wouldn’t go to say he’s exactly close to Jimin… every time you see them together they’re bickering or dance-fighting. How the hell are you supposed to find out what is going on with him, then? You do realise this is a bit of a role reversal from yesterday when Hoseok was concerned with your odd behaviour, but you’re too preoccupied to give it the laugh it deserves.

Your Tuesday morning drama class remains uneventful and would almost be a blur if Kim Seokjin didn’t burst through the doors and waltz in as per usual. Having anticipated the theatre major’s impending entrance, your professor has long since fled the scene and as Seokjin’s eyes sweep the room in search of him to no avail, he seems almost disappointed. He huffs, standing in place, unknowingly right next to where you were practicing your lines when he burst into the room.

“He already left,” you say, leaning up so you’re right in his ear as the words come out.

Seokjin lets out a scream, shrill and piercing, and whips around with his arms in a defensive position. It brings the ghost of a cackle from the depths of your throat, especially the way he’s huffing and puffing for breath after the fright you gave him.

“You’re such a Golum,” he hisses, glaring at you with all the heat he can muster as he straightens and dusts off his shirt. His hands come to adjust the styled pink locks atop his head. You note with an amused twitch of your lips that his hair matches his hoodie today.

“And you’re a menace,” you snort, shutting the door that he left ajar from his abrupt entrance. “One of these days you’re going to scare my professor off for good and I really need him to, you know, teach me.”

“That sounds like a personal problem,” Seokjin comments, eyes scanning the crowd of your classmates for someone else to torment in your professor’s place. It seems he got all his y/n-tormenting urges out of his system yesterday. “How goes your quest by the way, Miss Author? Are you ready to confess to me yet?”

“Shut the fuck up!” Your foot meets Seokjin’s shin and he positively howls, drawing the attention of a few nearby students. You slap a hand over his goblin mouth and smile at them; they’re familiar enough with Seokjin’s bullshit that they take one look at him then turn away with an apathetic shrug. For the first and perhaps the last time ever, you’re grateful that Seokjin has always been such a dramatic ass.

“‘Ww ‘m swfwwy!” Seokjin’s voice is muffled against your palm and you freeze at the fact that you could have sworn he just apologised. You remove your hand, bewildered, and the male gives you a smug look as he rubs his shin and licks his wounds.

“Bet you thought I apologised, huh,” he snickers, long leg wobbling as he balances all of his weight on it to soothe the other. “Idiot.”

Incensed, you rear your leg back to aim another kick, at his good shin this time, and he quickly backtracks at the threat.

“No! Wait! I’ll leave, alright. I’ll leave!” Seokjin turns, limping back towards the door. “I’m going!”

You’re about to tell him not to come back when a sudden idea occurs to you, and contradictory to what you’ve spent the last few minutes doing you lurch suddenly and grab his wrist.

“Wait! I have a question.”

He jerks to a halt and nearly falls over from his wobbly knees, sending you a look that’s a cross between confusion and a glare over his shoulder. “Make up your mind do you want me to leave or not?”

You roll your eyes, releasing his wrist. “You can leave after I ask you this— meaning that if you don’t I’ll kill you.”

Seokjin nods, facing you with a funny look in his eyes that appears eerily similar to respect. “Understood. What did you want to ask?”

Perhaps you’re a little stupid to think that Seokjin would know anything that would help you, but then again… he has a big mouth and knows almost everything about everyone. He might be able to provide some insight. “Do you know Jung Hoseok?”

Seokjin’s head tilts, eyes flicking to the ceiling for a few moments as he scans his memories before he whips it back down and faces you with a wide-eyed look, excitement seeping into his tone. “Wait, you mean the Jung Hoseok?! The kid who got blackout drunk on moonshine and took a shit in Professor Jee’s exotic potted plant that time?! Life partner and soulmate to—”

You sigh, trying not to laugh at the mention of the incident. “Yeah, that Hoseok. He’s one of the people I tutor and—”

“Wait, hold up, back up for a second,” Seokjin cuts you off, looking like he’s just heard the best thing in his entire life. “You’re smart enough to tutor people?!”

Your fingers twitch with the urge to strangle him and, belatedly, you realise you haven’t had enough time since the horror of yesterday to cool down and release all those murderous urges you felt for him. Oh well, if he dies, he dies. You’re good at making things look like an accident.

“He’s one of the people I tutor but he’s been acting a bit weird, and I wanted to see if you knew him in case you knew anything that could help me,” you continue as if he hadn’t interrupted at all before sniffing and turning your back to him. “You’re kind of useless though, clearly you don’t know anything.”

Appalled at your jab, Seokjin stammers as his face reddens slightly. “Wh-wha-wh—”

“Whatever,” you huff, turning and beginning to guide him back out of the room. “You can get lost now, I have no further use for you.”

“HEY!” Seokjin yells, but doesn’t attempt to stop you pushing him out. He seems accustomed to the situation, alarmingly so. Then again, would you really be surprised if he got kicked out of places on the regular? “Don’t objectify me!”

Rolling your eyes, you proceed to forcibly escort him out of your drama room, guarding the doors once he’s safely outside. “Run along now, I’m sure you have other souls to torment and will to live to siphon.”

Seokjin sniffs at you, placing a hand on his hip after dusting his hoodie down once more. “Fine, whatever. I’m going, but it’s not because you told me to. I’m actually a very busy person.”

“As I’ve found out,” you deadpan, and he sends you a shit-eating grin at the mention of yesterday.

“Anywhores,” he says, giving you sudden whiplash to when Jimin said that very same thing yesterday. Oh, it’s a virus among idiots? “I have a jihope merch stand to tend to, so see you, Miss Golum.”

You roll your eyes, already going to shut the doors. He doesn’t attempt to stop you, but seems to remember something all of a sudden as his obnoxiously loud voice pierces the air once more.

“Also, don’t forget you owe me! I have a recital tonight! At seven! Bring the flowers and the booze and don’t forget to clap or I’ll expose your ass!”

“Go away!” you yell through the door, closing it to the sound of his cackle. A part of you is concerned at his words but the rest knows he’s just shitstirring like the little rat bastard he is.

Well. That turned out to be even less helpful than you anticipated, and you weren’t expecting all that much to begin with.

The professor returns barely a minute after you chased Seokjin out, as though he sensed the departure of demonic energy from the building and deemed it safe to return and continue teaching. The rest of your class flies by in a blur, as does the time afterwards in between this class and your next, which you spend studying and eating. Your mind is still preoccupied with thoughts about Hoseok and his mood swings by the time your writing class comes around and you meet up with Sera inside the classroom.

Thankfully, she’s too busy doing god knows what on her phone and laptop to really interrogate you during class time, but the second the clock ticks over and the professor dismisses you, she’s dragging you out to get a coffee with her before you split ways. Somewhat sullenly, you allow yourself to be dragged approximately halfway across campus for a shitty cup of coffee from her favourite place. You hate this place but not enough to refuse and ruin her chipper mood.

