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arrianna21 · 2 years ago

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~Caramel Eyes, Mocha Paws~ Chapter 3

Summary: As you grow closer to your new werewolf friend, tranquility is disrupted in your small town as rumors of strange creatures begin sprouting.

wolf!yoongi x fem!reader

Word Count: 11,635

#1 | | #2 | | #3 | |

In the last couple of weeks or so, you’ve come to develop a routine. During your shifts, Yoongi usually stops by late in the afternoon for the same cup of coffee before finding a secluded table to sit and work on his music. He claims the calm atmosphere is one of the best places for finding concentration. Something about giving him inspiration when writing lyrics.

Today, he sits in the far corner near the windows as he types away on his laptop. You see the waning sun shine through the glass, casting his dark brown hair into a lighter hazelnut glow. Bringing the steaming mug to him, he glances up at your approach and tugs the ear buds from his ears.

“One hot pistachio latte,” you say, setting the cup down beside him.

His gaze shifts between you and the steaming coffee. “Are you sure you’re not just using me as a taste tester for your strange concoctions before testing it out on the general public?” He wonders as he tentatively picks it up.

You can’t stop the incredulous laugh at his speculation. “No, it’s an actual drink. And how many times have I said don’t knock it until you try it? Besides I even put slightly less pistachio syrup than recommended so it’s not as sweet.”

“With salted brown butter or something nutty related I presume,” he notes after taking a sniff. He carefully sips it, letting the flavor rest against his tongue.

His correct assumption catches you by surprise. It’s even hard for you to smell each individual ingredient despite making it yourself. “Yeah, salted brown butter. You could tell that easily?”

Swallowing, he nods and sets the mug down, steam curling up beside his laptop. “I cook on occasion so I’ve made it before,” he explains.

Nodding, you make note of that piece of information before looking at him expectantly to which he blinks in return up at you. “So what’d you think?”

He shrugs. “Not bad. I like it not as sweet.”

“That’s good. Is it enough to want to get it again perhaps?”

“Only if you’re the one making it, otherwise I’ll stick to my usual,” he answers, already expecting your question as you’ve asked it after every new drink you’ve given him.

It’s a similar response to all the other times, not minding each flavor with the only condition being you have to be the one to prepare it. “Nothing beats that plain coffee does it?”

He props his head in the palm of his hand, eyes watching you with a gleam of mirth in his irises. “Simple is nice. I don’t need all that fancy syrup and flavorings.”

Your face pinches at the thought of such strong coffee, tastebuds immediately reacting to the unappealing memory. “I have to have some flavor with mine or else it’s just too bitter for me.”

“Try adding a splash of milk with a little sugar, nothing else. That should be enough to give it some sweetness,” he recommends, thoughtfully nodding to himself. “Or just a pinch of salt will also do the trick too.”

“Salt?” You eye him dubiously before breaking out into a small grin. “Actually, that makes sense. My parents and I sometimes add salt to fruit so it makes it sweeter.”

“Exactly. It’s the same with coffee,” he says.

“Thanks, I’ll have to keep it in mind. Enjoy the rest of your coffee,” you tell him before heading back to the counter.

While you’re rearranging the desserts in the display case the door bangs open while the poor bell above clangs harshly as two women walk inside. Donning burgundy colored cardigans, their sunglasses cover their eyes while they briefly survey the place. With black hair tied tightly behind her, the first is followed by a shorter blonde who’s on the phone, seemingly arguing about some reservations while her friend in front goes straight to the counter.

You finish putting the treats away and ease your way up to the cash register. “Hi, can I help you?” You politely ask, ensuring your customer service voice is extra chipper.

She shoves her sunglasses above her forehead and gives you a once over before staring up at the chalkboard menu with disinterest. “Yeah, I want a venti hot mocha with two shots of espresso, one pump of vanilla syrup, only almond milk, and add chocolate drizzle and whipped cream.”

Well, it’s not the worst complicated order you’ve ever heard. Scribbling down her drink, you type it up in the system as you carefully read it back. “Anything else?”

She looks behind her. “Diane, what do you want?”

Her friend lowers her phone, keeping her palm over the screen. “I want my usual iced drink,” is all she says before going back to arguing with the unfortunate soul that’s on the other end.

The lady turns back to you. “We’ll do a venti iced vanilla macchiato with soy milk, an extra shot of espresso, six ice cubes,” she emphasizes, “no whipped cream.”

Again, you’re frantically writing it down and transferring it to the computer while repeating it back to her. “Would you like anything else?” Your question filling with dread at the possibility of another ridiculously specific order.

“Yeah, we’ll take two pumpkin scones,” she says though her upper lip curls in disdain as she observes the desserts.

“Actually, can I get the blueberry scone?” Her friend chimes in.

The lady rolls her eyes, not that she notices. “Fine, one pumpkin and one blueberry scone,” she amends.

You read back the orders and tell her the total as she gives you her credit card. Swiping the card, the machine spits out her receipt and you hand it to her to which she crumples it up before tossing it in the trash. “Here or to go?”

“To go, we’re in a bit of a hurry,” she snaps, painted ruby nails tapping against the marble countertop.

Glancing at Elanor who’s still working on the drinks from the previous large order, you figure you’ll just handle these complex ones on your own. Starting on the hot drink, you sift through the fridge only to find a near empty bottle of almond milk. Not enough for any drink let alone hers. Cringing at the upcoming confrontation, you walk to the counter where the women are still standing. “I’m sorry but we don’t have enough almond milk. Would soy or oat be okay?”

“Are you serious?” She scoffs, a hand going to her hip. “The flavor isn’t the same. What kind of coffee shop are you that you don’t have enough inventory?” The woman isn’t necessarily yelling but her voice is loud enough that most people seated nearby can easily hear her complaints as they continuously glance over at the pair. Even Yoongi’s silently observing from his spot in the back corner, eyebrow raised. The woman huffs. “Did you check the back?”

Rather than bothering to argue, you release a sigh yet your customer service smile still remains as you go to the back and open the fridge. Standing there for a moment, your eyes scan the various bottles of ingredients, obviously finding no almond milk before slamming the door shut. You return to the counter empty-handed and do your best sympathetic expression while you set your palms on the counter. “Sorry, ma’am, there’s none.”

“You don’t have another store nearby to borrow some from?” It’s not so much a question but more so an apparent suggestion, as if the tiny shop with homemade decorations and limited space somehow resembles a multi-chain business.

Beside you, Elanor is doing her best not to roughly shake the coffee as she mixes its contents before setting it in the drink carrier and calls out the order.

“No, we’re a local business not a chain,” you tell her.

Crossing her arms, she answers, “Fine, I’ll substitute it with soy milk. If you have enough that is.”

The people with the large order collect their drinks and wince uncomfortably as they head for the door. One drops a couple of extra coins in the tip jar before leaving. Ignoring her snarky response, you snatch a cup and get to work. “We’ll get that ready for you then.”

“Seriously, what is with her?” You hear her mutter not so quietly to her friend. “Could she be any less accommodating? They should be prepared for in-demand items, even if this is a small town.”

“Quit talking before someone kicks us out again and I die of thirst,” her friend complains, having finished her phone call. “You’ll get over it by tomorrow.”

Glancing over your shoulder, the two women are oblivious to the annoyed glares sent their way from the other patrons, most who also happen to be locals here. Even Yoongi watches from his seat, his leg casually propped on the chair in front of him, looking none too pleased at their comments though the only hint is the slight narrowing of his eyes.

You give a small grin when his attention shifts toward you and the corner of his lips quirk up with another slight cock of a brow. Shrugging to him, you’re distracted by the tap on your shoulder as Elanor stands beside you to begin making the iced coffee.

“I’ll beat them with the blender if you help with hiding the bodies,” she mumbles beneath her breath.

A chuckle sounds from you while continuing to prep the coffee. “I think I know a few places in the woods,” you tell her. “Though they’ll throw first punch if you don’t add those six ice cubes.”

She snorts lowly with a roll of her eyes. “We’d still have the upper hand what with all this equipment.”

“True.”

Once the coffees are made, you both set them on the counter to which the ladies take them and leave while complaining how this is nowhere near what the positive reviews people boasted about online. Well, one gripes while the blonde silently listens adjusting her brown-rimmed glasses while carrying the bag of snacks after having slipped a bill into the tip jar. Sharing a look with your coworker, you carry on as usual, thankful they at least left.

Towards the end of your shift, you’re busy sweeping the floors as you finish closing for the night. Elanor already left early as she needed to go to the grocery store before it closed as well. It’s just you with Yoongi as your quiet company who remains seated in his spot.

At least he was, until there’s the distinct clanging of coins hitting the glass tip jar. “Oh my gosh, you’ve got to stop paying for the extra drinks I keep giving you,” you reprimand, setting the broom aside to go fish out his change, earning you a light slap on the wrist.

Yoongi pries your hand away with ease and shoves the container aside before it’s blocked by his arm that he props against the counter. “Consider it a tip for the great service. And for dealing with those rude customers,” he adds with a shrug, adjusting the strap of his messenger bag.

Curling your upper lip at the reminder of those two, you opt to just leaving the jar alone. Both you and Elanor deserve a little something after that. “Yeah, Karens aren’t uncommon unfortunately, especially if they’re not locals. But thank you, that’s really kind of you to do. You heading out for the night?” You guess after glancing up at the clock.

He nods. “Yeah, I need to get going. Do you want help with anything?” He gestures to the chairs though his table already has the seats overturned on top.

You wave him off in reassurance. “No, but thanks. You didn’t have to set your table though again, that’s nice of you to do.”

He tsks at that. “Just being a decent patron. Have a good night,” he says, flicking his hoodie over his head while you wave and respond in return before he ducks outside.

As you finish locking up for the night, you glance around the quiet street, only seeing a few people milling about. Zipping up your jacket, you stuff your hands into the pockets while you head for the forest path to begin your trek home. You listen to the crunching leaves beneath your feet while keeping your attention on the tree line spread out around you. The crickets add to the quiet ambience with the occasional rustling from the wind until a snort sounds on your left. Staring into the darkness, you find familiar amber eyes peeking through the branches, observing you intently.

“Hi Wolfy,” you greet to the lupine who takes that as his queue to step out into the open path in all his seven foot glory. The slight vibrations of his footsteps briefly shake the ground beneath you as he approaches until he’s standing right in front. You raise your hand, palm forward while he bends low and presses his nose against the skin in your usual greeting. “How was your day?” You ask.

Wolfy barks softly, jerking his head in a nod while his tail wags slightly from behind.

“Seems like a pretty good day,” you guess with a smile.

He nods again before bumping his snout against the side of your head with a huff.

“My day was also pretty good. Wasn’t too busy with customers except for some annoying people, but it’s fine,” you laugh.

The wolf grumbles before staring at you expectantly.

“What? That’s really all that happened, just a normal day,” you say as you begin walking again.

He follows after you, staying beside you as the two of you continue towards your home before he leans over to snuff the side of your neck, still remaining focused on you.

Giggling, you rub at the spot to get rid of the tickling sensation. “How are my days so entertaining to you?” You wonder. “Surely you have more interesting adventures than me.”

His response is to silently shrug while he merely blinks.

You smile before proceeding to go into more detail about how you spent your day, even including some of the menial tasks you fulfill at the shop. The wolf listens intently to every word, interest keeping his entire focus remaining on you.

“So after Karen One and Two left, I got a nice tip from Yoongi who always insists on paying for the drinks I keep having him try even though I tell him it’s on the house. Now I’m thinking about how I’m going to use it. Maybe I’ll get a new sweater,” you note.

When you glance over at Wolfy he nods in understanding and barks with approval.

“You think that’s a good idea?” You ask, receiving the same response. “I’ll keep that in mind then.”

The walk home goes faster than you expect as you arrive at the edge of the trail. After you both do the same greeting, bumping snout to hand, you step through the grass all while the werewolf keeps watch from among the trees. Every time you turn around to look back once you reach the door, he’s not in direct line of sight but you still feel those golden eyes observing from afar.

~*~

The next morning you opt for thicker clothes as fall begins bringing in cooler days in preparation for winter. Despite washing your face and performing your usual morning routine, you can’t resist the constant urge to yawn as you rub tears from your eyes while your feet shuffle along the hardwood floor. Heading downstairs, the worn steps creak beneath you while family pictures from a range of outings greet you as you pass by.

In the kitchen, you find your dad sitting at the dinner table eating breakfast while reading the morning paper. “Someone’s up early,” he notes before taking a bite of his eggs. Hearing your approach, Biscuit abandons scarfing down his food as he trots over to you. He bumps into the back of your dad’s chair until eventually finding you, tongue lolling out from his mouth while his blue eyes stare up at you with one being slightly more cloudy than the other.

You hum in affirmation, petting your golden retriever on the head as he keeps knocking against your legs. “One of Juliette’s kids is sick so I offered to cover,” you explain as you go around the counter with the dog at your heels. “Mom already left for work,” you guess upon seeing no sign of her.

“Yep, they needed her again,” he answers without looking up.

Glancing at the clock on the microwave, you see it’s barely past five. “This early in the morning?” You question, fetching a glass from the cupboard and filling it with tap water before drinking.

“Apparently her team is still working on that conservation project. They’re pulling extra hours since the deadline’s coming up. And that’s why I stick with the night shift,” your dad responds, the crinkle of paper sounding as he turns the page.

“Because you can sneak away to the break room and get extra sleep without anyone noticing?”

He clears his throat, the chair creaking as he shifts his weight. “I can do whatever I want for that half hour and they won’t care. But the best part is there isn’t another soul in that part of the building. No interruptions, just a quiet space.”

“That does sound pretty nice,” you agree, taking another sip of your water. Even though he’s only worked at Keaton Enterprises, a technological security software company that’s recently expanded to this area, for less than a year it’s been a nice change for him despite the longer drive. While rifling through the pantry you can hear him muttering under his breath. “What are you mumbling about over there? Which sports team lost this time?” You ask, eventually plucking a granola bar out from the various snacks it’s hidden behind.

Your dad grumbles, taking a swig of his coffee before answering. “None of mine, thankfully. But GlamOrg is building another condo place, except this one will be near the town square. After just putting one near the lake last year,” he scowls.

His news causes your face to pinch, already preparing for the inevitable loud construction and overall nuisance to come. It also makes you wonder why they’re still building more properties in this area. Glamour Organization mostly gets its income from the various high-end boutiques and clothing shops from the major cities but has recently begun expanding into some of the more local towns to supposedly offer better opportunities for people. With the increase in the upscale stores, the surge of tourists who come for the “aesthetic wilderness and authentic small town vibes” that piques their interest, it’s helped the town’s businesses overall but the consensus isn’t exactly positive. The locals aren’t going to be as lenient if the expansion doesn’t actually slow down soon.

“Maybe it won’t be too bad,” you say, attempting to sound cheerful if not at least hopeful.

It’s met by him snorting sarcastically. “Hm, you and I both know it just means more traffic and higher taxes,” he gripes. “Next thing you know there’s a fancy, overpriced mall and then things will never be the same.”

You wince, remembering how mom’s hometown eventually went from vast fields to large concrete warehouses for the expanding plant facilities. At least shopping malls are more attractive than chemical plants, but still not quite sustainable either. Already you can hear your mother’s rants about it.

“Don’t jinx it,” you complain, petting Biscuit one more time before heading for the door with your breakfast.

“Tell that to them. Hey, be careful coming back tonight. They’re reporting a possibly dangerous creature in the area. I know you like taking the trails home so just keep an eye out,” your dad warns.

That catches your attention as you stare at him incredulously, fingers about to tear at the wrapper. “Dangerous creature?”

He nods. “Eh, some tourist got attacked by a wild animal, nothing too serious. You’re probably fine, but you can never be too careful. Just stay alert for anything suspicious.”

While you do tend to be vigilant, your new friend can probably take care of it no problem, not that your parents need to know. “Of course, dad, I always pay attention on my walks,” you reassure him as you open the snack and take a bite of the crunchy granola bar before heading outside.

~*~

At work, you’re making multiple hot chocolates and coffees as people seek shelter from the chilling air that seeps across the town. Despite it being a sunny afternoon it has barely thawed away the icy weather from this morning. Though the heater is working overtime, the warmth doesn’t last between the cold windows and entrance door opening every couple of minutes.

Even as you remain busy and constantly preparing drinks, you can’t avoid the recent news that’s spreading like wildfire. Nearly everyone is either reading from the free stack of newspapers or murmuring to each other about the attack. You catch a glimpse of the headline that reads ‘Wild Animal Attacks Hiking Tourist.’ Weird.

When there’s a break in the rush, you head to the back and find Elanor reorganizing and updating the inventory on the computer while you proceed with mopping the floor. “So what have you heard about this supposed animal attack?” You ask her.

Elanor groans with a roll of her eyes. “Ugh, enough to know that I’m tired of hearing about it,” she complains. “But as far as I know it’s just some lady insisting this town is haunted or cursed just because a random animal attacked her.”

“Was it maybe a coyote or bear? I don’t know how bad her injuries are.”

Her eyes remain focused on the iPad while she types in the count for each item, switching between that and the wooden shelves. “I don’t know. According to the paper, it said she wasn’t seriously hurt besides heavy bruising and some lacerations but she’s hellbent on suing the city for not having proper signs that this area has dangerous animals.” She shakes her head. “I think she’s making it worse than it actually is.”

Was all that from the animal or did she fall? Unless she got lucky and somehow didn’t need stitches. As you continue moving the mop across the floor, you consider these possibilities while trying to piece all the information together. “That’s weird though because we don’t really have animal attacks. Not that I can remember.”

“Yeah, I know which makes her whole story suspicious,” she notes, raising her head to face you while her eyebrows quirk up knowingly. “She probably just fell and injured herself that way.”

Before you can come up with a retort to her pointed remark about your own injury, the entrance bell chimes open, signaling the arrival of more customers and Elanor jerks her head in its direction. “You mind taking care of that? I still have to go through all the beans and syrup still.”

“Of course,” you tell her, rounding the corner to find a group of college students coming inside. They give you a long list of to-go orders but at least it mostly consists of caramel macchiatos and hot chocolates along with a few others. As you begin prepping all the drinks, you can’t help but listen in on their conversations as they’re not exactly quiet.

“I’m serious!” One of the guys claims as he shows another girl his phone. “This lady says she was attacked by some monster last night.”

Her face pinches in mild disgust at whatever she sees on the screen before directing her gaze towards him. “You think it was just a predator with rabies?” She asks.

“Maybe,” he agrees, “it seems serious enough that the police are investigating the trail where she was attacked.”

“They’re probably just making sure it’s not a threat to the public instead of some random encounter,” another of the girls chimes in.

The guy standing beside her decides to also provide his own thoughts on the matter. “She could be telling the truth though. Maybe this thing wasn’t normal.” His admittance is only countered with eye rolling and looks of disbelief.

“Oh be serious,” the girl scoffs. “It’s not like she ran into big foot or something.”

“You never know. No one’s been able to find definitive proof yet,” he insists.

While you’re blending, the noise drowns out their conversation yet you don’t miss the distinct chiming of the bell above the door. Turning your head slightly, you see a familiar dark hoodie approaching the counter.

You wave as you head to the cash register. “Hey Yoongi,” you yell above the noise, your greeting drawing his attention away from his phone as he glances up.

He stuffs the device in his pocket while nodding his head at you in return. “Y/N. Long time no see,” he says.

“I know, I can’t believe it,” you laugh. “Just your usual for here?” You’re already ringing it up as he nods and pays. “Okay, it’ll be just a minute.”

Returning to the blender, you shut it off and begin pouring the coffees into cups. Setting all the drinks in two separate cardboard carriers, you hand them to the group of college students which the girl in front takes with a quick thanks. The others each grab their own, leaving a couple in place while they begin drinking. As they head towards the door, you begin pouring the still steaming plain coffee into the mug for Yoongi.

“You and your conspiracy theories, Thomas,” one of the guys jokes with the guy beside him by slapping him on the back. “If only you put this much research into your essays.” The others laugh at his response while Thomas shakes his head.

“She literally told them that if she didn’t know better that it was a werewolf of some kind. That’s probably why they’ll just write it off as a coyote or wild dog,” he interjects.

That causes your head to shoot up in their retreating direction as you’re passing the cup to Yoongi who you barely register stiffening in response. Werewolf? But Wolfy indicated he was a protector of sorts. He wouldn’t harm a human, right? Could it be a rogue werewolf then?

You don’t hear the rest of what they say as the door clangs shut behind them. Frowning to yourself while you’re lost in thought, you jump slightly when the warm touch of fingers meet your own as Yoongi takes the mug.

“Still thinking about that supernatural research of yours?” He muses with a faint quirk of his lips and tilt of his head, brown hair shifting across his forehead.

“What?” The question sounds more concerned than you mean for it to be as you reflexively panic upon hearing the word supernatural.

He lifts his chin toward you. “You were pretty lost in thought for a minute.”

Going around to the counter with all the straws and other coffee fixings the customers use for their drinks, you busy yourself by wiping it down with a rag. “Just surprised by the news I guess. This is usually a pretty quiet place,” you note, roughly wiping away the few granules of sugar and minute drops of syrup. Out of all the days for it to be relatively clean.

“Yeah, weird,” he eventually agrees, leaning his shoulder against the wall beside you much to your surprise. With his other hand, he takes a sip of coffee while casually watching you begin reorganizing the variety of multicolored sugar packets.

Putting the packets into the proper containers, you keep focused while he continues drinking beside you. “New hangout spot?” You inquire, righting the coffee stoppers that haphazardly stick out like a chaotic bouquet of sticks.

His response is to shrug, switching the mug to his other hand near the wall while shoving the now vacant one into his pocket. “Not exactly. More so just wondering why you seem on edge.”

“I’m not on edge,” is your automatic response while you lightly scoff at the idea. The expectant stare you receive has you amending your statement to, “At least not as much as everyone else around here is.”

“The dramatic headlines and hushed rumors aren’t shocking enough for you. But you’re worried about something,” he discerns, taking another swig while keeping his gaze fixated on you.

Crouching down, you open the bottom cabinets to restock the napkin dispensers and buy yourself some time while you think of a response that veers far away from a certain wolf of yours. “Mostly that this town is about to be the next haunted tourist attraction overrun with ghost hunters and people looking for trouble that’s not actually here.” Not exactly pressing matters to you at the moment but it’s also not a lie either. As if GlamOrg or any other corporations need another reason to build more crap here.

“Interesting,” Yoongi hums, a gleam flickering in his brown eyes as he continues sipping his coffee. “Fair point, though why the hostility to ghost hunters of all things?”

“They’re annoying,” you randomly assert. Truth be told you actually don’t give a shit but they’d get old quick if they suddenly decided to explore every inch of town looking for evidence of the supernatural. Not to mention what would happen if they did find something or someone. “Tourists are fine overall but not if it turns Rustic Hallow into some main attraction.”

He ponders this for a moment before saying, “It’d help business at first before bigger companies get the same idea.”

“Yep, and I’m not giving up our parks and hiking trails for stupid blocks of concrete,” you insist, shoving the napkins a bit more viciously inside the container than intended, the thin paper crinkling beneath the force.

From your peripherals, you see him nod in understanding. “True, then the wildlife would be in disarray from the deforestation and you won’t be able to go looking for wolves.”

“Exactly,” you agree, instantly catching yourself but not before you scowl at your mistake. And Yoongi’s smug grin isn’t helping either. “Will you cut it out with the wolf shit,” you complain, throwing a blue sugar packet at him.

It smacks the front of his hoodie and he easily grabs it before stuffing it back into the container. “But it’s so much fun. Nice flags by the way,” he remarks.

“Huh? Oh, yeah that was Elanor,” you say upon recognizing the pink, yellow, and blue sugar packets taped to the wall in a vertical line. “She made the pan flag while I did the trans one,” you explain, indicating to the other one. “We were just messing around but our manager doesn’t mind.”

“That’s pretty cool,” he muses, staring off ahead towards the windows before pushing away from the wall. “Anyway, I’ll let you get to work. Good luck.”

Your face pinches in confusion though it doesn’t take long until realization dawns upon hearing the bell chime as you see yet another large group of people enter. Yoongi gets situated at his usual spot while you return to taking orders and making drinks.

~*~

Later that night you’re walking with Wolfy who seems more on edge. Even though he continues listening to your ramblings, the lupine keeps his eyes trained towards the surrounding forest. When you finish talking, he remains concentrated on the trees, ears twitching every time the wind so much as whistles in between the branches.

“Wolfy?” The call of his nickname has him jerking in your direction with a cock of his head. “Everything okay?”

He nods with an assured bark.

“I guess you know about the attack too?” You tentatively ask.

Another nod.

“Yeah, it’s all everyone’s been talking about today.” Most people have been discussing the news practically all day yet some are rather nonchalant, believing it to be just an unfortunate encounter with a wild animal. The locals carried on about their day with the added gossip, leaving only the tourists and visitors to whisper amongst themselves about whether or not they should cancel their nature hike or skip fishing down at the lake. Though a few of the residents did joke about the idea of a possible werewolf wandering in the woods which just made the tourists more paranoid at the mere thought. Like that one college student.

But Wolfy isn’t feral. Yet you’ve seen him in action, that Halloween night when he decimated those goblins attacking you. He’s powerful but not evil. He wouldn’t do something like that. Right?

A light pat of a bushy tail hitting against your back has you jumping in surprise, inner turmoil immediately dispersing while the werewolf beside you hums in concern. “Sorry, I got lost in thought. People have been getting a little freaked out by it, letting their imaginations get ahead of themselves,” you explain.

He quietly watches you and you’re quick to divert your eyes away. Letting out a soft rumble, he leans close while you keep your gaze fixated on the ground. A huff of air hits the side of your face causing you to eventually look up at the wolf who’s still staring.

You release a sigh before blurting out, “You don’t know anything about what happened, do you?”

There’s a short pause as the lupine processes your words. He shakes his head, scrutinizing you carefully while you do the same, your eyes meeting shining gold.

Your footsteps slow, uncomfortable dread pulling down on your legs, the atmosphere becoming awkward. The heavy steps next to you matches your pace, eventually stopping when you do. “I mean, you wouldn’t, you didn’t hurt anyone, right?” Wincing at what you’re basically implying, you try refraining from spewing out any rambling thoughts, instead adding, “Of course accidents happen, and we haven’t known each other long so I’m still learning, you know?” So much for keeping your prattling in check. Why not just accuse him while you’re at it? Piss off the supernatural creature that can crush bone with hardly any effort.

Despite the cold air, your palms are warm and you wipe them against your pants before you clutch onto the soft fabric of your jacket, holding them still. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound accusing, it’s just the victim described the creature as a werewolf and you’re the only one I know. Not that I think you did anything,” you rush, “I just wanted to ask.” Your words wander off when a cold snout presses against your forehead, putting a little pressure that slightly pushes your head up.

It draws your attention toward the werewolf that bends to match your height while you blink in rapid succession. A huff of warm air fans across your face while he stares directly at you with an intensity that’s not scary but instead unwavering.

Blowing out a gentle breath, you conclude, “I’m blowing things out of proportion, aren’t I?” Your assumption is met with a shake of his head. A claw gently taps against your temple as your friend gives a short nod of approval. “So you like when I interrogate you is what I’m getting at if you don’t mind my questions then,” you jokingly respond.

He sends you a dull stare before rolling his eyes with a shake of his head as he resumes walking, his receding shadow leaving you directly beneath the light of the moon and lampposts.

You rush after him, feet moving rapidly so you can keep up with his long strides while you do your best to follow along. “Could there be a rogue werewolf possibly out here?” You quietly wonder.

Again, he denies the idea with another shake of his head, his eyes narrowing to the ground as he thinks about it.

Pursing your lips, you mutter, “Was it a supernatural creature too?” Your fingers involuntarily lift to twine and untwine together while the wolf contemplates for a moment before his shoulders barely lift in a shrug.

Wolfy shakes his head as he snorts, a growl rumbling low in his chest, shutting his eyes though you catch a glimpse of scarlet that bleeds into his irises. He grumbles in dissatisfaction, frustrated with something before heaving a deep breath and calms himself.

“Everything okay?” You ask, readjusting the jacket you’re wearing, pulling it closer to retain the heat.

He nods, lips pulling back and revealing those sharp canines as he smiles in reassurance. Always being nothing but kind to you and yet you feel a little bad for asking if he did it. Whatever, it’s fine. Everything’s okay.

Silence descends upon your walk home, weighing you down in your own awkwardness as you walk before you can’t take it any longer. “I figured it wasn’t you, just to clarify,” you blurt out, stopping yet again in your own tracks. “We barely know each other but still you’re not—what I mean is,” while you struggle for words he reaches out and carefully lets his hand rest on top of your head.

He pats it once causing your head to bob slightly from the force even if he’s being careful as his eyes remain on yours. Ever so slowly, his hand moves down the side of your face until eventually coming to a stop where he cups your cheek. The side of your face is engulfed in thick fur that carries such warmth yet it’s not overwhelming but rather comforting. Yet beneath the soothing gesture, there’s a faint tremor within the hand that touches you. It radiates up to his forearm, barely noticeable.

You almost miss the scarlet flecks that pulsate within the golden irises as you wrestle for words amidst the intimate hold you’re experiencing. Lips mouthing incoherent words, your brain eventually reconnects as you begin talking again. “I guess what I mean to say is you’re the one that actually protects us from the monsters,” you say after a minute. “I just hope people don’t get the wrong idea and you get hurt because they got scared and reacted.”

In response, Wolfy blinks once then yawns, his jaw opening wide to showcase his fangs yet again before casually licking his lips with a smack.

“Okay well excuse me for worrying about your safety,” you scoff though you’re also smiling. “I know how strong you are.”

He gives a pleased grunt before removing his hand, mindful of his claws as he does and he slightly shakes his head with a snort in return. Then he’s nudging you with a tender push as he guides you forward with a hand against your back.

The chorus of singing crickets is your only consistent background music while you both continue walking. It’s accompanied by you asking, “So did you do anything fun or interesting today?”

His response is to shrug with a short sniff.

“Oh come on, you always say that,” you joke, giving him a huff of your own.

He merely rolls his eyes yet he’s grinning as well.

You happen to look down at your feet just as you catch movement right in front of where you’re stepping. Gasping with a slight yelp, you jerk to an abrupt stop only to suddenly be yanked back and into a strong embrace. Wolfy keeps a tight grip with one arm while his other remains outstretched, his body taut and defensive as he checks for any unexpected attacks. A deep growl sounds from him, reverberating from his chest into your own, bones shivering in response. Your heart pounds rapidly in your ribcage, not just from the surprise but also from his sheer quickness, and you feel his own thrumming against your back as well.

When nothing happens and the forest remains still, you watch the ground as a gray snake slithers across in front. The dim lamppost provides just enough light to shine on the little creature while it carries on its way.

Breathing a sigh of relief, you release the tension from your muscles as you slump against him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get so startled. It’s probably just a garden or rat snake,” you tell the werewolf who’s still apprehensive.

At your words, you feel him slowly ease up as he lets you down. Your shoes barely brush against the forest floor before you’re pulled back and pressed firmly against his torso, his hold remaining steadfast. The tip of his snout bumps the crown of your head before he begins walking forward with you still held tightly against him.

“Wait,” you realize, “are you seriously going to carry me all the way back home like this?” You can’t help but laugh when he grumbles from above in response. Tilting your head up, your eyes meet full crimson that catches you by surprise. “Wolfy, I’m okay,” you gently reassure him. Even if your arms are stuck, you manage in raising your hand to pat his forearm. It somewhat helps, the scarlet draining as a deep gold pools within his irises in return.

Regardless, he still proceeds in carrying you the rest of the way, which isn’t much further and you’re eventually set down on your feet right at the edge of the tree line. “Thank you for the free ride,” you tell him to which he responds with yet another snort and bump of his nose to your head. “I’ll see you soon I guess?”

He nods with an affirmed grunt.

Reaching up, you hold your hand out for him to tap his snout against your palm in your usual greeting and then scratch the side of his head just below his maw. Your lips quirk up as his eyes slide shut while he emits a low rumble of contentment that vibrates within the bones of your arm. Once you lean away, he pulls back and shakes his head. “Take care,” you tell him while he huffs in affirmation, nodding for you to do the same.

Backing away, you watch him delve further into the forest before you continue towards home.

~*~

On your day off, you’re curled up in the lounge chair at the bakery while munching on a strawberry roll cake. While still rather cool inside, it at least provides protection from the chilly air outdoors. You take another bite of the pastry while sifting through the books you got from the library. Most of them just talk about the usual myths relating to werewolves in general or depict folk stories from around the world. Nothing quite useful as they don’t seem to match your particular werewolf friend. Again, not some mindless, bloodthirsty monster.

You pick up the Fables or Folklore: What’s in Your City? book and read the back. Cities with various legends that could possibly be true. Finding the table of contents, you skim through the listed cities, bypassing most of the larger ones only to stop short at the sight of Rustic Hallow. How did your small town end up making the list?

Flipping over to the correct page, you see an introduction along with one bolded section. Quaint town home to magic barrier of darkness?

A peaceful place with bountiful forests and wildlife, this small town may possibly be hiding a dark secret. Though no evidence has been confirmed, sources say a barrier lies within the deep recesses of woods where evil creatures lie in wait for unsuspecting victims.

Believed to be a failed ritual by an alleged cult, it’s said that a hole was opened and darkness spread like an infection before eventually being contained by some unknown entity. No one has definitive proof this exists as no one has yet to find it, but what’s better than taking a hike in these trails to find out?

Cringy writing aside, the author isn’t exactly wrong. Yet you also didn’t expect anyone to actually know about the forest of monsters. Checking the sources, it doesn’t list much except for databases and local papers. Nothing about individual people. Even this book itself is written by someone who just compiled all these stories together. Not to mention, what cult are they talking about?

“How’s the food?”

The sudden question breaks you from your reverie as Seokjin slips into the chair across from you. He has a couple of tiny cookies tucked into a napkin while he chews on some more.

“It’s really good as always,” you confirm, wiping up the leftover whipped cream with a berry and pop it in your mouth.

Seokjin grins with a satisfied nod. “Of course, only the best is made here,” he reassures yet the tips of his ears turn a shade of red upon hearing your compliment. “Good book?” He asks, motioning to the splayed open pages.

“Yeah, it’s just about supposed supernatural stories in different cities and apparently we’re in it,” you say with faux surprise.

He reaches across for the little paperback and skims through it before giving an unimpressed scoff. “Sounds fake,” is his response as he slides it back towards you. “Is this for an assignment or some class?”

You tentatively shake your head. “Just for fun,” you admit. “I got curious about our town’s history and now I’m even more intrigued about this cult that’s mentioned.”

“Ayy, don’t be trying to summon demons or make any deals with them,” he warns with a scowl.

“I’m not,” you groan. As if this town needs another creature wreaking havoc along with whatever’s already lurking about. But if you can find out something about this cult, then maybe there’ll be more information about the dark forest and whatever attacked that tourist. If that’s where it even came from.

Glancing at the clock hanging above the decorative potted plants, you chew on your lower lip before letting out a resigned sigh. “I’ll probably get going before it gets too late.” Despite it only being 5:30, the overcast clouds further descend the streets into night. Burrowing beneath your blankets and catching up on your mystery show will have to wait it seems. You can feel yourself recoil upon seeing the condensation forming on the bakery’s windows. “Thanks for the food,” you say smiling as you collect your things.

At that moment, a timer trills from the back, the sound causing you both to jump before Seokjin gets to his feet. “Thanks for delivering the coffee yesterday,” he responds, slipping his apron on while retrieving the bread from the oven. “I was finishing a wedding cake along with a three-dozen order of donuts for someone’s business meeting that they needed last minute and tea wasn’t doing it.” The fresh scent of baked bread wafts throughout the space and it has your stomach wanting to stay for seconds.

“Yeah, I don’t mind. It’s not like your place is far. Though I’m surprised you don’t have a coffee machine for emergencies,” you note.

“Because your coffee is better. Just like our tea is better, no offense,” he adds, setting the tray aside so he can insert another one loaded with red bean buns into the oven.

You shrug in agreement, adjusting the strap of your bag as it nearly slides off your shoulder. “That’s accurate. But so are your baked goods, luncheon meals, and plants,” you continue, pointing out the variety of items for sale.

“Hey,” the baker chides, “just because both of our stores somewhat overlap on desserts doesn’t mean only one deserves all the praise. A café and tearoom slash garden shop aren’t the same.” He restocks the display cases with the fresh bread then proceeds to wash his hands. Drying his hands with a towel, he tosses it over his shoulder before turning back to you. “So please keep telling people we’re not merging,” he wearily sighs with upturned lips.

“Are the elders still insisting on it?” You wonder though you already know the answer even before he nods. “I mean you could just sell regular coffee to appease them.”

Seokjin rolls his eyes. “The book club members and everyone else that keeps asking can go without it. I’m not encroaching on someone else’s business. Besides, Cindy worked hard to get that place up and running. Plus,” he jams a finger at the tall display case full of gorgeous porcelain tea sets, “we’re a tearoom.”

“True. No one says anything to us, they just get their drink and either stay or leave,” you smugly tell him while he scowls in return.

“Because it’s a café and they accept that but for some reason the tearoom needs coffee,” he complains, offended at the mere thought. “It doesn’t even make sense. Why come here when the café is close by? Even the regulars, albeit not always locals, will recommend adding some as it will help improve business. Serving coffee will help the tea shop, seriously?”

Resisting the urge to smile, you instead keep your face neutral, eyes softening in sympathy while he finishes his rant with a frustrated huff. “There’s always compromising,” you reiterate before letting out a laugh as he painfully grimaces. “I’m just saying. And I highly doubt it’ll hurt the café.”

He situates himself to rest his palms on the granite counter, leaning forward until he’s hunching his shoulders and loudly whispers, “Get out. Or I’ll ban you for soliciting,” he threatens.

You gape at the warning, dramatically pressing a hand to your chest. “The audacity,” you complain. “But then your sales for your blue orangeade tea would drop and that’d be a shame.”

“My blueberry and orange fusion would still do well,” he counters. “Now go, off with you.” Seokjin flicks his hands, shooing you away while you wave in return.

“Tell Hobi I said hi. And I’ll probably see you again soon,” you say, exiting the warm store only to shudder at the cool air. The library thankfully isn’t too far, sitting just on the outer edge of the square and you walk quickly to get away from the frigid weather. As you approach the entrance, a guy is also heading that way and he holds the door open for you while you quietly thank him.

Once inside, you return some of the books but keep a few to continue reading. You head down to the archives and begin searching for history about this town, specifically anything regarding an apparent cult. After poring through the old computers, it does spit out a possible book reference and you jot the number down. Going down the rows, you eventually come to the right shelf, counting each one before peering up. You stretch an arm up but grumble lowly at the shelf that’s two rows too high. Checking the other sections for a step stool or even one of those stick grabbers, you find neither but instead see the guy who held the door open for you earlier. He stands by a shelf, skimming through one of the books before putting it back and reaching for another.

Not wanting to have a near miss like before, you decide on asking for help this time. “Excuse me, I don’t mean to bother you but could you help me grab a book please?” You ask as you approach causing him to glance up from the book summary he’s reading.

“Yeah, sure thing,” he says with an easy smile.

Leading him back around to your particular shelf, you point up to the tan book in the middle. “It’s just up there. The number is H318.” Using his long arms, he retrieves the hardback book with ease and hands it to you. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure. Anything else I can get you?” He asks and it’s then that you detect the Australian accent.

“No that’s everything, thanks again,” you say, wrapping your arms around the thick tome and holding it tightly. “Doing some research of your own?”

He glances down at his own book with a chuckle. “Yeah, something like that. My brothers and I came to get some fresh air since we’re on break. I wanted to see what landmarks and unique places we could go exploring,” he explains, indicating to the book he’s holding. “Guidebooks can only tell you so much, you know?”

“I get that. We have plenty of places to go but the town square is where you’ll find most of the shops and some of the fields nearby are really pretty. Is there something in particular you’re wanting to see?”

“What about hiking trails? Any good ones worth checking out?”

Please don’t let him be one of those thrill seekers. Judging from his athletic build, he surely seems active enough. Maybe he just likes working out and exercising a lot. You hesitate slightly before answering, “There’s definitely a lot to choose from but I’d recommend the magnolia orchard. It’s usually nice during this time of year. But maybe stick to the daytime rather than late afternoon or evening, just to be on the safe side,” you advise.

This causes him to tilt his head in confusion. “Oh, are you talking about the recent attack?”

“Kind of hard to miss, right,” you note to which he gives a nod of agreement. “But I wouldn’t worry too much, the woods are normally safe.”

His lips turn up into a smile, dimples peeking out as he does so. “Nah, it’s all good. We’re not worried about it. But thanks for the tip.”

“Of course. Thanks for helping me out,” you reply, motioning to your book. “Hope you enjoy your stay here.”

“Definitely plan on it. I’m Chan, by the way,” he says.

You introduce yourself as well and he extends his hand out for you to shake. When your hands touch, you can’t help the involuntarily flinch upon feeling the coldness of his skin.

“Sorry, still a bit chilly from the weather,” he apologizes with a grimace.

“I get it. And it’ll only get colder from here on out. But if you ever need a place to warm up, the coffee shop is pretty good if I do say so myself,” you suggest.

He grins at that, perfect white teeth on full display. “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.” Before either one of you can say more, the grandfather clock from nearby chimes, the sound echoing in the space as it marks the time. Chan winces and rubs the side of his neck. “That’s probably my queue to head back. But it was great meeting you,” he quickly adds.

You nod in return. “Yeah, nice meeting you too. Stay warm.”

“For sure,” he reassures before adding, “you too.”

Waving one last time, you watch as he silently disappears around the corner.

~*~

The next day, it’s just you and Yoongi at the coffee shop where you’re going through the task of cleaning up before closing time. Since he offered to help with sweeping the front area despite you insisting that you can manage, you finish at the counter before moving to the next chore. You head to the back and ensure everything’s put away correctly. But as you turn the corner of one of the shelves, you nearly run straight into a floating yellow dust cloud. Yelping, you lurch into the shelf behind you, knocking over a few coffee bags while a blender clangs loudly to the floor. The will o’ wisp flies back as it shimmers into a pale shade, almost translucent.

Before you can utter a word, the employee door bashes open, slamming harshly against the wall, causing the creature to hide in a flurry. Yoongi stands right at the entrance, body poised in a defensive stance as he frantically scans the room before his bloodred eyes find your own.

“Are you okay?” He gruffly asks, immediately coming over to help you up.

You quietly nod, face burning upon feeling his hands touch your arm and hip as you keep a tight grip on the shelf. “Yeah. Um, are you?”

Panic flits across his face, ruby eyes widening momentarily before he looks away. When his gaze returns to meet your confused expression, those chocolate eyes are back with flecks of amber. “Yeah, just making sure you’re okay,” he answers, giving you a strange look, “heard a lot of loud noises back here.” He glances around the small space and you take the opportunity to do the same but find no trace of the shimmering creature.

Clearing your throat, you mutter, “Sorry, I got startled.”

He looks at you again, slightly perplexed even as his eyes narrow. “By what?”

“A lightening bug,” you mumble, hoping it’s inaudible enough yet he hears no problem judging from the odd stare he’s currently giving you.

It’s silent for a beat too long. “A lightening bug,” he deadpans. The harsh skepticism in his tone only further emphasizes how ridiculous you know you sound.

Still, you’re keeping that alibi as you nod with false affirmation. “Yep.”

“In the fall?”

Shit. “Yeah, that’s why it was so surprising. But it might’ve been something else, maybe like a…moth?” Your question at the end sounds painfully like you’re seeking confirmation from him and you internally cringe. Why didn’t you start with that in the first place?

Yoongi continues blankly staring at you while you’re standing there self-consciously shifting awkwardly. This carries on for several seconds, still much too long for you, so you preoccupy yourself with retrieving all the things you knocked over. Keeping your focus on what you’re doing, you reset the coffee bean bags as well as the sugar and other ingredients all while you can feel him burning a hole into the side of your head.

A blender appears beside you on the shelf, causing you to jump in surprise while he steps closer to help put things away. He picks up an old coffee pot that had also fallen over and sets that on the higher shelf. “Why so uneasy, Y/N?” He inquires, catching your eyes in an immobile hold when you happen to glance over at him.

Scratching the side of your face, you check the floor for anymore fallen objects while also looking for the creature before answering, “I’m not uneasy.”

“You keep scanning the room as if you’re looking for something.”

“I am?” He shoots you a look, causing you to backtrack. “No, you’re right,” you sigh. “I just want to make sure I got everything that was knocked over. It’s been an off few days since people started talking about the animal attack so I guess I’ve just been a little jumpy.”

From over his shoulder, you see the will o’ wisp peeping out from behind some stacked boxes and your eyes widen before you can think to stop yourself. Though you quickly relax your expression, Yoongi immediately notices and begins looking behind him. So you do the only thing that comes to mind and rush forward, throwing your arms around him.

Caught in your sudden embrace, he freezes beneath you going so still that you don’t even think he’s breathing. The ends of his long brown hair tickles the backside of your hands and you have the sudden urge to run your fingers through the strands. And then you become painfully aware of the awkward situation, secretly hoping the floor will open up and swallow you whole before you have to attempt explaining yourself. But of course that doesn’t happen and as the seconds grow longer, you gulp before squeezing your arms tighter around him. He inhales sharply at the movement and you feel a warmth building in your chest where a soft humming seems to resonate from him.

“It’s a cockroach.”

“What?” Whatever mood had been previously developing in that moment dissolves in an instant.

Inhaling deeply, the strong scent of pine that permeates from his hoodie nearly distracts you yet you rush in explaining yourself. “The thing that scared me. It’s a cockroach. A really big, nasty, cockroach that also flies.”

The will o’ wisp shifts into a deep shade of cherry as it quietly seethes at your description. You wave a hand at it and put a finger over your lips before it can begin bubbling in fury. It flits angrily in place and you point to the back door then the shelf next to it. The ghost understands, flying up to the shelf before ducking behind the stacked mugs.

“Could you help get rid of the cockroach? I think it went somewhere back there,” you say, reluctantly leaning away from him as you point in the opposite direction to the cabinets.

“Are you seriously that afraid of a bug?” He sighs.

Still gripping his shoulders, your fingers clench the fabric of his clothes as you peer directly into his eyes where the caramel flecks have gotten slightly bigger within the mocha of his dark irises. “Very,” you whisper. “Please?” You plead with a pathetic pout.

The scowl almost seems to melt before your very eyes as his features soften only for the dry expression to return. “Fine. Didn’t know wolf girl was such a scaredy cat,” he mutters to himself before easing his arms from around you as he begins sifting through the drawers and cabinets.

While his back faces you, you make your way to the backdoor and check for the creature who silently floats down towards the exit. It wraps itself around your hand and you feel its heat warm against your skin.

Once it releases you, you shove the door open where it shoots out into the night. Slamming it shut, you turn back and find Yoongi already facing you. “Got it. It ended up by the door so I just let it go free,” you explain, desperately hoping he didn’t see anything.

Cocking his head, his eyes shift between you and the door. “Thought you were too scared to get near it,” he notes.

Shrugging, you head towards the front of the shop so you can finish up in there. “It was right above the door frame so I just threw it open and it went out.”

You feel him watching you as he follows from behind and you peek over your shoulder to see his lips quirking up. “You’re something else, you know that?” He scoffs.

“That’s fair,” you admit with a smile of your own. Almost everything is put away for the night except for the chairs, so you quickly begin setting them on top of the tables.

From the opposite side of the room, Yoongi does the same, flipping the seats two at a time with such ease. Showoff. It’s quiet as you both silently work, finishing the outer tables before meeting in the middle at the last one.

When the final one is complete, you thank him for the help while he nods, calling your name just before you turn. “Hey, uh, do you want me to walk you home? I mean, so that terrifying cockroach doesn’t come back for you,” he says with a smirk.

You pause, hesitating for a moment to think because what if Wolfy decides to show up? He doesn’t come every night but there’s a chance he could. At your hesitation, his grin falters but before he can immediately retract his offer, you awkwardly shrug. “Yeah, why not? I wouldn’t mind the company honestly,” you admit.

After closing up shop, the two of you begin walking through the forest trail accompanied by the music of rustling trees and crunching leaves in the background. You’ve been keeping an eye out for him, but Wolfy is nowhere in sight, no trace of golden eyes whatsoever. Maybe he’s busy tonight.

“So what do you think about the attack?” You finally ask.

“Odd,” Yoongi plainly answers. It’s a fair way to describe it and he says it so matter-of-factly compared to the hushed whispers and excited gossiping from everyone else. There’s no concern or even slight hint of interest, just his usual straightforward demeanor.

Staring off into the forest, you think for another minute before continuing. “What do you think about what people are saying? That it’s some kind of supernatural creature?”

“You mean like the other day when those college kids said it was a werewolf?” He chuckles dryly.

Returning your gaze to him, you nod. “Yeah, like that.”

He tilts his head in your direction and gives you an easy smile. “Do you actually believe that or are you just desperately wanting proof that your werewolves exist?”

Will he ever let that go? Instead you merely roll your eyes at the mention of your personal studies. “Hey, just because I’m interested in the supernatural doesn’t mean I’m an investigator or hunter of some kind.”

That just causes him to let out a snort that he muffles by covering his mouth with his hand. “Oh, I know. You’re just a fan.”

“You make it seem like I’m obsessed,” you complain, crossing your arms across your chest defensively, “I just think they’re cool.”

From beneath his fingers, you still catch the evident grin peeking out. “Pretty sure you raided the library’s entire catalogue of werewolf books that night.”

“I did not!”

“Did too,” he retorts with a shake of his head. He uncovers his mouth and shoves his hands into his pockets. “Seriously, what would you even do if you met a werewolf in real life?”

“I’d kiss it,” is your immediate response.

Yoongi coughs to himself and his cheeks burn bright pink as he stares at you in disbelief. “What?”

It’s your turn to grin at him. “Mmhmm, I’d smother them in kisses because aren’t werewolves just oversized dogs?”

His face morphs into a confused, almost offended expression at your declaration. “Sure, if you think they’re like Twilight.” He glances away for a second before giving you a sideways look, searching your face for something before heaving a sigh. “Don’t tell me that’s what your basing it off of.”

Surely he could give you a bit more credit than that. Judging from the disappointed groan he lets out that sounds unlikely. “Well then what are they supposed to be like, Mr. Expert?” You sarcastically wonder, your eyes widening with fake curiosity.

Again the expression of disgust is back, his upper lip curling. “How would I know? They’d have to actually be real first.”

Despite masking it as a cough, the small giggle that slips passed your lips instantly catches his attention as he sends you a dubious glare.

“What? Something I said funny?” He asks, raising a brow.

Actually. “No, but,” while you’re staring forward you can still see him from your peripherals as he keeps his gaze fixated on you, “who says they’re not?”

He rolls his eyes. “Considering no one has any solid proof, I’d say they weren’t. Unless you know something I don’t,” he implies.

If only he knew. As if Wolfy would be interested in a meet-and-greet anyway. Of course, you almost wish you could have the chance to prove him wrong but you instead swallow that irresistible urge of satisfaction by answering, “Nope.”

“Shame,” he sighs with mock despair. “And here I thought you were about to drag me to your complete slideshow with all your evidence and theories.”

“Oh, come on, I’m not that invested in all this.”

“I don’t know,” he hums, “you seem pretty passionate about it to me. Especially considering you read a bunch of books for research,” he says with air quotes, “and your first reaction would be to kiss one. Sounds obsessive to me.”

The breeze picks up at that moment as the wind blows through the trees and sends dried leaves cascading into the air. A handful smack against your body with a few probably sticking to the back of your jacket while a rather large orange one lands right on top of Yoongi’s head. Yet he doesn’t seem to notice it so you reach up to casually pluck it loose.

He flinches, leaning away as he scowls at you while you show him the dead leaf before flicking it right back at him to which he smacks it in return. “I’m not obsessed, just curious,” you emphasize.

It doesn’t faze him as he shrugs once more. “Whatever you say.”

Muttering under your breath, you look forward and see the break in the trees that lead right to your house. “Thanks for the walk home,” you tell him once you reach the edge of the path.

“It’s no problem. Have a good night, Y/N,” he says. Turning on his heel he starts heading back before you’re snatching the fabric of his cotton hoodie. Yoongi glances over his shoulder at you, silently waiting expectantly.

“Are you actually going to walk back home? I mean, the bus stop isn’t too far away from here,” you note, finger also pointing out its direction.

He shakes his head. “I’ll be fine, it’s not that long of a walk.”

But there’s only the main square with shops and open forest that stretches miles in some directions. “Wait, how far away do you live?”

“Not too far. I take the Old Shaw Trail so it’s fine.”

“Oh,” your brows furrow at that, “I haven’t been down that way before. There’s so many different pathways.”

An owl hoots from nearby just as it flies overhead where you watch it disappear into the branches while he takes a step back to free his clothes from your grip. “Yeah, but they’re fun to explore. Anyway, see you around,” he says with a wave.

“Yoongi,” you call and he turns to look back, “stay safe,” you softly murmur.

He grins in return. “You too.”

Once he disappears from view, you continue towards your house. As you dig in your little purse for your keys, you feel something stiff and crumpled inside. Quizzically, you pull free the large brown leaf where you notice writing scribbled on one side. You hold it beneath the porch light, squinting to read the tiny font.

Full moon, talk soon -WW

— — —

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A/N: Yet another chapter update posted in the same month, in the same year?? It surprised me too, but I’m doing my best to actually stay on top of my stories and post them in a somewhat timely manner. Again, thank you everyone for patiently waiting and I hope y’all enjoy!

#yoongi scenarios #suga scenarios #bts scenarios #bts fanfic #bts imagines #wolf!au #fanfic #my writing #Caramel Eyes Mocha Paws

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circus-complex · 7 months ago

Text

Glass Mind | Chapter 4/?

Rating: Teen +

Relationships: Feng Xin/Mu Qing

Characters: Feng Xin, Mu Qing

Tags: feng xin falls ill, Canon-typical swearing, mu qing has to care for him, Febuwhump 2024, Slow Burn, Feng Xin and Mu Qing are slightly OOC, Fluff and Angst, Fluff, Angst

Feng Xin falls ill, messing with his head. Mu Qing tasks himself with taking care of him. Does Mu Qing truly hate Feng Xin?

Also on AO3

Full chapter under the cut

Mu Qing, now aware that he needs to take care of the Southwest and Southeast, was swamped with work. Not only did he have to take care of Feng Xin, he had to figure out how to combine the palaces. Mu Qing was aware that their followers, mortal or god, would loathe each other. He didn’t blame them, Feng Xin’s junior deputies were a pain. Apart from that Li Junlan. He seemed nice enough.

Feng Xin didn’t show any improvement. If anything, he’d gotten worse. Intervals between manic states were growing shorter, and they seemed to be getting worse.

General Ju Yang, please let me have a- Fuck! Mu Qing truly felt bad for Feng Xin now. Ling Wen had a prayer funnel set up, so Mu Qing could hear Feng Xin’s devotees for the time being. But the only difference was the prayers for sons and to have a better sex life! They had similar domains, any troublesome beasts were overlapping.

Being a god didn’t require much work. Mu Qing’s only responsibility was to delegate tasks to junior deputies, and if needed, deal with an occasional ghost.

Due to Hua Cheng aligning himself with Xie Lian, ghosts were under more control. But some weren’t citizens of the Ghost City, and still wreaked havoc. Most of them being Qi Rong’s underlings.

Ling Wen?

Mu Qing heard her exasperated sigh on the other end. What?

Have you…found anything else?

No. Shi Wudu has gone missing, Feng Xin has gone insane, but one of them is still contained. Take a guess as to what I’m working on?

Mu Qing’s eye twitched. Great.

You could try searching yourself? Did you consider that?

I- Yes. I could.

Well, Feng Xin is calm right now. I’ll send someone over, and you can take a look at the reports so far. It contains everything related to this case.

Very well.

✦✦✦

“General Xuan Zhen? I’m here with the reports you asked for!”

Mu Qing stood up, walking to the door and opening it with a Bang!

“Thank you…Li Junlan,” He faltered as he saw the familiar face. He took the - rather large - stack of papers out of his hands,

“No problem General. I hope you find a cure for General Nan Feng soon.”

Li Junlan bowed and turned to exit. Mu Qing slammed the papers on his desk. There were so many to go through. But Feng Xin hadn’t required much of his time lately, throwing him out more often than letting him in, so he supposed it wouldn’t hurt. It would keep him busy and his mind off…things.

The first portion was possible causes of psychosis. The second was Feng Xin’s behavior and how to deal with it. The third was possible triggers and anything recent. The fourth was what had happened in the past.

Mu Qing was truly stumped. The causes ranged from flowers to curses. The flowers seemed to be ruled out, they were typically a one time thing. If this had happened before, none of them fit. But neither did any of the curses. Most of them caused lack of contact with reality, leading to murder of close ones. But Feng Xin was harmless. The only harm he caused was to himself.

Unless that was the goal.

What if someone was trying to hurt Feng Xin? If you were to curse him to harm himself then you wouldn’t be a suspect. And by setting the end goal hundreds of years later, you would never be suspected as such.

This wasn’t something Ling Wen would know.

Xie Lian!

Eh? Mu Qing?

Does Feng Xin have anyone who would wish to cause him harm? Perhaps an ex or someone he got into a fight with?

He’s generally liked, isn’t he? There isn’t anyone I can think of, maybe Jian Lan?

She didn’t seem too mad, but I’ll look into it.

Mu Qing put his head in his hands. Frustration was starting to boil, and was threatening to spill over. Ugh! Feng Xin’s always a headache, no matter what form he takes. He stood up, deciding to take a walk through the human realm to clear his head. Maybe some time not thinking about Feng Xin would be good.

✦✦✦

“Mu Qing, have you seen Shi Wudu?” Shi Qingxuan trudged up to the Martial God. Her eyes were red-rimmed.

“No, I’m sorry,” Mu Qing tried his best to sound empathetic. Could he have a moment alone? Please?

“Is Feng Xin better yet? Ming-xiong said Shi Wudu was last spotted in the southeast,” Shi Qingxuan tipped her head to the left.

“I- Yes, but he’s still unwell. He’s not really in a state to converse.”

“Ah, that. That reminds me, Ming-xiong-”

Ming-xiong this, Ming-xiong that, did she ever shut up about him!?

-once got hit by a delusion curse. You might want to ask him about it!”

The wind master waved and turned around, leaving Mu Qing to ponder her words. He’d never spoken to the earth master before, but perhaps it was the same. That would speed up getting Feng Xin back to normal and…Mu Qing wouldn’t have to care for him anymore.

Perfect. He’ll speak with Ming Yi tomorrow.

#fengqing #ao3 #feng xin #mu qing #febuwhump #febuwhump 2024 #febuwhump2024 #ao3 writer #fanfiction #fanfic #writing from the circus

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veliseraptor · 2 years ago

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i know i just did one of these but my attempts to focus are not going well and i'd really like to get back in the rhythm of writing so...another round! of the 150 words meme. send me up to 3 numbers and I'll write 150 words in that project, etc., you know how it goes

shorter list this time because I'm trying to Focus and Finish Some Stuff

1. Xue Yang cocked his head a little to one side, swaying back on his heels again. “I don’t know what exactly is going to happen to you,” he said. “Not for sure. But just in case…” His smile vanished, overbright eyes fierce and intent. “Take care of him. Keep him safe and keep him alive. Don’t let him do anything stupid. Got it?”

Song Lan felt the command settle on him like a net. Xue Yang waited, as though for a response. Song Lan stared at him, unable to give one, his dread and confusion growing. Xue Yang nodded.

“Good,” he said. “Maybe this time around you can be a little less useless.”

What are you doing, Song Lan would have asked, if he could, if he still possessed his will and his tongue. What are you talking about?

Xue Yang exhaled a slow breath, then reached out and patted Song Lan’s chest twice. “Okay,” he said. “Okay. I think that’s everything, then.” He shifted his shoulders. “See you around, Zichen.” (Life After Death)

2. And eventually, still Pete. Because Pete wanted him, wanted to be with him, wasn’t running for the hills, didn’t look at him with wary disgust. Vegas tried to let him go gracefully and Pete held on, and it wasn’t like Vegas tried very hard to shake him loose.

Vegas didn’t get it. He was trying to be okay with not getting it. Just accept it, Pete said, like it was that easy. Vegas didn’t know that he’d just accepted anything in his life and he wasn’t sure he knew how to start now.

He was going to have to, though, because not being dead meant living with the fucked up new world he woke up in, and he hated a lot of things about it, and there was absolutely fucking nothing he could do. A chorus of helpless, worthless, useless banging around in his skull and he just had to accept it and be grateful.

It was fine. He was fine.

He was extremely fucking tired. (post canon vegaspete long(er) fic)

3. “What did I do?” he asked.

“Do?” his friend said. He sounded distracted.

“Yes,” Xiao Xingchen said slowly. “I did…something.”

“You’ve done a lot of things,” his friend said. “Bit of a long list. Could you narrow it down for me?”

Xiao Xingchen groped after understanding. His head hurt so badly and kept spinning and he was so confused, knowing things were missing but not knowing what he knew was missing. “I don’t know,” he said, distressed. “I…something wrong. Something…bad?”

There was a brief, terrifying pause and then a laugh that sounded genuinely amused. “What? You, Daozhang?”

Xiao Xingchen could feel his face warming but he shook his head. “It was something important,” he said. “That I should have…or shouldn’t have…but I can’t remember. Did I…” He took a careful breath and said, “did I hurt you, friend?”

“Pff,” his friend said. “No. Don’t be stupid. Come on. You won’t let me kill spiders in the house.” A flash of memory at that image, legs tickling his palm and he could feel someone’s amusement even though no one was laughing. It must be his friend. But it seemed like someone else.

He didn’t know who. (xiao xingchen + concussion)

4. “Hands up,” snapped the ringleader. Vegas raised his hands, the gesture lazy, almost bored.

“I’m not here for a fight,” he said, apparently unconcerned by the multiple weapons trained on him. Pete, despite the growing suspicion, was very concerned. If somebody shot Vegas, killed him–

He didn’t actually think there’d be a lot of mourning in the main family. But there would be consequences for a bodyguard who failed to protect his charge, and if Vegas wasn’t exactly his charge he was still…family.

“Then what are you here for,” the ringleader said, still obviously suspicious.

“Negotiation,” Vegas said. (the devil drives)

5. Doing some math in his head and not liking what he was coming up with, Vegas asked, “when did this go down, anyway?”

“Around noon, little after?” Pete yawned, then frowned. “Are you upset?”

“Not with you,” Vegas said, his temper starting to simmer. At least, not exactly. Not mostly. Or he would be that, later, once he knew more about what exactly had happened that had led to Pete getting shot. It was late afternoon now, which left a gap of at least a few hours between Pete getting hurt and Porsche contacting him. “Any idea why nobody told me about this until a half an hour ago?”

Pete’s eyebrows furrowed and he looked perplexed, which suggested it hadn’t been his idea. That was good. For Pete. (Undercut)

6. “Aw, Xingchen, don’t be worried about him,” she said. “I bet your boyfriend can murder his way out of some kind of most dangerous game bullshit, no problem.” Xiao Xingchen gave her a tired look, and she said, “no, seriously. And that’s assuming this story isn’t some cover for his real job as a contract killer.”

“As a what?”

“Do you think I could hire your boyfriend to take a hit on my parents?” a-Qing said, like she hadn’t heard him.

“He’s not an assassin, a-Qing!” Xiao Xingchen exclaimed. She smirked at him, even if it was a little weaker than it usually would be.

“You don’t think,” she said. “It’s not like he’d just tell you. Can’t hurt to ask. Maybe there’s a friends and family discount.” (Redux)

7. “Of course it’ll work,” Xue Yang said, sounding offended. “Long enough, anyway, and then we can come up with some other story. I can.” He eyed Song Lan, expression turning skeptical. “You going to be okay with that?”

“Okay with what?”

“Me bullshitting these people,” Xue Yang said. Song Lan stared at him in disbelief, at first thinking that Xue Yang must mean it sarcastically. It was clear by the wary look in his eye that he didn’t.

“With everything else you’ve convinced me to do lately,” he said, “what makes you think that I would balk at a single lie?”

“I don’t know,” Xue Yang said. “I have no idea how your brain works, Song-daozhang, I don’t know what you’re going to decide to get pissy about or not so I figured I might as well ask.”

“My standards are hardly so arbitrary!”

Xue Yang started to shrug and, Song Lan noticed, caught the motion halfway through. “Everybody’s standards are arbitrary as far as I can tell.” (Walking Far From Home)

8. His footsteps didn’t take him immediately out of Yi City. He didn’t fully realize where he was going until he was standing in front of the yizhuang beside a familiar coffin. His stomach ached and he reached out to touch it only to draw back before making contact. He had the sudden, strange feeling that all the past weeks had been a dream, and he’d never left this place at all.

Maybe he couldn’t leave this place. Maybe he would always find himself drawn back, again and again.

Song Lan shook that thought off, but he didn’t walk away. He sat down instead and waited as the shadows lengthened and the sky darkened. (the poison in your bones)

#150 words meme #fic excerpt #maybe this meme will fix me she said

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javathewildone · 2 years ago

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One Day - Heartland AU (Part 33)

Parts: 32, ... 34

By 11 o’clock Amy finished cleaning and straightening the interior of the house then hopped in the shower before Soraya arrived with her mom’s chili along with a few pies and bouquets of fresh cut flowers for the centerpieces. The guys kept their distance from the house after Amy practically threw Ty out so she could clean in peace. But they had their hands full anyway with the inmates who were taking turns in the round pen. The few times Amy peeked outside she caught glimpses of someone in the dirt, or diving for the safety of the fence. Her attention didn’t linger long, though, not wanting to give any of them a chance to notice her watching and take it as an invitation to engage.

“So, how are you doing?” Soraya asked as they began setting up the buffet table outside.

Amy’s attention snapped back from where it once again strayed to the men gathered around the perimeter of the pen while one of them was in the middle with a black horse. Wary of them as she was, she was still curious about what exactly they were trying to do. “Hmm?”

Soraya jerked her head toward the men. “With all this. It must be a little unsettling to be around so many criminals.”

“Yeah. But at least here there are armed guards to supervise.” It wasn’t quite the same living in a place with more organized criminals running amok and disrupting your life when they come to rough up your father for non-payment. “I’v been doing my best to avoid them.”

“You’re probably the first woman they’ve seen since Lisa left for France a few months ago. I bet they took to you like candy.” Soraya smiled in a teasing way but the thought made Amy uncomfortable. She didn’t want to be the object of a sex-starved criminal's attention, let alone a dozen of them.

“They certainly aren’t shy about it,” Amy murmured, plugging the cord for the crockpot into the extension cord to the house.

“Don’t worry, when Lisa’s back they’ll lay off.”

“I hope you’re right.” Soraya wasn’t the first to tell her that and it only made Amy more eager for Lisa to get her butt back home. Jack and Ty did a good enough job so far of keeping the inmates on a short leash, but it would be different having a female ally on the ranch.

Fridays were shorter days for the inmates unless there was reason to keep them longer. That afternoon all of them were exhausted if not banged to hell and dragging their feet across the yard to pick up the to-go bags Amy and Soraya put together for them with cups of chili and mini cornbread loaves. One of the two guards hovered nearby as they distributed the bags, Soraya having no problem smiling and chatting with each of them. Amy kept herself occupied trying to remember who was who. She learned their names over the course of the week, but some were easier than others. Hank, Ray, Gordie, and Jim were the few she met on her first day. Since then, she figured out Adrian, Carlos, Davis, and Emilio. Somewhere among the rest was Alex and Rory, names she heard shouted across the yard into the abyss. The others were an utter mystery. She studied them as they paraded before her, dropping her gaze when they turned in her direction, which most of them did. She was still an anomaly, something new and interesting to wonder about, though she wondered how much about her they actually did know.

“Haven’t seen much of you this week.” Hank’s deep voice involuntarily drew Amy’s attention. He was at the end of the line, lingering in front of her across the table. Amy glanced at the guard who had his attention on them this time, unlike their previous encounter. Still, he made no move to intervene, probably assuming there was no immediate danger. Meanwhile alarm bells were ringing inside Amy’s head as her flight response switched on.

“Still not much for talking, I see.” His eyes lingered on her face, trapping her in his gaze. Flashbacks of when he cut her off in the yard a few days ago played in her mind. He was looking at her now as he had then. It still left her uncomfortable but there was something different about it now. Her skin didn’t crawl as it had before. Maybe because she wasn’t quite so on edge as she had been those first few days. Avoiding them seemed to have helped her anxiety, but this was a harsh reminder of their place on the ranch. Amy swallowed then grabbed a paper bag to hand over the table. Hank reached out to take it, his fingers folding over her hand and squeezing. Not hard, but firm enough to keep her from letting go. “You don’t look an ounce like your old man.”

Amy’s hand jerked back like he shocked her. She gaped at him. “You knew my dad?”

“Ah, she speaks.”

It was like the floodgates opened as questions came pouring into Amy’s mind. Her mouth didn’t know which to ask next. Unfortunately, she didn’t have the chance to hear Hank’s answer, or ask anything else when the guard finally stepped forward to move him along.

Amy continued to stare after them as they headed for the bus and began filing on. Before she could overthink it, Amy took off across the driveway. “Wait.” A few men paused and turned around. When they saw her eyes were focused on Hank, they raised curious eyebrows. No doubt they were all staring out the window to see how this surprising interaction went down. The last guard remained nearby but otherwise permitted the delay, probably just as intrigued by what was happening.

“How did you know my dad?” The need to fill in so many blanks about her father’s past that he kept tightly concealed from her overwhelmed the fear she had of Hank. The armed guard ten feet away also helped.

“Perhaps a question best answered by your father.” He lifted the bag of chili in silent ‘thanks’ then turned for the bus.

Amy took a persistent step forward. “Story for story, you said. I tell you mine, you tell me yours, right?”

Hank paused to look over his shoulder. “I know your story,” he said, his eyes lowering just like everyone else’s. Amy stiffened. What did that mean? “And what you want to know isn’t mine to tell. See you next week, little lady.” He climbed aboard while Amy watched his shadow walk down the bus aisle and take a seat. She looked to the guard who could only shrug before he, too, hopped on.

The bus pulled away to reveal Ty standing on the other side. Of course he was there, probably eavesdropping. “God, you’re like a pop-up book from hell,” Amy snapped.

Ty raised his brow. “That’s a new one.” Actually it wasn’t, but Amy would take the credit for the line. “What was that about?”

“Nothing.”

Ty nodded slowly. “Lot of ‘nothing’ going on with you.”

“What can I say, my life is the epitome of boring,” Amy shrugged.

Ty hummed. “Try telling that to anyone besides yourself.” Amy became the most interesting thing to arrive in Hudson since the inaugural Hudson Derby five years ago.