“We just finished one assignment and already Prof Puth is giving us another,” she laments, turning her gaze upward as the two of you stand in the line that spans several metres out of the shop. You like the lip tint she’s wearing today but know that, tragically, it’s going to end up all over her coffee cup and maybe her nose in the next few minutes. Hilariously, despite her put-together appearance, Sera is a messy drinker. Her mother even once confirmed this with a series of photos from her childhood. She’s doomed to be unable to drink anything cleanly from the womb to the tomb, it seems. No matter what it is and disregarding any and all laws of physics, any drink she has can and will end up everywhere. Maybe the reason Sera likes this place so much is because they provide a sippy cup option.

“What can I say, he can clearly tell we like to suffer.” You scratch the back of your neck, briefly weighing up whether you wanted to treat yourself with a hot chocolate or not. On the one hand, it’s going to be delicious. On the other hand, you’re incredibly poor. It’s a hard choice.

Sera huffs, hand resting on her hip as the line moves forward and the two of you shuffle with it. “Rude of him,” she remarks, squinting at the menu like she doesn’t have it memorised already. “I think I might branch out and get the chai latte today.”

“You get that every time we come here,” you snort. She smacks your arm in an automated response. The line moves and eventually the two of you get to order— well, she does. You decide to go without your hot chocolate for the sake of saving the cash.

It’s only as the two of you begin to move away from the coffee shop that Sera seems to take note of your current distracted disposition.

She takes a sip of her drink before talking, cup rim already beginning to resemble a swatch of her lip tint. “What’s on your mind, by the way? A certain poem and certain suspected muses?”

You shoot her a warning glare for mentioning it in public but let out a huff and respond nonetheless. “No, not right now. Well, kind of. I’m a bit worried for Hoseok, you know, the one I tutor? But I can’t think of who to ask to see if they know what’s going on with him.”

Sera hums, taking another generous sip of her latte. The two of you are kind of blocking the walkway but she doesn’t seem to care. Her fingers tap against the side of her takeaway cup for a moment before she angles herself more towards you, eyebrows shooting up. “Oh! You could ask that Park Jimin kid? Don’t they know each other from before University? Like high school or something?”

You felt your own brows rise at her words. How did she know this, but you didn’t, when you tutor both of them?!

“Huh,” you say simply, eyes flicking to the side as you ponder it. Well, asking Jimin is certainly a better idea than the one you had this morning to ask Seokjin. But at the same time…

“Where would I find him? Does he even go here?”

Sera shrugs, clearly unbothered since it’s not really her problem. “I don’t know, I mean… probably. You’ll just have to sniff him out. Don’t you have to talk to him anyway as part of your plan? It’ll work itself out.”

You send her a pointed frown. Simultaneously helpful and very unhelpful at the same time, as interactions with her tend to be. In a power move that comes completely unprecedented by you, Sera turns her head and tips the bottom of her cup up, sculling the rest of her chai latte in one fell swoop. It’s with a mix of horror and awe that you watch it happen, a few droplets of frothy milk escaping to dribble onto her shirt. Casualties of war.

She rips the cup away with a loud exclamation of satisfaction once done, eerily similar to when a big bulky man in pop media chugs a large mug of beer and goes ‘ahh’ afterwards. Riveting, truly. Turning to you with a remarkable amount of lip tint still on her lips, she reaches with her free hand and pats the top of your head softly.

“Anywhores,” she says, giving you whiplash for perhaps the millionth time today. “I gotta go pull an entire two-thousand word paper out of my ass, but you have fun doing whatever it is you’re gonna do. See ya, sister.”

And then she’s off, striding down the path towards wherever it is she parked her car. If you didn’t know better, you’d say she was a little… on edge today. She was acting a little nuttier than usual. You shrug, deciding to let it go. It’s probably the fact you got given another assignment today that has her so wired. She’s easily wound up, your dear Sera.

In the wake of her departure, you stand in place a few moments more, pondering her ‘advice’. Would it really be worth it, expending all the energy it would take just to locate Park Jimin to interrogate him? You weigh it up for a moment, assessing how tired you are before deciding that you’d rather nap than attempt to sniff out the crimson-haired male wherever he may be. With that in mind, you turn on your heel and begin in the direction of the bus stop.

Thankfully, it isn’t too far away. You think you might be having some sort of delayed stress response from yesterday because all of a sudden you’re super tired. Yup, you’re definitely napping as soon as you get home, assignments be damned. Perhaps you’ll have something to eat before you pass out though. You ransack your mental catalogue of the pantry at home for potential meals to consume in the near future, so involved in the task you almost miss the commotion occuring to your left, near the newly refurbished Biology Building Cafe— fondly dubbed Biol Cafe by those who know her well. You halt, finally allow the action happening in your periphery to capture your attention fully. To your complete and utter surprise, there stands one Park Jimin and Kim Taehyung— in all honesty you’re starting to think the two of them are attached at the hip at this point.

Jimin is whispering something to Taehyung as they stand, huddled, near the vending machines along the outside of the cafe. You’re much too far to overhear it but whatever it is that Jimin says, it has a gasp escaping his friend— Taehyung straightens and slaps Jimin’s arm in outrage. You can see his cheeks and the tips of his ears flushing red from here. He’s dressed in all black and loose clothing, save for a splash of colour. For a moment, your eyes catch on the source, his shoes, which sport a brief image of a big cat— leopard? tiger? you’re a blind bitch you can’t really see— and appear to be… Gucci?

You don’t even get to ponder over their authenticity before Jimin cackles loudly and reminds you exactly why you stopped in such a shocked manner in the middle of the walkway.

“You!” you announce loudly, pointing at the red-haired male and walking closer in a hurry. The two of them jump and spin around in surprise. “I need to talk to you!”

Jimin appears bewildered, and somewhat fearful, probably wondering what on earth you could want to talk to him about on one of the days that you don’t have tutoring.  He slaps a hand to his chest, thick denim jacket with a woolie collar muffling the thunk. “Me?!”

You roll your eyes, close enough to see the way he looks ready to bolt. “Yes, you. Calm down, I just need to ask you something. Hello, by the way, Taehyung.”

The tall male who, admittedly, had yet to recover from your sudden approach, fumbles out a greeting of his own. You wait until he’s done to shoot him a smile, before focusing the remainder of your attention on Jimin. Alright— your brain cracks its knuckles as you prepare to pull information out of this poor soul. Hoseok really has you so concerned you don’t even realise you’re in the proximity of two other people who were on that stupid muse list. That’s a problem for you to realise later, right as you’re about to nod off to sleep at approximately 2:32AM. Nothing quite like procrastinating an unpleasant realisation.

“What did you want to ask…?” Jimin seems slightly apprehensive still, and you’re a little tempted to smack him. Have you not spent the past few months building up trust and friendship between the two of you?? What a fake friend.

You let out a huff, pondering for a moment before just deciding to be blunt. “It’s about Hoseok. Do you know why he’s in such a funky mood lately?”

You swear you see something indecipherable flick through Jimin’s gaze for a moment before he’s shrugging, expression twisting into that usual one that someone does when they don’t know the answer to a question being asked, lips pouting.

“Uh, not really. He kind of just gets like that sometimes, I guess…” the male shifts almost imperceptibly, seemingly somewhat uncomfortable. You wouldn’t be able to tell if it weren’t for the way he fiddles with his fingers and turns his eyes to the side, reaching a hand up to scratch the back of his neck. “Everyone has their funks, he’ll probably come out of it soon.”

You squint at him, for some reason feeling like he knows a little more than he’s letting on. “Are you sure? It seems kind of different this time—”

“He’s probably just going through menopause or something,” Jimin cuts you off, shrugging. You think you hear Taehyung choke on a laugh beside you but ignore it in favour of giving Jimin an incredulous look. He continues without the need for you to prompt him. “Isn’t that a thing with you English major folk? Y’all moody as fuck lol.”

Did he just say ‘lol’ out loud? Furthermore, did he just imply you were an English major? The nerve of this bastard—

“You—!”

Taehyung delivers a subtle punch to Jimin’s bicep before you can continue, making you pause at the sharp yelp he lets out. He sends Taehyung a glare but does whatever the other male seems to want, changing course with his conversation. “Anywhores, I had a genius idea recently and since you’re here I need your opinion. I’m thinking I might dye my pubic hairs to match my hair? What do you think, y/n— do girls think it’s sexy? Should I do it?”

He’s completely serious as he asks you, and perhaps that’s why you’re so absolutely dumbfounded into silence as you are. You stand there for several long seconds, simply staring at him as the words sink in, before you finally feel the life force of your last remaining brain cell blink and die out.

“I’m so sorry,” you say, without an ounce of effort put towards sounding even the slightest bit  convincing. “I just remembered I forgot to feed my goldfish, I— I have to go, right now, immediately. “

Then you turn and you leave, barely remembering to give Taehyung a wave for being the only person you’ve talked to today that hasn’t diminished your will to live further than it already had been. As you walk away, you hear Jimin protesting loudly behind you.

“Wait— y/n, wait! Should I do it?! Y/N?! WAIT—!”

On God, why do you even bother.

x     x     x     x     x

Needless to say, your life has not known peace ever, but especially not since friday last week— and this isn’t helped in the slightest by the events of the following days. After the somewhat-wreck that was yesterday, that being your usual Tuesday, you went home and gave yourself a nap like you deserved. You’d ended up arriving home with less answers than you had when you set out, and that was kind of depressing so you’d slept to escape the reality.

By the time the next day, Wednesday, has passed mostly in a blur and the time has arrived for your tutoring sessions, you are less than prepared but somewhat determined to get your answers from Hoseok. Even so, despite your apparent lack of forethought and preparation, you do what you do best and attempt to bullshit it.

Surprisingly, Hoseok is late today. As the minutes pass by you can’t help but become more and more bewildered— Hoseok has literally never been late to a session before, and on more than one occasion has happily boasted his early-rising early-arriving tendencies. As though he senses your current unsettled state, Jungkook, from his perch behind the library reception, attempts to mollify your worries by offering some of the donut you’d walked in on him stuffing into his mouth. Touched but also a little grossed out, you smile and refuse, but make sure to thank him. He deflates a little, ears pink and cheeks still full of doughnut he hadn’t gotten to chewing just yet, but nods in understanding— the image is oddly reminiscent of a rabbit or hamster munching away and the thought nearly makes your arteries burst from the sheer cute factor alone.

It’s almost fifteen minutes into the session when Hoseok finally bursts through the doors, looking absolutely exhausted and most definitely worse for wear.  He has a fresh set of bags beneath his eyes and from that in combination with the deeply inset frown lines between his brows, you hazard a guess that he’s remained in his Mood ever since your Monday session.

“Nice of you to show up,” you joke as he arrives at the table, your jab perhaps a little in poor taste. What can you say, apparently you’re not that great at interacting with people after all. At the blank look he gives you, you hurry to continue. “Also… are you alright, dude? You kind of look like shit.”

Surprisingly, he cracks the barest hint of a smile at that. Hoseok flops into his seat with a huff, settling for a moment before he goes about pulling his things from his bag. The smile was gone before you could blink, and now he simply looks like a cross between tired and cranky. Tanky? Crired? One of those two, or perhaps neither. Nothing rings quite as well as hangry, except you don’t know if the look you’re registering is hunger or repressed rage of some sort.

“I’ve just had a lot of work to do, that’s all.” He scrubs a hand over his face, raking it through his hair and leaving it sitting oddly atop his head. It kind of looks like a crest, the way he’s managed to make it sit by accident. “I have some big English papers I need to get done and it’s taking a fair while to do them.”

Your eyes rake over his features, taking in the stress and discomfort that seems to be rolling off of him in waves. “I can always help, if you need? You know, that’s kind of what I’m here for—”

“No, I don’t need your help for this,” he snaps, and the coldness of his response visibly takes you aback for a second. He glimpses up and catches the brief expression of hurt on your face, his own shifting into one of regret in response. He lets out a sigh.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, averting his gaze. “I’m just… I want to be able to do this one on my own. Sorry.”

“It’s ok,” you say, voice coming out a little smaller than intended. You attempt a smile, thoughts a bit of a mess while you try and focus on his features for any hint of what he’s thinking. “Was there, uh… was there anything you did need my help with?”

You can tell Hoseok feels terrible for snapping at you, it’s apparent in the remorseful glint hiding in his gaze, but you also gather that he’s a bit too far in his mood to be able to snap out of it on his own at this rate. He seems to be even grumpier than on Monday, and you can only wonder what on earth happened since then to compound his poor mood so much. You’re a little hurt by his behaviour, of course, but to be honest you mostly feel a little bad for him.

Hoseok takes a moment to close his eyes and take a deep breath, before nodding and going to pull out whatever it is that requires your assistance. Once it’s out, the two of you then spend the rest of the session working through it.

Surprisingly, he packs up and darts off before your alarm even goes off at the end of his session, so when Jimin finally arrives its to an empty table and a very confused you. Hoseok had left too quickly for you to really adjust to it, so when Jimin turns to you with big confused eyes seeking an explanation, you don’t really have anything for him. A strange expression crosses Jimin’s features at that, but you don’t get the chance to question him before he plops down and begins talking your ear off about what he wants to go through today.

You just hope that on Friday Hoseok will finally be back to his chipper self and out of this funky mood.

x     x     x     x

Unfortunately for you, it seems the universe is not quite ready to give you a break just yet.

When Hoseok arrives for his session on Friday, the air he carries with him feels so tense and emotionally charged you can almost taste it. You’re kind of really worried— especially since he seems a little crazed with the way he attempts to smile at you despite the angry aura you’re picking up.

“Are you… okay?” Is the first thing to leave your mouth upon seeing him, your brows drawn together in concern.

Hoseok smiles at you but it really looks like he’s just gritting his teeth. Are his eyes watering? Oh, God, is he about to have an emotional breakdown right in front of you?! Holy shit, you’re not qualified for this Oh God—

“I’m fine!” he says, taking his bag off his shoulder and sitting down, almost robotically. Your concern only increases when you watch him bump the tender part of his ankle bone against the chair leg and his jaw clenches even more. You feel like he’s about to explode any minute now and you’re not really sure where to place your feet to avoid the landmine. “I’ve had a fantastic day!”