Setting her jaw, Amy twisted around to head back for the house. Sighing, Ty returned to the barn to finish cleaning up before he ran into the house for a shower.

“What?” Jack asked as he emerged from Paint’s stall and caught the expression on his grandson’s face.

Ty just shook his head. “Just glad Lisa is on her way home. We could use a referee.” Or a buffer, more like.

“Speaking of, I’m going to see if the girls need help. You good to finish up here?”

“Yep.” Ty waved him off.

By the time Lisa’s cab made its way down the driveway trailing a plume of dust, everyone was washed up and dressed in clean jeans with their muck-covered boots neatly tucked under the bench in the mudroom. The guests hadn’t arrived quite yet as Jack made sure to allow Lisa enough time to prepare for an ambush of company after her long international flight. He knew she wouldn’t have been entirely pleased to have to entertain after just stepping off a plane.

The smile that lit Jack’s face to see his wife was something Amy envied. For a moment it distracted her nerves to see the couple embrace after so long apart. Until Lisa’s attention zeroed in on her.

“You must be Amy!” she exclaimed, breaking through the boys to pull Amy into a warm hug.

Amy froze for a split second at the sudden contact that Lisa seemed to sense for she quickly released her hold and stepped back, but still looked at Amy with a gentle smile.

“I am,” she finally answered when her nerves settled somewhat. “It’s nice to finally put a face to the stories.”

“Oh?” Lisa turned to narrow her eyes at her husband and stepson. “And what stories might those be?”

“Nothing bad, I promise,” Jack insisted as he gave her shoulder a squeeze on his way past with one of her many suitcases. Ty was hauling the others from where the cabbie left them in the driveway.

“All good things,” Amy concurred, turning to follow everyone toward the house.

It was then that Lisa finally got a proper look at the set up in the yard. “What’s going on here?”

“Surprise!” Soraya called from her place on the front porch. “It’s your birthday slash welcome home party.”

Lisa’s blue eyes widened, swinging to Jack. “A party? Today? I just got off an eighteen hour flight.” Her hand flew up to her hair that was disheveled from travel but still properly tied up in a clip.

Dropping the suitcase with a loud thump, Jack raised a placating hand. “I know, I know. But there is plenty of time for you to freshen up and settle in before anyone is set to arrive.”

“Amy and Soraya spent all week putting this thing together,” Ty added as he came outside for another load.

“Really?” Taking another look around, Lisa’s expression brightened. “Well, it looks like you two pulled out all the stops.”

“We have all kinds of food on the way and Caleb should be here any minute to set up the music,” Soraya glanced down at her phone after shooting off a “where are you?” text to Caleb.

“Caleb’s coming?” Lisa’s surprise was understandable, given what she knew of the history between him and Jack.

“Soraya laid on the charm,” Ty teased, butting her with his shoulder on his way past.

“And you’re okay with this?” Lisa asked Jack who merely harrumphed and picked up the suitcase he dropped.

“It was his choice to shut me out. Needs to be his choice to want to make amends. Besides, he’s not upset with you.”

Soraya and Lisa shared a look, but Lisa merely pressed her lips together and didn’t utter a word against Jack’s ruling. Amy raised a questioning brow. Lisa shook her head, waiting until the door swung closed before saying more. “He’s hurt. He’s just too stubborn to admit it. Caleb was like another son to him until their falling out. Granted, the reason was justified.”

“What happened?” Amy asked, glancing toward the house.

“There was an incident between him and one of the inmates,” Lisa explained, everyone keeping their eyes on the house.

“Caleb used to work at Heartland,” Soraya clarified. “He pretty much ran the program.”

Lisa nodded. “Before Ty got out of prison-”

Amy sucked in a breath. “Wait, Ty was in prison?”

Lisa’s brow lifted. “I gather you all didn’t do much getting to know one another while I’ve been away.”

“Not really.” There wasn’t much time for that between all of the tension and arguing. Not that Amy was willing to lay out her life story in exchange for Ty’s. But if Lisa wanted to tell her without demanding anything in return, then she wasn’t going to stop her.

“I suppose that’s not really my business to tell, but yes, he was in prison for a time. Caleb stepped up and handled the extra workload, which included running the inmates. He butted heads with one of them and it escalated to the point of him being removed from the program. When he managed to cycle through again Jack allowed him back for a second chance, which Caleb didn’t take well. So he quit and they haven’t spoken since.” Seeing Jack’s silhouette in the window, Lisa rushed through the story, giving Amy enough of a picture but still curious for more details. Like which inmate and were they still part of the program now?

Jack clapped his hands, rubbing them together from his place on the porch, looking down on the women in the yard. “Alright, all your luggage is in the room. The house is yours to rest and unwind for the next while.”

Lisa laughed, crinkling her nose at her husband. “Why, thank you. If you all don’t mind, I think I’ll take a hot bath before the party.” She reached over to place a gentle hand on Amy’s arm. “It’s nice to meet you, dear. We’ll make time to talk later, okay?”

Smiling, Amy nodded, though worried what their talking would consist of. “Welcome home.”

#heartland #one day #fanfiction #amy fleming #ty borden #jack bartlett #lisa stillman #soraya duvall #oc: hank

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writingforatwistedworld · 2 years ago

Note

May I please ask for a self aware au headcanon of Malleus, Lilia, and Sebek reacting to a player that tries to share their own religious views from back home with them? I find the irony and potential humor of that situation interesting.

Self-aware au

I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, imprisonment, murder, blood, religion, obsession, death, possessiveness, unhealthy mindset

(My works are for entertainment and not meant seriously! Please believe in whatever religion you would like! Or don't. That's up to you.)

Malleus Draconia/Lilia Vanrouge/Sebek Zigvolt-Player tries to share their religious beliefs

You have broken your local friendly (and not so harmless) neighbour fae

Why is God believing in... another higher power?

Wait... DOES THAT MEAN THERE IS A HIERARCHY WHTHIN THE GODLY SOCIETY??!

(Well since us being God is more or less something they came up with themselves and because we live in a society in which we need some sort of law and order... yes. Apparently there is a hierarchy in our “godly” society)

Or maybe someone had stolen your position and now you are damned to wander as a mortal in the world you created??!

Please get this madman some ice cream... I can see smoke coming from his mouth

And then you get deeper into the details of your belief, telling him about certain days on which you celebrate things...

Does that mean that you are unhappy with how they celebrate you your holiness?

Malleus is already done writing the letter for his grandmother in which this is recorded and is about to send the thing

Please stop him! We don't know what a bunch of religious fanatics would do if they found out that their God is unhappy with them...

Just try to keep your teachings to a minimum ok?

And please do tell him that you don't want to wage a war against some religion from another world

The poor man just looks so confused and like he is ready to just bang his head against a wall (poor wall! Won't survive that...)

If you also share your beliefs with others, please tell them to keep your discussion to themselves

We wouldn't want our oh so lovely follower to believe that they are challenging us with that other higher power? Right?

So many broken limbs and red... paint

Ok he is calm. He is chill.

Just sipping tomato juice out of a wine glass whilst listening interested

... You do get that I am just joking, right?

You actually believed that Lillia, the man himself, would accept this kind of thing?

You were the only light he had in the days he was still wearing his armour and now you say that some... heathen puts themselves above you

This man is full on delusional

He would rather create a story that doesn't make any sense in his head than accept that maybe, maybe you aren't that holy figure he always saw you as

Because if he were to admit that you weren't who they thought you were then what was the point of it all?

What was the point of the war?

What was the point of him grasping an old friend's hand whilst watching how the light left their eyes?

No, he would rather say that this other higher being has corrupted your thoughts and made you its marionette

So the second someone dares to say that they are interested in your belief his sword is sharpened and he is uh... making them the size of their head shorter

All whilst following Malleus orders

But even Liliaknows that he would have done this even if Malleus hadn't told him to do it

Now how should he twist your mind to make you remember you once more that you are God?

On well, there is always the good old “keeping them in a room all alone until they do everything you ask them to do because of pure loneliness”

How... fun...

Excuse me for a second, I need to get my headphones so that my poor ears are at least somewhat protected

He was raised by Lilia

What do you expect me to say? That he all calm and accepting and is fully on your side about believing in whatever you want?

Nah. I would recommend going to a doctor afterwards. You know, your poor ears...

But the day was sunny, the birds were chirping and Sebek was higher than cloud nine because he was sipping tea with the Overseer

Or rather was

Rook was very confused about why birds were suddenly leaving the forest in panic but he is a different kind of dilemma so moving on

After you had told him about your beliefs he had stared at you for a second or two before doing irreversible damage to your ears in the form of “WHAT??!”

Prepare to be picked up (whilst he apologizes), carried towards Diasomnia (whilst he apologizes) and held up high whilst he screams something about you being used for an evil scheme (after he apologized)

So... how is your new room with all the locks doing for you? Those bars in front of the window are made out of gold... just saying...

And who could be guarding your room other than Sebek?

Man over here volunteered

Lilia had to feed him some potion so the half-fae would finally go to sleep after three days of just standing in front of your door

Also, small talk to get out doesn't do it

He is determined to make you understand ”who you truly are” or something like that

So since Lilia isn't cooking during you “visit” how is the food?

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bratkook · 3 years ago

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right now. (m) jjk.

not yet, almost , right now

pairing. jungkook x reader genre. fluff, smut, idiots to lovers!! word count. 14.8k warnings. two mega fucking idiots<33, miscommunication/dumb assumptions, smut in forms of: fingering, oral sex (f.), orgasm denial, spanking, some spit bc duh, unprotected sex, super sweet & lovey!! also jungkook is a sweetheart pls love him summary. coming to terms with your feelings after getting off to the idea of your close friend is a little harder than you thought, but how long can you take before jungkook decides its time to move on? note. did jlin forget how to write for a few weeks? yes, yes she did....i know this took a long time but life is rough man so forgive me... but anyways lol the final part to the not yet!verse is hereeeee! thank you to @kithtaehyung for reading this over for me ily!! thank you guys for enjoying this mini series, the response was really unexpected but im sososo happy over every comment/ask i’ve gotten for this story. once again, tysm for your love and let me know what you think<3

The evening sun illuminates Jungkook’s apartment, golden hour bouncing off every reflective surface and straight into his eyes the second he walks in, immediately squinting as he makes a beeline to shut the blinds. His head was already throbbing from the hangover that decided to peak around noon, a mean case of nausea putting a damper on his work day. So as much as he loved soaking in some vitamin D today was not the day.

“Are you joking?” he huffs as he brings down the blinds, hand yanking at the flimsy string in an attempt to get it unstuck. “How stup—you’d think with the amount I pay every month in rent the blinds would work!”

Alright, so maybe he was a little grumpy today, choosing to take it out on an inanimate object and blame it purely on the bad decisions made last night—definitely had nothing to do with the residual moping of you going on a date. This could be fixed, easily.

The first order of business? Texting you to see if you’d be interested in devouring greasy food from your favorite place down the street. He’d get to see you and finally put something in his stomach, it’s the best of both worlds really.

Jungkook forgets about the blinds, leaving them stuck in the awkward position as he walks away entirely, fishing his phone out of his pocket while he enters his room. It’s the same text he always sends when he’s hangry: If I don’t get food in the next 15 mins I'm burning this place down and taking you with me.

He knows the response he’ll get, either that meme of the child in front of a burning house or an equally hangry paragraph. The phone gets tossed onto his bed as he changes out of his work clothes, needing to dispose of the business casual attire that was suffocating him, his old college hoodie giving him the comfort he needs.

By the time he’s finally slipping on his sneakers he’s expecting you to come knocking on his door, your impatient attitude always putting a smile on his face. Half of the time your neighbors thought you were having arguments from the way you’d pound onto the slab of wood, saying his name with just enough annoyance laced into each syllable it would fool anyone into thinking you were actually upset instead of being a brat. But when that never comes, he reaches for his phone again.

A few notifications fill up his screen, some instagram direct message previews, his group chat that he never responded to, and a few emails coming through, but you had yet to respond. Maybe it’s a little creepy, but Jungkook knows you’re home because he passed by your parked car on his way in. So his mind jumps to two extremes: you were either face down, drowning in your bathtub, or that yellow shades wearing wannabe version of himself was at your place.

Not an ounce of shame sits within him as he speedwalks to the side his bed was on, placing both palms onto the wall before his ear was pressed against the cold drywall. Jungkook’s not really sure what would make him feel good, hearing you and Jung Hoseok together, or hearing nothing at all. His ears strain to hear anything, but the only sound he gets is his own blood pumping.

With a small pout he pulls back, deciding he’d play the annoying neighbor role today and pound on your door instead. It’s a role he doesn’t take lightly, knuckles banging on the wood loud enough for you to hear wherever you were in your apartment. It takes a few minutes before any sign of life is shown, your door creaking open, and Jungkook is thankful because he was about to head to the maintenance office to ask for a key in case you actually were drowning in your bathtub.

“C’mon, let’s get food,” he declares instantly, a charming smile on his face as he stands with his hands stuffed into his jean pockets. The smile slowly falls off when he gets a good look at you, hair looking like a mess on your head and your fluffy blanket draped around you as you give out a weak cough. “Are you sick?”

“I think so,” you rasp out, leaning against your door frame and tugging the blanket tighter around you.

“Did that fucker give you mono?” Jungkook looks irritated, brows pinched together in a grimace—something you’re definitely not accustomed to seeing so you almost don’t catch his accusation.

“Jungkook, no! It’s nothing serious.”

He doesn’t look fully convinced, but he shrugs anyways, positive you weren’t interested in getting interrogated when you were feeling under the weather. “Alright, let me know if you need me to drive you to the doctor if it becomes something serious.”

With a roll of your eyes and a small smile, you wave him off, slowly shutting the door behind you. Your eye immediately peeks through your peephole, not relaxing until he makes his way down the hall and enters the elevator, still on his quest for greasy food.

“God, how old are you?” you grumble to yourself, yanking the blanket off your body and onto the floor with a huff. Pretending to be sick to avoid your friend was a new low, especially after the post-orgasm epiphany you had last night. A sane person would come to terms with their feelings and confess to them, uncertainty and possible rejection be damned! But you? No, you have to fake a cold like the giant coward you are.

The guilt only deepens when a knock comes from your door an hour later, a quick peek through your peephole allowing you to see Jungkook setting two plastic bags on the floor before stepping back and walking to his apartment next door. You don’t come out until you hear his door shut, seeing the logo of your favorite diner down the street. No doubt would your comfort meal be inside the takeaway container.

It takes all you have to not rush over to his place and say you were lying when you see he had also gone ahead and got you cold medication, a few different bottles because he surely didn’t know which was best, along with teas and some cough drops.

You’re a dirty liar. A horrible friend too.

That doesn’t stop you from devouring the meal in the takeout box as you’re hunched over your breakfast bar like a little gremlin. “This is just for today,” you mumble out to yourself as you set the plastic fork down and chug some of the leftover alcohol you had in your fridge. It’s your own version of a pity party, except the food feels heavy in your stomach, knowing the man you were avoiding was the one who bought it—bring on the guilt.

“I’ll talk to him tomorrow.”

You’re a dirty liar and horrible friend 2.0. Why this time? Because tomorrow stretched out a few more days than planned. It wasn’t entirely intentional at first, getting stuck at work longer than usual and missing the weekly hangout at your place where you got your remote covered in cheeto dust as you argued over what to watch. But it trickled down onto shorter replies to his texts, or you scrambling out of your apartment and into the elevator so fast in order to not run into him, your mind still trying to list all the pros and cons to this potential relationship before you even had the guts to confess to your feelings.

Jungkook didn’t know thats what was occupying your mind, no he was currently thinking the worst. He notices the change instantly, recognizing it because this was the exact way you had acted while you were with Hajoon, right before you broke the news to him that you needed to keep some distance while you focused on your relationship. So Jungkook automatically assumes that your sudden change in behavior after going on a single date with Jung Hoseok, was because you wanted to make your relationship with this man work.

His assumption stings—a lot actually—and soon enough he stops initiating conversations altogether. He didn’t want to hear you tell him you had to distance yourself again, he’s not sure his heart could handle that a second time, so he decides to get ahead of the curb and take a massive step away from you. It hurts him to know you’re right next door, and just like before, it’s like you’re back to being total strangers.

Safe to say Jungkook was currently going on his own downward spiral.

You could text him like nothing had happened and he’d accept it with open arms, but instead you text your best friend an SOS text, begging her to meet you at your place. She calls you dramatic at first, but once you say it’s about Jungkook she shows up at your place in record time.

“Did you finally fuck him?” Is her greeting of choice, spoken shamelessly from the hallway with no worry about her volume. She cackles when you yank the bottle of wine from her grasp and tug her into your apartment, letting the door slam behind her.

“You’re lucky he’s not home you bitch.” An eye roll is her only response, yanking the bottle back and making her way into your kitchen to grab the opener.

“So you didn’t fuck him?” The cork pops at her question, a curious glance staring you down as she pours the red liquid into an oversized cup.

“No Seulgi, I didn’t fuck him. But I did...something.” It makes your face warm up as you remember it, gratefully grabbing the cup she hands your way because you definitely need some liquid courage before confessing to your sins.

She hums in thought as she raids your pantry for something to munch on, settling on a bag of mini pretzels before leading you to your couch, needing to know the gossip that led to your sos text. “Okay, did you accidentally send him a nude then?”

“No, that wouldn’t be so bad I think?” Sending him an accidental nude would be laughable, probably resolved by a few screaming texts and dumb jokes before moving on. But new feelings seeing the light of day seemed so much worse. “But I sort of kissed him at a club a few weeks ago to get back at Hajoon—long story,” you cut in when you see her ready to fire off questions.

“And then I went on that failed Tinder date I told you about, and when I got home I sort of heard him, you know,”— you mimic a jerking off motion with your hand and ignore her lewd gasp, “and then I…” you trail off shamefully.

“No!” she gasps even louder, hand pressed to her mouth and eyes wide.

“Yes! And the fucking orgasm opened my eyes and made me realize that maybe that tiny crush you guys always joke about him having is real, and maybe I have a tiny crush on him too.”

“Does he know?”

“That I like him?”

“No, that you rubbed one out while listening to him you dirty slut!” Oh she’s loving this, leaning back into your cushions with a handful of pretzels resting on her boobs, a sly smile on her lips as she takes a sip of her wine. She’s the one who planted the seed in your mind, playfully joking about Jungkook any chance she got, saying he had the hots for you because she enjoyed the flustered look on your face. No doubt would she text the group chat with the news the second you finish this cry for help.

“Do you think I told him? I can barely come to terms with the fact that I like him. Like what am I supposed to do?”

She sighs dramatically, munching on the final pretzel on her tits before sitting up and dusting off the crumbs from her shirt. “Look, I know you’re just realizing that he likes you so this is still new and fresh for you, but we’ve noticed it for years. It’s fine that you didn’t see it, you had other things occupying your mind.”

You frown as you stare at the rug beneath your feet, remembering how life was when you first moved into this complex. Getting out of a previous relationship weeks prior, when you had met Jungkook your mind was not interested in pursuing anything with him regardless of how cute you thought he was. It made it easier for you to form a friendship, not worried about trying to impress him, or flirt with him, allowing him to see you for who you truly are.

Jungkook had his fair share of girlfriends during the years, none of which were entirely serious but by the time he was completely single you had met Hajoon, and he had accepted the fact that maybe you were better off as friends and he would just admire you from afar. That is, until you decided to plant one on him. So technically this is your fault.

“Jungkook likes you okay, and I’m sure if you just marched next door and told him you like him too he’ll drop on one knee and marry you.”

“Shut up,” you snort, shoving her shoulder with a smile.

“As a matter of fact, go over there right now!” She stands up from her spot, yanking your arms to haul you up with her.

“I told you, he’s not home. But, I’ll tell him. I have to.”

Seulgi crosses her arms over her chest as she stares at you, clearly displeased that she wouldn’t be witness to this love story unfolding in real time. “You better. You never know what sneaky little bitch is trying to get him to get over you.”

The sneaky little bitch in question is Park Jimin, currently sitting directly across from Jungkook, guzzling down beer like his life depends on it. It's impressive really, how quickly he empties the cup, eyes shut looking as content as could be even in the dim lighting. Jungkook can only watch with a grimace as his friend sets the glass down and wipes at his mouth with no sense of table manners.

“What?” he burps, proceeding to pour more of the golden liquid into his cup from the pitcher in the middle of the table.

“I always forget how absolutely disgusting you are. How do you do it?” Jimin just frowns at the question, not entirely understanding so Jungkook continues. “What switch do you flip to go from sipping champagne to chugging beer like a fucking biker.”

“It’s a talent, I know.” He smiles wide, reaching forward to grip Jungkook’s hand and force him to grab his own cup. Condensation was pooling around the bottom from sitting there untouched, and that just wouldn’t do on Jimin’s watch. “C’mon, drink it!”

“Fine,” Jungkook grumbles, raising the glass and allowing Jimin to clank the cups together before taking a big gulp. He doesn’t clear the cup like his friend did seconds prior but it's enough to appease him. It tastes absolutely bitter the whole way down, settling into his stomach uncomfortably, and the look on his face as he pushes the glass away from him is very telling.

Boisterous shouts fill the sports bar they were in, huddles of people surrounding the tables and booths as they watched the current soccer match playing on the televisions lining the walls. Jungkook honestly feels like a debby downer now, moping in his seat instead of enjoying the atmosphere with his friend like they normally did. The current game was definitely not the reason Jungkook had texted Jimin to grab drinks, no he needed an outlet to talk about you—preferably in a space that didn’t have walls as thin as his apartment.

When he barely acknowledges the plate of wings set in front of him Jimin huffs, resisting the urge to dig in because he knew once he did he wouldn’t be able to focus on anything else. “Are you gonna be like this the entire time?”

“Like what?” Jungkook has the gall to ask, acting as if he wasn’t looking like a wounded animal.

“Like you just discovered your wife of ten years is having an affair with your sister.”

He sits up straighter at that, eyes wide in disbelief. “Jesus.“

Jimin knew the jist of what was happening through the texts he had received the past week, but it seems like Jungkook didn’t want to jump into the topic of it at all now that they were sitting across from each other. He just sighs before deciding to be honest, wasting no time beating around the bush to hopefully be the voice of reason Jungkook needs. “You’ve been simping over her for years JK, and I get it, you think she could be the one. But what about you huh? It’s not fair for you to have your heart wrung out each time she gets a man and decides to put the friendship on pause—“

“That happened once!” He defends, brows pinched on his forehead as he shakes his head, ready to explain your situation because he wasn’t a fan of hearing his friend say anything about you when he didn’t truly know what happened. “The dude was a piece of shit and basically told her it was him or me. I’m not gonna crucify her for wanting a long term relationship to work.”

“Right, so she’s not icing you out again because she got a new man? That’s literally what you told me, it’s why I bought you this sympathy pitcher of beer!”

“Fuck you, you bought this pitcher for yourself.” Jimin had chugged two giant glasses of beer already, and was steadily working on his third, whereas Jungkook’s watered down cup remained relatively untouched. “Besides, I was just...spiraling and assumed when I sent you that desperate text. But I haven’t heard anything.”

Jimin can only stare blankly at the table as he processes what was just said before locking eyes with his friend once more, “Sorry, what? You haven’t heard anything? The hell kind of riddle is that.”

Jungkook sinks into the booth with a look of shame, not wanting to admit to occasionally laying in his bed at night in complete and total silence just to see if he could hear you and the hypothetical version of Jung Hoseok doing literally anything. It’s not one of his proudest moments, feeling like a bit of a creeper as he laid stiff on his bed, too scared to make a sound. “Nothing, forget about it. Point is, I haven’t seen the fucker come in or out of her place, so what does that mean?”

A deep sigh comes from Jimin, hand reaching forward to push the beer closer to Jungkook, desperately trying to get him to drink and ease up. “It means you pay far too much attention to her. When was the last time you got any action?”

Two weeks ago. From his hand and filthy imagination.

“A few months,” he grumbles, remembering his last hook up that happened a few days before he discovered you got dumped.

“Get outta here.” Jimin rolls his eyes as he points to the door. “Literally, go stand at the corner outside, show some thighs or a tattooed titty and take your pick of the swarm of girls that will surely follow you.”

Jungkook thinks he’s joking, but when his friend doesn’t drop his hand and narrows his eyes threateningly he knows he’s being serious. “My tits aren’t even tattooed,”—his large palms press against his shirt covered chest as if to prove a point— “And you sound like a douchebag talking like this.”

“What? She went on a tinder date and definitely got laid, so you need to even out the playing field. Also, it might help you chill the hell out.”

“Oh my god, you’re not helping.” Jungkook really didn’t need that visual again, it had flashed in his mind too often the night of his pity party and now it was once again at the front of his brain.

“Alright, okay. I’m throwing out my safe word right now.” Jimin leans closer, arms resting on the table with a confused look on his face. “What do you need from me here? Like, do I play the role of a supportive friend who wants you to get over her, or do I play the role of a friend who wants you to confess? Because you’re giving me some mixed signals Jeon.”

A groan escapes Jungkook, fingers rubbing at his eyes before dragging down his face as he sinks even further into his seat. “I don’t know.”

It’s the truth. Jungkook had no idea what he wanted his friend to do to help him. He knew that although his feelings for you have weighed heavy on his chest for what seems like years, you technically had no idea, so he feels a little guilty over his frustration for the whole situation. You were newly single again and determined to go through this self proclaimed wild phase so Jungkook isn’t dumb enough to think you can’t go out and do whatever you want, even if that means being with someone who isn’t him.

“Look,” Jimin sighs, pulling him out of his thoughts. “You only have two choices here, tell her how you feel and accept whatever comes with it, or make peace with the idea of just being friends. Either way, I think you need to loosen up and have fun tonight.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Jungkook sits himself up, wrapping his fingers around the cup in an effort to at least look like he wanted to be here. He couldn’t sit here and mope about a problem like this when he hadn’t attempted to come out and tell you how he feels.

One night of loosening up to get you off his mind wouldn’t hurt, if anything it might help him come to his senses. At least that’s what Jimin was currently whispering with a mischievous smile on his lips. “It’ll be fine, I’ll make sure you don’t black out and get home safe. Who knows, you might get plastered enough to drunk text your confession.”

Jungkook glares at his friend, not liking the goofy look on his face as he starts to laugh. “I swear to god, you better not let me get to that point. Take my phone away from me.”

Jimin obviously wants to see the world burn, or at least he enjoys it when Jungkook somehow digs himself into his own grave. That's exactly why he responds with a million laughing emojis when Jungkook texts him asking why the hell he hadn’t taken his phone last night.

He did a good job hiding his shock when a knock came from his front door, half expecting it to be you, keeping a smile on his face as he allowed the person who was very clearly not you in before swiftly entering his bathroom. Jungkook wants to stay locked here forever, holed up while he sits on his toilet and not in the living room with company. It wasn’t like it was bad company either, his drunken ass going through his contact list and sending an invitation to hangout the following day to the last person he spoke to, Aillie.

The girl is sweet, someone he had a casual fling with for months, someone who was used to his random texts so she doesn’t think twice before agreeing. The only silver lining to this was that he hadn’t sent you a typo-filled drunken confession, which is what Jimin responds with before telling him to suck it up and leave his bathroom.

Jungkook accepts his fate, as well as accepting that he is partially responsible for this. He shoves his device back into his pockets before standing up and flushing the toilet for show, washing his hands just to stall. One good glance at his reflection makes him cringe, stained shirt and sweats combo leaves him looking like the unprepared mess he is. Another detour through his room to change was a must before he has no choice but to step back out.

“You’re totally hung over aren’t you?” Aillie jokes from her spot on the couch, comfortable enough in his apartment from the time spent here. She locks her phone as she stands up, taking her time to really look Jungkook over. He was not dressed like someone who was expecting a guest, and despite having seen Jungkook at his sloppiest, his previous attire of oversized shirt and slightly stained sweatpants didn’t look like someone who was expecting a fuck buddy to pop over. Even with his new outfit looking more put together, it was obvious Jungkook was caught off guard by her showing up.

“What?” Jungkook dumbly asks, trying to come up with some lame excuse to justify his earlier appearance but he falls short. His fingers gently rake through his hair, a grimace falling on his face as he looks back up at her. “Actually, a little. Sorry, I got drunk last night when I text you so sober me was not really prepared.”

“Yeah I figured, you sent me some blurry selfies right after. But we can just hang, we don’t have to do anything,” she trails off, a soft smile on her lips. The only time they ever hung out was to hook up, having ten minute conversations before and after the fact. “Or I can leave too if it's weird that I’m here.”

Jungkook is shaking his head before she can even finish, already feeling bad enough after texting her to come over. How shitty would he be if he immediately kicked her out. This was fine, a nice distraction from it all, decent middle ground that would help him get his mind off you without having to take Jimin’s douchebag advice.

“No, we can watch a movie or something. It’s not like I have other plans.” Had this been two weeks ago it would be a totally different story. Jungkook would typically be waiting in his apartment as he stared at the slowly ticking clock, just waiting for it to strike 7:30 because that's when you usually got home. Then he’d either get a text from you to come over with snacks or you’d show up at his door and invite yourself over for the weekly game night.

It didn’t happen last week, or the week prior, so Jungkook is very confident that it would not be happening today either. It’s that same sense of confidence—and saltiness—that allows him to get comfortable with Aillie, blissfully unaware that you had just pulled into the parking garage a few stories below.

“I swear to god if you don’t go straight to his door the minute you get off the elevator I will never let you live it down.” Seulgi’s voice fills your car through the speakers, fading out as you shut the car off and bring your phone to your ear to continue the conversation.

“Dude, I just got off work. I need to make myself look decent.” Plastic bags rustle together as you grab the snacks you had picked up on your way home, all full of yours and Jungkook's favorite treats. It was definitely a guilt fueled purchase, hoping the items were enough to distract him from the fact that you were kind of a bitch for ghosting him recently, or at least butter him up into accepting your apology easier.

“You think Jungkook cares if you’re a little sweaty from work? He’s a grown man, that’s not gonna stop him from going do—“

“Okay, goodbye!” You hastily cut her off as you press the elevator button, hearing her rambling off about being interrupted. “I’m about to get on the elevator, I’ll tell you how it goes.”

With a small sigh you hang up and stuff the device into your purse, stepping onto the lift as the doors open up and pressing the number for your floor. Your hands are clammy as you grip the plastic bag, uncharacteristically nervous about seeing Jungkook again after so long.

The main obstacle for you to get over was apologizing for being a crappy friend, and if that went well you were going to suck it up and just come out and confess, the odds of him saying no were slim. And even if he did, you’re perfectly content with staying friends, as long as you could keep him close.

It’s that same optimistic mentality that allows you to calm down as you enter your place and decide to give yourself a minute to mentally prepare. His favorite ice cream gets put into the freezer for later before you decide to shower and give yourself a pep talk the entire time.

This pep talk of yours is filled with best case scenarios: Jungkook accepting the confession with open arms, finally being able to kiss him properly, everything falling into place the way it should have a long time ago. And as you head over, totally sober, freshly washed, looking and smelling your best, you really can’t picture this going any other way.

With a deep breath you’re knocking on his front door, quickly pulling back your hand and wiping it onto your pants as you step back. Jungkook hears the knock clearly from his spot on the couch, his gaze tearing away from the television to stare at his front door with a small frown. He hadn’t ordered any food and Aillie had just excused herself to use his bathroom so his brain is having a hard time wondering who it could be.

He curses under his breath, not putting it past himself to have texted a second person last night with an invitation to hang out. Why was Jungkook a friendly drunk?

As he presses his eye against the peephole and spots you standing there, he thinks he’s imagining things. It had seemed like so long since he had last seen you in person, and the warped fish-eyed version of you has him stepping back and rubbing his eyes before taking another glance. He suddenly feels like throwing up, and he can’t blame his earlier hangover on it.

For a brief second he contemplates pretending he hadn’t heard you, but the guilt of doing so makes his heart twist, so he musters up the courage to open the door. It’s barely a crack really, just enough for you to see him while still concealing his apartment, something you definitely found strange because you’re usually flinging the door open and strutting right in, but you suppose his reaction is warranted considering your previous behavior.

“Y/N, hey. Are you alright?”

“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine!” Your fingers tangle together in front of you, not entirely sure what to do with your nerves and Jungkook spots it easily. His own nerves sky rocket when he hears the sound of running water coming from his bathroom a few feet away, knowing Aillie would most likely pop out any second now, and he’s not sure why it feels like a dirty secret that he has another girl over.

“Did you need something?”

“Yeah, I was actually wanting to talk to you about something kind of important.” Your smile is hopeful, despite the nerves swirling in your eyes. The nervous skip of your heart is felt in your throat, not remembering the last time you had felt this way about telling someone how you felt about them romantically.

“Right now?” he wonders, fingers gripping the door handle tighter when he hears his bathroom door unlock, the sound of footsteps rounding the corner before stepping into the living room, a few feet away from the door and in perfect view of the wedge Jungkook had opened.

When your eyes flicker over his shoulder, spotting the auburn haired girl giving you a curious glance, you feel all your confidence slip away. Seulgi had definitely been right about needing to confess soon, Jungkook was a catch and just because you hadn’t realized it sooner didn’t mean the rest of the world was blind to it.

“Yeah, right now...but you’re busy, so it’s fine!” You want to scramble away from there, feeling dumb the longer you stand there. Jungkook wants to say he’s not busy, kick the girl out of his place and invite you in but that wouldn’t be fair to her, for all he knew your important conversation would be a repeat of the conversation you had over Hajoon, and he really didn't want to get friendship dumped while this girl was in his apartment. He’s pretty sure his Yelp rating would drop a bit if he cried on the couch about you to his old hook up.

He starts to speak but you cut him off before he can, “Don’t worry about it! I’ll see you later.” You force a smile before walking away, not allowing him to get a word in as you quickly step into your apartment and move to the furthest room away from your bedroom.

You can feel the cold of your kitchen floor as you sit on your butt, back against your cabinets, the small twinge of defeat spreading within you. “This is fine. Maybe she’s just a friend. I can always tell him tomorrow,” you whisper out. But your fingers seem to think otherwise as they type out a message to Seulgi, informing her that the mission was unsuccessful and you’d be putting on The Notebook like you always did. It was basically protocol to do so when things went south in your life.

She doesn’t even know how to console you, knowing she can’t tell you it was his loss or that he wasn’t worth it because she knows that’d be a lie and you wouldn’t believe it for a second. The only thing she can offer is coming over, but you’re quick to turn her down, deciding that being alone in the comfort of your bed as you inhaled the ice cream you bought for Jungkook would be best.

Is being in your room the wisest choice when you know you share a wall with Jungkook—and he has a cute girl over? No. Probably not. But you figure if you hear anything explicit it’s just your dose of karma, so you accept it, turning up the volume of the movie a few levels just to soften the blow.

However, Jungkook would definitely not be hooking up with her in his bedroom, or anywhere in his apartment for that matter. Luckily Aillie is blessed with the gift of reading the damn room and can easily spot the shift in Jungkook’s mood the second he shuts the door. She’s sitting on the edge of the couch now, hands gently placed on her knees as she gives him a sympathetic smile.

“I get the vibe that somethings off.”

He looks up at her then, slowing his pace until he’s awkwardly standing in the middle of the room with his hands shoved deep into his pockets. “My friend—my neighbor just wanted to talk about something. But everything’s fine.”