You wonder if perhaps he’s actually had the opposite but is trying to speak some good luck into existence. That’s fine, you get that. Respect. Still, you’re concerned. “Th... That’s good. How did your English papers go?”

At the mention of the assessments he’d been working on last time, the male’s eye twitches just barely. He attempts to hide it by flashing you a strained smile. It makes him look a little.... unhinged.

“I finished them,” he says, somewhat ominously. “I have another to do, but it’s not due for a while so I haven’t touched it yet.”

“It be like that,” you say, scrambling for how else to fill the conversational gap on your end. Hoseok finally locates the work he needs to do today, and slaps it onto the table a little more forcibly than usual. You flinch, and he sends you an apologetic smile.

The two of you begin work, tension still in the air but thankfully not so much between you. In all honesty, if this is how Hoseok is when he’s cranky at something, there’s no way in hell you ever want to be on the receiving end of it. You wouldn’t be able to breathe— the tension in the air alone would be so suffocating!

You’re so busy trying to maintain a somewhat amicable energy during the session that, not the first time, you completely forget that you have another one scheduled right after with someone who just so happens to be a bit of a trigger for Hoseok, unbeknownst to you. Perhaps the reason you don’t worry about it is because a part of you thinks Hoseok is just going to leave early like last time, and the two of them won’t interact. And you aren’t wrong; that’s exactly what Hoseok plans to do. Except, neither of you are really aware that Jimin is taking measures too.

“Can I write something for this, instead?” Hoseok asks, pointing to a line towards the middle of the set of lyrics. “I feel like this one is a little stiff.”

You nod, pointing to the line above it, “Yeah, just make sure it ties in with the one above it like the original does. I think it flows well when it does that.”

Hoseok nods, taking in your advice, and puts his pencil to paper to begin scribbling out the line he was thinking. It’s still ten minutes before the end of the session, and around five before he intends to flee the scene, so it takes both of you by complete and utter surprise when the library doors suddenly burst open and bang against the wall loudly.

“Hey!” A cry of protest comes from the reception, but the cause of the disturbance is waltzing into the room with something akin to tunnel vision so the flustered receptionist, sadly, goes very much unnoticed. Poor Jungkook.

“Jung!” Jimin bellows, walking in like he’s 6’4 instead of 5’8. “We meet again!”

At the sound of Jimin’s voice, Hoseok shoots so ramrod straight and stiff that for a moment you’re genuinely worried his spine might snap from all the tension in his body. He doesn’t turn around, keeping his back to the approaching male— males, you should say. You didn’t see him at first, but you notice now that Taehyung is trailing into the library behind Jimin at a slower pace. He shoots you a smile that is nothing short of apologetic, and immediately your stomach sinks in dread. Oh no.

To his credit, Hoseok seems intent on ignoring the shorter male, returning his hand to the paper and attempting to continue writing his line. Jimin either doesn’t take notice or doesn’t care. He strides closer and puffs out his chest, announcing dramatically.

“Prepare yourself for battle, fiend!” Jimin then swoops his hand to point at Hoseok, something indecipherable playing in his eyes. “You evaded the breakdance showdown last time, but this time y—”

Hoseok’s grip on the pencil doubles, making the lead tip snap against paper and fly off. You sit, alarmed but unable to make yourself interfere. Oh, God.

Hoseok’s voice is surprisingly calmer than you anticipate when he speaks, but it has a certain bite to it that you’ve never heard or once imagined would come from Hoseok’s mouth. “I’m not dancing with you again, Jimin.”

It’s simple, what he said, and to you seems to have a very superficial meaning— but it seems to have a profound impact on both of them. Jimin recoils, mouth dropping open slightly as his bravado falters and a flash of hurt flickers across his face. You see Taehyung take a step closer, hand hovering slightly extended as though he’s prepared to comfort the shorter male— but why, you wonder? What exactly is the important subtext to this situation that you seem to be missing? You feel incredibly out of the loop, drowning in the tension flooding the air but unable to surface and make yourself stop whatever is happening in its tracks. You just wanted to hold a tutoring session in peace, damn it.

“You’ve danced with me before, hyung.” Jimin’s voice possesses a slight waver, his eyebrows drawn together slightly. You think he’s talking about all the other times Hoseok has partaken in the ridiculous breakdance showdowns they have in between sessions, but for some reason… a part of you feels as though he’s talking about something else. “Why stop all of a sudden?”

You can almost sense the writhing plethora of emotions bubbling just beneath the surface in Hoseok as he straightens, still not looking at the younger male. A cocktail of too many things to name swims in his eyes as he speaks, voice sharp.

“Because I’m not a child, Jimin. Those stupid dance showdowns— they’re childish. When will you stop entertaining impossible dreams like a little kid?”

The absolute hurt that flashes across Jimin’s face makes your heart sink, before it twists into anger and you see his fists clench by his sides. Taehyung takes another step closer to his friend, hand going to his sleeve as he glances between the two males, and you almost expect Jimin to wrench his arm out of his hold in a show of anger, but he keeps it there.

“You think I’m being childish? I’m having fun, hyung. But I guess you forgot how to do that the second you sent in that application, huh.” Jimin seethes, bristling at how Hoseok remains in place, jaw clenched and gaze still averted.  “Look at me. Aren’t you ashamed? Or maybe you’re fine— moving on is easy for assholes like you, right?”

At the furious note in Jimin’s command, Hoseok’s head finally jerks over to face him, and the first thing his eyes fall upon is the way Taehyung and Jimin hover close to each other, the taller male’s hand still on Jimin’s arm. This, it seems, is what finally makes Hoseok snap and break. He wrenches from the seat, standing to face the shorter male completely.

“Oh you’d know all about moving on, wouldn’t you?” he spits, slamming his few loose sheets into his bag, uncaring for the condition they end up in. You flinch at the action, watching the mess unfolding before you with wide eyes. “Leaving others in the dirt and moving on like they never meant anything to you in the first place. It’s familiar, right? I guess the people who used to mean something to you don’t matter when you find a shiny, new toy to play with though, do they?”

The shocking amount of venom that drips from his words has both you and the other two males rooted in place in surprise and shock, Taehyung standing with wide eyes behind Jimin— apparently Jimin hadn’t expected the older male to snap like that, and in all honesty you hadn’t either. Almost all of your interactions with Hoseok, save with those this week and a few others, had seen him nothing short of bright, bubbly, and an absolute joy to be around.

The second the words finish leaving his mouth, Hoseok stiffens— you catch sight of a look that crosses his face, resembling something between regret, guilt, and pain. It’s gone as soon as it came and he turns on his heel without another word, leaving you without another opportunity to glance at his features. In the silence that follows his words, his footsteps echo particularly loud, and the three of you are left in a stupor as he leaves the library completely, disappearing out the door and around the corner.

It takes a moment for you to rip your gaze from the doorway, eyes flicking about— it seems you’ve garnered the attention of some of the nearby tables. When they see you’re looking at them, they hastily turn back around and pretend to work. Your eyes flick to the other two males involved in the mess that just went down, and you feel your heart sink to your feet, taking your stomach with it on the way down.

Jimin remains staring at the doorway where Hoseok disappeared, body tense but the fight having left. You think you see his eyes glistening slightly as he jerks out of his stupor and goes to follow Hoseok, but an arm that shoots out to bar his middle prevents him from doing so. Surprised, he jerks to face the owner.

“Don’t,” Taehyung says, voice soft. He looks a little guilty himself, but you have absolutely no idea why.  “Let him go. Besides, you need to let off some steam yourself.”

Something in his words manages to get the remaining tension holding Jimin’s muscles hostage to flee, allowing him to sag in place slightly. A slight smile tugs his lips as he looks to Taehyung.

“What do you have in mind this time, more illegal and indecent acts?”

Taehyung snorts, saying something else in response to the shorter male, but you sort of tune out at this point. You’re still in a state of shock, and really… are quite unsure how to proceed, and what to do.

That whole thing that just happened… that wasn’t your fault, was it? You did set Hoseok off into that mood on Monday, but it seems… like whatever just made him go off was something he’d bottled up for a while about some other part of his life. You can only hope it wasn’t your fault. But still, it doesn’t change the fact that right now—

You don’t really have any idea what to do at all.

— • masterpost | prev. | two | next • —

{pls let us know what u think!! who do u think is the muse of the poem? who do u think will be endgame?? who do u WANT to be endgame?? let us know!! thank u for reading!!}

[deepdarkdelights]

Content Tag Game!

Thank you @yoongsisbae for tagging me! I love Handshakes of a Lifetime, by the way, it feeds my need for OT7 wonderfully 😫💜

1. what fandoms have you written for (but do not currently)?

Oh boy, okay: Twilight, Black Butler, Attack on Titan, My Hero Academia, Teen Wolf, Young Justice, Batman Arkham Knight (video game), Marvel, Once Upon A Time, Narnia, Doctor Who, Rise of The Guardians, HTTYD, Fable (video game series), Percy Jackson

2. what fandoms are you currently writing for?

BTS 💜

3. how long have you been writing?

Okay, this is kind of weird, I wrote my first fanfiction when I was nine but never published it, when I was twelve I began posting to Quotev and Wattpad so I would say...eight years? I refuse to look back at either accounts because my writing was horrendous...I was a child.

4. on which platforms do you post your stories?

At this point in time, Tumblr and ao3.

5. what is your favorite genre to write?

Dark / Yandere / Horror. Anything that would make you freaked out I guess 😅

6. are you a pantser or a planner?

Uh, a bit of both? I usually have an idea of what I want to happen in a story so I have a vague outline, but as I am writing I tend to add more things and branch out from the plan. When I first started writing and posting to Tumblr, I used automatic writing and was a full-fledged pantser.

7. one-shot or multi-chapter?

If I had to choose, one shot. I feel less tied down and not as pressured to write when it comes to a one-shot. I would like to make a multi-chapter story one day though!

8. what is the perfect chapter length in your opinion?

I like usually something longer, so anywhere from 6-10k is good for me.

9. what is your longest published story? is it complete?

Actually, 10 Seconds is my longest story because it has multiple chapters. At this point in time, it is 38,250k.

10. which story did you enjoy working on the most?

Hmmmmm, probably Predator. It was my first fic after the end of The Bouquet Series and I got to flex more of my creativity and relax with it. It was fun to play with more classic horror tropes as well.

11. favorite request you’ve written and why?

I don't really take requests, I did ask for help in writing Tae's fic for The Bouquet Series and I had two asks that suggested an actor element and that was how Cut was made! So, that 😂

12. are there reoccurring themes in your stories?

Hm, the concept of time is rather prevalent in a lot of my fics now that I think about it. Weather and location are reoccurring, I like to write scenes in forests or scenes with rain. I think another common theme is not to trust grandmothers as funny as that is, in two fics we have had grandmas with bad intentions! Also, references to good and evil, Hades and Persephone, Adam and Eve, temptation, as well as predator and prey dynamics.

13. current number of wips?

Three! One is currently being written, and the other two are in the planning phases.

14. three things you have noticed about your own writing?

(1) It's fucking long 😂. I always go in with a plan to write something shorter, 8k max, and I always end with a fucking monster of a story. I also tend to overexplain, I think. (2) A lot of my writing is describing an action, facial expressions, scenes, and inner monologue. I think that is my way of trying to immerse readers or make them see my exact vision. But it can be pretty tedious and probably boring to read. I need more dialogue too, I feel like I spend too much time showing instead of telling. (3) Sometimes I think I sound like a high and mighty asshole like I am trying too hard to be profound or something so I try to dial it back a bit.

15. a quote you like from a published story.

"He could tell she had injured her head as well, scarlet drops of blood had streamed down the contours of her face and a pool of blood had formed beneath her sprawled tresses. She looked like she had a crimson halo beneath her head, carving its way into the soft, white snow under her. She was ethereal, like an angel that he had found just after they had been dropped from heaven. Forever resting, forever beautiful, and forever young." (The Stranger)

16. a quote from an unpublished story.

"Loving you has been the one pain I always want to endure. Being with you sets my heart on fire, it makes my muscles ache, it makes my lungs burn, and everything so much more complicated. But it’s the best brand of pain I could ask for.”

17. a space for you to say something to your readers.

Hi! I hope you enjoyed learning more about me and my writing if you stopped by and read this! I have been having a tough time writing as of late, but doing little things like this has made me very happy and has made me want to write more often! I am still working on my next fic, progress is going a little slower though. School starts soon too and I am going to be working two jobs and hopefully going back to cheerleading. So let's spend as much time together as we can before I get busy again! I am still aiming to write during the school year so wish me luck! Thank you for reading 💜

I tag: @chummywchimmy @chimchimsauce @chaoticpuff17 @sinning-on-a-sunday @celestial-moonlight @unfurlingtwinklingstarx @scribblemetaetwo

[adolphuslongestaffe]

Please Don’t Stop

Please Don’t Stop (Chapter 1)

It was half a grim joke to himself when he typed in the order. Gallows humor from a man who can’t die and how’s that for irony. Only the joke was on him this time. Rejected by death herself. Spit back out and left stranded in this wasteland, a ruined mockery of what he had been. What he’d thought he had been, anyway. Turns out he was just a fool.

He had awakened blind and disoriented, with the grit of sand between his teeth and jagged rocks digging into his body, cold water lapping his feet, seeping in through his boots. He laid there in a senseless stupor for he doesn’t know how long. Days. Weeks. Time is relative. At long last, with a herculean effort of will, he heaved up his heavy, cold-numbed body and rolled over onto his back.

It was then that he saw it. The chiral rainbow, arcing across the sky above him like a mocking smile. Not death. Not the Beach. Blackness swallowed his vision again. His body racked with rage and agony. He wanted to scream, curse, cry out so loudly she’d be forced to hear him, even across the impassable divide. But all his righteous fury was utterly impotent. His parched throat couldn’t even make a sound.