The lie tastes bitter on his tongue, and Aillie doesn’t believe him in the slightest. A small sigh fills the air as she stands up, collecting her bag and approaching him. “Look, I know deep talks really aren’t our thing so I’m not going to even try to dive into this, but you should go talk to your friend.”

A comforting hand is placed on his shoulder before she makes her way to the door to leave, Jungkook already following closely behind her. “No, you don’t have to go. You came all this way because I texted you with way too much tequila in my system.”

“Jungkook,” she laughs, opening the door with a smile. “You’re way too sweet for your own good. It was nice seeing you though.” Her eyes slowly move over to your front door before looking back at him, head cocking to the side in a very clear indication that he better go over. He can only nod in understanding, waving her goodbye and shutting the door once she heads down to the elevator.

The action sounds of the movie they were watching continues to fill his apartment, whatever chaos was going on only making his brain whirl so he’s quick to grab the remote and shut it off entirely. Now he’s just stuck in complete silence, wondering if he should quickly make his way over to yours or play it calm and collected.

The total silence allows him to hear the muffled mumbling of a movie he knew all too well. It draws him in, lures him into his bedroom until he’s kneeling on the mattress with his ear pressed against the wall to properly make it out. You were watching the Notebook, at a concerning volume, which could mean a number of things. Jungkook knew none of them were good, usually rooted in issues you had with your ex, or a tough day at work, or any particular day where you just felt like crying.

With a deep breath, he’s slowly knocking along his wall, almost experimentally, hoping it's enough to grab your attention through the current scene playing. For a second he thinks maybe you’ve fallen asleep while watching the film, but then the room falls silent as you pause it entirely.

Your hearts racing now, ears straining to hear anything else and hoping this wasn’t how the beginning of the explicit noises would start, but then another knock comes from behind you. It makes you gasp, like you’ve just been caught being the nosey neighbor you are, hearing the soft scrape of his hand sliding down the wall. The ice cream gets put onto your nightstand as you sit up properly, forcing yourself out of the mountain of pillows you were practically suffocating in and turning around to knock back.

Jungkook’s palm presses back onto the wall, smiling at your response before fishing his phone out of his pocket. His fingers find your thread of messages, further down the list than he was used to, and as he opens them up and sees the string of unanswered texts dating back to two weeks ago, it stings just like it did before. He pushes his pride aside though, knowing you had wanted to talk today in person, so he proceeds to quadruple text you.

Jungkook 8:44pm : are you seriously watching the notebook again?

You’re unlocking your phone the second it buzzes, smiling at the dimly lit screen before typing out a response.

Y/N 8:45pm : shut up, it’s my comfort movie

Y/N 8:45pm : do you wanna watch it with me? for old times sake

The device is locked and placed face down onto your sheets the second you hit send, sinking into the pillows once again as you try not to scream at yourself because you know he’ll hear you. Why would you invite him over when he clearly has company? You had seen her with your own eyes, had seen how cute she is, had seen how cute Jungkook is, it doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together.

Jungkook is quick though, texting back in agreement and heading over instantly. If you were watching your comfort movie then Jungkook wanted to make sure you were okay. Putting the past two weeks behind him, knowing you’d most likely have a good enough explanation—an explanation he would definitely be needing before the night was over—he’s knocking on your door before you can even check your messages.

It takes you a minute to untangle your limbs from your covers as you hastily try to get to your door, sock clad feet sliding along your wooden floors when you finally yank the door open. Jungkook wears a soft smile as he stares down at you, taking note that you had switched your outfit to your usual sad movie binge attire of baggy shirt and lounge shorts. His eyes zero in on your lips when he notices there's something lingering at the corner of them.

“So, are you gonna share whatever the hell that is?” His finger points at it smugly, laughing when your tongue peeks out to wipe it away.

“It was actually meant to be for you.” Stepping aside, you let him enter your place. Jungkook almost feels a little strange being here after the weird few weeks, but he pushes it aside, just wanting things to feel normal.

“Does that mean there’s no more left?” His eyes playfully narrow at you as you step closer, moving on to stare at the kitchen table, and the coffee table in search of the tub of ice cream that supposedly had his name on it. The earlier nerves you felt slowly fade away when you realize he’s not visibly upset about what happened, but it only makes your guilt deepen that despite your ability to be a crummy friend, Jungkook would still try his best to come through for you.

“There’s about half of it left, it’s probably a little soft now though.” You side step him to enter the kitchen, grabbing an extra spoon and handing it over as a peace treaty, smiling when he gratefully accepts it. “C’mon, I paused the movie.”

Jungkook is not a stranger to your bedroom, especially when sappy movies were playing, finding his spot easily on the right side where he typically handed you tissues whenever you cried. The tissues were missing this time, in place of them being the bag of snacks you had bought, his ice cream on the other nightstand.

“What part are you on?” he asks, settling onto the bed after fluffing up the pillows, waving his hands so you could pass the tub of ice cream his way.

“It just started raining on the boat.” Jungkook hums, scooping out some of the chocolate ice cream and into his mouth. He knew this scene very well, and when you press play, he mentally repeats all of the lines. Just as Noah declares he wrote her 365 letters, you awkwardly clear your throat, your own spoon slowly sneaking over to his side to steal some ice cream for yourself.

“I’m sorry if I made things awkward with your date.” Your voice sounds timid, something he’s not used to hearing from you at all, so he chuckles, laughing harder when you swat at his arm. “I’m serious, I should have texted you before just showing up.”

“Really? When have you ever done that before?” The two of you never notified the other when they wanted to show up, Jungkook had even given you the code to his place once when he was at work and you were desperate for some fruity pebbles—you used that code to your advantage and Jungkook never hated it. But all things considered, it's fair why you think you would have to give him a heads up.

“You didn’t make it awkward though.” It’s not the complete truth, you coming over is what had made Aillie decide to leave, but Jungkook had to take most of the credit for it. “I kinda made it awkward from the beginning.”

“Why, what happened?”

“I went out last night with Jimin“ —you immediately hum in understanding, knowing very well how convincing Jimin could be with alcohol— “and apparently I texted her to hang out today, had no recollection, so when she showed up I was definitely not ready.”

“Damn, this is how I know you’re a better person than I am. If that happened to me, the second I checked my peephole and saw someone I didn’t remember inviting over, I’m gonna pretend I’m not home.”

“Yeah well, she lives like an hour away so I’d feel like an ass if I did that. Don’t think I’ll be talking to her again any time soon though.” He sighs in thought, gently tapping his spoon on the surface of the softening ice cream. There was one thing weighing heavy on his mind, needing to know what important thing you had to talk to him about, wondering if you were actually going to friendship dump him earlier and he had just made it worse by coming over and hanging out like old times.

He doesn’t want to come right out and ask it though, not wanting to set himself up for an awkward conversation in case that wasn’t what you wanted to talk about, so he settles for something safe enough that would allow him to get a glimpse.

“So how are things with Hoseok?” Yeah, that’s a good start.

“Huh?” Your spoon freezes in its spot, face clearly looking confused in the dim glow of the television, the movie long forgotten now that you were speaking.

“Tinder guy? Yellow sunglasses guy that gave you mono?”

It suddenly clicks again, having forgotten all about Jung Hoseok the second you had gotten home from the failed date and came to terms with your feelings. Your lie of having a cold must have been believable enough for Jungkook to genuinely think he had given you something like mono.

“He didn’t give me mono!” Jungkook rolls his eyes with a playful smile, humming along like he totally believes you. “But I didn’t tell you?”

He frowns as he stares at you, not entirely sure how to take your tone. “Tell me what? That you’re engaged and the wedding is in June?”

“No way,” you laugh, swatting his spoon away with a clank as you grab some ice cream before shoving it in your mouth, fighting against the brain freeze to continue speaking. “Our date was a bust.”

“How? Was it that bad?” He desperately wanted to know, having convinced himself the date had gone spectacularly well and you were now an exclusive item. The small twinge of guilt is felt when he realizes he’s a little too happy that the date had been a failure, but he allows himself to have this small, tiny victory.

“Mm, it was so good it was bad.” He looks utterly confused, and you don’t blame him, so you elaborate. “He was this perfect gentleman who just wanted to play games, like to the point where he had a notebook where he was tallying our points, and then he walked me to my car and kissed my cheek goodbye.”

“Oh the horror!” Jungkook gasps, setting his spoon down to clutch his heart in dramatics. “How dare he try to romance you with a game night.”

“Jungkook, shut up!” you laugh, finally feeling like everything was right again, sitting in bed with your closest friend as you teased each other. “Look, I’ll give him some credit. The date was nice, he was not the sleazy douchebag his profile made him out to be, and I’m sure he’ll find the perfect girl for him on Tinder. But he clearly wanted something serious and—“

“And you don’t want that right now. It’s fair.” Of course you would turn him down, you had just decided to embark on this new adventure in the single world. It was kind of dumb for Jungkook to assume one date with Tinder Boy would be enough for you to give up your short lived dream.

You take a steady breath at his words before taking another scoop of ice cream, lips wrapped around the spoon as you slowly pull it out of your mouth. The nerves are trickling back in, making your heart skip and your eyes bounce around. If you don’t come out and say it now, you know you never will.

Your spoon joins his in the tub of ice cream before you decide to move it back to the nightstand, forcing yourself to look back at him, seeing him turned away as he rummages through the plastic bag full of snacks. “I don’t want that with him.”

Jungkook freezes, the rustling of plastic ceases as his hands come back to his sides and he turns back around. With him. He was the king of jumping to worse case scenarios so his brain has no issues coming to this very horrible conclusion.

“Have you been talking to Hajoon again?”

“No, Jungkook I haven’t.”

“Are you sure? I’m saying this now, but if you get back with him I will not hesitate to pop him in the face if I run into him in the halls. It’s fair game out there, neutral territory for him to get his ass beat—“

“It’s you.”

His brain short circuits at that, mini versions of himself currently running around and screaming in his head as he tries to make sense of this. The first instinct he has is to crack a joke, to say that he hadn’t been talking to Hajoon again, and laugh it off. But you look a little too vulnerable right now, eyes nervously looking at him and then looking away at his lingering silence.

“Wait, what?” It’s the only thing he can sputter out, caught off guard by your words, not wanting to say anything else in case the world was cruel enough for him to have completely misheard you.

“I don’t want that with Tinder Boy or Hajoon, I want it with you.” It gets a little easier saying it a second time, but his reaction is hard to gauge. You had been expecting him to reciprocate the confession instantly, but the longer he looked shocked only made you think that you and Seulgi had been seriously wrong about his supposed crush.

Jungkook is having a difficult time trying to go from you ghosting him to you suddenly admitting to liking him, the change in emotions not allowing him to say anything he had practiced in the mirror for so long. He can’t come out and give you a speech about how he thinks you’re the one, how you’re obviously a good match together, brain too focused on other details. “How long have you known this?”

“For the past two weeks, but deep down I know it’s been longer.”

His wide eyes glance over at you now, everything slowly clicking into place. “Is this why you’ve been avoiding me?”

“Yes,” you mumble, embarrassed over the way you had acted. The last time you had avoided someone was in elementary school, having a best friend go ask your crush if he likes you while you hid in the bathroom, scared of the answer. “I like you Jungkook and I knew I wouldn’t be able to play it cool. I was scared to say something and have you not feel the same and then have our friendship be weird.”

Jungkook smiles in that adorable way you love, nose scrunching up cutely as he leans closer, large palms coming to cup your cheeks. He has wanted to hear this for so long, and sure, maybe it wasn’t some super romantic confession over a candlelit dinner like he had occasionally dreamed of, but this felt right.

“You’re so stupid,” he whispers out, thumb softly caressing your cheek as he chuckles, feeling the way your lips turn into a frown at his harmless insult.

“Jungkook, I’m being serious,” you whine, heart still pounding in your chest. Your hands come up to gently wrap around his wrists, allowing him to continue to squish your cheeks with that endearing look on his face.

“I’m being serious too Y/N. Did you really think I wouldn’t feel the same?” Jungkook did everything he did with you out of pure friendliness, never expecting to get something in return from it, but there was a small sprinkling of a crush in every one of his actions. “I like you too, and I have for a really long time.”

The relief you feel comes instantly, lips slowly pulling into a smile when you finally have the confidence to look directly into his eyes again. If this is how light you feel after the two weeks spent freaking out, you can only imagine how Jungkook feels. “Really?”

“Yes, really. Now, can I please kiss you?” You’re nodding the second the question leaves his mouth, eyes fluttering shut as his hands glide down to cup your jaw, soft lips slowly pressing against yours. It’s a gentle smack of skin as he pulls back, a smirk on his lips when he opens his eyes, softly rubbing his nose against yours.

“Wait,” he breathes out, chuckling softly. “Is he still looking?” He has the nerve to repeat the same question that had been the root of your guilt, and when your eyes shoot open and glare at him, he can’t stop the laughter that bubbles out.

“I hate you,” you mutter out, not an ounce of truth behind it.

“Mm, no you don’t.”

His lips find yours again, falling into a steady rhythm, softer and less rushed than the first kiss you had shared at the club. There’s no pounding bass in the background, or the taste of liquor on your lips, but Jungkook prefers it this way. He likes the low hum of the movie continuing to play in the background, the sweetness of the ice cream lingering on your lips when his tongue gently swipes at the seam of them, the way your hands slowly slide around his neck as he deepens each kiss.

With each shared breath, you slide further down your bed, pulling Jungkook down with you until he’s hovering directly above you. His knees dig into the sheets, one hand pressed beside your head to keep himself stable as you urge him even closer to you. The delicate golden chain he wears kisses your skin, pendant settling onto your chest, the cool sensation is almost enough to distract you as his tongue slowly slips into your mouth. Jungkook groans when you let out a small gasp, your fingers slipping into his hair and tugging gently at the strands by the nape of his neck.

He wants to remember this kiss instead of the one from the club, embed every gasp you let out into his brain, the way your chest pushes up to feel more of him, how your hands slide down his back, leaving a fiery trail in their path that makes Jungkook shiver. And when you slide your thighs further apart for him, innocently at first, he can’t help it when his lips freeze on yours as you slowly roll your hips upwards. It gives him the same automatic reaction he had gotten at the club, all the blood rushing to his cock instantly, except this time he doesn’t feel the shame he had felt before. There was no ulterior motive to what you were doing, sincerity shown in your confession, shared within each kiss, so Jungkook allows himself to bask in the want he feels for you.

“Y/N,” he groans out when you repeat the action, pulling away from your swollen lips to stare at you through hooded eyes. You’re licking your lips over as your eyes slowly open, a small glimmer evident in them as you tilt your head and pretend to not know what you’re doing.

“What?” you question, leaning up to kiss the edge of his mouth, giggling when he attempts to chase your lips as you pull back, choosing to kiss down his jaw instead. As your tongue gently trails along the side of his neck, you feel the harsh gulp he takes, his fingers bunching up in the sheets beside your head. His neck has always been a weak point for him, turning him into a puddle in seconds, you knew this from the unfiltered conversations you’ve had and it was something you were definitely going to be using to your advantage.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” he grunts, eyes fluttering shut as you nip at his skin, a visible shiver racking through him.

“Of course I am,” you hum, letting your hands roam his back, sliding around his front until you’re sneaking past the white fabric of his shirt. When your cool hands meet his skin, he tenses, the muscles on his stomach tightening up as your fingertips trail up his body. You’ve known Jungkook was well defined, lean and toned in all the best places, having seen him shirtless a few times. But being able to touch him like this, feel each stuttered breath and jump of his skin reacting to your touch fueled you.

Jungkook knows you can feel the racing of his heart now, your palms flat on his chest, each thrum revealing his emotions despite the cool and calm exterior he was trying to have. His hips lower towards yours, resisting the urge to rut into you as you start to suck on his skin. The low hum you let out vibrates against his neck, mixed in with the feeling of your wet lips, and he knows he’s done for. The final blow comes in the form of you swiping your tongue at the blossomed hickey, sweet voice pulling him back to earth as you look at him once more. “I want you Jungkook.”

Oh god, he couldn’t do this. His face pulls into a grimace, begging himself to not instantly cum in his pants at what you just said. How many times has he fantasized about this? Hoped you’d beg him for anything in that same exact voice, dreamed of you kissing and sucking on his skin like you currently were. Jungkook isn’t sure any amount of mental preparation would be enough for this.

“Say that again please.”

You giggle, finger pushing back a strand of his hair as it falls over his face, tucking it behind his ear. The normal doe eyed look you were accustomed to is nowhere to be found, pupils blown out in lust as he stares at you. Being on the receiving end of this stare fills your stomach with butterflies, the flapping of their wings intensifying as he nudges his nose into yours.

“I want you.” It’s breathless, spoken so softly through the background noise like a personal secret just for him. Jungkook doesn’t think he’ll ever grow tired of hearing you say it, that much is proven true when you repeat it in between kisses, trailing back up his neck in the same path you had taken until you're speaking the words directly against his lips. He swallows them down greedily, groaning into your mouth when his tongue tangles with yours once more.

“Fuck, you can have me baby.” He chuckles against your mouth when you start to tug at his shirt, yanking the thin material until he has to pull back and slip the tee off himself. The balled fabric gets tossed aside without a care, dark swirls of ink on his arm fully revealed now, each tattoo reminding you of how long you’ve known him, remembering the two pieces that he had when you first met. When he leans back over you, taking his time trailing kisses down your neck, onto your chest until his own hands are slowly tugging your shirt off of you, you decide there’s other things to focus on besides his glorious tattoos.

“Ah, Jungkook,” you sigh, fingers tangling into his hair when he kisses the swells of your breast, warm tongue sliding over your nipple before his lips are wrapping around it. His large palm gropes the other, thumb flicking over the pebbled bud, smirking when you push your chest further out for him.

“What baby?” He pulls back to blow a gust of cool air on your nipple, the wetness of his saliva making your skin break out into goosebumps.

“No teasing.”

Jungkook’s laughing now, eyes peering up at you through his lashes. “Oh, you think I’m not gonna tease you after what you did?” He tsks in disapproval as he continues to kiss down your torso, letting his hands trail down your sides, not stopping until he reaches the hem of your shorts. A kiss is placed above your navel as he pulls the shorts down your legs, toying with the waistband of your black underwear. “I’m gonna take my time with you.”

The build up before pleasure will always be your favorite part. The way his hands grip your thighs after tugging your underwear off, fingertips trailing up until his palm is pressing them further apart. It’s impossible to look at him now, the visual of his long hair framing his face as he starts to press wet kisses on your skin is too much to handle. You can feel the warm huff of air when he laughs as your head drops back onto the pillow once more, eyes slipping shut while you wait with anticipation.

Jungkook wants to comment over how wet you are already, boost his own ego about being able to rile you up with just kissing, but he can see the way you’re already on edge, and he decides he can tease you some more later with what he has in store. Instead, he gives you what you’re mentally pleading him for. Finally pressing his soft lips to your folds, the short gasp you release as his tongue glides up before gently flicking across your clit has him shutting his own eyes, reveling in the way you react to his touch.

His long fingers spread out your folds before he’s messily spitting onto them, watching the way the glob of saliva trickles down before he’s diving in, falling into the perfect pace with ease. It has your hips rutting up instantly, your hand uncurling its grip from your sheets to travel down your body and find its place tangled in his hair. Jungkook groans against your clit when your fingers grip tightly, yanking the dark strands as the prettiest moan flows out of you.

“J-just like that, fuck,” you whimper, finally lifting your head up to stare down at him when he latches his lips around your clit and sucks. It sends a spark down your spine, stomach tensing at his rhythm, fully intent to have you fall apart.

Jungkook wants to push you over the edge, knows he’s talented enough to get you there in record time—he was cocky in the best way—and the way your thighs tremble as he slowly sinks his finger into you proves his point. The slick coating your entrance allows a second finger to slip through with little resistance, a shuddering breath filling the air as he begins to spread his fingers apart, stretching you out in the most delicious way.

It’s not until his fingers curl up, rubbing along the sweet patch inside of you and you moan out his name, that he realizes he has you right where he wants you. He can’t get himself to look up at you, to see the way your jaw drops as you plead for more. Jungkook knows if his eyes lock with yours too soon he’ll be too weak to be as cruel as he wants to be.

The pleasure blooms inside you, hips rolling up into his in a way he welcomes, smirk spreading onto his lips when your moans get breathier. He eats you out with determination set in his brows, not satisfied until you’re tightening around his fingers, thighs threatening to close in on either side of his head. The messy way he slurps against you sends you reeling, rutting up into him with need, the wet thump of his fingers blending in with your moans of his name.

“God, Jungkook, I’m gonna cum.” He believes you, eyes finally opening up to stare at you. The visual is enough to make his cock throb in his pants, your glassy eyed stare locked onto his, chest rising and falling in time with each choked breath. When he playfully winks at you, your walls pulse around him, seconds away from being pushed over the edge, and that’s when he pulls away.

The warm glow of your orgasm approaching, just about to crest, gets ripped away from you instantly. It makes you gasp, thighs twitching as your hips attempt to push up back towards his mouth, but he’s having none of that. His shiny lips smile up at you innocently, head tilted to slowly kiss your trembling thighs, chuckling at the small cry of frustration you let out.

“You taste good baby,” he hums, smooching the skin at the juncture of your thighs, circling around your clit without relieving the pressure you felt. The dull ache has your fingers releasing his hair in defeat, a frown etched onto your lips.

“Jungkook, that’s mean,” you pant, sitting up and resting on your elbows to properly stare at him.

“A little, but you deserved it don’t you think?” Jungkook didn’t want to tease you too much, he just wanted to get even for the past two weeks. “You could have had me between your thighs every single night if you would’ve said something soon, so I think you can be patient.”

A firm kiss is pressed to your swollen clit and it makes your whole body shudder, your head dropping back as you take a deep breath to control yourself. “I can’t be patient Kook,” you whine, head leveling back out to give him the most convincing stare you can muster. There's that crease between your brows that he likes when you pinch them together, hands gently raking through his hair, teeth pillowing out your lower lip as you bite down onto it.

“Please, you can torture me later if you want but not now.” Your words have him cocking up his brow, hands once again gripping the meat of your thighs before he crawls back up your body. The feeling of his chain dragging up your skin has you shivering, breath catching in your throat when he hovers inches above you once more.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth before his hand slips between your thighs again. A groan reaches his ears as his fingers circle your clit, covered in your arousal and his saliva, gliding with ease as he works you back to your ruined orgasm.

His lips find yours, swallowing down the moan you let out when he quickens his pace. You can taste yourself on his tongue, tangling with yours with more urgency than before, messy and desperate in a way that had more arousal gushing out of you. The earlier pleasure reignites inside you, your hands sliding around his neck to keep him close, kissing him with fervor, quiet moans and whimpers slipping past between each smack of your lips.

“Jungkook,” you barely manage to squeal, a few more flicks needed to finally push you over the edge. Your lips are slick with spit as you pull back, jaw slack as you lose yourself in the feeling, and Jungkook easily bookmarks this into his brain to go back to and daydream of whenever he’s bored at work. Your eyes are squeezed shut as the feeling flows through you, not able to see how Jungkook stares at you in awe.

“Holy shit,” he whispers, slowly pulling his hand away when you keen at the sensitivity, thighs twitching on the sheets as the pleasure rolls through you in waves. You’re looking up just in time to see him slip his messy fingers into his mouth, tongue licking them clean and savoring the taste of you. Just as he slides them back out, your fingers wrap around his wrist and lead them directly into your mouth, sinking onto them with your eyes locked on his own.

Jungkook’s cock jumps in its confines when you suck, tip of your tongue circling his fingertips before popping them back out with a smirk. There’s a brief moment of shock on his features before he’s jumping into action, quickly unbuttoning his jeans in haste that left you giggling on your sheets.

“What happened to patience?” you tease, laughing harder when he pauses with one foot stuck in the hole of his jeans, a playful glare thrown your way.

“Oh, now you want patience?” He kicks his pants the rest of the way off, slowly shuffling towards you as he stands beside the bed in just his boxers. Your hands make grabby motions for him, reaching for the waistband of his underwear to tug them down, licking your lips over as his cock springs out. It bobs in the air for a second, thick and heavy, precum collecting at the tip with the prettiest veins on the underside of it. Of course Jungkook and his pretty privilege would have a dick worthy of leaving you speechless.

Jungkook allows you to ogle at him, confidently wrapping his palm around the base of his cock, hissing slightly at the sensation as he looks down at it, allowing spit to accumulate behind his lips before a string of it escapes and lands right onto his length to help the glide of his palm. Your eyes widen at the sight, hand replacing his as he guides your motions, giving an experimental squeeze and enjoying how his abs tense up.

“I’ve been patient for a long time Y/N. You said you want me right?” You’re nodding instantly, eyes looking away from his shiny length to stare up at him. “How do you want me?”

“Jungkook, just get over here.” He doesn’t resist when you let go of his cock, hands gripping his arm to yank him back onto the bed in a clumsy heap. His legs are a tangled mess, nearly ramming his forehead with yours from the force, shared laughter filling the air as you situate yourself. Jungkook had pictured this a thousand times and this is exactly how he imagined it, full of soft kisses, hushed laughter and goofy smiles, playfulness mixed in with lust all coming together perfectly to make the two of you.

As he settles between your thighs, your sodden folds inches from his length, you can see the look on his face as his eyes glance in between both of your nightstands. Already knowing the question that was about to spill out, you beat him to the punch. “You don’t need one, if you don’t want to. I’m on birth control, and haven’t been with anyone since…” you trail off, not needing to specify.

Jungkook tries not to look too excited, really, but it’s hard. Every one of his lewd fantasies had involved being able to feel you entirely, and if your thoughts from that night were anything to go by, you definitely want the same. It takes him a second to speak, having to swallow properly to prevent himself from choking on his saliva and embarrassing himself in front of you. “I’m clean, I promise.”

“I trust you,” you smile, biting down onto your bottom lip as he fists his cock, slowly leading it to your dripping center. His free hand rests on your inner thigh, softly palming the skin as the head of his cock nudges against your entrance, pushing past the tight ring of muscles and into your heat. With his gaze locked down to where you connect, he sees inch by inch sink into you, finally bottoming out with a shared gasp.

Jungkook leans over you properly now, hand sliding up to lace with yours as the other rests beside your head, just taking a moment to enjoy the feeling of your velvety walls wrapped tightly around his cock. You welcome the stretch, the curve of his length inside you, how he cages you in with his body, eyes full of want staring directly at you, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze because he knows he can’t properly form a sentence right now.

“Fuck me, please.” With his hips pressed flush against yours, he’s slowly inching back, letting you get used to his size with each thrust. It doesn’t take long before he’s rearing back entirely, thrusting forward with a wet squelch, corner of his lips curling up into a smirk when you moan out his name. Your hand curls around his shoulder, fingers digging into his back to keep yourself steady from the force of his hips.

Each time the head of his cock would nudge against your bundle of nerves, your nails would sink into his skin, leaving half moon indents that left him groaning in pleasure. Jungkook hadn’t outright told you, but it had become increasingly obvious that he has a slight kink for pain, practically mewling above you as you scratch his back, fucking you with more determination than before.

“You feel so good,” he rasps, slotting his lips with yours in a messy kiss. The back of your headboard starts to rattle against the wall, bouncing back in time with his hips, and it brings you back to the filthy thoughts you had before. How often you’d hear the same sounds on the opposite side, mixing in with the sharpness of skin connecting together, and you want it. So badly.

“J-jungkook,” you breathe out, letting him pepper more kisses onto you, hips never slowing down. “Can you do something for me?” The tone you use, coated in sugar so sweet he couldn’t say no even if he wanted to.

“Anything.”

It’s hard to concentrate on anything else while his cock continues to fuck into you, turning your mind into mush each time he sunk all the way in. He can see the way you try to focus, eyes falling shut with the cutest pout on your kiss swollen lips, finally grabbing onto the reigns of your mind as you spit it out. “Wanna feel you—fuck—spank me, please.”

Only then do his hips slow down, cock throbbing inside of you, fighting the urge to cum before fulfilling your request. The only confirmation that he was agreeing, wholeheartedly, comes when he pulls out of you, moving too quickly for you to protest at the loss of contact. The room spins for a second as his hands grip onto your hips and flip you over with ease, palms gripping the globes of your ass and softly patting them with a chuckle.

“Of course baby,” he murmurs, hooking his arm underneath your stomach to haul you up onto your knees, allowing you to steady yourself before he’s sliding into you once again. The change in position has you keening, his cock sinking deeper than before, the wetness dripping out of you helping him maintain the earlier pace he had. Your hands fist the sheets beneath you, back arching in ecstasy as he hits your g-spot with precision, a tiny shriek of his name making him smile.

Jungkook keeps you on edge, strong hands gripping the skin of your hips tightly, mouth dropping open while he pants at the way you pulse around his cock, leaving it coated in your slick. His hand slides down to your ass, a gentle touch being your only warning before he’s pulling his hand back and delivering a swift slap to your skin. Your reaction is immediate, an unrestrained moan sounding like music to his ears. The sharp sting spreads directly to your core, your head bowing forward as you mentally beg him for more, your wish being granted seconds later when he repeats it on the other side.

If the wet sounds of his cock fucking you weren’t filthy enough, the added slap of his palm across your ass definitely topped it off. Jungkook had never seen you so needy, thighs coated in your arousal, gushing around him each time he spanked you until you were creaming his cock. The greedy way your walls suck him in, wanting him closer, deeper than ever, left him mesmerized.

His hand soothes the dull throb on your skin, a trembling breath reaching his ears as he leans over your back, lips kissing up your spine up until reaching your shoulder. Hot pants of breath hit your skin, making you shiver as his lips trail along the edge of your ear. “Feel good?”

“Y-yes,” you mewl, voice trembling from the pleasure, rutting your hips in time with his.

Jungkook’s way of love was a breath of fresh air for you, rough enough to exhilarate you, the force of his hips leaving you scrambling for purchase to prevent you from face planting onto the sheets, gripping onto your hair and tugging it back with enough force to make your body tingle. But it was intertwined with adoration, sweet praise whispered into your ear, lacing his fingers with yours to let you feel secure.

“You’re never getting rid of me baby,” he groans out. The low rasp in his voice makes you tremble, neck straining from his grip in your hair but the burn feels too good to pull away. His small confession has your heart skipping, eyes slipping shut to bask in the overwhelming feeling surrounding you.

“Good,” you manage to pant, “would never dream of it.” After four years of friendship, the beginning stages of getting to know each other, figuring out the right ways to flow with your different personalities, it's all out of the way now, so it’s incredibly easy for you to picture a steady future with him. The breakfast gossiping, shameless club outings, chaotic game nights with snacks thrown at each other, you want everything you already have with him and more. What you have, so rooted in sincerity, built off mutual respect for each other, blossoming into love so pure, you can’t imagine having this with anyone else.

“Y/N,” he gasps, the pulsing of your walls bringing him closer to his climax. “I’m close.”

You can only hum in agreement, burying your face into your pillow when he releases the grip he has in your hair, nipples rubbing against the sheets in time with his thrusts, the sensitivity sending sparks throughout you. Both his hands grip your hips again, dimpling the skin as he quickens his pace, the tantalizing roll of his hips intent to send you over before him. His eyes trail over the curve of your back, how you arch it further to feel more of him, sliding down to your ass, seeing the way it bounces back with each snap of his hips, how you weakly rut back onto him, pussy clamping around his length as your orgasm approached.

Jungkook slides his hand around you, trailing across your tummy before slipping between your thighs to the spot you needed him most. Even with your face buried in the sheets, the moan you let out is loud enough for Jungkook to hear perfectly, body shuddering as he flicks across your clit in tight circles.

“Kook, I’m cumming—fuck,” you shout out, white heat enveloping your body as you get sent over the edge. Your mind blanks for a minute, the intensity of your orgasm crashing over you so suddenly, making your limbs tense up while every nerve ending lights up. The only thing you can think of is him, chanting out your name while you pulse around him, sweet words coaxing you through your high, thumb rubbing along the skin of your hips as he never slows his pace.

As he fucks you through it, groaning out at how tight your walls are around him, you have to turn your head to gasp in a breath, face feeling hot from it all. You can feel how sweaty your skin has become, the back of your neck feeling sticky as your turn to get a glimpse of him, body still shuddering from the aftershocks.

Jungkook doesn’t have a care for his own volume now, moaning unabashedly as he pistons his hips into you with less grace than before. The soft mewls of overstimulation you let out just bring him closer to his release, thrusts getting sloppier as the pleasure takes over him.

“Fuck, baby-” he grunts out, mouth dropping open as he moans even louder, finally falling apart. He pushes further into you, head falling forward as his hips press flushed against your ass, warm spurts of his cum filling you up in a way that fulfills your dirtiest fantasies. A few more shallow thrusts has the two of you gasping, hearts pounding in your chests, coming down slowly as he finally stills.

A serene silence falls over you, the movie long turned off in the background, only the low glow of the television letting you know it was still on. With great hesitation, Jungkook finally pulls out of you, gulping when he sees the thick globs of cum spill from your core, dripping down your thighs before landing on the sheets in a sinful mess. Your sheets are well and truly ruined, Jungkook would honestly suggest tossing them in the trash judging by the damp spot directly beneath you.

With a small groan, you’re flopping fully onto your stomach, thighs no longer able to keep yourself up, the exhaustion creeping up on you. Jungkook chuckles when he hears you, soothing your back with a gentle massage. “You’re not sleeping in here babe.”

“Why not,” you slur, cheek pressed against your pillow, eyes already shut. All you wanted to do was lay here, preferably with his arms wrapped around you, but Jungkook clearly has other plans.

“Because it’s disgusting,” he laughs, giving you a few more seconds of rest before he’s moving around. The dip in the bed lets you know he’s gotten off, one eye peeking open to search for him, seeing him gathering his belongings from the floor.

“Where are you going?”

He shimmies back into his clothes with a grimace, gathering your own items before approaching you once more. “We are going next door and sleeping in my totally clean bed, c’mon.”

You only put up a fight for a second, secretly enjoying the way he helps you get dressed in your earlier clothes, heart swelling in your chest at how domestic it all feels. The mess in your room would have to be dealt with another day, the only important item being the ice cream that finds its way back into the freezer as you both head out of your apartment and swiftly enter his next door.

He’s just as delicate and careful in the shower, taking turns cleaning each other, large hands gripping your ass and giggling like a child when you wince at the small throb of pain you feel. Soft kisses are shared under the showerhead, warm water soothing your body as the room fogs up, sweet confessions scribbled on the glass in his messy writing, topped off with a heart. Jungkook stops you before you can wipe it away, shyly telling you that he’d like to see it reappear the next time he showers.

His bedroom was one you weren’t too familiar with, used to lounging in his living room the most, so as he settles into his bed after getting cozy in his pajamas, you wait for him to call you over before joining him. The coolness of his sheets has you sighing, snuggling into his side with a smile on your lips, one that Jungkook sees as he stares down at you before pressing a kiss to your forehead. Seeing you draped in his clothes, cuddled up beside him in a way you’ve never done before, makes him feel like a giddy teenager.

“Can I be honest?” he wonders, arm wrapping around you to pull you even closer to him. When you hum in confirmation, he laughs sheepishly. “I thought you were going to friendship dump me today.”

“What, why?”

Your head bobs up as he shrugs his shoulders. “The way you were acting reminded me of the last time you told me you wanted to focus on your relationship. I was just scared I was going to lose you again.”

The tone he uses makes your heart ache, the same guilt you felt these past few days coming back when you put yourself in his shoes. You had no idea that the way you were acting would affect him this way, never once imagining that he thought you would cut off this friendship while you were just coming to terms with the fact that you harbored strong feelings for him.