As his eyes and ears grew accustomed to the material world, he became aware of his surroundings. The debris-strewn bank of an ugly, black river, with huge, glittering dragonflies, darting about overhead like they had some urgent business in hand. Stupid goddamned bugs, what could they have to do that’s so all-fired important? He watched them perforce, until the whirring and buzzing of their ceaseless industry grew to an insupportable din, and irritated him to action.

With a muttered curse on all of insect-kind, he managed to rouse his leaden limbs to the task of dragging himself to his feet. Encouraged by this success, he set about clambering up the steep embankment, almost on all fours, till he reached the crest, where he stood panting for a long moment, as if steeling his will for another effort.

Then he began to walk. He had no idea where he was going, only away from the river and the interminable dragonflies. But gradually, as the mist over his eyes continued to clear, he was able to get a general idea where he was. Some stretch of desert in the Central Region. He knew it well. Pallid sand mottled with blasted, black rocks and split by treacherous crevasses. On the ragged lip of one of these, he came upon the first signs of civilization. Rusted-out cargo containers, abandoned by some porter and left to disintegrate in the timefall. A maudlin comparison to himself arose in his mind and he moved on.

For what felt like a life-age of the earth, he stumbled doggedly along, picking his way over time-gnawed terrain, until the white peaks of the mountain loomed into view, towering on the horizon behind their heavy, grey veil. Now he had his bearings. He turned sharply northeast and pushed on, half dead and more than half out of his mind, until almost by surprise, he found himself in his own home, staring at walls plastered haphazardly with papers and maps. Spiderwebs of crimson threads and photographs of…

In his delirious madness, he had a partly formed idea of tearing them all down and burning them, but his body was strained well past its breaking point. He turned and fell like a rock onto his bare cot, prepared to abandon himself to the black depths of sleep. But the rest he needed so badly seemed determined to evade him. He woke by fits and starts, wandering in and out of consciousness, sometimes panting and drenched in a cold sweat, gripped by terror that he’d been buried alive, sometimes taunted by echoes of voices, sometimes tormented by the tomblike silence.

In one of the fits, he saw Fragile, smiling and holding out her hand to him. As soon as he reached for it, her body began to warp and shrink, crumpling up like dry paper and withering away before his eyes, till only her disembodied face remained, still smiling serenely.

In another, he felt his uncle’s hands taking hold of him and dragging him roughly up from his cot. He made a weak attempt to twist free and escape the rain of blows that was certain to follow, but he didn’t even have the strength to open his eyes, let alone fight back. No blows came. A strong hand held him fast by the back of his neck, like a scruffed dog. Calloused fingers forced his mouth open and some tepid, sickly-sweet liquid was poured down his throat, making him choke and sputter. Then the hand released him and the blackness took him again.

When he emerged to a fragmented wakefulness the next time, the memory of this last fit was still heavy on him. He blinked blearily about, but he was alone, and nothing appeared more amiss than usual. Try as he might, however, he couldn’t shake the feeling that someone had really been there. He rose on shaky legs and crossed the room to his computer, to call up the security logs. Nothing. It had been one of the fevered hallucinations. Then his strength failed and he fell shivering and chattering into his cot.

Despite its having been a fever dream, the strong impression of that sweet liquid seemed to have had some salutary effect. When he came to, he found his mind clearer and his body less numb. The practical upshot of this turn in his condition primarily being that he was now intensely alive to pain. There was no inch of his battered body that was not aching and sore. He had just begun to muse on the unpleasantness of this sensation, when it was swiftly overwhelmed by a far more immediate and pressing sort of pain.

A deep, gnawing, biting hollowness, right smack in the middle of him. Hunger. Hunger like he had never experienced in his life, not even as a child, when he had been really starving. He rolled onto the floor and crawled to an ammunition container, from which he drew a cylindrical glass canister. Reluctantly, he unscrewed the metal lid, and with a grimace and a shudder, forced himself to swallow several of the canister’s fat, pink little occupants. The hunger pangs eased immediately, and he pulled a drab-green blanket out of the same container and fell into another fevered, uneasy sleep.

He woke again some hours later, skull splitting and hunger clawing at his insides with redoubled savagery. It was all he could do to crawl over and retrieve the canister, containing his few remaining cryptobiotes. Two managed to slip out and waft away toward the ceiling as he devoured the others. He didn’t have the strength to try and get them down, so he laid on the floor glaring up at them as they floated in slow circles, writhing and waggling their idiotic leg nubs.

“Y’goddamn weevils,” he croaked, between labored breaths. “You can’t…stay up there…forever.”

They squeaked blithely and looked immensely stupid.

After a few minutes, the throbbing in his head subsided and he was able to pull himself up to sit in his chair. He was half minded to capture the little shits, but he knew even those disgusting, floating larva wouldn’t help for long. He needed something else. Something to fill the void and warm the cold that was sinking deeper and deeper into the center of his being.

His heart lurched into his throat when the proximity sensors blared a sudden alert. He shook from head to toe, fumbling in his haste to call up the visual feed on his screen. His lip curled in a sneer. Two Bridges porters in white uniforms, with yellow odradek fins spinning like pinwheels over their shoulders. They were carrying cargo, but the tags were addressed to the distro center. Then what the fuck were they doing trespassing?

“…not abandoned, it was linked to the UCA a couple months ago,” one of them was saying, as the two ducked into the shelter entrance.

“Sam Bridges must’ve linked it, then,” the other remarked, taking a swig from his canteen. “He signed all the preppers out here.”

“Looks like he did, yeah. Let’s see. Registered occupants….uh…just one. Mr. Peter Englert. Oh. Missing, presumed deceased or traveling. I guess he won’t mind us waiting out the weather for a little while, then.”

“It’s too bad about Sam. Guy was a hero.”

“Still haven’t found him, huh?”

The other responded with a doleful shake of his head. “They’ve had the whole UCA searching for him for weeks and…nothing.”

“They say he’s dead.”

“Nah, not Sam. I don’t believe it. Hey, look. Timefall let up. We better get moving if we want to make it to the distro center before it starts coming down again.”

With that, they hurried away, heralded by the proximity sensor alert, informing them that weapon restrictions had been lifted. Inside the shelter, the ostensible Mr. Peter Englert sat stunned and listless, staring through his screen into the middle distance, till a sudden wrench in his gut set him panting and shaking afresh.

Still haven’t found him.

They say he’s dead.

Shows what they know. That fucking motherfucker isn’t dead. He can’t be dead. Sam can’t die. He can’t. He wouldn’t.

But…he might decide to disable his cufflinks and fuck off to god knows where without telling anyone. Wouldn’t that be a good joke. And it’d be just like Sam. And what if those Bridges morons had been moving heaven and earth to find him and he just showed up one day and took a delivery. And wouldn’t an order from the dearly departed Mr. Englert be just the thing to smoke him out.

So he ordered a pizza and laughed to himself. A dead, dry laugh that rang hollow even in his own ears. But just the thought of facing Sam again set his teeth on edge and got a flicker of the old fire burning in his frozen veins. Sam was worth fighting. The only man worthy to exchange blows and draw blood with the herald of the apocalypse. He clung to the idea with all his will. Buoyed himself up and sustained himself with it, and began to strategize.