“Jungkook, I’m sorry,” you sigh, palm resting on his chest, feeling each beat of his heart, no longer racing like before, confident and steady in it’s pace because he knows you’re not going anywhere. “I’m stupid, and freaked out after what I did, and just needed to gather my thoughts before saying anything.”

He cranes his head away from you, a confused look on his face. “After what you did? What did you do?”

Fuck.

“Uhm,” you start with a strained laugh, refusing to look up at him out of embarrassment, but the truth has to come out so you power through it. “So, the night of the date, I sort of got home earlier than I told you I did.”

His eyes narrow at you, refusing to give anything away before he knew where this was going. “Okay, go on.”

“And I sort of heard you through the walls.” You look up at him now, your guilty stare spelling it out for him. His eyes widen before he can conceal his surprise, cheeks warming up instantly because oh boy, he knew exactly where this was going. “And then, I sort of...joined.”

“You lied to me!” he shouts, shocked smile on his face as he recalls the way you had replied to his texts, telling him you had just gotten home and going the extra mile to say you were in a totally different room when in reality, you were sprawled out in your bed after just getting off to the sound of him.

Filthy. And also kind of hot. Jungkook was definitely into that, something he’ll totally proposition you into doing again because why not.

“I know! I couldn’t help it, it was so hot, and I felt so guilty. But, you’re technically the reason why my orgasm gave me my epiphany and let me realize I really do like you. So, I think I did us both a favor by being a dirty liar.” He’s laughing instantly, fingers gripping your cheeks to turn your head up, planting a firm kiss onto your lips obnoxiously.

“Alright, you’re forgiven. Plus, consider us even because I have definitely heard you getting off on your own plenty of times too.” A squeal of surprise fills the air as you swat at his chest, burying your face into his shirt and feeling the rumble of his laughter. It really wasn’t ever intentional. The walls are thin, you weren’t exactly quiet, and he couldn’t just lay there and ignore it. So call him an opportunist, or a pervert, because you were one too.

Jungkook is cheeky though, knowing how to get under your skin in the best way, and you can already tell you’re in for a ride when he gets close to your ear and whispers, “You wanna show me how you did it?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” you snort, peering up at him with mischief in your eyes.

“You did say I could torture you later.” He smiles innocently, fingers pinching your chin as he kisses you again. “It’s later.”

The sweet laughter that escapes you makes his heart skip a beat, still not able to come to terms that this was happening and wasn’t some dream of his that he’d wake up from. He kisses the tops of your cheeks first, then your nose, before reaching your lips, his hand gently caressing your skin. Jungkook had no intention of torturing you tonight, knowing how tired you typically were after work on a normal day, and after drawing two orgasms out of you that left you shaking, he knows how close you are to sleep with the way your eyes droop.

“Aren’t you glad you didn’t give up on crushes and love?” he mumbles against your lips, inching back to stare down at you.

“I’m glad I stopped looking for it in the wrong places.” Your hands wrap around his neck, toying with his hair before pulling him back to you, reattaching your lips because you just couldn’t seem to get enough of him.

Every single moment you shared, from moving in and awkwardly trying to get to know each other, the ups and downs of failed relationships, the push that started it all at the club, and every almost moment in between brought you full circle to right now. There probably won’t be a moment where you don’t wish you had done this sooner, worked past your worry of ruining a good friendship in fear of what could happen, but the past helped mold you into who you are, strengthening your relationship to be the way it is now.

Right now had you thinking of the future, and there was nothing more exciting than that.

#jungkook smut #heartsforbts #btswritingcafe #btsghostie #bangtansorciere #bangtaninn #btscreatorscorner #jeongguk smut #jeon jungkook #bts smut #jungkook fluff #new

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f1nalboys · 3 years ago

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The Ending (Poly!Ghostface x GN!Reader One-shot)

WORD COUNT: 2600

WARNINGS: suicide, murder, alcoholism, betrayal, just lots of sadness, cursing. no happy ending either lol, please read at your own risk (take care of yourselves first people!)

Billy knew how it was going to end. He knew there wasn’t going to be a happy ending for him, not after everything he’s done and everything he’s learned. But being with Stu gave him hope. Hope that maybe, just maybe, he could make something of himself after all was said and done in Woodsboro.

But now he was here, standing in the rain in front of Stu’s grave, wondering what the fuck he had done. The plan worked. Everyone who needed (and who he and Stu wanted) to be were dead, Sidney's dad was deemed responsible and he and Stu were the heroes who had barely survived this awful killing spree.

You were a mess those first few days. You were bouncing between the two boys’ hospital rooms every hour until the nurses would kick you out and you’d be back the very next day. While Billy was pretty banged up, Stu was worse. Far worse. He was in the hospital for almost two full months after his surgery.

The doctors had told you and Billy that Stu surviving was a miracle. “Any longer and he’d have been dead before he got to the operating room,” They had said and you were so thankful. You cried into Billy’s shoulder, choking out ‘thank you’s to gods you weren’t sure you believed in, but Billy was crying for a different reason. He had been the one to stab Stu.

He almost killed him. He had gotten so into their plan, so excited, he almost killed the love of his life. When Stu woke up, Billy let you see him first. He’d never admit it, but he was scared to see him. When you came out of Stu’s room, you told Billy Stu was asking for him.

“Hey there stranger,” Stu grinned, voice hoarse, and Billy broke down in tears. Stu shushed him, pulled him against his chest tightly, letting him get it out.”S’ok Billy, dontcha worry. You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”

Billy blubbered out apologizes and only stopped when Stu pulled him in for a kiss. “I almost...you could have...fuck Stu, I’m so sorry.” He murmured against his lover's lips. He would have never forgiven himself had Stu died. Stu was covered in cuts and bruises, his entire abdomen wrapped in gauze, and he looked exhausted and he still looked in better shape than Billy did.

“Stop that. You didn’t, that’s all that matters. Go get Y/N, I want to get out of this fucking hospital and get some actual food.”

For the next seven months, things were good. Better than good, actually. The three of you spent every moment together from waking up together to falling asleep in each other's arms, and Billy was grateful. He had moved in with Stu after everything, unable to look his father in his face anymore.

You doted on the two of them hand and foot, grateful they were still with you, and you had no idea they were the ones behind it all. You would never know. Billy had to play up his sadness about the others, especially Sidney and Tatum, but in all honesty, he felt lighter. More relaxed. Reporters were on the two for weeks and you were with them every step of the way, fielding questions and denying or accepting interviews. You wanted what was best for them.

Stu was excited about it; everything the two of them had planned was coming true! Interviews, movie deals, book deals, fame. It was better than he had ever expected. And then college started. The three of you stuck close to Woodsboro, going to the nearby university and living together in an apartment.

“So, how are we gonna go about it this time?” Stu had asked Billy when you were gone and he gave him a confused look. Stu sighs, wrapping his arms around the shorter man and kissing him. “You know what I’m talking about! Who’re we going after this time? Think we should switch anything up or keep it simple? I was thinking we get Dr. Herman, the asshole failed me last semester.”

“You still want to do it?” Billy had asked, completely taken aback. He knew they had agreed to do a sequel because, as Stu said, these days, you gotta have one, but after the close call with Stu, the thought had slipped his mind.

“Course I do! Why, you don’t wanna?” Billy shakes his head, pushing Stu off of himself. He didn’t want to. He never wanted to touch a fucking knife again if it meant Stu would be safe. But looking at him, his eyes wide in excitement and that dumb grin on his face, he agrees. “Yeah baby! Alright, where do we start?”

They planned for months, sneaking around your schedule to make sure you didn't catch on. It was Billy who had suggested killing you. Stu wasn’t sure, worried that killing someone that close to them again would put suspicion on them, but Billy calmed him down.

“What better way to draw suspicion off of us if the person we loved was dead! It would prove that someone was trying to be a copycat, come after us again, you know?” Billy loved you, sure, but not how he loved Stu. He needed Stu to work, to keep him calm, to survive. He enjoyed you like one enjoys a pet; enough to worry about you but not enough to die without you. Planning your murder was the hardest on Stu. You would come home, cuddle into the two of them, and talk about your day with the two people you loved and trusted the most with no clue they were planning on killing you.

The first murder was easy. Like riding a bike Stu joked, shoving his ghostface robes into the trunk of his car. They kept the kills spaced out, hitting random people as well as people the two of them knew. You were terrified, not for yourself but for them.

“You two have to promise me to be safe, alright? I can’t lose you.” You told them that one fateful night you were going to be home alone. They had to go study, according to Stu, and didn’t want to keep you up. “We promise, babe. You be safe too. Love you,” Stu calls before rushing out the door, Billy following closely behind him. They waited outside in the car for an hour.

Billy knew your schedule. On the nights you were at the apartment alone, you would go to the corner store down the street to grab some snacks before heading back to the empty apartment. The minute Billy saw you leave he hit Stu, waking him up, and told him to get inside.

Billy sat in the car for almost two hours after waiting. He knew Stu liked to mess with his victims heads but he had never taken this long before and right when Billy was about to get out of the car and head inside, Stu exited the building. He had his backpack on and fresh clothes.

“You got it done?” He asked when Stu got in and closed the door. He nodded in response, staring out the window which Billy found odd. Out of the two of them, Stu was always talkative after a kill. After Tatum he didn’t shut up for a fucking hour. “Good. What’s wrong with you?”

“They saw my face.” Stu said it so quietly Billy almost missed it. “What do you mean they saw your face?” His voice was thick. The only other person who had seen one of them without their masks was Casey and Stu had found it funny.

“I was on top of them, stabbing them and they… they were fighting me and knocked my mask off. Billy, the look they gave me…” Stu coughs slightly, trying to cover the way his voice was breaking. “They gave up. Didn’t fight me anymore but they kept fucking looking at me, man. They didn’t even look mad, they looked sad, betrayed.”

“You gotta stop thinking about it.” Billy didn’t mean to snap, really, but he couldn’t help it. They were almost at the restaurant they were meant to be and they had to be inconspicuous. They’ve been going to this place for the last month and a half every day at the same time every night.

Stu nods, wiping at his face in an attempt to calm down. The rest of the night was awkward, the two of them barely talking to one another. Both Billy and Stu sent you numerous text messages (to give them an alibi) before heading back home an hour later.

They played your death off well, sobbing at the sight of your body being pulled from their apartment, shaken to their core during questioning. Billy was proud of Stu for going through with it but it wasn’t until Stu continued his sadness into their alone time days later that he realized something is wrong.

“Baby?”

“Don’t call me that.” Stu snapped. He was sitting on the couch in the new apartment they had gotten, your stuff in boxes filling the room. He was going through everything, deciding what to toss and what to give to your family, but he was stuck on this one damn shirt. He had bought it for you at a carnival you and he went to while Billy had gone to visit some relatives. It was one of those ‘I’m with handsome’ ‘I’m handsome’ couple shirts that you found both ugly and endearing. You would wear it to bed as many times as you could.

Billy’s eyebrows scrunched together and he stopped milling around in the kitchen, walking into the living room to stare at Stu. “What did you just say?”

“I said don’t call me that. I can’t fucking look at you anymore Billy because I only see them. I see their face when they realized it was us who had planned it, who had done fucking all of it. I watched them bleed out while holding onto my shirt, not you. No, you just sat in the fucking car.”

Stu stands, taking a large step towards Billy, poking him in the chest. “Stu, I know you’re upset, alright, but calm down.”

He scoffs, rubbing his face harshly. “Shut up. Just shut the fuck up! You boss me around, make me do shit like that, and then act as if nothing fucking happened. Do you even care about me? Or am I just another fucking pawn in your stupid god damn game like they were?” Billy punched him. His vision had gone red, his head filled with the beat of his heart, and he hit him.

Stu falls to the ground, hand over his nose which had already begun to bleed profusely. Billy kicks at him, striking him in the ribs, before grabbing ahold of his hair and yanking his head up. Stu had tears in his eyes and it only made Billy angrier.

“You think I don’t care about you? I’m doing this for you! You wanted to start this shit back up in the first place! And I don’t recall you fighting back when I suggested you kill Casey. Or Tatum. Or Y/N.” He spits, scowling at Stu before releasing his hair from his grip. He straightens up and looks down at the pathetic heap that was Stu. “You’re just as fucked up as I am, Stu. Maybe more so. Figure your shit out, alright?”

He left. He never should have, but he did. It’s just that he was so fucking angry at Stu for suggesting that he didn’t give a shit about him when he was the only one Billy truly and deeply cared for. He went out to a bar and drank for a while, sitting and sulking until he could hardly stand. That’s when he went home. That’s when he found him.

Stu was in bed and Billy, had he not seen the pill bottles surrounding him, might have thought he looked peaceful. Billy doesn't remember much from those next few days. Billy didn’t leave Stu’s side until the police and EMTS, who were called by their neighbor who had heard Billy’s sobs, pulled him away. They let him go to the hospital with him and for seven long hours, Stu was still alive.

But when he saw the doctor walk towards him with that expression, he knew. Stu was gone. The police interviewed him but they didn’t get much. Billy finds out later that they had found a note where Stu had admitted to everything: Woodsboro, the college killings, Y/N, himself. He apologized to Billy in the note.

Even when he was gone, even with how angry he had been, he still covered for Billy. And that’s what fucked him up the most. He didn’t sleep in his own bed for weeks, sleeping on the couch hugging Stu’s sweater instead. He cried every time he saw a photo of Stu, saw the dish he had left in the sink, saw his toothbrush. One day, he had woken up and realized he had no more tears left.

He was empty.

The day before Stu’s funeral Billy found himself digging through his things. He needed something of Stu’s to have with him while he watched them put his body in the ground, and when his fingers found that necklace he wore, his eyes found the other note. A note just for Billy. It was angry. Angry at Billy for hurting him, for making him hurt you, for not caring. And he told Billy that he still loved him. That he would always love him but that he hated him right now. That he hated himself. He apologized for what he was about to do and signed the letter with his name, a now dry teardrop on the paper.

Which leads him to now. The funeral was long over, the few people who had come had left hours ago, but Billy was still standing in front of his headstone. He had just turned 21 three days before his death. Billy’s knees buckle at the realization that he was never, ever, going to see Stu again.

“Fuck. Fuck, Stu, I’m so sorry.” He cries, falling to his knees in the mud, his chest racking with sobs. He had never felt this kind of pain before. When his mother left, he hurt. He cried into Stu’s shirt hundreds of times, but he got through it. When Roman showed him the video of his father, he felt like his world was crumbling underneath him but Stu was there. Stu wasn’t here anymore.

When Billy finally got home he was drenched, his body shaking, his fingers going blue. He stripped from his suit, trying to get rid of the thought about how that suit was meant for his wedding day, not a funeral. He crawls into bed in his underwear, grabbing another sweater from the closet where Stu’s clothing remained, and he hugged it.

He hugged it until he lost the scent and then he reached into his bedside table and grabbed both the half empty bottle of vodka and the gun. He held them both in his hands, tears streaming down his face, before opening the bottle and taking a large gulp. He couldn't do it. The gun is placed inside his drawer again and he nurses the vodka until he falls into a restless sleep.

Each day is the same, over and over, until he finally chooses the gun over the bottle.

#billy loomis #stu macher #billy x stu #poly!ghostface x reader #angst #lots of tw's on this one yall #scream #scream 1996 #billy x stu x reader #gn!reader #sorry for this one yall lolz #f1nalboys masterlist #f1nalboys writing #f1nalboys works

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cocobeanncteez · 3 years ago

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ATEEZ Hongjoong: Tame (Part 3)

Genre: Fluff, angst, smut, mafia au.

Pairing: Mafia!Hongjoong x OC (written in 2nd person)

Word Count: 17k in total, 5k in this part. (Part 1, Part 2, Final Part)

Warnings for all parts combined: Mafia themes such as torture, abuse, violence, human auctions, murder, drugs, guns. Mentions of rape, human trafficking, sex slavery, organ trafficking, unprotected sex, pulling out, facesitting.

Three weeks later, you could pretty much call yourself a member of a mafia gang. Well, that's what you were now even if you were in slight denial.

You spent a lot of time with Ateez. Hongjoong taught you how to shoot like a pro, Jongho taught you how to defend yourself if you don't have a weapon, and Yeosang and Seonghwa taught you medical related stuff such as removing a bullet from a body and treating a gunshot wound. Yeosang also taught you the basics of hacking, but you sucked at it. San, Wooyoung, and Aeji taught you how to seduce a target, and you nearly died of embarrassment when you had to practice with Wooyoung as the target. Jiwoo pretty much gave you some of her bubbliness while she and Yeoreum taught you a bit about illegal international business deals. The three girls also told you a hell lot about their sex lives when you all had a girls' night a few days ago. On the other hand, Yunho and Mingi were just playing 'tossing Kiah' (as they call it), which was literally just them throwing and catching you like as if you were a ball. The giants found it extremely fascinating that you were an entire foot shorter than them. Sometimes, they would use the top of your head as an armrest.

Hongjoong bought you a phone, but unfortunately, you couldn't log into any of your social media accounts, or even your email as your cousin and uncle were searching for you and the culprits who made your cousin unconscious the night he was going to sell you.

"Kiah, do want some orange juice?" Mingi asked you from the kitchen while he poured himself a glass. You nod your head and he poured some for you too. Yeosang was there as well, busy eating fried chicken.

"Hey, Kiah?" Mingi called out, making you look up at him. "You never really told us about your parents." He handed you your juice.

"My mother died when I was a newborn," you replied, sipping on your juice. "My father... well, I rarely saw him after he made me live with my uncle. Now no one has seen him in months." Both the boys noticed how sad you were when you spoke about your father. You really wanted to see him; you didn't even know whether he was dead or alive.

"What's your father's name and age?" Yeosang questioned. "I could track him or at least find out if he's all right."

"Moon Dongwoo and he's 49 years old," you answered with a small smile. "Thank you, Yeosang."

After about three hours, Yeosang approached you while you were talking to Aeji and some of the boys. He sat on the couch adjacent to you after briefly greeting everyone.

"So I tried to track your father, Kiah," Yeosang stated nonchalantly. "And I found absolutely nothing."

Your eyebrows furrowed. "Huh? What do you mean?"

"There are zero records of him," Yeosang explained, "Like no bank or property details… To put it in simple words, it's like as if he doesn't exist."

You frowned. "So he's… d-dead?"

"Don't know," Yeosang shrugged. "There are no death records either. There were a couple of men with the same name as him, but no one was 49 years old."

You pondered about it for a while. Why would your dad erase all traces of his existence? Even if he didn't, someone else did. But why?

"Wait," you blurted out. "Did you check with the police station? My dad is a cop."

San, who was listening to the conversation, nearly chokes on the sprite that he was drinking. "Your dad is a cop and you're here, living in a mafia gang's house?!"

"I know right?!" Yunho said from beside him and you only shrug in response.

"I checked the police station as well," Yeosang remarked. "Still no records."

Your eyebrows furrowed. "That's just strange. He's a cop, there has to be at least something about him at the police station."

"Hey, don't worry about it, Kiah," Yeosang said in a soft tone, giving you a reassuring smile. "We'll find him."

The next day after you woke up, you found everyone seated in the living room, lost in deep thought. You quietly sat beside Jiwoo, wondering whether you should ask why everyone is so quiet.

"That's not a bad idea, actually," Wooyoung said after glancing at you while you stared at him in confusion. What idea was he talking about?

"Yeah, it's a terrible idea," Hongjoong retorted, glancing at you as well.

"Kiah," Mingi starts, grabbing your attention. "What do you think about attending a masquerade party?"

"You mean a mafia masquerade party?" you emphasized.

"Of course," he replied.

"Ah, it's cool, I guess?" you said nonchalantly; you were getting used to the mafia life, and you'd be lying if you said that you didn't like it.

"It's settled then," San stated, getting up from the couch and stretching his arms. "Kiah is Hongjoong's date for the party."

"Knew it," Jongho murmured.

"No," Hongjoong protested. "A lot of people saw her face at the auction. It's a terrible idea."

"Well, it's a masquerade party hosted by our ally," Seonghwa remarked. "No one will try shit even if they recognize her."

"Plus, we're all going to be there. We can't leave Kiah alone here," Yeoreum added and Jiwoo nodded her head in agreement.

Hongjoong sighed. "Fine."

"You look gorgeous, Kiah!" Aeji squealed after doing your makeup. Yeoreum just finished doing Jiwoo's hair and started doing your hair.

"Hongjoong won't be able to keep his hands to himself," Yeoreum remarked with a smirk, making you blush.

"I'm surprised he hasn't made a move yet," Aeji said.

"We all know he wants to," Jiwoo mumbled while taking a mirror selfie.

You chuckled. "Nothing has happened yet."

"Yet?" Yeoreum teased you, curling a strand of your hair with the curling iron. "So you want something to happen, huh?"

“I—”

"You obviously do."

You playfully rolled your eyes at her. "Don't accidentally burn my hair, Yeoreum!" The girls laughed at the sight of you getting flustered

"Kiah, what are you planning on wearing?" Aeji asked.

"The black cocktail dress."

"No, you're not wearing that," she protests. "Wear the red dress Jiwoo got you last week."

You raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"You'll see," she smirked.

After all of you got ready and slipped into your respective outfits, you went downstairs where the boys were waiting.

As soon as Hongjoong saw you, his lips parted slightly as he scanned you from head to toe. You were wearing a short, strapless red dress that fit your body perfectly, hugging your curves and exposing your highlighted collarbones. You wore silver wedges that matched the silver necklace around your neck. Your long hair was curled and your makeup was simple yet elegant.

"Hongjoong's favorite color is red, by the way. Thank me later," Aeji whispered to you, giving you a wink before she ran into Seonghwa's arms. So that's why she forced you to wear a red dress. You snorted at Aeji's words before your eyes landed on Hongjoong. He looked absolutely ethereal in his black ripped jeans and white t-shirt underneath the leather jacket he was wearing. You expected to see the guys in suits, considering it was a masquerade event, but it looked like you all were going to a club instead. Oh well, maybe this is how the mafia rolls.

You heard someone clear their throat. "Um, if you're both done eye-fucking each other, can we leave? We're getting late," San commented and Jiwoo laughed loudly at her boyfriend's words. The other eight already left and you wondered how you didn't even notice.

Hongjoong doesn't utter a word; he only approaches you and takes your hand in his, leading you to the garage. You, Hongjoong, Jiwoo, and San were riding in the same car.

San begun driving and the car was filled with Jiwoo gushing about how she loved going for Stray Kids' parties. San told you about how Wooyoung introduced Ateez to his friend, Changbin, and that's how Ateez met the rest of Stray Kids.

After a while, you reached Stray Kids' mansion. The exterior was lit up with blue and yellow lights.

Jiwoo handed you a pretty silver eye-mask and you put it on; Hongjoong wore a red mask, Jiwoo wore black, and San wore gold.

"Alright, let's party!" Jiwoo squealed, pulling San along with her, practically running inside.

Hongjoong wrapped an arm around your waist as he led you inside Stray Kids' mansion, scanning the crowd to see if he could find any of his allies.

"Ah, Hongjoong!" you heard someone say, catching your attention. Hongjoong's arm leaves your waist to hug that person.

"Chan! It's been so long, yeah?"

"Very," he agreed before glancing at you. "I see you've got yourself a girl."

Hongjoong chuckled. "This is Moon Kiah. Kiah, this is Bang Chan, the leader of Stray Kids." Chan stretched his hand out and you shake it.

While Hongjoong spoke to Chan, Jiwoo dragged you away to get a drink. You wondered how hyper she would be when drunk, considering the fact that she was already pretty hyper when sober.

Jiwoo got a couple of tequila shots and you only downed three. "Only three?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah," you answered with a small giggle. "I have very bad alcohol tolerance."

Jiwoo took her own shots before Wooyoung dragged the two of you to introduce you to the other members of Stray Kids. You were seriously shocked by how young and polite these men were, despite being in the mafia.

"So whose girl is she gonna be now?" Changbin asked.

"She's Hongjoong's girl," Wooyoung answered, and you giggle at that, already a little drunk.

"Mhmm, yeah, I'm Hongjoong's girl, hi!" you squealed before realizing that Jiwoo suddenly wasn't there anymore. "Where's Jiwoo?" you pouted

"Probably would've found someone to talk to or she's in some room with San," Wooyoung replied. "Anyway, let's get you to Hongjoong, little one."

"I'm here," you heard a familiar voice say behind you, making you jump a little before you turned around. "Kim Hongjoong, you…” you trailed off, admiring his face even though half of it was covered with the mask. "You're so fucking hot, like what the actual fuck?!" Wooyoung and Changbin laughed loudly before they walked away, leaving you alone with a slightly stunned Hongjoong.

"How much did you drink, hmm?" Hongjoong asked, looking down at you with soft eyes. You gave him a loving smile while your arms moved to wrap around his neck.

"Three tequila," you mumbled before you suddenly squealed. The DJ started playing one of your favorite songs. "Dance with me," you whispered in Hongjoong's ear, pulling his body closer to yours.

Hongjoong danced with you for a little while, holding you close to his body so that you wouldn't trip and fall in your 5-inch heels. After the song ended, he pulled you to a less crowded area to sit on the sofas. Your heartbeat sped up when Hongjoong made you sit on his lap instead of the free space beside him. You wrapped an arm around his neck while your other hand ran through his soft hair.

"What's wrong with that guy?" you whispered in Hongjoong's ear, glancing at a green-masked guy who was sitting near you, all alone on the floor, staring at the ceiling with a huge smile.

"Probably took LSD," Hongjoong remarked after taking a quick glance at the man.

"Oh," you murmured. "He's a really bad boy. You shouldn't take drugs. Okay, pretty boy?" Hongjoong raised an eyebrow, amused by the tipsy side of you. He chuckled prettily in your ear, pulling you even closer to him.

"I don't do drugs, love." He places his cold hand on the skin right above your knee. "I'm a good boy," he whispered in a low tone. Hongjoong could clearly see how much he affected you.

"Liar," you whispered in his ear. You place a kiss right below his ear before trailing kisses along his jawline. You stopped at his chin and pulled away. When his eyes met yours, you leaned in, finally pressing your lips against his. He responded immediately, kissing you back like as if there was no tomorrow. You've never been kissed with such intensity before. Hongjoong's hand that was just above your knee, began to move upwards. You weren't drunk, just tipsy, so you knew what was happening; you were starting to feel really excited as his hand went higher and higher.

You heard someone clear their throat. "Kim Hongjoong?"

Hongjoong halted his actions and pulled away from you to look up at the woman who interrupted him. She had orange colored hair and was wearing a dark blue eye mask.

"Oh? Royeon?" he got up from his seat, making you stand up along with him. He sounded a little excited, and that made you feel a little jealous. Who was she?

Royeon smirked. "New girl, huh?"

Hongjoong ignored her comment. "Kiah, this is my friend, Royeon."

She snorted. "Friend? I'm quite offended by that title, Joongie." she pouts a little before turning to you. "I'm his first love."

You kept a pokerface on. "That's nice. It’s a pleasure to meet you," you said nonchalantly, trying not to sound bothered about the fact that Hongjoong's first love was standing right in front of your face. She was giving you a bad vibe and you absolutely hated how she was undressing Hongjoong with her eyes. You couldn't deny that you had strong feelings for Kim Hongjoong and you were planning on telling him pretty soon.

You turned to Hongjoong with a small smile on your face. "I'm gonna go get a drink," you said, purposely giving him a kiss that lasted a little longer than it should before you left him alone with his previous lover.

You didn't get a drink. Instead, you went outside, exploring the lit up garden in Stray Kids' mansion. The mansion was a little smaller than Ateez's mansion, but was extremely beautiful nonetheless.

You walked to one of the trees that was lit up with blue lights, taking out your phone to take a few pictures of yourself.

"So Yang Daeyoung hasn't been spotted anywhere?" you heard someone say.

"No," another person replied. "He probably escaped to another country or died.”

"What about his child?" the first person asked.

"No one knows what he or she looks like. Anyway, we have to find Yang Daeyoung and his child before another gang does. I heard many gangs are still searching for him… especially Ateez and CIX. We need to get all that information before them."

You were suddenly really interested in whatever the two people were talking about. You mentally reminded yourself to ask one of the Ateez members about this Yang Daeyoung guy later.

"What's a pretty girl like you doing all alone here?" you heard someone say behind you, words slurred.

You turned to face the man who was in a green eye-mask. "Taking pictures as you can clearly see," you answered the clearly drunk man.

He smirked. "I'm Jinseop," he introduced. "And your attitude is really fucking turning me on, babygirl."

"I didn't ask," you stated, rolling your eyes.

He took a step towards you and you didn't move an inch. "You know," he starts, placing a hand on your shoulder while he towered over you. "I heard Stray Kids have a few spare rooms here. How about we go upstairs and—"

"Get your fucking hands off her."

Jinseop rolled his eyes, not even glancing at the person.

"Now," the person growled. He froze when he finally realized who was talking to him.

"O-Oh, I'm sorry," he apologized and quickly walked away, leaving you quite stunned.

"Wow, Kim Hongjoong," you remark in amusement after a few seconds. "You scared someone."

Hongjoong doesn't say anything. He only walked towards you, and you involuntarily took a step back, making your back press against the cold surface of a wall. Hongjoong towered over your short height and you could tell he loved how small you looked next to him.

He cupped your cheek with one hand and places his lips against yours, gently kissing you before trailing kisses down to your neck. Your hands immediately went up to grab his hair while he started to suck and kiss the skin of your neck, making you moan softly. He smirked against your skin, absolutely loving how he was the one who was making you feel good. He brought his lips back to yours, kissing you a little harder than before while his hands moved down to your ass, grabbing it through the fabric of your dress. You gasped at his actions and he takes that opportunity to slide his tongue in your mouth. He pulled away after a few seconds.

"You're all mine, Moon Kiah."

Hongjoong led you back inside and you immediately spot his ex-girlfriend who was trying to hit on an unbothered Yunho.

"Yunho," Hongjoong called out and the man looked at him. Royeon's attention was also now on the two of you. "Where are the rest? We have to leave soon."

"I have no clue," Yunho answered. "Yeoreum just took Mingi to the bathroom. The man drank way too much."

You noticed Royeon glaring at you, her eyes flickering between your neck and Hongjoong's messed up hair; you realized that he probably left a nice mark on your neck. You smirked, loving her annoyed reaction. You wrapped your arms around Hongjoong's waist and he smiled at you, draping an arm around your shoulders. Yunho controlled the urge to laugh once he realized what you just did.

Royeon cleared her throat. "So Hongjoong, did you get any news on Yang Daeyoung?" You felt Hongjoong stiffen a little.

"No," Hongjoong simply replied.

She chuckled. "Oh well. That must really suck for you since all... that happened, huh?" You could tell Hongjoong was going to lose his temper. You were extremely curious about this person, considering the fact that you've heard about him twice in less than an hour. "I bet you're dying to capture him. You would've planned so much to—"

"That's none of your business, Royeon," Yunho stated in a cold tone, cutting her off.

She raised her hands up defensively. "What I'm trying to say is I'd like to help."

"We don't need your help," Hongjoong spat through gritted teeth and Royeon was taken aback. You wondered why she looked shocked; was Hongjoong a complete sweetheart to her or something when they were together?

She cleared her throat, clearly offended. "Alright… come over to my place whenever you want me, Hongjoong," she said with a smirk before she walked away. You scoffed at her words and tightened your hold around Hongjoong who was quite amused by your reaction.

He put a finger under your chin to make you look up at him. "Maybe I should take up her offer, hmm?"

You scowled. "Don't even think about it, Kim Hongjoong. You're mine."

"Say that again, baby."

"You're mine."

Hongjoong crashed his lips onto yours and you kiss him back immediately, loving the feeling of his soft lips moving with yours.

"Oh, they're finally doing something," you heard Jongho say.

"Yeah, I was so tired of hearing Hongjoong whine everyday about how badly he wanted to kiss her," Seonghwa remarked, and you smile against Hongjoong's lips. You pulled away from the kiss, smiling widely at a blushing Hongjoong.

You turned your head to look at Seonghwa. "He was whining about that?" you asked in amusement.

"Oh, yeah, all the time," he answered with a chuckle.

A drunk Wooyoung laughed loudly. "That's not all! Hyung was also complaining about how Hongjoong junior was aching for—" Hongjoong smacked his palm over Wooyoung's mouth, stopping him from exposing him.

"Hey, let him complete," you stated, amused by the whole situation. Hongjoong shook his head in disagreement.

"We have to leave," Hongjoong changed the topic. "Yunho, go get Mingi and Yeoreum. Seonghwa, call San and Yeosang."

"Yeosang's getting some upstairs after so long," Yunho revealed. "He'll be shit pissed if you guys interrupt him."

Wooyoung chuckled. "After so long? He got pussy last week! And he's with the same blonde chick upstairs."

"No wonder he was the most excited to come here," Jongho mumbled.

Hongjoong rolled his eyes. "Well, I want to leave now. Anyone else wants to come?"

"Hyung, you and Aeji can go," Yunho said to Seonghwa. "Aeji's really tired. I'll come with the rest."

Seonghwa nodded and the four of you leave first, walking to one of three cars. Seonghwa had to drive after losing a game of rock-paper-scissors to Hongjoong.

After he began driving, you wanted to ask who this Yang Daeyoung guy was, but you thought now didn't seem like an appropriate time; you didn't want to interrupt the peaceful silence in the car.

You were feeling quite drained out, so you rested your head on Hongjoong's shoulder, trying your best to not fall asleep.

“Sleep, Kiah,” he mumbled, bringing your body closer to his. “I’ll wake you up when we reach,” he said, although he had no plans of doing that.

“Okay…” you closed your eyes, sleep taking over your body within a few minutes.

Hongjoong placed a soft kiss on your head. “I love you…”

5 months later.

As soon as Hongjoong came back home from his mission and stepped into your bedroom, you ran into his arms. “I missed you so much!” you mumbled against your boyfriend’s chest while he embraced you.

You started dating Hongjoong around three months ago when he finally got the courage to confess that he fell in love with you. To his relief, you were just as head over heels in love with him. The boys sometimes refer to you as ‘the one who tamed his temper’ as Hongjoong didn’t get annoyed very often anymore. You had also grown used to the mafia life, and you often found yourself enjoying it more than you should. You knew almost everything about the boys and the world you were now a part of. They even let you go on missions, sometimes letting you go solo. Hongjoong was always a little hesitant as he was scared something would happen to you, but he was getting used to it.

“I was only gone for a week, love,” Hongjoong chuckled and you sighed.

“It felt like years.” You pulled away from his chest to look at him. You pecked his lips before moving to sit on your bed, your boyfriend mirroring your actions.

“I got you a lot of chocolates,” he said, reaching out to grab your hand, intertwining it with his own. “I’ve kept them in the fridge.”

You smiled, lying down while you played with Hongjoong’s hand. “It’ll get over in two days,” you stated, knowing the boys would finish it before you could even grab a piece.

“Then I’ll go back and get you more.”

“I’d rather you stay here with me,” you mumbled, arms reaching out to hug your boyfriend. Hongjoong settled in your embrace, burying his face in the crook of your neck. Your hand moved to his hair, playing with his strands. Hongjoong couldn’t help but place a kiss on your sensitive neck, causing a chill to run down your spine. He began placing more kisses on your neck, smirking when he felt you grab a fistful of his hair. He trailed kisses from your neck to your jaw and finally to your lips.

“I love you,” he murmured, moving to hover above you. Cupping your cheek, Hongjoong gazed at you with nothing but love and adoration, making your heart race.

You grinned at his words, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I love you too.” You pulled him into a kiss which he eagerly responded to. Lips moving with yours, Hongjoong took your bottom lip between his teeth, gently sucking on it before licking your lip as a way of asking for permission. You parted your lips wider, letting him slide his tongue inside your mouth. Your tongues danced in a slow rhythm while Hongjoong rolled his hips against yours, making you moan. You gently pushed him away, making him look at you with a worried gaze, thinking he went too far. But you pushed him further, making him lie down on his back before you straddled his hips. Your hands pulled your t-shirt over your head, tossing it onto the floor. Hongjoong’s eyes moved to your bra clad chest. You reached behind your back to unclasp your bra, letting it fall from your chest.

“Can I touch you?” he asked. You took his hands, placing them on your chest in response. Hongjoong gently squeezed your boobs, thumbs running over your hardened nipples. He sat up a little so that his face could reach your chest. He placed kisses on your sternum before taking one of your nipples in his mouth, gently sucking on it, licking the small bud. He mirrored his actions for your other nipple, and your back arched in pleasure. When he pulled away, you immediately crashed your lips onto his in a hungry kiss. You involuntarily grinded down on his hard-on, a groan leaving his throat. Hongjoong’s hands moved to your hips, helping you move faster on his bulge.

“I want you, Joong,” you moaned out, making him get harder.

“Are you sure, baby?” he asked.

“Yeah. I want you to fuck me. Please,” you begged. You weren’t a virgin, but this was going to be your first time with Hongjoong.

He only smiled, halting your movements on his bulge. “Let me prep you, baby. Sit on my face.” You got off his lap to take your jeans off along with your panties. Hongjoong also stripped out his clothes, leaving himself bare in front of you for the first time. You involuntarily bit your lip, taking in the sight of his thick, hard cock. He looked absolutely irresistible.

Hongjoong climbed back onto the bed, lying down while he waited for you to straddle his face.

“Are you sure about this?” you asked, a little hesitant to put your weight on his face.

“Don’t worry, baby,” he chuckled. “Sit comfortably.”

You lowered yourself onto his face, making sure you didn’t put all of your weight on him. Hongjoong's hands gripped your ass, pulling you closer to his mouth. He wasted no time in lapping at your slit, collecting your wetness on his tongue. He moaned at your sweet taste, tongue dipping into your hole, his nose pressing onto your clit. He moved his mouth to latch onto your clit, giving your nub a few sucks before moving back to your hole. “Fuck!” you moaned, hands reaching down to grasp his hair while he fucked you with his tongue. You felt the familiar knot forming and you warned Hongjoong that you were close. He licked up and down your slit, lapping at your clit, pushing you to your high. You moaned out his name while you came on his face and he wasted no time in licking up your juices, a drop rolling down from his lips. When you moved your pussy away from his face, you got wetter at the sight of his lips glistening with your juices.

You moved down his body to return the favor, but he stopped you. “I’ll let you do that another time, babe. But now I really need to be inside of you.” Hongjoong sat up, piling pillows behind him before leaning back on it. “Are you on the pill?” he asked while pumping his cock.

“No…”

He groaned. “I don’t have condoms on me right now. They’re in my room.”

“It’s okay, you can just pull out,” you stated.

“Are you sure, my love?”

“Mhmm.” You moved to straddle his lap, aligning his cock with your entrance. You sank down on his length, the stretch making you whimper. Once Hongjoong was fully inside of you, you placed your hands on his abs, slowly moving yourself up and down on his cock, coating it with your arousal. Hongjoong bucked his hips up to meet yours half-way. You leaned down to kiss him while you rolled your hips against his. You pulled away and smiled at him before you increased the pace. Your hands reached back to grab his thighs while you rode him. Hongjoong watched your boobs bounce along with you, the sight making him groan. When Hongjoong felt himself getting close, he switched positions, slipping out of you, making you whine. He only giggled, leaning down to peck your lips before he gripped your waist. Without any warning, he slammed his cock into you, making you gasp, your walls clenching violently around him while he fucked you hard and raw.

You gripped the bedsheets beneath you, feeling the knot forming in your lower area. “J-Joong… I—”

“I know, baby, I’m close too,” he groaned out, his thrusts getting sloppy. “You’re taking me so well, fuck.”

Hongjoong moved one hand down to your clit, his fingers rubbing your nub in circular motions. You screamed his name when your second orgasm washed over you. Hongjoong pulled out immediately, spilling onto your stomach. You reached out to pump his cock, milking him dry. Hongjoong collapsed beside you, body coated in a thin layer of sweat, hair sticking to his forehead. He pulled you into a sweet kiss a few seconds later.

“That was amazing,” he murmured against your lips. You smiled, placing a soft kiss on the tip of his nose. “Let’s clean up, hmm? Shower with me?” You nodded, letting him carry you to the bathroom.

261 notes · View notes

luxwritesfanfic · 3 years ago

Text

400 LUX

Sherlock wants to cut things off but the reader thinks he should really think it over. Or, the one where Sherlock isn’t one for saying “I love you”, but he has always offered you a sword. Thanks for reading!

Sherlock Holmes/Reader

You could hear the water running in the bathroom as you slipped down the hall to make coffee, your phone in one hand pressed against your ear as Mary went on and on about all the things that you two needed to do today and the other hand held your shear kit that you barely used. It was a few days before the wedding and things were in full swing for you as Mary’s bridesmaid and Sherlock as the best man. Mary, God bless her, was having a breakdown every other day and it was all you could do to not to set her off by picking the red velvet with buttercream over the vanilla cupcakes.

“— and we need to go by the florist today, too, and I probably should stop by and speak to the DJ... and John, he’s not worried about any of it! He’s asking for tea and biscuits as if I’m not already balancing the most important day of our lives!” Mary was talking at a mile a minute and as she continued the never ending list of tasks she had set for the two of you, you began situating all of your supplies to cut Sherlock’s hair. He had insisted you do it before the wedding, and not even your lack of experience was enough to convince him to just go to the shop with John. Sherlock’s hair was something he took very seriously so you were unsure as to why he’d even ask you to do this.

Speaking of the devil, you rounded the hallway and started for the bathroom.

“One second Mare.” She didn’t miss a beat and continued right on talking once you muted her, and you wondered if this is how John felt talking to Sherlock. Knocking on the door before walking in, you fought through the steam to find a comb on the counter.

“If we’re going to be in here at the same time, you might as well join me.” Sherlock’s head popped out from behind the shower curtain, his hair and face sudsed up and glistening from the water. The longer you realized you had actually been thinking about taking him up on his offer, the quicker you knew that you had to get back to your task at hand and get out of the line of fire. You pulled open some of the drawers and rummaged through them.

“Yeah, I’m sure you’d love that.” Hoping that the steam was thick enough to hide your growing blush, you turned back to the vanity and opened the mirror cabinet. “I need you to hurry up. Mary’s having a-“

“You would, too.” You could hear the smirk in his voice and that was enough to make you roll your eyes. Luckily for you, the mirror door was hiding your face from his prying eyes. Smug and darling as always, your man was. You snuck a peek at him and realized he’d moved back from the curtain and resumed washing his hair.

“Seriously, Mary will probably have a heart attack if I don’t leave within the hour. If you love me, five minutes.” You shut the cabinet and slipped out of the room to finally return to your phone call.

“Sorry M, I’ll be there as soon as I can. Sherlock is being Sherlock.”

“Now you’re really starting to sound like John. How’s his suit fit? Does he need any adjustments? That reminds me, I should call the tailor! Be a doll and bring something to eat on the way? Love you!” With that she hung up, leaving you in the dust trying to comprehend if she actually was speaking words or Simlish.

—

“Four minutes, fourteen seconds.”

You turned back to him while you gestured for him to sit down so you could wrap the towel around his shoulders. His hair was still pretty wet so you wouldn’t have to spray it much.

“What are you talking about?”

Sherlock only smiled to himself in response, and you figured he’d just moved on from that conversation already. Combing out small sections of his hair and clipping the rest up, you asked again.

“Are you sure you want me to do this? I really don’t mind going to your usual stylist with you. I don’t want to mess you up for the wedding.”

“Y/N, I told you already, if I’ve asked you to do it it’s because I want for you to do it. It’s only just a trim. Come on with it.

So you began at that, snipping away little by little. You had cut John’s hair for him a few times right before a date but his was much easier than Sherlock’s and it grew like a weed so even if you did mess up, his date could hardly tell. You told Sherlock all about your plans with Mary for the day and he seemed to be listening intently but you could tell his mind was wandering. You knew him better than you knew yourself.

Moving to stand in between his legs to trim his face framing pieces, you asked him about his plans for the day.

“Hm,” he started, resting his fingers tips lightly on your hips in front of him, tapping away as he thought out his answer. “Mycroft insists he has words for me, despite my telling him to keep them to himself, so I suppose I’ll be seeing him at some point. John is coming here to talk wedding...” which you were almost certain really meant a case, “and I want to tell Mrs. Hudson you’ve decided to give up your flat entirely to live here.”

You had just finished trimming his hair when he had said that and luckily so because you were sure you would have chopped off a lot more than needed being caught by surprise like that. Running your fingers through his hair to be sure you didn’t miss any sections, you contemplated what exactly was happening between you. You had never really brought up completely moving in even though it was true that you practically already did. You hadn’t slept in your own bed in months because you always chose the opportunity to sleep with Sherlock. Moving in seemed like a dream but you always had it in the back of your mind that one day Sherlock would have a change of heart and change his mind on whatever the two of you were, and you didn’t want to be without if that happened.

When he realized you still hadn’t replied to his request, his eyebrows furrowed as he looked up at you. “Is there really that much to think about? John said you’d say yes if I made it clear I was the one asking you to. Had I not done that?”

You couldn’t help but smile, because seriously, what could you have possibly done to deserve the opportunity to love someone as... well, Sherlock, as Sherlock. He was everything everyone said he was, but he had shown you willingly that he was also so much more. You’d choose the life with him, whether it was one of a house and kids and a white picket fence or if it was one that consisted of running around London in the rain because Sherlock swore he saw something suspicious and the only viable option was to run after it. You would choose him. Every single time.

Even with all of your declarations of love, you two had never said talked about the fact that you were definitely exclusively dating which often hindered a conversation of the future. You had told him you loved him more times than you could count but he had never said it back and you were okay with that. He didn’t have to reciprocate it for it to be true. But, it did leave room for doubt that this might not always be what Sherlock chooses.

You thought of all the ways you could bring it it up and realized that straightforwardly was the only way to go. You brought your hands from his hair to hold his face and rubbed your thumbs in slow circles and he relaxed on the spot. He was putty in your hands, as much as he hated to admit it.

“I just don’t want you to feel stuck with me. It’s a big step. And if it ends up making you miserable, I just- I don’t know. I don’t want to be the one to make you miserable.” Your voice was soft as you spoke and you realized that with Sherlock’s bangs being much shorter now, you got to see more of his pretty face. Although, currently, it was contorted as he worked through trying to comprehend what you were saying to him. Blinking away at you for what seemed like forever, Sherlock cleared his throat and took your hands from his face and into his own instead.

“I’m... not sure I understand. I don’t mean to be rude at your expense but if I wanted to leave you, I would. I could rather easily. Just as easily as you could leave me. But you won’t. And I won’t... I’ve tried to show you in all the ways I know how. So would it not make sense for us to live together?”

It slowly started making sense for you and you could slap yourself for being so blind. Sherlock had let you take the lead in a lot of aspects in his life recently that you couldn’t explain what for. He urged you to pick out the next case he would work, allowed you to pick out his new microscope (Y/N, they’re the same color. Pick one. I don’t know Sherlock! I feel like this one is cool grey and this one is light grey, it makes a difference!), and now you were cutting his hair, the most important part of his appearance from his point of view. He trusted you to make the right choice every time and there really was no right choice, your choice was the right choice.

You were pulled from your thoughts as you phone began to ring with Mary’s picture posted on the screen.

“Shit, I’m so late! She’s seriously going to kill me.” Your gaze drifted from your phone to Sherlock who surprisingly patiently awaiting your answer. “Tell Mrs. Hudson as soon as John gets back from holiday that you two will start moving my stuff over. And make a little space for me in your closet, okay? I need more than just a few drawers.”

Sherlock smiled at you like you like he did when you called him brilliant and that was your highest honor to date.

You expected the usual slick remark but he simply said, “You’ll have what you want. Mary will be calling again in about 30 seconds. You should really be hailing a taxi right about now.”

And there he was, the Sherlock you wouldn’t change for the world. You wished you had time to tell him to shove it where the sun doesn’t shine but alas, duty calls. You kiss him like you mean it- because you do, and rush off to your friend’s rescue but not without stopping in the doorway.

“I love you, Sherlock Holmes. But even more importantly than that, I trust you. I’ve had the time of my life fighting dragons with you and I’d happily spend the rest of my life doing it if you’d let me. It’s nice to know that you will. I just thought you’d like to know.”

Just like that, you turn his world upside down as you rush down the stairs, leaving him speechless. He thought his story was one that would be written about him and him alone and as sure as he used to be in that, he’d come to the realization that he was just as sure that two was better than one.

“And I, you.”

#bbc sherlock #bbc sherlock fanfiction #bbc sherlock imagine #bbc sherlock x reader #bbc sherlock x you #sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes imagine #sherlock holmes fanfiction #sherlock x reader #sherlock x you #sherlock imagine #sherlock has feelings #sherlock headcanon #mary watson #sherlock fandom #sherlock fanfic #luxwrites

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silky-stories · 3 years ago

Note

Hi!! Maybe headcanons or some kind of literature with either vampire garcello x reader or mermaid garcello x reader?? You could do both or one or the other. You're the one writing it after all. Thanks!

Oh. Ohohohohohohoho, now we’re talking >:)

Anon I am going to let you in on a little secret, so anyone who isn’t anon look away >:(

...okay now that it’s just you and me, one of your suggestions kind of predicted a oneshot I’ve been working on that I’m going to be posting soon. So because of that I’ll be going with the other option. Hope you enjoy ;3

———————————————————————

Parched. {Vampire Garcello/Reader}

Genre: Suggestive

Words: 2027

Related Song: Arctic Monkeys - Do I Wanna Know { slowed + reverb}

Summary: When your boyfriend gets home from a long day, it’s only polite to fix him a drink, don’t you think?

Disclaimer/s: Steamy content, swearing, blood

Notes: Garcello speaks in red this time, Reader speaks in blue ;) [Also, monster character x reader or character x monster reader is my absolute jam, feel free to send in requests like this more often-]

———————————————————————

Your boyfriend was, to put it lightly, a little bit on the odd side.

He work dark clothes on hot days, didn’t like the sun very much, had an uncanny sense of smell and hearing, and liked his meat pretty rare. To the outside world he was a weird shut-in that was probably goth, but you knew a hell of a lot more than that.

The two of you had met late at night in a rougher part of the city. You were on your way home from picking up a few essentials at the nearby 24-hour convenience store when you heard some rustling coming from an alleyway. Then some banging. Then some yelling. Then silence.

Well that was ominous as hell.

...

Time to investigate.

You made your way down the dreary alley, groceries in hand, preparing yourself to see a murder scene or something of the like and...

...you honestly weren’t that far off.

You found yourself watching as a man pinned a guy to a wall, his head lowered to his neck. At first you felt yourself getting embarrassed, figuring that you had walked over and unintentionally interrupted a passionate moment. You quickly realized that wasn’t the case when you watched the guy go limp in the arms of the larger man.

After a few moments of you being the quietest you’ve ever been in your life, standing and staring in shock, not knowing what would even be the right course of action for a situation like this, he pulled away. The guy that had previously gone limp slowly slid down the brick wall, deep red trickling down his neck and pooling in the crook of his shoulder. The aqua-haired man let out a sigh as he wiped his mouth with his gloved hands, still unaware of your presence.

Your mind was blank when you spoke up, it had to be for you to do something so bold yet stupid.

“Is he dead?”

The man flinched, hard, and whipped around to lock eyes with you. You were met with two bright red dots staring back at you, stunned, you began to unintentionally study his face.

The dark crimson that you had seen on the possibly-dead man’s neck was also identifiable as a smear on this guy’s face, starting at his lips and trailing off along his cheek where he had tried to wipe it off. His lips were slightly agape, revealing a set of sizeable fangs, as well as other teeth that seemed sharper than a regular human’s teeth should be. Looking down further you noticed that his gloves were fingerless, presumably to allow the sharp claws of nails that he had to stick out.

Other than all of that though he looked like a pretty normal guy. A pretty normal guy with very pale skin, but normal nonetheless.

“I... huh..?”

You were so busy taking in his clearly inhuman appearance that you actually forgot what you had initially asked for a moment, but restated your question when it came back to you.

I mean, what was there to lose at this point? It’s not like running seemed like a very smart option.

“Him. Is... is he dead?”

You pointed at the man that was currently almost falling over in his slump to emphasize your point. The man in front of you took a double take between you and what may have been a dead body before responding, clearly taking in the absurdity of the situation, similar to you.

“He’s... no he’s... passed out I...”

He paused, blinking a few times as he tried to process what was even happening. You took the moment to look at the body a little more critically and, surprise surprise, noticed that he was actually breathing.

“I didn’t... I didn’t take much so he’s just...”

Didn’t take much?

...

Oh.

Oh shit.

Suddenly the whole ordeal just clicked in your brain as you finally understood what it was that you were looking at.

“You’re a vampire!”

The words left your mouth before you could stop them, shocked and questioning, almost accusatory as your eyes went wide.

He didn’t seem to like that though. His brows pulling together tightly in sudden concern as he frantically looked around for any other possible witnessess. When he reinitiated eye contact he appeared quite a bit more panicked than before, more like someone that had been caught doing something arguably wrong. He looked threatening for the first time throughout the encounter.

“You... what do you plan on doing..?”

Plan on doing? Like what you were going to do after this? Knowing that vampires did in fact exist and at least one lived in your city?

“Do you... ever kill them?”

He shook his head warily.

“Then... I don’t... think I care?”

He was surprised to hear that, to be fair though, so were you. You figured you would care more about catching a literal vampire in the act but... he wasn’t killing anyone so was it really any of your business?

“You... you don’t care that I just drink some of his blood???”

“I guess not?”

You let out a chuckle of disbelief at your own statement, any ounce of a threatening or intimidating expression had left his face.

“He’s not gonna, like... turn into a vampire or die of disease or something later, right?”

“No that’s uh, not how it works...”

“Then just like... I don’t know, make sure he gets cleaned up and home safe and this stays between us I guess.”

He let you know that that’s what he did on a regular basis and after a few more awkward moments you were on your way.

That definitely wasn’t your last interaction though.

He didn’t trust you to keep your word, you honestly couldn’t really blame him, and you ended up catching glimpses of him watching you from alleyways or tops of buildings at night. It was kind of worrying at first but eventually it got to the point that you would just smile and wave if you saw him.

Eventually he would wave back.

Sometime down the road and you learned his name. Months later and you found an odd friendship forming, starting with you asking him to come in on a particularly rainy night.

Even later and you found yourself developing feelings, getting to know who he really was. His personality, his struggles, his fears. He really wasn’t a bad guy, he just had no other choice since regular food did nothing for him.

After half a year of your strange friendship you found yourselves together, he had happily moved into your apartment and you had started to acquire blood bags for him to use instead of people. That didn’t stop him from drinking straight from the source every now and then... although, the source he used had definitely changed.

“I’m home.”

You leaned out of the kitchen to smile at Garcello, he returned it with a warm grin, shucking off his coat and tossing it to the side to land on your shared couch.

“Welcome back! How was your day?”

You greeted him with open arms as soon as he meandered into the kitchen, he swiftly took up your non-verbal offer and swept you into his strong arms. He buried his face in the crook of your neck and inhaled, sighing deeply through his nose as he melted into the embrace.

“It went fine, certainly not my job of choice but I think the interview went alright.”

You hummed in acknowledgment and nuzzled your head against his, pleased to have him back in your arms after half a day without him.

“I made sure to get bread and milk like you asked.”

You chuckled as you spotted the brown paper bag he had set on the counter.

“Thank you.”

He continued to hold you like that, peppering your cheek and jawline with a few kisses as he told you more about his day. Although, there seemed to be a shift in his attitude somewhere along the way. He suddenly went from sweet and giddy to much quieter, giving shorter answers when you asked him a question as he let you lead the conversation.

You decided to bring it up, just in case there was something wrong.

“Hey, are you alright?”

“Hmm?”

“You just... you went kinda quiet so I just wanted to make sure.”

He was perfectly silent as he thought over his answer.

“Yes, but... are you... working on anything right now?”

His tone was anticipatory, eagerly awaiting your response. You found yourself suspicious of his intentions.

“Well, no, I was just putting away some dishes that I was washiNG-!”

You were caught off guard by his tongue dragging across your neck in a smooth motion, tightly taking hold of the back of his t-shirt as he did so. You felt him smirk against your neck afterwards.

“That’s good... you see, I have a bit of a problem.”

“Y...y-yeah...?”

“Yeah...”

You flinched as he brushed one of his fangs against the top of your shoulder.

“The thing is, I’ve had a bit of a... craving today.”

One of his claw-like nails came up to trace along your sternum...

“It’s been just... driving me mad.”

Your collarbone...

“Itching the back of my brain...”

Your sternocleidomastoid muscle...

“Funny, right?”

Stopping and hovering just above one of your carotid arteries.

“Yeah... f... funny...”

His smirk grew in response to your reactions, nuzzling your neck affectionately with a huff.

“I guess what I’m trying to ask is...”

He tilted his head up to whisper in your ear.

“...would you mind if I had a little taste?”

Your eyes fluttered shut as you leaned into him, not even having to speak for him to know what your answer was. He had waited for that cue though, just like usual he would never drink from you unless he was certain that you were fine with it. Even then, you both had a very clear safe word that you had used in the past if anything went wrong or you changed your mind.

You didn’t really have to worry about that though. You knew you were safe in his hands.

He purred in response to your willingness, slowly walking you back and gently pinning you to the wall.

“God you smell good right now...”

He lowered his head back down to your neck, finding the spot that he had traced up to and licking a small stripe along it, pinpointing the location of your pulse.

“...bet you’d... taste even better though...”

He was gentle as always when he bit down, it only felt like a pinch until the aphrodisiac kicked in, immediately erasing any sense of pain you had. Being guided by one of his hands that had tangled itself in your hair, your head lolled to the side as he drank from you. A gentle moan erupted from your lips as your grip on his shirt went slack, your arms falling limp beside you as bliss took hold of your thoughts.

“F... fuck...”

He purred louder as you gave clear indication of your enjoyment. The hand that he had propping himself up against the wall fell and came to rest on your hip, gripping tightly as the hand he had on the back of your head made soft contact with the wall instead.

He cut himself off a little bit sooner than usual, pulling away just enough for you to watch him lick his lips and fangs clean.

He chuckled as the hand that raked through your hair slid down to cup your cheek.

“...I was right, you taste amazing...”

His expression didn’t lose it’s smugness though, usually when he was done he would take a much softer turn and patch you up immediately.

“Although, I think I might have put a little too much aphrodisiac in your system sweetheart...”

He was right, you felt like a rag doll right now, nearly putty in his hands as the only thing keeping you standing at the moment was his grip on your torso. Your eyes had glazed over slightly and you were practically panting at this point.

“...let’s do something about that, hmm~?”

#garcello x reader #fnf garcello x reader #garcello #fnf garcello #x reader #self insert #suggestive #request #one shot #garcello but with a little spice #i hope i did alright with this one #i don’t write for vampires very often haha #panic anon

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saturnsummer · 3 years ago

Text

sunbae.

Sol meets into a familiar someone. This time, she’s not letting her chance pass again.

ao3 link

notes: prompted by @thenerdywriter ! taking place a few years after the gang has graduated and started their jobs. it’s been such a joy writing this! (editing, grammar and other mistakes will be taken responsible by me.) if anyone else has prompts, do ask them in the submission box and i’ll get to you when i can!

thank you @thenerdywriter for this!! i thought of many scenarios, like them being famous prosecutors, or getting married. but i felt that this would be an interesting twist. i hope you like it! thank you for this opportunity!

words: 2256 words

Sol loves being a lawyer. Like, she really does.

Well, besides having to hustle in notes, write reports, follow her bosses to meetings where she just sits and listens, she loves it.

After graduating with her grades just skimming the pass, she landed a job at a small law firm. She acts more like a secretary than a lawyer there, to be honest. But money is money. Her mother is getting older, and with Byeol expressing her interest in dancing, she couldn’t say no.

Thus, she sucks it up and sends out other resumes. She still works part time on weekends at the book shop back in Hankuk University, so she guesses she’s managing well. She still lives in that dangerous alley, but it’s much safer now that she returns home every night.

She tried to stay in contact with her study group. Jiho landed himself in a big law firm, and SolB (despite her mother’s wishes) is at another giant law firm. BokGi got picked up by a firm mostly doing human rights, and Yebeom is working at the company next to BokGi. (So much for besties.) Yeseul is at a small firm, doing mostly cases on women rights.

Joon Hwi, on the other hand...

He was picked up by a law firm in the States. Immediately after graduation, he left for the States. Everyone stayed in contact, but with life catching up, weekly drinks slowed to a meeting every other month. Yeseul and Sol still meet fairly regularly, but Sol can’t help but to feel empty when she notices Joon Hwi is missing.

Everyone feels it, but she feels it the most.

-----

Sol can’t deny her feelings. When she saw him in Professor Yang’s lecture as he picked up her highlighter and gave her a sweet smile, she felt time freeze. Later on, as they became study buddies, she couldn’t help but sneak glances to observe his face when he taught her. She would always hitch her breath whenever he would lean towards her, or tease her with that smirk.

She has always thought that he returned her feelings. The way he would walk her home some nights. How he would always send her a good morning and night text, and place cans of coffees on her table at the library. It didn’t take her long to realise that he stuck post its on her table in their third year every week. (His handwriting was too uniformed, and only he owned circular shaped ones.)

But on the day of Yeseul’s trial, Sol knew that Joon Hwi probably didn’t like her. That he wasn’t protecting her, but her roommate. Of course he would. He was offered to privately tutor her, and they were always top ranking students. She vaguely remembers international events where they both would represent Hankuk in conferences.

Sol didn’t mind it. She was never good enough for him anyways. On graduation, as they took photos and promised to keep in touch, Sol found her mouth dry when it came to Joon Hwi. She had no reason to. (After all, it was just Joon Hwi.) But she felt even more nervous than the time she took her exam.

She planned it out. She wrote a script and memorised it in her head. She wanted to let Joon Hwi know about how she felt, even if he didn’t feel the same. She wanted to thank him for being her friend, for being a support that she will always be grateful for. That wherever he goes, she will always support him in life.

But as they threw their caps in the air and took one last group photo, Joon Hwi slipped away, never to be seen in person again.

-----

Sol found out a week later about his job in the States. They kept in contact by messages and the occasional video calls with the group. But with the time difference, Joon Hwi started texting lesser. Sol was no less busier, managing Byeol and her mom’s age and slowly taking on her responsibilities as the breadwinner of the family.

She used to come home after work and sit outside at the wall, wondering if Joon Hwi could see her in the States at night from the security camera. She would put on her headphones and sit there, watching as people pass late at night. Sometimes, she would speak aloud, as if Joon Hwi could hear her through the camera.

Many days, she would sit outside with a bottle of soju and two cups. She would only drink from one, and the other would just be there as reminder of her good days, when she was a study and drunk regularly with her best confidante. She often ended those nights half-drunk, murmuring her troubles out loud. (As if Joon Hwi was there to listen.)

When Yebeom spilled the beans that Jiho and SolB were dating a year later, she couldn’t believe it. It was a total twist. Does Joon Hwi know? He must be hurt, she thinks. She wanted to text him, call even. But she decided against it. He’s probably too busy for her.

And so Sol went about her mundane routine. She drank with an extra soju cup alone. Used circular post its. Ate ramyeon like her life depended on it.

And it went on.

-----

“Yah, kid!” Gollum smacks Sol’s arm with a freshly printed set of notes.

“You really had to?!” Sol barks back, soothing her arm and organising the copy room.

“When are you gonna stop working? You’re an adult! You’ve got your degree!” Gollum asks, shoving another stack of papers in the copier machine. Sol sighs.

“Till I get out of this job and move on to a better one. God, I’m still pathetic, aren’t I?” She cries out as she carries a stack of books to the door.

“When were you ever pathetic?” A gentle voice rings as Sol stops dead in her tracks. That voice. The voice that she can’t help but miss. The voice that lectured to her about law and her health every other day. Raising her eyes, she meets his familiar handsome face with his hair pushed back out of the way, different from the bangs he once had in school. His brown eyes crinkle.

“Joon…?” She asks breathlessly, still taking in his presence.

“Hello, sunbae.” He smirks. The same exact smirk she still remembers. Sol drops her stack of books to the table nearby and without warning, throws her arms around his neck. He stumbles backwards, but his hands rest gently on her waist, hugging the shorter woman closer to him. She inhaled his musky cologne, feeling his warmth wrap her body.

“I… I don’t get how you’re here. Aren’t you in the States?” She says softly, pulling away from the hug.

“Well, I was. I just got back.” He tells her. Peeking his head over, he waved to Gollum.

“Long time no see, Gollum! Mind you dismiss your staff early?” He cheekily asks, earning a swat from Sol. Gollum, to Sol’s surprise, nods and waves them away. Joon Hwi grins and takes her hand into his and grabs her purse in another before leading her out of school. (Gollum, meanwhile only grins. They better get together this time round, he thinks.)

-----

Joon gives her time to catch up with him and they take a stroll to the park nearby. He shares about his adventures in the States and the different cases he’s gotten. Some difficult, some interesting.

“So, what’s been going on?” Joon asks Sol.

Sol begins retelling about how the group has been doing. She retells BokGi’s and Yebeom’s offer and how they have lunch every other day. How Yeseul decided to want to fend for women abuse victims as well. However, she leaves Jiho and SolB dating for the last.

“Oh, um… I’m not sure if SolB has told you, but…” Sol trails off. Joon Hwi only tilts his head in confusion. Her eyes are uncertain and almost awkward.

“…That her and Jiho are dating?” Joon Hwi completes the sentence for her with enthusiasm.

“Wait, how did you know?”

“Jiho told me. Well, I encouraged Jiho.” He says, leaning back on the benches they sat on.

Now Sol was confused. Didn’t he like SolB? Why on earth is he encouraging Jiho? Her face contorts into a stage of loss and confusion. Joon Hwi only lets out a light chuckle.

“I don’t like SolB. I never did.” He answers her, as if he could hear her thoughts.

Sol freezes. So for years… he never had feelings for her? She feels like she’s back in law school, sitting with him in the empty study room when he leans in closer to look at her notes, closing the distance between. Her heart beats fast and she feels a sense of warmth rising to her face.

“Why? You thought I liked her, didn’t you?” Joon Hwi teases. She turns her face away, knowing that he can see her face blushing red.

“Whatever.” She grumbles just loud enough. Laughter fills her ears as she turns back around to pout at him. Soon enough, she’s suppressing a small smile as they lie back and look in the distance to their alma mater.

Sol sits in her thoughts for a few moments. She now knows that Joon Hwi doesn’t like her ex-roommate. He’s right next to her. He’s in Korea. He still remembers her. He still cares.

But does he feel the same?

“Come, it’s getting late.” He says, taking her hand in his and pulling her up.

Sol doesn’t notice the way his fingers are intertwined with hers.

-----

Joon Hwi leads her down a familiar road, before getting three popsicles. Sol knows this road like routine, and can walk it blindfolded. But she lets him lead her. The entire time, she takes in his tall figure. His broad shoulders. How so many years later, she’s still in love with this very man. No matter how many men tried to flirt and confessed to her, she couldn’t return her feelings.

Because Han Joon Hwi had stolen hers to begin with.

“Is Byeol home?” Joon Hwi asks, as they stop at her front door. As if on cue, a much taller girl emerges from the door, dressed in a simple shirt and shorts, hair pulled back with a large clip.

“Oppa!” Byeol’s face lights up as Joon Hwi slightly bends to give her a warm hug. Byeol crashes into his arms and Joon Hwi swings her in a circle as Sol just laughs at their childishness.

“You’ve grown taller, haven’t you, you cookie? And gotten so much prettier, like your sister.” He laughs, ruffling her hair. Handling her a popsicle, she flashes a grateful smile. Sol swats his arm, trying to not burn from embarrassment.

“Unnie is still the prettiest to you, isn’t she?” Byeol asks as she opens her popsicle. Sol swerves around and is ready to smack Byeol for spouting nonsense, but Joon Hwi only laughs and pats her head.

“You’re right. Your unnie is still the prettiest and smartest to me.” He says, his eyes locked on Sol, his smile still sweetly there. Sol is transported back in time to when she would catch Joon Hwi stare at her while eating her pickles and only smile at her as she happily eats. The days, that she’s now certain showed that he had feelings for her. Byeol looks at her sister, eyes locked on Joon Hwi and silently retreats back home with her half eaten popsicle.

“Joon, there’s something I need to say.” Sol mutters out loud. She has to do it now. She lost her chance years ago, and she's not losing it again.

“Me too.” Joon Hwi says, his hands burying into his pockets, the way it does when he’s nervous.

“No, please. I’ve waited years to tell you this. And I don’t want to screw this up because I know you probably think I’m still hung over old memories. And I don’t know when you are going to return to the States, cause I may never see you again. And then I’m gonna-” Sol is rambling as she feels the same nervousness every time she’s alone with him.

But Joon Hwi’s lips cut her off. His hands cup her cheeks as he brings her face nearer to him, feeling her soft lips on his. Sol is too shocked to react, but she kisses him back, her hands by her side unclenching from her balled up fists. They pull away, as Joon Hwi leans his forehead against hers. Their noses brush each other and their lips brush one another.

“I love you, Han Joon Hwi. I have been, for the past years.” Sol whispers breathlessly.

“I know. And I love you too, Kang Sol.” He replies, before crashing against her lips once more. Sol feels the fireworks, as she finally feels her heart open.

Han Joon Hwi is here.

Han Joon Hwi loves her.

-----

Joon Hwi leaves for the States a week later. A month later, he appears at Sol’s house, announcing that he will be shifting back home. He reconnects with everyone else in the group and the meetings become more frequent. Sol now drinks with another cup, filled by the person she loves. Instead of circular post its, she gets morning love messages.

And at dinners, when she leans her head against Joon Hwi’s shoulder and looks at her intertwined fingers, she can’t help but feel her heart explode in so many emotions.

She’s finally whole.

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hongism · 4 years ago

Text

touch of the devil - k.hongjoong 18+

↣ pairing: hongjoong x fem!reader | ao3 version (mxm seongjoong) ↣ genre: angst, fluff if you SQUINT, nsfw, fantasy, supernatural, demon!hongjoong, emo rocker!hongjoong, there do be plot tho. ↣ wc: 9.0k ↣ summary: you came to make a deal with a devil sure, but this is the last thing you were expecting out of a night in a dingy bar. ↣ warnings: explicit smut, mention of death, demons, it’s actually really heavy on plot and angst and less focused on the smut ↣ a/n: again i know it’s my birthday but this is my present to you guys, i am a person who prefers to give rather than receive on my birthday and this was the first thing i wanted to work on during my hiatus!! i’ve got so much inspo and motivation rn that it’s crazy and i can’t wait to have everything all set out for you guys when im back :3

﹊﹊﹊

Everything about the air around you is heady and thick in a way that chokes you as you step through the fogged bar. This isn’t your sort of scene – not one you would typically find yourself frequenting on a Friday evening without even so much as the company of a friend – and yet here you stand with hands pressed into the pockets of your black leather jacket. There remains a dull thrum in the atmosphere of the club, a steady rhythm of bass and vibrations that makes your ears ring but you do your best to ignore it in favor of reaching the bartender.