He knew he was in no condition for a fight, but he would be if he could get his hands on a BT. A few of ‘em, if possible. That presented the first problem. Shrieking bastards knew a predator as well as any wild animal, and he doubted he could compel them to come and be devoured in his current state. The closest BT area was the former shopping mall and current crater outside the much larger crater that had been Middle Knot.

Even the smaller crater would be an impossible trek for a man who could barely drag himself out of bed to take a piss, so he had two options. Expend his last lingering bit of energy trying to summon a BT, or wait around for some more hapless porters to wander into his web and shoot them. Couple of voidouts to recharge the ol’ battery and he’d be good as new.

He was inclined toward this second option, but it only presented more problems. All the porters wore cufflinks now, so the deaths would certainly be noticed well before the voidouts. Bridges would send someone, then, and it wouldn’t be Sam. It’d be security men, with shaky gun-hands and soft, city-raised bodies, reeking of fear so strong the stench’d made him sick.

The order, though…that might be enough on its own to bring Bridges people down on his little shelter like a swarm of out-of-shape ants. But no, it wouldn’t. They’d have been down here to toss the place long time since if they’d known who Mr. Peter Englert really was. Sam was the only one who knew and it looked like the asshole had kept his secrets. Or he hadn’t got a chance to tell anyone.

No. Not that. Sam couldn’t be dead. Everyone thought he was dead too, and here he was as alive as…well, as alive as he could be. But if Bridges did know he was alive, at least there’d be some action. Something to wake him up out of this heavy, clinging numbness. Anything. God damn it, Sam, he’d give anything just to—but he swallowed the thought and raked his hand across his face, angrily dashing away tears that weren’t black anymore.

He almost wished he’d shot those porters, come what may. Christ knew he could use the energy now. He thought vaguely about the Demens, then dismissed the idea out of hand. They thought he was dead, too, and that was fine with him. He was as good as dead anyway, as far as this world was concerned. Cut off from his source of power and from the only person he’d stopped to give two shits about in his life. Alone.

Alone.

The word rang in his ears, mocking him as he sat waiting, staring at the screen till his eyes burned and blurred. When keeping himself upright was too great a toll on his decimated strength, he laid down on his cot and shut his eyes, still expecting every moment to hear the little confirmation chirp, notifying him that the order had been accepted.

Alone.

After a few hours, he became anxious and fretful. It was a pizza order with a timed tag. Someone should have taken it by now. Maybe…maybe this was a good sign. Maybe Sam had seen the order and had to travel some distance to retrieve it. He would come. He would. He had to.

Getting up to check the screen over and over again, he expended a degree of effort he could ill afford, and it ran him utterly ragged. At last, his body refused to obey him any longer. He collapsed on the floor and lay there like a dead thing. His mind began to drift in and out of fevered dreams again. Images warped and coalesced before him. Echoes of voices. Hissing whispers that became shrieking, hideous laughter and croaked in his ears.

Alone.

Sam is gone. You are alone. Alone forever.

Alone.

Sam. Amelie. Fragile. The dead captain with his skeleton soldiers. His uncle’s big, rough hands dragging him out of bed to beat him. But somewhere in his deeply submerged consciousness, he felt himself awaken and cry out in something that was not quite terror, but close kin to it. An icy, bracing thrill, that electrified his wandering mind and snapped it to sudden, painful awareness. He choked and sputtered, spitting out sickly-sweet liquid and pushing away the thing that dispensed it, as he tried in vain to twist away.

“Don’t be a fucking asshole,” a voice growled.

A husky voice, with an irritating, high-pitched grate in it. A voice he knew as well as his own. The canteen was forced back into his mouth, and he swallowed the drink obediently until it was taken away. He finally managed to force his heavy eyelids open, then a ghastly smile spread across his pale and wasted face.

“The fuck are you laughing at?” Sam demanded, but with no real heat.

“Sam,” he rasped, tugging petulantly at a loose cargo strap. “Sam.”

“What, Higgs, what?”

“My pizza…better not…be fuckin’ cold.”

Sam let go of Higgs abruptly and he fell back on his cot, which elicited a hoarse, drunken laugh from the god particle.

“You are such an asshole,” Sam said, taking up his icy-cold hands and beginning to chafe them vigorously in his own. “What are you trying to do, get fucking locked up?”

“I’m just tryin’ to get pizza,” Higgs slurred. “I have to eat.”

“No, you have to lay low and stay off the radar. You know you’re the most wanted man in history, right?”

“But I knew…knew you’d come.”

“Of course you fucking knew, I told you I would when I was here before.”

Higgs attempted to open his eyes and failed. “You were here before?”

“Yeah. You don’t remember?”

“Thought I dreamed it.”

“I should’ve figured. You were out of your mind. Said they were gonna bury you alive and begged me not to go. I told you I had to go but I’d come back.”

“And you came back.”

“I said I would.”

“But…why?” Higgs managed to force his eyes open this time, and blinked up at Sam in the dim glow of the safety light.

Sam turned away and moved to stand up, but Higgs arrested his large, rough hands and held them in his pathetically weak grasp.

“Please,” he said haltingly, as if the word were unfamiliar. “Please…don’t stop.”

Sam frowned, hesitating for a moment, then resumed the futile occupation of attempting to coax circulation back into his enemy’s unresponsive limbs. Exhausted as he was, Higgs kept his eerily large, blue eyes tenaciously fixed on Sam, as if he feared he’d vanish the moment he lost sight of him. When they began to droop at last, he gave a jolt and they shot back open, with feverish intensity.

“Sleep,” Sam said, still not meeting his gaze. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Why are you…why are you doin’ this, Sam?” Higgs asked, almost plaintively. “I killed so many people. Hell, I even killed you a few times. If you hadn’t stopped me, I would’ve brought about the real end of the world.”

“I know.”

“So why? I know you said you would, but why’d you come in the first place?”

Sam took a deep breath and let it out slowly. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, but even and clear. “Because one day—it doesn’t matter if it’s a thousand years from now or a hundred thousand—one day, you and I will be the only ones left. And when humanity has finally returned to the dust and the last city has crumbled into ruin, and it’s just you and me, left to wander the earth till the heat-death of the sun, this will all seem like pretty petty shit, won’t it.”

Higgs opened his mouth, but found his voice too choked with emotion to form an answer. Thus, he could do nothing but nod stupidly in response to this perfect, beautiful (as he thought it) speech.

“Good. Then we understand each other,” Sam said, glancing up at him, then away again. “Jesus, you’re so fucking cold. I’ll put up a safehouse in the morning and get you a blood transfusion and a proper hot shower.”

“There’s…materials and all that shit in the fabricator. Take anything you need,” Higgs mumbled drowsily, then his eyes snapped open with an expression of panic as Sam pulled away and stood up. “Where are you going?”

“Nowhere. I’m taking off some of this gear. I told you to sleep.”

Higgs dutifully shut his eyes, then opened them again and watched as Sam unfastened buckles and unhitched his pack, then stripped off the dark-blue jumpsuit, under which he wore a sleeveless, black compression shirt and black athletic pants. The skin that was exposed was marked all over with bruises of varying age and severity, bordering bizarre, flesh-white handprints, which his observer noted with a pang.