“Just a rum and coke please,” you murmur, hand sneaking out of your pocket to lay a few bills flat against the wood counter. You tug your ID card out as well and flash it in the man’s direction when he raises an eyebrow at you, but upon seeing it, he relents and steps away from you to get the drink.

The question remains of why exactly you are in such a dismal and hopeless scene full of people too drunk off their rockers to even fumble around the bar with some sense of dignity. You, who is neither dismal or hopeless yourself nor are you drunk in the slightest (at least not yet).

The answer is simple. This is a breeding ground, a festering cesspool of desires and greed, and it is the prime place to find what you are looking for in terms of deals with the devil. Maybe not one specific devil, but certainly whatever demon you can get your hands on tonight. And you have quite the lot to choose from it seems, because as you glance around the neon-lit building, you can spot many pairs of red eyes glinting under the lights. You know you have no right to be picky — any and all of them will get the job done — but you can’t help but to note that none of them are as appealing as you imagined they would be. When your friend said that these demons thrived off of lust and appeal, you figured that meant they would purposefully up the ante in terms of physical appearances.

The disdain must show on your features as the bartender begins to speak again as he sets your drink down before you on the counter.

“None of them are for you,” he utters, and you twist back to look him in the eye.

“What do you mean?” You inquire, chin tilting to the side in question, and the man huffs out a small laugh.

“They have their prey already. Picked ‘em the second they walked through the door. All it takes is one look to figure out what these needy people crave from them, what appearances they need to take, what voices to use, what outfits to wear. For people like you, though, something more is required before the real games begin.” He points a single bony finger at your face, staring you down over the length of his digit like it’s the barrel of a gun, and that has you shifting in your seat a bit.

“Something… more?”

“One must have a particular level of certainty before coming to make a deal with a demon, ma’am. But you — you don’t seem to truly know what it is you want. And for that reason, the King will see you with no ruses or deception.”

On the contrary, I wouldn’t have dared set foot in here if I didn’t know what it is I wanted, you want to say. However, your attention is held rapt by his final sentence, the one that held unspoken promise to it.

“And by that you mean physical alterations?”

“You catch on quickly, Miss.” The man leans forward, tongue darting out to swipe over his lower lip, and you glance over the motion only once before pushing away from the counter. He notes the slight annoyance in your features a moment later. “The King will like you quite a bit.”

“When can I expect for this ‘King’ to present himself?” You prop an elbow up on the counter and give one last forlorn glance around the bar in the hopes that someone will come over your way, but it’s to no avail.

“Patience, human. The show hasn’t even begun yet.” He motions towards the middle of the bar, the starkly empty space with a glossy stage set in the center with only a microphone held delicately in its stand and nothing else. You had been hoping to make this a speedy trip — a quick in and out with your deal made and nothing else — but it seems you won’t be having that luxury. And it is a bit frustrating, honestly, to come to this place with the expectation of having a demon cater to you and your wants only to be told that you aren’t certain enough for these supernatural beings, so you’ll have to wait on a demon who won’t cater to you or come to you immediately.

You take a quick swig of your alcohol with the desperate hope that perhaps drinking will make you more certain of what you want, although you already know it won’t. The bartender offers a shrug in response to your annoyance then pulls away to tend to other customers, and you take it as an invitation to swivel in your stool and face the stage. It’s still fucking empty, but at least it gives you a better view than the old wood of the counter that now sits under your elbows.

“Leave it to men to make me wait on them, demon or not,” you mutter under your breath, breath fogging the side of your glass a bit.

You nearly choke on the liquid inside in your next breath because the swirling red neon lights come to a halt on the center of the stage, and the suddenness of the shifting lights startles you so much that you have to sit up straight and inhale deeply to keep from coughing on the alcohol in your mouth. The hazed mist hovering above the floor of the bar seems to swirl towards the stage under the beams of light. You watch the movements as though in a trance, slowly leaning forward until your elbows come to rest on your knees. Out of everyone in the bar, you seem to be the only one interested in what’s going on at the center of the room. Mind you, everyone else is preoccupied: demons with their humans, and humans with the mask-wearing demons who cater to their desires. And while you have no reason to be so intrigued by the scene before you, you truly cannot bring yourself to look away, especially as the dull thrum of music in the bar heightens and gains momentum.

There is no way of describing the sounds rumbling around you. Perhaps if you were fully in your senses, you would be able to distinguish the instruments and beats of the song, but the bass clogs your mind and leaves you squinting at the hazy stage. It could be poetic, the way a lone figure pushes his way through the crowds of the bar like he holds all the power in the universe, studded black leather jacket slung around his shoulders. And as the red lights come over him, you can see his features better. Dusty brown hair that shines a bit, one side exposed and cut shorter than the other, which has bangs that hang loose over the side of his face. Metal bars line both ears, another near the end of his left brow, and a final more intricate one that loops around the middle of his lip and connects to two long metal chains. You follow the path of those chains with your eyes, watching them trail downwards until they loop around his chest and disappear behind his jacket. It’s just a black turtleneck that he wears underneath the dramatic leather regalia and chains but somehow he makes the garment look expensive. You dare glance a bit lower, just enough to make out the frayed and distressed jeans that cling to his skin like a vice, leaving hints of enticing skin underneath to peek through. You can’t see his feet thanks to the fog, but you can practically hear his footsteps drumming in your ears with the rise and fall of his shoes.

Simply put, you are entranced by the sight of this man — if he can even be called that, because you wouldn’t find yourself at all surprised should he reveal himself to be a demon on the tail end of this encounter. He barely looks up from the floor on his trek to the stage, only stopping when he comes before the mic stand and exhales against it in a way that sends shivers down your spine. It’s hardly reasonable for any creature to hold your attention in the palm of his hand the way this one does, but there is no chance of you looking away now, especially as his voice begins to drawl through the microphone and coat your ears like honey. There are words, you recognize enough in the music to know that it should be a song you’re familiar with, but none of them truly process in your daze.

It’s all you can do to just sit there and watch his performance. Between the gentle sways of his shoulders and hips, the teasing drag of his tongue over his lower lip whenever there is a break in his lyrics, and the overall intoxicating nature his aura exudes, you are hooked on every breath he takes. You don’t realize how relaxed your body has become under his spell until it’s too late, and that happens to be the last note of the song as well. It is accentuated with the drop of the glass in your hand and a sharp shatter of the cup against the floor. And just as you inhale a startled gasp and break out of your reverie, his deep crimson eyes flicker over to find yours across the bar. Those twisting lips churn something ugly in your gut. You can’t find the strength in your body to move.

“Mine.”

Your heart leaps in your chest as the word leaves his lips, and while you can’t hear it grate against your ears, you can clearly read his lips enough to know what he’s saying.

His eyes glint a bit in the darkness. It shouldn’t leave you wanting more, but that bitter taste of curiosity is nipping at the back of your throat, and you are far too intrigued to turn back now. You just want more. If he seems to understand that at all from the gleam in your eyes, he makes good on it, stepping off the stage and letting his hand drag over the mic in a way that is almost tantalizing. Step after step, he comes closer to you with his lips still curled into a smirk, and the way the lights hit him makes him seem to glisten and glow in the darkness. You don’t realize you’ve been holding your breath until he breaches your personal space and you release a shaky exhale that seems to fog in the air between you. He stretches a hand out to close the space between your bodies and curls his index finger under your chin. The touch is simultaneously hot and cold — your whole body seems to light on fire under it, yet at the same time, the chill in your bones deepens to an alarming degree.

“What is it you desire above all other things?” You can hear him now, loud and clear, and whilst you heard his singing beforehand, the simple rasp and lilt to his regular tone is something that has you unashamedly weak in the knees. “I can give you everything,” he whispers as he presses closer to you. Your knees brush against his form but he keeps on pushing forward until he’s slotted himself between them. The chain hanging from his lips rattles like a chime, singing its unknown song like church bells in the night, although you are far from God and heaven now. “All you need to do is ask.”

You cling to some semblance of reason while you can, knowing full well that it will all leave you soon enough, but for now, it lets you choke out a single statement that has the demon before you laughing under his breath.

“That’s not how it works.”

“And who are you to tell me how it works?” His finger curls a bit harder at your chin, and you can feel the blunt of his nail scraping over your skin. Your eyes are glued to his, so enamored and consumed that you can’t even think to look anywhere else.

In that moment, it is as though the universe is nothing but a speck of dust in the corner of your vision. Something so raw and whole like the man standing before you is all-powerful and vigilant in a way that has every nerve in your body at full attention, ready for whatever his next step might be. And that turns out to be quite the curveball as it seems because he leans closer to you, breath intermingling with yours, and you subconsciously curve your back into his touch to reach him closer. Still, even though you physically show how ready and desperate for the touch you are, he waits and glances over your features.

“What is it you desire from me, human?”

You have to vehemently restrain yourself from simply saying ‘you’ and getting on with it.

“Your name.”

“Is that all you would have from me?” As a demon, it is his life’s work to know the inner-workings of the festering desires of humans. You have no doubt in your mind that he knows exactly what is it you want, even if you are not sure of it yourself, and you do not doubt that he won’t use that to his advantage either. But that’s what you asked for in coming here, and that is exactly what you both expected and wanted out of this.

Perhaps it is shameful, but just for once, you wanted to surrender control. Too often are you asked to have everything set out and planned and under control, and too often do you find yourself wanting someone to just tell you what it is you should do. That could be why the bartender labeled you as ‘uncertain’ because even in this moment of vulnerability, there is still the thinnest thread of thought tethering you to that control. And as of now, you want nothing more than for this demon before you to break that thread.

“I would have your name before I asked for anything else from you. Calling you demon over and over would certainly wear out its welcome, no?”

“That all depends on the context, my dear. But… you can call me Hongjoong, if that’s suitable to your tongue.”

“Hongjoong,” you try, testing the way the name rolls off your tongue in such a delicate manner that the demon before you flutters his lashes a bit.

“Sounds so pretty coming from lips so innocent.” He tilts his head to the side, and the movement flashes the pretty expanse of skin below his jaw. You aren’t shy in the way you let your gaze slip over it before trailing back up to meet his eyes again. “Would you close your eyes for me, doll?” He doesn’t have to ask. He could just make you do so with no resistance but still, he asks as though you could say no if you wanted to. You don’t though, and as such, your eyelids fall shut and your vision turns to black for the time being. “Do you know who I am?”

“Th-The bartender called you the King.”

“And do you understand what that means? Truly understand with every fiber of your being?” The question is heavy on your bones, and it is one that you feel like you should know the answer to yet you can’t find any response to his inquiry. Perhaps he means to confuse you because you hear the soft huff of a laugh fall from his lips. “King of the Underworld, Lord of the Dead. Some would call me Pluto, others Hades, it varies from religion to religion and in every culture. Sometimes I pick up rather banal and common names, other times I find myself seeking something extravagant and luxurious. Now… Hongjoong will be a good middle-ground for us.”

You should be falling to the floor in absolute shock due to his words, but the steady finger under your chin keeps you steady. That and the growing fear in your gut as you come to realize that this man holds so much power in just his pinky finger and could absolutely crush you under his heel whenever he wishes. What are you to a god besides an insignificant fleck of dust on the pavement?

“And what of your appearance? Is that… manifested as well?” You dare to ask.

“I have many faces, yes, but this one is one I wear boldly and frequently. You could say it is my natural form. After so many millennia of fantastical myths and legends, however, I’m sure that would seem odd to you.”

“Are you truly a demon then?”

“King of demons, yes. Whether I am truly a demon myself is something that could be ambiguous, I suppose, but if they are all part of my creations, then would that not make me one myself? Though you could say they are all fragments of my own being, making them all mythical gods. It’s all a matter of perspective; however, I doubt that you came searching this place for a lesson on perspectives.”

“No, I came for…” You trail off, and that blossoming uncertainty from before presents itself again.

“There are two things your heart wants right now. One, I can give you with ease and grace, only if you would allow it. That desire is a fleeting one, however, and I do not think it is what you are truly after in being here. The second… that is a wish I cannot deliver, and I think you are more than aware of that. The reason everyone left you to me is because of what you want. It is a domain only I could ever touch.”

You blink your eyes open in haste, searching his deep crimson gaze for some sort of confirmation of the words. The demon dares to look forlorn and lets his stare drop to the floor rather than looking you directly in the eye. Confusion blossoms in your gut. Yes, you figured there was a slim chance that your wish could not be granted, but still you clung to the desperate hope that maybe there was just a small window of opportunity for such a wish to be granted.

“Death is irreversible,” the demon, Hongjoong as he wishes to be called, says in a quiet tone. “I cannot give that which you want more than anything else.”

“Then what can you give?” You ask, squeezing your eyes shut as tight as possible to keep your emotions from slipping out the corners.

“One of two things: I can give you time to speak with him once more or I can make you forget the pain.”

“And if I choose the latter?”

“It would make you forget everything about him and leave you with no memory of him at all.” Hongjoong exhales a small sigh, the bouncing rhythms of the bass rumbling against your ears along with the sounds of his breaths. “You need not decide right this instant. The payment will be the same either way, so we can settle that first if you’d like.”

“W-Wait,” you stammer. You dare to open your eyes once more. “How would I be able to speak to him if you can’t bring him back?”

“I cannot bring him back the way you want. He… he is gone, and though I am the King of the Dead, there are powers even I do not have. Bringing him back to life is impossible, but I can create a doorway for the two of you to speak through for a short period of time. I have no control over how long it would be, just a forewarning. That is all up to him and his willingness to see you.”

“I can’t imagine he wouldn’t want to see me,” you murmur, but the pang in your chest tells you otherwise.

“Sometimes, death and the underworld change fundamental parts of people. They are no longer alive, after all, and as such, those human vices and personality traits dissipate. How you knew him in life could be vastly different than the spirit who now resides in my domain. It is all a matter of weighing risks, my dear. What matters most to you? Remembering him or him remembering you?”

“So if I ask to see him, I would remember him but there’s a chance that he would have no recollection of me? And should I ask to forget, there will be no way of knowing whether he remembers me in the afterlife or not?”

“Precisely.”

That is a hefty bargain to weigh. It is almost too much for your shoulders just to think about it. One is starkly more selfish than the other, but if he’s dead, what good will selflessness do you? It won’t bring him back, that’s for sure. Either you are left with the painful realization that he does not have any memory of you in the afterlife, or you forget it all to avoid that pain. Maybe thinking about the payment before deciding would be a good idea after all.

“As for the payment? How many years do I owe you?” Demons have no use for human currency or trinkets that could be traded for favors. You can barter the only thing you have — years of life. Whether it shortens your lifespan or turns you into a personal slave for a certain amount of time, that is a price you must be willing to pay for such services. You are more than prepared to barter it all off right now if need be.

“None,” Hongjoong answers coolly, and you quirk a brow upwards at the nonchalance in his tone. “I do not deal in years of life. Not often, at least. My abilities are bound in… passion. Lovemaking, fornication, sex, fucking – whatever you wish to call it. Of course, it wouldn’t have to be that exactly, should you not desire that. The other option is a blood pact, a ritual that would take hours to complete, although both could take quite some time depending on your stamina.” There’s a breath of silence that allows Hongjoong’s lips to twist into a suggestive grin, and heat brushes the base of your neck as you fight off waves of embarrassment. “I cannot guarantee that the blood pact would be painless. With sex, I could at least provide some comfort that the pain would only be temporary; however, the choice is yours. Both are binding and would mean that you could never make a deal with another demon again, and you would be marked as mine for eternity.”

“What does being yours entail?”

“Nothing diabolical or unsavory, I promise. Just… when the time comes for you to pass on and join the Underworld, you would take a place at my side.”

“How many people have you laid claim to? Did they all agree to the same terms? How can I trust your word?” The questions tumble from your lips without relent.

“For what you desire, the cost is far less than what I would usually ask for. Those lucky enough to deal with me in the past paid less for their debts. The blood pact… the fornication… both are binding elements. The real cost is your service. Most have agreed to give me their servitude in the afterlife, all with their own places in my domain. That is what you would be offering as well. You will live just as long as you would without making this deal but make up for it after your death.”

“And that’s it?”

Hongjoong’s eyes twinkle a bit under the lights above your heads.

“What did you expect from me, doll? Savagery? Unfairness? Everyone deserves a fair price for what they want, regardless of station in life or status in society.”

“Deal,” you utter without any more hesitation, blinking up into Hongjoong’s dark orbs. There lies a lingering sense of regret in your gut, one that you cannot chase away no matter how hard you try, but you do not need to dwell on it any longer.

“And how would you like to bind our deal, my dear? Neither can be handled immediately. The blood pact requires special preparations for the ritual, but the other — I would not have you in such a place as dirty as this.”

“I-I, um, sex will work just fine,” you bite out, the skin of your cheek caught between your teeth.

“Then when the time comes that you are ready with your decision on what it is you truly want, all you need to do is take this—” Hongjoong retracts his hand from where it rests gently against the column of your throat and digs into one of his pockets. He pulls out a gilded card, one that is black and gold with flecks of red across the surface, but there are no other adornments to the material. “Tear it in half and it will bring you to our meeting place, and I will join you there to seal the deal. Should you decide that you do not want this after all, then all you need to do is burn the card. The decision lies in your hands, and yours alone.” He has to lift one of your limp hands and forcefully place the card into your waiting palm, closing his fingers around yours to make you cling to the item.

“I – th-thank you,” you stammer as you blink from your closed hand to Hongjoong’s features.

“The pleasure is all mine, doll.”

Those are the last words you hear from the demon before he slips away from you, the dense fog lingering in the air swirling up around his body, and within moments, his shadowy form disappears entirely from sight. The air grows cold around you once more. You are left with only the fleeting desire for that warmth to return, for you to feel less alone than you are in that moment, and even if it’s the briefest visit ever you just want one last chance to tell your lost lover how you feel without mistakes this time.

///

The night, as per usual, is cold and unforgiving. It allows for too many opportunities to be alone with lost feelings and thoughts. It has been weeks (if not months) since you visited that dingy club and your fateful meeting with none other than the King of the Dead. Yet you are still here, wallowing in the memories that you’ve been left to suffer with alone, and the gilded black card sits in your nightstand untouched. You open the drawer just to stare at it from time to time, when the nights are particularly rough, and it already had begun collecting a thin layer of dust the last few times you looked at it.

It isn’t that you haven’t made your decision about what you want from your deal with Hongjoong. The more terrifying fact is that you are fully aware of what it is you want, and you simply cannot rectify the guilt that comes along with the pure selfishness of your decision. The feeling is so potent that it swarms your every thought. You know it wouldn’t be an issue once you meet with Hongjoong; the demon will take it all away and leave you with nothing. You won’t even know enough to be guilty any longer, but the pain of committing to the decision is strong enough to make you sick to your stomach.

Wooyoung — the one who suggested you go to the club and make the deal in the first place — will not shut up about how worried he is about you. You won’t recall the deal or why you made it, so what’s holding you back? A temporary guilt that won’t exist longer than a few seconds once you’re actually in Hongjoong’s presence? As he said, you just need to swallow the feeling and get on with it. Prolonging the regrets any longer won’t do you any good.

You huff out a quiet laugh in the silence of your darkened room. The black gilded card taunts you again now, gleaming up at you through the shadows with its faint hints of gold and red. Maybe Wooyoung is right and the only way to get rid of missed opportunities is to forget about them entirely. Yeosang was but a chapter in your life, one that is past and gone now, and as Hongjoong said, there is no reversing death. Seeing him one last time won’t give you anything but pain.

You stretch a shaky hand towards the card in the drawer. It’s cold to the touch, dust billowing up with even the slightest touch of your fingers. You have to dig your nail under the material to pull it up, and once it’s safely set in your palm, you drag your thumb over the surface to brush the dirt away. No words on the surface, no sign that it has been touched by a demon, and not even a hint as to what it could possibly be for.

It is surprisingly flexible, at least moreso than you would have imagined, and you give it a few testing bends to see how easy it would be to break. Hongjoong simply gave you the instruction to tear it in half and that was all. You don’t expect him to suddenly materialize before you on a whim, but surely such a creation is bound by some sort of magic on his part. It is hard enough to believe that demons are real living creatures, but magic as well? Maybe you’ve passed on and just don’t realize it yet. Still, you exhale one last huff of air into the darkness before letting your eyes flutter shut. Taking the card between your hands, you begin to slowly rip the material until it separates with the force, torn in two mismatched pieces.

Nothing fantastical happens.

That fact alone is so overwhelmingly disappointing that you really think for a moment that Hongjoong was just some goth rocker in a stoner bar who pulled an elaborate trick on you. It can’t be too difficult to get your hands on some weird red-toned contacts and weave some elaborate story about being the King of Hell. You could do that yourself. Why did you think he was incapable of such a charade?

Because he knew what you wanted without you having to say it.

Yes, well, Wooyoung claimed that your regrets and grief were evident in your features every time he looked at you. Maybe Hongjoong could see it as well.

You fall back onto your bed, flattening your back against the mattress with a small shout of frustration. The urge to cry is strong; if you’ve spent all these weeks uselessly worrying over something that could all be a farce, you don’t even know how you would react. You squeeze your eyes shut tight, blinking away the tears that blossom in the corners there as best you can. The rolling emotions in your system distract you from the sudden shift in temperature, and before you know it heat washes over you and fills the void of cold in your body. You jerk but refuse to sit up quite yet, eyes flying open in your shock only to choke on air as a bright golden light fills your vision and swarms you with warmth. The cushion under your body doesn’t feel the same either; it is not your bed, it’s too plush and soft, too warm under you, and you feel like you are absolutely drowning in the sensation.

Gold flickers above you, twinkling lights that glisten like small stars above you, and the ceiling is so dark that you nearly think it’s just an opening to the night sky. You sit up in a mad panic. The gold and red decorations littering the far too lavish room barely process in your vision as you look for a way out, and you don’t even see the figure coming up along your side until he’s upon you. A hand stretches out to brush over your forehead. You nearly shriek in your state of terror, but the sound is all but stolen from your lungs instead.

“It’s only me, doll. You’re safe.”

Hongjoong. Ah, Hongjoong. Then… he was telling the truth. It wasn’t a farce or a deception meant to be a game. He claimed to be the Devil Incarnate, and here he stands before you in a room too rich and exquisite for words. You can’t find it in you to think he’s lying now.

You dare to glance up and meet his gaze, finding it so soft on your face that you have the audacity to blush under his stare despite the things you’ll be doing with him soon enough.

“Have you made your decision then?” He asks, tone soft and light. It isn’t one that demands an immediate answer. You know he could ask what took you so long to decide, complain about your hesitance, say that you kept him waiting for far too long — instead, he exudes patience with you, hand slowly combing over your forehead down to your cheek and brushing over the skin there with a touch so featherlight that you almost don’t realize it’s there at all.

“I-I have,” you whisper like the two of you aren’t the only ones in the room and it’s a secret meant only for your ears.

“What would you have from me first then? As I told you before, the payment is the same regardless of your decision, and as such, we can bind the deal first if you’d rather.”

You swallow around nothing. There is no harm in going through with the decision now, but your nerves are so frazzled and out of sorts that you almost desire the sex simply as a means of stress relief. Hongjoong steps in front of you, fully coming into view, and you are shocked at how… mundane he looks. You blink fervently at the man — demon, rather — and take in the gentle part of his hair, the soft glow of his skin that makes him look simply ethereal under this light. He hardly looks like a demon to you; his features are too smooth and perfect for that, from the curves of his lips to the even line of his nose. Although you suppose that’s all he wants you to see, yet it still seems oddly intimate to a certain degree.

“You aren’t worried that I’ll try to run away after my wish is fulfilled?” You ask. Hongjoong arches his brows at you, and his neutral expression slips into one of momentary shock.

“Where are you going to go, my dear? I brought you to this place, and you will need me to send you back once we’re done here.”

It sinks in at that moment how you are completely at his mercy right now. Not that you had any plans of running away, but the question was moreso just to test the waters, see if he is truly as merciful as his features make him out to be. The underlying danger in his tone proves your point and sends a chill down your spine.

“Is that something I ought to be worried about, doll? Should I claim you now to make sure you keep your end of the bargain?” The question sits on your ear like warm honey. It chokes you, fills your senses with Hongjoong’s scent, and you almost find yourself leaning into his curling lips before catching yourself. That seems to pique his interest in the very least, and his smile twists a bit more. “The decision is in your hands as always. I won’t do anything you don’t give me explicit permission to do.”

“Permission granted,” you mutter before catching a hand on Hongjoong’s collar. “Do it all.” You aren’t too worried about damaging his clothes as he’s not wearing anything drastically fancy or expensive-looking, and thus you twist your fist into a ball around the fabric of his black tee and yank him down to your height. He bends at the waist, hands catching on the mattress before his forehead can smack hard against yours. There’s a bit of tension in his neck, and that keeps him far enough back so that he doesn’t kiss you quite yet. It’s almost as though he is waiting for something else, eyes carefully tracing your features with great care before he settles on your lips, and a sharp inhale of breath follows before that thin line in his composure snaps.

His lips hit yours with a surprising amount of force, and the kiss isn’t at all what you were expecting — well, to be more accurate, you aren’t quite sure what you were expecting in the first place. It’s much more pleasant than you could have imagined though, and Hongjoong isn’t shy with the touch at all. His tongue is quick to swipe over your lower lip, hands darting upwards to brush over your sides before reaching your face, and he brings a knee down on the mattress to support his weight as he leans over you. You follow the motion when he pushes forward and lean back until you have no choice but to scoot back on the bed. Hongjoong moves with you with the same amount of fervor, still pressed to your lips without relent, and you don’t even think to stop as he completely drapes himself over your body, knees still up and supporting his weight. The cushion of the mattress dips by your head, a telltale sign that he’s placed his hands there, and you use that as your opportunity to stop for air. Hongjoong surely has no need to breathe like you do since he is undead, but he still pants above you, chest heaving as a pretty flush rises to his cheeks.

“Putting that much power in a demon’s hands is dangerous, is it not?” He mutters. You let your lashes flutter shut as he moves back to your lips, hot breath ghosting over your skin. “Are you sure you want to do that?”

“I’ll tell you if it’s something I don’t like,” you murmur, opening an eye to peek at him. He meets your gaze with a soft laugh, but your answer seems to please him enough to bring his attention back to your lips. You inhale as his tongue breaches your mouth and pushes into the wet cavern inside. There’s no chance for you to fight back for any sort of dominance because he only thrusts deeper and coats the inside of your mouth with his taste until you can feel his tongue brushing over your palate. A quiet moan reverberates through your throat and against his lips. You feel the barest hint of a smile in the kiss, then his lips are suddenly gone from yours. You gasp for air with the freedom. Heat pools in the depths of your gut, a pleasant one that leaves you wanting more, and you aren’t sure if it’s simply been so long since you last had sex or if Hongjoong truly has that effect on you.

He returns to touching your body a moment later, hands trailing to the row of buttons on your nightshirt, and one by one, he pulls them apart until the material is barely clinging to your skin. His lips replace his fingers then. First at your jaw placing a wet trail of kisses and soft nips that leave you with goosebumps. Then he reaches the midpoint of your sternum and rests the flat of his tongue there, tasting and teasing your skin until you can do nothing but writhe under him because he is taking so damn long. Your impatience is laughable to him, as evidenced by the quiet huff of air that leaves him next.

“I want to taste every inch of you,” he mumbles against the skin of your stomach, hands pulling your nightshirt away to expose more of the skin underneath. He makes good on his words, and that damn tongue traces lower and lower until he reaches the band of your pants and underwear. You instinctively dart a hand down to tangle in his hair. “F-Fuck.” The curse slips out when you give an accidental tug to the hair close to his nape, and you nearly think that you’ve hurt him in some manner until you catch sight of the blissed-out expression on his features.

“D-Do you — can I…?”

“Do it harder while I eat you out,” he growls. His fingers close hard around the remainders of your close, and you don’t even have time to nod before he’s yanking both your pants and underwear down in one fell swoop. It leaves you more than a little exposed — you’re suddenly nearly nude before the demon who is still fully clothed, and that realization draws your thighs tight together in a sudden rush of embarrassment. You swallow hard around nothing, eyes darting away from Hongjoong’s prying gaze.

All of a sudden, he shrugs your hand off his hair and sits back on his heels. You don’t understand what his reasoning is until you settle your eyes back on his body. He’s leaned back to start stripping layers of clothes off in a rush, hands fumbling and struggling to pull them away in an orderly manner. There is no composure to his actions, only a hastened fervor that has him tossing his shoes far from the bed along with random articles of clothes until he’s laid fully bare before you. You really try your hardest not to glance down at his… you know, but the urge is overwhelming. Before you can even catch a glimpse, however, Hongjoong is on you again, hands latched around your thighs and pulling you to the edge of the bed as he kneels before you on the floor. The sudden movement has you squealing in surprise, and that noise is broken off into a startled moan when Hongjoong’s lips brush through your folds without warning.

“O-Oh god,” you gasp out. Hongjoong’s tongue gives a long and dragging pull through your heat, teasing some of the juices out of you with little restraint.

“Far from it actually,” he replies against your clit. A cheeky grin eats away at his features, but it quickly disappears as he returns his focus to your cunt. Your hand finds its way back down to his hair once more and tugs hard at the strands. Each tweak of his tongue through your folds has your legs jerking a bit, and he has to tighten his grip on your thighs to keep you from moving so much under his touch.

“I’m not — I w-won’t last, pl-please, I–” You can’t even finish the sentence as Hongjoong flicks the tip of his tongue right over your clit and cuts you off. He repeats that same motion, again and again, brings you right to the precipice of an orgasm only to tear you back down from it with soft kisses pressed to the outside of your folds. You can’t keep track of how many times he repeats that process, but it is more than enough to have you shaking from exhaustion and desperation even though you haven’t even been able to come yet.

“Are you going to beg for it, doll?” Hongjoong hums after what feels like hours of pleasurable torture. “I promised to make you feel good, did I not? You just have to tell me what you want.” His words are so taunting that it burns you with embarrassment. The need for that orgasm hangs on every nerve ending of your body, and you could cry just out of the need to come.

“Please,” you whisper in a tone broken from constant moans and cries.

“Be more specific.” It’s so cruel. He dangles the promise of pleasure before your eyes again, this time nipping ever so gently at your bud, and you really do cry this time, fingers digging harshly on his scalp. That draws a prolonged growl from his lips, and it reverberates against you so nicely that you could come from that. Hongjoong pulls his head back too soon though and the sensation is dashed away.

“N-No, no, please. P-Please, Hongjoong, I — please let me come. I need it, I need it so badly. Shit, just – just please let me come,” you wail as tears slip out the corners of your eyes and spill onto the sheets under you. That’s the breaking point for him as well, or so it would seem, because the next time his mouth brushes through your cunt, he doesn’t relent. You come undone on his tongue, riding out the waves of your intense orgasm as he fucks his wet muscle into your heat. He won’t stop chuckling either — a low noise that just prolongs the pleasure and makes you quiver from overstimulation. He doesn’t let up until a dry and choked sob pushes past your lips.

Suddenly he is back up on the bed, bent over your body to be eye to eye with you. His fingers trace over your wet cheeks then clasp hard around your jaw.

“Too much?”

“N-No,” you stammer through the wet cries. “So good. So so good.”

“Mm, can you take my cock too, doll?” He all but purrs the words against your skin. His soft and trailing kisses return to your skin, peppering the line of your jaw just past his fingers.

“Yes, please, I c-can. Please. I want i-it all.” You never thought you could sound so overwhelmingly desperate, but the tumbling sensation that swerves through your stomach as Hongjoong’s demeanor shifts has you falling into absolute shambles. He shifts your position, pushing you up higher to rest against the pillows, and you start to drape your legs around his waist. That must not be the position he had in mind though, because his hand clamps down hard on one of your calves and pushes it to the top of his shoulder. Before you can even blink, he does the same with your other leg, effectively folding you in half and into a position you weren’t even aware that your body was capable of. That shock is momentary as you feel the tip of what must his cock rubbing over your pulsating hole. You can’t do anything but ball your fists around the sheets under you and cling to them like a vice. It’s the only thing that can prepare you for his girth; the stretch may not be as much as you thought it would be, but it still stings like a bitch even after he bottoms out in you. That pain must be showing on your features – in the way your brows are tightly knit together and your eyes are screwed shut so that excess tears from earlier slip out.

The soft caress of lips touches your forehead. It’s so gentle and delicate that you nearly miss it in your efforts to grow used to the sensation between your legs, but Hongjoong repeats it time and time again until your breathing steadies and your chest stops heaving as much. It’s only then that he dares to resituate his hips. You crack an eye open to look at him, and it’s abundantly clear that he’s trying his hardest to hold back and keep from fucking into you with reckless abandon.

“I’m okay now,” you whisper, pulling a hand off the bedsheets to brush some loose strands of hair out of Hongjoong’s vision. “Please fuck me as hard as you’d like.” You snake the same hand around the back of his neck. When he still doesn’t move, you offer a sharp tug to the hair that falls over his sweat-slick nape, and that spurs him into action. His hips snap roughly against yours, pushing your back further into the crude curve it’s already in. Now that the dull throbbing pain has dissolved into a sensation of pleasure, you drown yourself in the drag of his member inside you. It’s quite possibly the best feeling you’ve had all night with the way his tip rubs over your bundle of nerves at just the right angle.

Hongjoong drops his elbows to the pillow under your head, and you greet him with a kiss that is mostly just an awkward clash of teeth for the most part. He gains enough composure to shift the angle to one that’s easier for both of you, hips still working hard as he rocks into you with the same force and speed as before. You are so lost in the euphoria that you can’t even feel your next orgasm sneaking up on you, but when it does, it pulls a noiseless scream from your lips. Hongjoong mouths at the corner of your lips as you ride it out. He still seems far off from his own high, even as he slows the pulses of his thrusts. You claw your way back from the high of your orgasm to grip his hair tighter and pull him closer to you.

“In me. I need you to come in me or not at all,” you demand through a huffed out sigh. It’s a moment of throwing caution to the wind, one that is quite worth it thanks to the expression of hunger and lust that fills Hongjoong’s face.

“You can’t just say things like that, doll,” he growls into the shell of your ear. You try to laugh but he interrupts you with a thrust harsher than any of the ones before. Every sound that falls from your lips now is stuttered and broken at the seams, and you let him fuck you with that same level of passion until he finally seems to tire and lose his rhythm. The only warning you have that he’s about to orgasm is the slight whine to his tone when he moans next. You push what strength you have left into clenching hard around his cock, and that is ultimately what tips him over the edge and pulls a delightful moan from his lips as he spills into your tight heat. He releases his hold on your legs, letting them slip away from his shoulders and back into a more comfortable position on the bed, but he refuses to move off your body.

You aren’t sure how long the two of you stay like that: with Hongjoong continually mouthing small kisses to the underside of your jaw and you just staring blankly at the glittering ceiling with a mind nearly empty. However much time passes doesn’t quite matter because once you recover your senses enough to be coherent again, you recall what is supposed to come next. Shaky hands find their way to Hongjoong’s arms and trail up to rest atop his back.

“Take it all away,” you exhale through a pant, hands clinging desperately to the milky skin of Hongjoong’s shoulders. “I don’t want to remember him anymore.” His chest heaves against yours, and a few loose strands of dark hair fall forward to stick to his sweat-slick forehead. This time when he kisses you, it is hot and searing, a brand against your lips, one that burns the inside of your mouth and sets your tongue alight. The sensation slips down the back of your throat, fills your gut, burns you from the inside out, and all your thoughts go hazy under the touch of his lips. With that one kiss, Hongjoong takes it all away. He gives into your desires, heeds your wishes, and grants you the ultimate peace and serenity you so deeply craved. He continues to cling to you like he’s never held something so desperately or lost in his infinite existence. You return the embrace in full while you can, strength already leaving you in the afterglow of your fornication, and you rake your nails down over his back if only to leave him with some sort of trophy to leave with. He is already leaving with your memories though, a trophy to hold close to his heart should there ever be a time when you ask for them to be returned to you. Perhaps in your afterlife, you’ll ask for them back, and Hongjoong would gladly give them should it be what you desire.

That is what he is, after all. As much as he takes, the Demon King of the Underworld gives in return, where he can with what he can. His duty, his bond, the sole purpose for his existence is to maintain that balance between giving and taking. But if it’s for you — a creature so lost, dismal, and hopeless — perhaps he can tip the scales a bit further in your direction.

At least, that’s what he thinks as you curve your body into his and press your lips with more fervor than before. That maybe, just maybe, endless years of his own hopelessness and confusion were all meant to lead him to finding this: a purpose in his undying life.

﹎﹎﹎

#atzinc #kdiarynet #kwritersworldnet #ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez angst #ateez imagine #ateez imagines #ateez oneshot #ateez scenarios #hongjoong smut #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong angst #hongjoong imagine #hongjoong imagines #hongjoong oneshot #hongjoong scenarios

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bokettochild · 3 years ago

Text

The Worries and Woes of Heroic Hair

Y'all were busting out hair headcannons before I left, so I saved a few and wrote a fic for them.

Featuring:

Pre-maturely grey Twilight

Curly haired Legend

Long haired Four

(As well as a reference to long hair Sky)

Warriors had gained the unfortunate title of ‘pretty boy’.

In a group of beautiful men and boys that literally sent women swooning, no matter what world they were in, he’d somehow been labeled the “pretty” one. Never mind he was more mature looking than half of their number. Never mind that Legend and Hyrule looked like a pair of porcelain dolls hand painted by a master artist. Never mind that Wild literally had half of his world falling heels over head for him. No matter how many women in the War of Ages had gushed about the adult Hero of Time (much to Mask’s annoyance). And sure, let’s just forget that Wars had heard not one, but two princess’s complimenting Twilight’s ass.

Yeah, okay, he was the pretty boy, sure.

Maybe that was because he was the only one in the group that actually had any understanding of a little thing called personal hygiene! Honestly! Had no one introduced the vet to a bathtub when he was younger? Or Wild to a hairbrush? And Hyrule... oh Hyrule...

Honestly, it was a pain, trying to not say something to his brothers that might be taken as rude or offensive. At least his own two boys were a bit better. During the war he’d pounded some sense into their heads after scrubbing their ears clean enough that they could actually hear him when he spoke, and Time and Wind both showed some (although not much more than the others) level of personal grooming, even if it was the basic wash and brush that Wars had required of all of his soldiers.

The others though? He had been beginning to think they might be hopeless, but then he’d had a chance to do something about it.

“Wars?”

“Hmm?” Bright blue darted up from the journal Warriors had been writing in, meeting Wind’s pout with a soft chuckle at his baby-faced brother. One day, Wind would be as grizzled and scruffy as his grandfather (would be his grandfather) but for now he would take him time teasing the kid for his baby-face. After all, it wasn’t like he’d be getting another chance to get revenge on the man who’d teased him up to his wedding day for his “lack of masculine charm”.

“My hair is knotted. In the back.” Wind didn’t even bother waiting for a signal, instead just plopping down in the captain's lap and dropping a brush by his knee. And really, with how the war had gone, Warriors should have expected that.

Any injury that impeded movement meant Wars was helping his two boys with whatever was needed during the war, and near the top of that list had been brushing hair. Broken arm or sprained wrist or whatever Hyrule had diagnosed it as (he’d been a bit too wrapped up in helping hold Wild still so he and Legend could treat the kid’s crushed hand to hear the healer’s final word), he was always happy to help the younger hero sort out his problems.

At least Wind let him help, instead of sending him scandalized looks and rude signs at the mere mention of a bath, like Legend did, or simply darting away like Hyrule.

“Wind,” Sky frowned slightly. “You didn’t have to disturb Wars, any of us would have been willing to help.”

The sailor cocked a brow, leaning back into his touch as he worked over the knot with nimble fingers well accustomed to working through tangled golden curls. “Says the Hero of Eternal Bedhead.”

Crystal blue eyes darted up to messy bangs. “Is it really that bad?”

“Yes.” Sailor and captain deadpanned together, matching grins on their faces as they stared at the Skyloftian.

“Oh feathers.” Sky huffed, running his hands through his hair and looking at the two expectantly. “Is that better?”

Wind snorted. “Sky, you need a hairbrush for your bird’s nest.”

“But,” Sky cocked his head like a confused puppy. “I don’t have a bird’s nest?”

“He means that your hair is a mess.” He chuckled, pausing in his work to pat the ground at his side. “Here, I’ll do you next, ‘kay?” And bless Sky for being a patient and reasonable person, because at the very least the Skyloftian just sauntered over easily and sat hot-cross-buns on the ground beside him, watching lazily as he worked at the sailor’s messy hair.

“It’s not that bad,” The Sailor huffed. “You can’t honestly be taking this long.” The kid wasn’t fooling him though, Wind was leaning into the touch, almost slumped against his chest in a boneless pile of teenager.

“You’re dry as a desert.” He scolded softly in response, rubbing some of the bristly hair between his fingers. “I’ve told you salt water dries your hair out, you need to take care of it or it’ll never grow out properly.”

Wind shifted awkwardly. “I didn’t have time. I did try, I mean it! It just... We’re always so busy and...”

His hands were already reaching for his pack. “You’re lucky mine dries out too. I’ll need to get more in the next town, but I think this oil can last us both long enough to get you some again.”

“Oil?” Sky frowned thoughtfully. “What for?”

“Split ends and dry hair.” Came the practiced answer as he rubbed the substance in question over his hands and began to card it through the sailor’s parched curls. “I suppose you could say it’s like with birds. They have to oil their feathers to stay healthy, right?”

“Oh! Okay, yeah, that makes sense.” The Skyloftian mulled over the concept for a moment. “We need to do that to our hair?”

Long fingers stopped mid stroke, royal blue blinking slowly in the clueless sky child’s direction. “Oh, you poor, clueless bird-boy you, your hair must be parched!”

Wind’s giggles shook them both, but Sky simply looked hurt. “I try. How was I supposed to know?”

Fingers slick with hair oil curled to point at the other hero. “I am massaging this stuff into your thirsty scalp right now. Wind, move.”

The sailor tumbled, giggling from Wars’ lap, leaving Sky to stare down at the captain’s crossed legs. “I’m- Warriors I am not sitting in your lap.”

“I don’t expect you to.” Brush in one hand and bottle of hair oil in the other, Warriors moved to stand behind the Skyloftain. “Just stay right there and let me work, and I swear if someone else tells me to my face that they’re not taking care of themselves- Sky! Look at this!”

The Skyloftian shifted, trying to look for only a moment before huffing. “Warriors, I can’t see the top of my own-”

“When’s the last time you trimmed this?” Brittle tips crinkled under his fingers as he stared at the mess that was Sky’s hair. “Your split ends are horrible!”

“Crimson usually trims it for me.” Came the softly mumbled response, and Wars had to hold back an affronted squawk at the words.

“You’re entrusting the care of your hair to a bird? Sky, my lovely, my dear friend, my brother, what the actual Ladies?”

“He does a good job!”

“If you call this rat’s nest a good job! Honestly, it’s no wonder Legend finally agreed to let you cuddle him, he must feel right at home with this mess!”

“Ouch.” Sky huffed, crossing his arms loosely and pouting.

“That aside,” He began working the first knot out, fluffing Sky’s hair lightly in his fingers. “It’s a good color, nice volume too. Have you ever considered growing it out? Without the split ends?”

“Huh?”

Caramel hair parted easily in his hands, springy and soft despite the brittle ends. “You’d look fetching with long hair, Chosen One. My, imagine what Sun would say if she saw you!” Sky stiffened as the soldier ducked down, voice lowering and eyes glinting with mischief as he whispered in his friend’s ear. “If she wasn’t already swooning at seeing you again, she’d be dizzy at the sheer beauty.”

“Wars!” Long ears twitched, tellingly red as the Skyloftian battled a fierce blush.

But the captain was already lost in his rant, taking pleasure in making Wind continue to giggle as Sky whined softly in protest at his teasing. “I can see it now! You arrive fresh out of battle, sword in hand and hair whipping in the wind, cape swirling like the wings of the goddess herself! She sees you. Your eyes meet. You shoot her one of your dashing smiles and she stumbles back, breathless, and you have to dart forwards to catch her before she swoons away altogether, so bedazzled she is by your handsome visage!” He flourished with a smile, letting oiled locks fall over Sky’s eyes with a laugh as the Skyloftian blushed brighter, not bothering to shift his bangs and instead hiding behind them, trying and failing to hide a pleased smile.

Wind didn’t stop giggling until Sky had had to punch the captain in the leg to make him finally cease the teasing.

“Smithy,” Twilight’s laughter rung through camp as he brushed long bangs out of the smithy’s eyes, the younger hero still smushed against the rancher's side sleepily, headband askew and half hanging in his eyes. The boy’s hair curtained his face, falling back into place the moment Twilight lifted his hand again, producing rumbling laughter form the farm-hand. “Four, you- when in Ordonia’s name did you last trim your hair?”

“’s not that long.” Came the murmured reply as Four pressed his face further into Twilight’s side, nestling closer with an irritable huff. “Leave ‘lone, Twi.”

The smithy might have denied it but... his hair really had grown out.

It wasn’t really that apparent with the headband keeping it back, and Four was decent enough at keeping his hair out of his face. But headbands, no matter how trusty, didn’t stay up forever, and when one was as active as a Hero of Courage, it wasn’t uncommon to find one’s self with their hair swinging loose in battle. Not that most of them minded, Wild kept his hair tied carefully and Legend tucked all of his under a hat, meanwhile the others all had shorter locks that, other than the swishing of their bangs, mostly stayed out of their faces.

Four on the other hand...

Four’s headband had fallen loose into a mud puddle, and until he was able to clean it the smithy had been walking around like a sheepdog, bangs fluffing into his eyes and making the shortest hero huff in an annoyed manner as he kept swiping his bangs aside. Unfortunately, they weren’t long enough to tuck behind his ears, only to hang in his face and send him stumbling over and into all sorts of things with sharp yelps and soft swears as the hero closest to him would have to offer a hand or scoop up the small smithy again.

Wars didn’t say anything, but when Four finally approached him one evening, eyes flickering icy blue as he dashed his bangs out of the way and tugged at the scarf draped around the captain’s neck (the others’ favorite way of getting his attention he had found).

“Hey there, smithy, what’s up?”

“Cut them.” Four huffed, pushing the loose hair back again only to have them drift back over his glinting eyes, and then, as if an afterthought, he tacked on ‘Please?’.

Royal blue darted up to Sky, who smiled on the edge of the campfire, a knowing look in his eyes. “Did Sky tell you I could help?”

“No. I figured that out myself. He just... pushed me.”

Laughter bubbled up in his chest. “Ah.”

“So, can you help? Or do I need to wander around looking like a Mogma?” Sky could be heard muttering across the camp at that, and Four’s ears twitched as he huffed, clearly having taken offense at whatever had been said.

He nodded, a bit unsure why Four glared across the fire at Sky, but willing to help. Oh goddesses, was he willing to help; Four’s hair bugged him nearly as much as Wild’s did, and he had been dying to fix it for the smithy. He wasn’t sure what Sky had said, but he was thankful for the other knight’s willingness to aid him in his battle against poor hygiene, and if he could turn another hero with the power of a good haircut, well! “Anything you have in mind? Just what you had before, or...?”

“Bangs.” Four dropped down hot-cross-buns, just like Sky had the other day, in front of him, arms crossed and expectant as he huffed at his long bangs.

“Right.” His brush and scissors were already sitting at the ready as he reached out to gently push the hair out of his friend’s eyes. “You good?”

“Annoyed.” Four sulked. “I can’t see anything and Twilight has been called me a sheep-dog.” Accurate. “I just want my hair short again, but the last time I cut it, it looked like I was attacked by a cat.” The smithy shivered, clutching at his sleeves as he shook his head, hair falling back into his eyes as he did so. “I just let it grow after that, but the bangs bother me if I can’t push them back.”

“Noted.”

Four’s hair was a bit silkier than the others’, but similarly brittle, although that was likely due to the heat of the forge rather than sea salt and extended time in the sky. He didn’t even bother asking about oiling the locks as he worked, brushing out all of Four’s hair with care and sectioning out the bangs with the same amount of agonizing detail Legend put into his paintings or Wild put into his cooking.

“Hair cut?” Twilight called from across camp.

“You could use one too,” Four huffed, unmoving save for his eyes darted to glance over his shoulder. “Your hair is beginning to look like wolf ears, rancher. Wolfie might take offense that you’re stealing his look and come maul you.”

Chuckles sounded around the camp, Legend wheezing lightly while Time and Wild shared a look. Wars didn’t know what that was about, but he smiled as he worked, humming lightly under his breath as he clipped a bit here and a touch there, releasing the hair to stare at it, adjusting it a bit, taking another section in hand and snipping it, and repeating the whole process.

Four was still as a statue the whole time, occasionally humming along to whatever tune happened to be on Warriors’ mind at the moment, but otherwise as poised and picturesque as a statue as the captain worked over the smithy’s blond locks.

This close up, Warriors was beginning to wonder why they never met any lovely admirers of the smithy, Four was certainly not lacking in the looks department, and had the kid lived in his time he’d find himself having to beat off girls with a stick. Honestly, how was he the pretty boy here?

“Nearly done?” Came the patient hum, and he snapped himself back to reality as he brushed Four’s bangs back into place, trimmed and tidy, along with the rest of his short hair.

“Yep.” The scissors finally came to rest in his lap as he whisked away the cloak that he’d used to catch the trimmed hairs. “My, my, smithy, you almost look as if you were going courting! Legend, lend a man your shield for a tick, would you? Four needs to see his new cut.”

The veteran rolled his eyes, but the shield was offered readily enough when Four trotted his way over, and while the smithy looked a bit surprised that Wars had bothered to braid most of his hair out of the way during the cut, he didn’t look at all displeased.

Wars counted that as a win.

He’d run out of oil a few days ago, and already his hair was beginning to frizz in this thrice-forsaken heat.

Being born with curly hair was nothing of the blessing his mother had made it out to be, no matter how she liked playing with her ‘baby boy’s’ hair. Of course, his beloved liked it too, but he was going to chalk that up to being a woman thing, curls were a pain if they weren’t on kids, especially if they were eon him.

Thank Hylia that Lilith had taught him to straighten it all out, he would have been driven half out of his mind if he hadn’t been able to control it on his way through basic, and the teasing would have been so much worse than it actually had been.

As was, the captain was only too happy when they next came to his Castletown, and after he’d made sure the others were settled in the castle with his cousin, he’d gracefully made his exit and headed out to the town. Getting through the streets was a pain, his armor and scarf giving him away as the hero and practically inviting the whole market to start competing for his attention, along with the hundreds of shoppers who surged close with questions and thanks and admiration. Not for the first time, Warriors found himself thankful that he handled crowds better than many of his fellow soldiers, and even if all the attention was a bit much, he wasn’t overwhelmed like poor Wild would have been.

Oh heavens, the day they finally figured out how to explain the portals and heroes nonsense to the public to excuse the sudden aging of the Hyrulian Hero’s child, Wild was likely going to have to start wearing a hood or something when they went into town.

The dye shop was a way into the market, and it had taken quite the bit of fancy footwork to avoid stepping on anyone as he’d answered questions and received thanks from the enthusiastic, if not slightly push, people of Hyrule. If he closed the door of the shop after him with a sigh of relief though, that was between him and Gyssel, the shopkeeper.

“Back again, Link? Same materials as the last time?”

“If you please.” He nodded with a smile. “Though I might have a bit of a glance around, I’ve a friend in need of a few things.”

The old woman nodded with a chuckle. “Right then. Oh, and if you see those two lovely gents who popped in here earlier, would you be willing to lend ‘em a hand? Poor dears looked lost as two minish in a fairy pond when they stumbled in here, but I’ve been batting a thousand with the customers all day and haven’t had a chance to pop over and offer help. You know the shop same as I do, so, if you have a moment, could you check in on them while I wrap your things?”

“Of course.” He nodded, smiling his best as he moved towards the back wall.

The other voices in the shop were mostly those of tittering ladies and mischief making pranksters, all too young and too high to belong to the ‘lovely gents’ that Gyssel had been speaking of, and it wasn’t hard to trail the rumble of a man’s voice to the back of the store where the hair dyes were. He grinned as he rounded the corner, but froze when he found himself face to face with a startled, and maybe somewhat abashed rancher.

“Twilight?”

“Warriors?”

“Shit, Wars is here?”

Royal blue darted down to meet the snapping violet of the veteran. “Legend? What are the two of you doing in here of all places? Are you lost?”

“No.” Legend huffed, foot tapping agitatedly at the floor as he gnawed his bottom lip, a sure sign of awkwardness if one knew the vet.

“What are you doing- oh.” Twilight’s face faded from confusion to understanding. “You’re the city boy, of course you shop in joints like this.”

He cocked a brow, hands coming to rest on his hips as he stared down the two other heroes. “Says the guy who’s been wandering around looking for something long enough the owners worried. Honestly, what could the two of you even need?”

Midnight and violet glanced warily at each other, and to his surprise, twin flushed lighted his friend’s faces as Legend had crossed his arms and Twi had rubbed at his neck.

“Hair dye.” The rancher admitted softly.

“And shampoo.” Legend had tacked on.

Warriors let his eyes blow wide an overdramatic gasp sounding in the small corner of the shop as he rested a hand on his collar. “Why, vet, you don’t mean to tell me you’re planning on actually taking a bath, are you! My heavens, what next? Will Hyrule somehow produce a wedding cake in time for Time and Malon to announce they’re having a baby?”

“They’re what!?!” Twilight yelped, sounding, ridiculously, like a dog that has just been kicked.

“I’m teasing, rancher.” He chortled. “Trust me, if Time knew of such a thing, he wouldn’t have shut up about it. Miss Malon’s still trim and terrifying as last we saw her; I have little doubt.” At the rancher’s breath of relief, he shook his head. “Honestly though, soap? Vet, last I checked-”

“It’s hot.” Legend interrupted, avoiding meeting his gaze by rolling his eyes.

“And?”

“And in case you didn’t know, our resident vet is a-”

“Don’t say it!” Legend huffed, glaring at Twilight and tugging his blue cap tighter over his head.

Come to think of it, Legend hadn’t taken the baby-blue cap off in ages...

“Is a what?”

Twilight looked down warily at the seething veteran, face twisted up between a playful grin and a wary frown, as if he didn’t yet know whether he wanted to tease and face the vet’s wrath or hold his tongue and avoid making a scene.

“Look,” Warriors sighed, glancing between the two country boys with a sigh. “I won’t tease at all, alright? But the sooner you own up to whatever nonsense you did to yourself, the sooner we can find you what you need and get ourselves out of here.”

The flush on Legend’s face darkened, eyes darting down as the vet shuffled his feet, and Wars found himself being reminded that for all the vet’s snark and sass, he really was as much of a kid as Wild and Wind were, just more accustomed at having to act otherwise.

Thin fingers rubbed at the rings on the vet’s pale hands. “Well, you see- that is- augh!”

Something inside him blossomed with warmth, a smile stretching across his face. Golden Three, Legend really was just an awkward teenager, wasn’t he? He even stumbled over his words when he was embarrassed, just like Time used to. Of course, Time had been twelve and Legend was nineteen, but that was beside the point.

“So-” The vet was nearly pouting as he struggled with his words, fingers rubbing steadily at his rings as he avoided Wars’ gaze. “You know how Ravio has curly hair?”

“Yes.”

“And you know how Ravio and I are- uh, each other's- reflect-”

A laugh bubbled out of his throat unexpectedly as he reached out to ruffle what could be seen of the vet’s frizzy bangs. “You’re a curly top! Why didn’t you say sooner?” Legend glared at him with a huff, but violet didn’t shift to indigo, so he knew it was all just an act. “Wind and I are too, I was actually in here to get some things for the two of us, and Sky too. I can help you as well if you don’t mind, just let me-” He motioned to the blue cap that was pulled snig down to Legend’s ears.

The vet huffed, but reached up to finger the blue fabric. “You won’t laugh, right?” Stern eyes met his own.

“Of course.” He smiled reassuringly.

Legend’s gaze searched his face for a moment, wary, but open, and even if it made him uncomfortable (the odd glint of gold at the edges of the vet’s eyes was a bit unsettling) he withstood it until Legend nodded, seemingly to himself, and pulled off his cap.

Pink curls spilled down to the vet’s shoulders as a bright blush colored pale cheeks. Twilight didn’t make it any better by reaching over to ruffle the vet’s head, chuckling soft and warm and surprisingly fond as Legend hissed back at him.

“Can I- that is- do you mind if I touch? I can help you find what you want better if I know what you need.”

A stiff nod.

The pink hair was just like fairy-floss, but less sticky (still dirty though) and he had to remind himself what he was doing once he got his fingers in it. A quick check at the texture and ends of Legend’s hair, as long as a quick check of the scalp and roots told him all he needed.

“Whatever dye you used to do this messed you up, vet. Honestly, I don’t know what you were thinking, but you’re dry as a mulduga’s arse. Did you bleach your hair before dying it or something?” There was a murmur in reply, but not anything he could really make out. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I said that’s me natural color.” Legend huffed, tensing under his hands. “I bleached it blonde a few months back, but no, I didn’t dye this shit, it just happened.”

Twilight, very unhelpfully, giggled.

Warriors blinked. “You have pink hair?”

“Yes.”

He fought the chuckle that built up in his chest, but it did little good as he ruffles the frizzy curls and let Legend replace his hat. “Alright then! Well, I’d avoid bleaching again if I was you. The pinks out and it’s healthier if you give it a rest between dyes. I have to admit though,” He settled his hands on his hips and looked between the two other heroes with a smirk. “I never took either of you two as the sort to dye your hair.”

“Throws off the guards.” Legend huffed, tugging his cap back over his hair and making Warriors wince. Ah yes, Legend’s Hyrule’s guards.

“Fair enough. I can find you something to help with the drying out and dye damage. Twi though...” He frowned, stroking his chin in thought. “Why do you even need hair dye? Trying something new?”

Now it was the rancher’s turn to look embarrassed, rubbing at his neck and ruffling his hair. “No, actually. I jist need- rather- want? I guess? I-”

Legend huffed, patting the rancher’s arm in a rare show of compassion. “He’s been greying early and it’s making him self-conscious. I told him we could look for a dye to hide it, since he didn’t want to go about stealing Time’s position as the resident Old Man.”

Oh. Well, that made sense. “Right! Fair enough. So, you want your natural shade, yes?” At the rancher's nod he pressed on, clapping his hands as he listed what they needed. “So, hair oil, some dye, and shampoo for Legend, preferably meant for damaged and curly hair. Anything else?”

Even though the two shook their heads, they all walked out with a bit more than what Warriors had listed, but despite the fact that Legend complained about it all, no one seemed to mind too much when he pulled the three of them together after the others had gone to bed and helped show them had to use the various toiletries without making too very much of a mess. It cost a pretty penny to get them all sorted, but Legend was clean, Twilight was a brunette again (the silver streaks were rather fetching though, and he’d made sure to make sure Twilight knew that before they dyed it all away) and Wind and Sky had what they needed to prevent their hair drying out again.

And even if it made a sizable dent in his wallet, he’d refused to be paid back. It was worth it anyway, since now he and Legend both had straight hair again (and the vet had actually washed!).

He could see now why Wild and Hyrule liked playing with their respective mentors’ hair though, it was almost addictive.

Time took one look at the three youngest and groaned, and Warriors almost echoed the action.

“What were you three even doing?” His now-eldest huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose with a heavy sigh as he tried not to look at the three teens, all of which were covered in mud and grass stains, and only looking slightly remorseful, despite their horrid clothing and scraped faces.

Had it been anyone but Wild and Wind, Wars would have sat back and watched as karma paid her long overdue visit to the mischievous mask-loving hero, but since it was his kids that caught up in paying back the silver in his own hair, Wars had to stand with Time and try his very hardest not to chuckle at the sight before him.

It took no trouble at all to picture Mask sitting, unrepentant, amid the other youngsters, a challenging look on his face as he dared the captain to even try and ground him for running off again.

“We were exploring.” Hyrule grinned sheepishly, rubbing at the mud that had dried on the side of his neck. “We um-”

“We fell in a swamp.” Wild snorted, wrinkling his nose and shaking some gunk from his hands with a pout. “Even I think we stink.”

Time’s lips twitched, brows struggling to remain in a scowl as he answered, voice wavering with a hint of laughter that made Wars smile to himself. “Is that so, Cub?”

“We smell like boko guts.”

“Or boko crap!” Wind cackled, the only one not soaked in swamp goo but instead spattered with ordinary mud that came from likely tripping and falling in the dirt from laughing too hard.

“Bathe.” Time chuffed, shaking his head fondly. “All three of you. Rivers there and I’m sure Wars has soap aplenty to help.” Hang on, what? Time’s eye met his own, blinking- winking? with a bright and shit eating grin. “Have fun with you sons, dad.”

Oh Ladies, Karma messed up again, didn’t she?

“Mask, I swear-” He growled, glaring at his- was Time his eldest now? His middle child still? The youngest since he’d been the last to join the family?

“Don’t, you’ll set a bad example.” The overgrown forest gremlin chuckled, walking away with a condescending pat of the shoulder.

Some things really never changed, huh?

“Right then.” the captain turned to glare stillness back into the three youngsters, two of which were already trying to sneak away, and the third- of thank Hylia for Wind, the kid was standing at perfect attention with a smirk on his face that screamed ‘I’m the eldest and I’m about to watch my little brothers get scolded and I’m going to enjoy every second of it’, snotty little salt-bathed brat. “Jump in or I punt you.”

Hyrule and Wild exchanged a look, a sure sign of danger, and both sprinted in opposite directions.

He huffed a laugh. Amateurs. Mask and Wind had run him ragged during the war, but once you’ve fought to pre-teens on the daily, there's nothing a pair of teenagers can pull on you that will truly surprise you or throw you off. It was the work of moments to have Wild slung under one arm (wolf pups, honestly, Mask was the same way) and Hyrule by the back of his collar (Wind’s customary position).

“H-how?” Both boys stammered.

“Experience, mud moblins.”

“Do I weight anything to you?” Wild stammered, staring up at him with wide blue eyes.

The grin on his face was easier than usual in situations like these, but then again both teens had given up fighting against him sooner than the last two had ever done. “Hardly. You’ve always been a lightweight.” And with those words he promptly administered a light kick to Hyrule’s lower back, knocking the kid floundering into the stream, and following up with a well-practiced toss that send Wild rocketing in after.

Wind, already stripped down to his shorts and standing waist deep in the water, raised his hands with a shit eating grin. “Six out of Ten, Wild.” The little sea monster called to a spluttering Wild as the kid surfaced, only his face peeking above the surface as he treaded water with a pout. “You need to work on your form, but otherwise- ack!”

A wave splashed up from Hyrule’s direction and Wild sent an appreciative grin the other boy’s way while Wind’s grin melted into a playful one, eyes glinting dangerously.

“Oh, that’s it! You’re just asking for trouble now! Never start a water battle with a pirate, you two, you won’t like how it ends!”

Another, mischief filled, glance was exchanged and both feral heroes descended on the young sailor. It was like watching cucco’s descend on a bokoblin, and Warriors watched with laughter bubbling in his chest as he stripped off his gunk-stained tunic, courtesy of the mud-covered boys he’d wisely decided to pick up, and moved on to his chainmail. The sound of the three youngest heroes' shrieking and shouting sweet music to his ears as Time and the other older heroes made camp just off of the riverbank, teasing each other and generally messing around.

“Wars, why are you- are you joining us?” Wild cocked his dripping head with a curious look as he watched him.

The undershirt slipped off easily as he waded into the stream’s center. “Of course, you two got me muddy too after all, and it’s not like I trust y’all to actually clean up by-” At the slowly spreading grins on the faces of the three, the captain realizes his mistake. “I don’t trust you all to clean up properly, so I’m-”

“Warriors said ‘y’all’!” Wind chortled, eyes glinting madly as a grin stretched over his face. “Oh boy! Just wait ‘till I-”

“Slip of the tongue.” He clipped back, hands settling on his hips as he stared down the three teens. “You tell Twilight about this and I will personally wash your mouth out with soap.”

“You’re the one who said it!” Hyrule pointed out.

“And whoever tells the rancher is committing a verbal atrocity that will only lead to far more in the future.” He huffed. “No one tells, you hear me?”

Wild looked between the others, brows furrowed and lips pursed as he took in Wind’s triumphant grin and Warriors’ scowl. “What’s wrong with saying ‘y’all’?”

The captain staggered back dramatically, hand on his chest and a horrified expression on his face as he stared at his son. “No! Never say that word! That word is an abomination!”

“What word?” Hyrule cocked his head, eyes glinting knowingly, but the captain failed to recognize it in time.

“’Y’all’!” He spat with contempt. “We do not say ‘y’all’ in this house! ‘Y’all’ is a cursed word and the next person who says it is-” - ‘Is on Mask watching duty’ was his go to consequence, but that wouldn’t exactly work right now; Time was a bit old to actually need a supervisor- “is on clothes washing duty with Legend.” He settled on at last, choosing the chore that everyone except, surprisingly, the veteran minded.

“Say the man who just said it four times in a row.” Wind teased, darting out of his grasp with a wide grin.

“Wind! I was trying to see how many times I could make him say it!” Hyrule huffed, pouting at his brother adorably.

“I still don’t get it.” Wild grumbled. “It’s a word? There’s nothing wrong with it as far as I know, ‘y’a-” The captain’s hand was clamped around the kid’s mouth before he could finish his sentence.

“Let's just not.” Warriors huffed; he was beginning to mourn Twilight’s mentor position at the moment. Fortunately, Wild was willing enough to still in is hands and not push the topic, unlike the other two who just egged each other on with ever widening grins. “Right.” He rolled his eyes. “First one with a clean face gets the strawberry scented soap; go.”

Silence fell as nothing save splashing rang over the stream as faces ducked beneath the water, all three boys falling for his favorite trick of all time. Heck, even the old man would probably still cave to the offer of strawberry soap, even now that he was an adult, and Wars couldn’t blame him at all; strawberry scented bubbles were the best bubbles and Twilight and his goat-milk soap could go sniff a skunk if they wanted to contest that.

It took hardly any time at all for all three to emerge, fresh faces and glowing, three sets of eyes al sparkling up at him as a warm chuckle blossomed in his throat. Naturally, he gave the promised soap to all three, citing the ‘I can’t tell who finished first so you all win’ excuse that Grandfather had taught him ages ago.

Wind dutifully set about scrubbing himself clean, and in the meantime, he guided the less experienced duo. “Take so much,” He dolloped a generous potion into Hyrule’s cupped hands. “And rub your hands together, yes, just like that, work it up to a nice lather and just scrub it all over. Take care you get the smelliest bits first so you don’t run out of soap before you get there, yeah?” Both forest children nodded, dutifully following his instructions as he moved to help scrub the traveler’s sopping curls.

It was an easy pattern to fall into, scrubbing the two heads with especial care to remove any sticks and twigs he found along the way. Hyrule was the easier of the two, but Wild held still better while he worked, almost melting under his fingers as he messaged suds into his son’s long locks, a light smile playing over both their faces as he worked, content to sit in the cooling water of the stream as the sun began to set, hands buried in his kid’s long hair as he worked out mud and filth and who knows what else.

Rinsing the sweet-scented bubbles started out innocently enough, but Wars was given a front row seat to watching an accidental splash descend into a full-on war on the water as he scrubbed his own hair clean, and well, if he joined in once he was finished, well, someone had to show Wind that he wasn’t the only hero with some experience on the water.

Wars sighed as he watched Time stirring quietly on his bedroll.

Honestly, his middle kid (he’d finally settled on letting Wind retain his position on oldest, since there was no way Time could be the eldest brother with his gremlin behavior) was something of an idiot. Oh, he loved all three of his boys dearly, but Time was an ass and everyone who knew him well knew it (except maybe Twilight, but that guy was an ass too).

Time hadn’t been sleeping recently, and it was easy to see in the dark bags around his eyes and the almost drifting expression on his face at nights. It was for lack of trying either, the kid- man? - the hero would settle down on his bedroll every night same as the others, but even with sharp eyes shut tight and blanket pulled to his ears, the ‘Old Man’ couldn’t lie still for more than thirty minutes, constantly shifting and fidgeting on his bedroll even as the other heroes steadily dropped off to sleep.

It was just the two of them now, the captain on watch and their leader trying to pretend he was asleep with a scowl on his face.

He was scratching again.

“Alright, that’s enough of that.” war clapped his hands against his knees and pushed himself p, staling over to stand over the largest of the bedrolls and staring down at the lump within. “What’s up, Sprout? You normally snore like a hinox all night long, what’s eating you?”

A single blue eye stared up at him wearily. “If I knew, I would have killed it by now.”

Oof, bad night then. “Do you have any idea what it could be?” He was already settling down next to the group leader’s head, hands reaching to grasp Time’s own and bring them down from where he was, likely unconsciously, clawing at the sides of his face.

“No.” Came the frustrated huff.

“Missing Miss Malon?” He suggested, running his fingers through short blonde hair thoughtfully, mind miles away in a two-story house at castle town as he fell into the all too familiar trap of playing with one of his boys’ hair.

“I thought so at first, and while I do, it doesn’t usually stop me from sleeping.” Time grumbled, staring up at the night sky with pursed lips. “It’s not nightmares or visions either, if anything my dreams have been normal for once.”

“Anxiety perhaps? Are you worrying about the others? Twilight, maybe? Wild?” At the questioning glance he received he shrugged. “Kept me up enough nights, even if you two were there. A bad thing happens once and you're not likely to forget it.”

“Hmm.” Time hummed, leaning unconsciously into his hands and settling on his bed-roll, shoulders falling lax as his single good eyes fluttered softly. “Maybe.”

Whatever it was, it wasn’t bad enough that War’s fingers didn’t put it to rest, and time was asleep in mere minutes, soft snores rumbling over the camp as the captain continued his ministrations, eyes and ears sharp and alert for any disturbance near in within the camp, but body relaxed as he kept the steady rhythm of his fingers through short and silky hair.

When his watch was over though, and it was time to wake the veteran to take his, Wars found himself stuck. Time's fingers were curled tightly in his blue scarf, the man’s head resting easy against his thigh, and any motion small of subtle, would likely send majestic blue fluttering open again with an exhausted air.

Ah well, time to be creative.

Legend grumbled, as usual, at being woken by having his feet touched, and the captain echoed his discomfort as he wrings is sore and likely sprained hand. Time was still asleep though, so there was that at least. Now just to figure out how best to position himself so he could sleep.

Soldier’s experience won over logic, and Wars was asleep in seconds, leaving the camp under Legend’s watch and Time snoozing blissfully at his side.

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