Sam kicked off his boots, then turned and put a knee on the cot, as if he meant to lie down in it, but Higgs gave a palpable start and shied away, wide-eyed and almost panting.

“What are—what the fuck are you doing?”

“I’m keeping you warm,” Sam said flatly, rolling him onto his side. “Don’t be a fucking baby about it.”

Higgs gasped as Sam’s astonishingly strong arms encircled his torso like constricting snakes. “But you can’t touch people, you can’t—your aphenphosmphobia!”

“Not a problem anymore,” Sam said with a yawn, holding him fast against his warm, solid body. “Now, will you please shut up? I’m trying to get some sleep.”

[thestorytellerofkpop]

Title: Elysian

Word Count: 1k+

Rating: M

Genre: Realistic fantasy, eventual smut

Warnings: None in this chapter~

Pairings: BTS OT7 x Reader

Summary: In life, it is rare when another person touches your heart, when their soul brushes with yours just like shooting stars that fall to the Earth. But them? Such a constellation was me to them, and them to me. 

1, 2 (coming soon)

It was just like any other day.

Your routine rarely changed; ever since you graduated and moved into the working class world, it seemed your life revolved around nothing but work and the means to survive in a capitalist society. You’d shop occasionally, drown yourself in documentaries and HGTV, splurge on a spa day or two, and savor the traditional homecooked meal you’d have for Christmas (the one day out of the year you weren’t legally obligated to work). Other than that, you knew your life was stuck in a never ending cycle of just getting by in the world.

The only saving grace in your dull routine was your dog. Twice a day you got to wander outside of the straight line that was your routine and enjoy the outside world with your four legged friend, exploring the area outside your home within a few miles radius. Sure, it wasn't much, but it was the only escape you had in your dull life. Might as well enjoy it.

You sighed, looking down at the dog in question trotting beside you. He was as happy-go-lucky as ever; his tongue sticking out as he basked in the warm evening sun. You patted his head and giggled when he kicked his head back to lick your hand.

But that’s when you felt it.

“What the?”

A heat like no other, rising up the back of your neck. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling, rather, it felt like the sun was kissing your skin and leaving it’s warmth to move throughout your body and settle in your chest. You touched the back of your neck and hissed at the feeling, yanking your hand away from the searing heat. 

You looked up at the sky; the sun was nearly down, there was no way the heat could’ve come from it. You glanced around you; the only other living being was your dog panting happily beside you, the sidewalks were empty and the trees scattered around your neighborhood were silent and still. Then you heard the sound of a cracking branch. You hummed in thought, tightening your hand around your dog’s leash.

“C’mon Pan.” you urged him to walk again, and you two eventually made it back to your small house on the corner of the street. 

You entered in through the back gate and smiled at the little garden you had in your backyard. Flowers of purple and blue and white, soft stepping stones that led to the tiny porch, the wickerwork chairs and flamboyant yellow pillows, and the green grass that Pan was bounding in; his leash trailing behind him. You smiled and chased after him, laughing and falling into the grass next to the tired dog. You placed a kiss on his head, holding him close to you as you graced him with pets. 

Beautiful, so stunning, I want-

But she is bound, brother. We can not, not yet

“Hmm?” you raised your head from the ground, your eyes scanning the garden to locate the whispers you heard. 

“Looks like we have fairies amongst our garden Pan.” you laughed, petting his head before getting up off the ground. You wandered to the flowerbeds, checking through them just incase before moving towards the house. 

You made your way inside, with Pan darting between your legs to get to his food bowl in the kitchen. You prepared a few snacks for yourself, ready to settle down and relax for the night when a chill passed through you. A chill so intense you were shaking, wrapping your arms around yourself as your teeth chattered. You moved towards the thermostat and cocked your head.

“Huh, I don’t remember setting the temperature that low.” you pondered as you saw the thermostat was set well below the average. But when you hit the buttons to turn up the heat, you saw it was set to the warmer temperature you put in this morning. What was making the house so cold?

You shook your head in disbelief. Your house wasn’t that old, there was no reason for it to be having problems like this so soon. You sighed, moving to the sink to grab a glass of water to accompany you and your snacks in the living room. You turned the handle of the faucet and suddenly, water came shooting out of the pipe and onto you. You shrieked, turning the stream off and looking down at your now wet shirt. You huffed. It really just wasn’t your day today, was it?

Stop that you three, your efforts are pointless

I concur, the water has made her chest look even more delectable 

So pretty, so wet, I want to-

Brother-

“What?” you voiced, hastily looking around your kitchen for the source of the voices. But no one was there. You scanned the room once, twice, before deciding no one was with you. You went into the living room. The television was off.

“Pan,” you looked down at your dog, who was laying on the couch. “Am I imagining things?”

Pan sighed and rested his head on his paws, looking up at you with big eyes.

“You’re right, I’m overreacting” you chuckled, giving Pan a scratch behind his ears. You quickly hurried to your room, changing out of the wet shirt and into a black hoodie. You rejoined your furry companion back in the living room, plopping down next to him and giving him a kiss.

“Now, let’s catch up on that documentary on Steve Irwin.”

~*~

“God, I hope it doesn’t rain hard tonight.” you sighed as you got into bed. Thunder was rumbling, and the sky was darker than normal. Pan didn’t seem bothered by it, rather, he was happily sleeping at the foot of your bed without a care in the world. Odd. You settled against the sheets and flicked the bedside light off, thrusting yourself into darkness.

“Goodnight Pan.”

Everything around you was white; the walls, the ceiling, your clothes. All white. There was a certain buzzing in the air, as if the room was shivering with anticipation for what was to come. You looked around the empty room and were met with the image of a man. He too, was in all white. He faced away from you, but his hair was dark and tousled, and his stature was that of a statue. You moved towards him with your hand extended out, as if to run your fingers through his perfect hair, but his hand grabbed yours first. His touch was burning, the warmth traveling up your arm until it settled in the pit of your stomach. He laced your fingers together, dropping your arm down to your side. You suddenly felt parched. 

The man turned around to face you, a smile lacing through his lips.

He was perfect. His jaw was sharp and defined, his cheeks rosy and bright, his lips were plush and pink and oh-so kissable. But his eyes. Oh, his eyes were like an endless abyss that you could swim in for hours. Even if you drowned in them you wouldn’t have cared, after all, you were already graced with the image of heaven.

Divine, absolutely stunning

“Who are you?” you asked. The hand that was holding yours was then cupping your cheek. You leaned into the soft touch, savoring the warmth. Was your heartbeat always this fast? Was this sudden yearning always inside of you? You moved closer to the man until your chests were touching but it wasn’t enough. You wanted to get closer. You wanted more. You needed more. 

The vibrations in the room seemed to intensify along with the pounding of your heart.

I am he, as you are me, and we are all bound together as one

With his other hand, the man held out an object to you. The crimson color was dripping down his fingers, tarnishing the white floor beneath you, and staining his skin. 

“Is that a-?”

Won’t you stay with me, with us, forever?