#idk if it. lints as gore really

[quokkacore]

danse macabre [park jinyoung]

summary: park jinyoung is your everything, but he’s not everything you thought he was. in fact, he’s something much, much worse.

pairing: vampire!jinyoung x gender neutral reader

genre: angst, horror

warnings: violence, slight gore, fainting, mild language, that weird vampire hypnosis thing that they sometimes have in movies ,, idk what its called

song rec: got7 - not by the moon

word count: 2.8k

a/n: this was originally posted to my old writing blog on october 30th, 2018. i made some minor edits in this repost, but nothing too major. this work is low key darker than what i usually write, so pls proceed with caution.

masterlist

Distance.

That’s what had triggered the chain reaction to come. Distance.

You hadn’t seen him in weeks. You were beginning to think that Jinyoung, your boyfriend of over two years, was avoiding you on purpose.

You’d try, and try, and try. But Jinyoung was persistent. No, I’m busy. No, I’m going out with Jaebum. No, I have to study. No, I’m tired. I can’t today, jagiya. I’ll make it up to you next week.

So were you of his constant brushing you off, as if you were a piece of lint on his coat that was bothering him.

So, after almost a month of not seeing him, you’d decided that enough was enough. And you picked up your phone, dialing his number.

It rang maybe three or four times, before he picked up. “Hello?”

You frowned. His voice was raspy, and had that slur to it, the slur of tiredness and being worn down.

“Hi, baby,” You murmured, glancing at the alarm clock on your nightstand. 10:12 PM. It wasn’t too late yet. “…I miss you.”

He hummed softly into the phone, and you felt your mouth morph into a small smile.

“So do I,” He answered, coughing between sentences, “I’m sorry I’ve been blowing you off these past few weeks.”

“You sound sick,” You replied, changing the subject, “Are you okay?”

Jinyoung cleared his throat, and you sat up on your bed, listening to him. “I’m fine… I-I’m just down with the flu, nothing too serious.”

“Is Jaebum there to help you?”

“He’s out, but I’ll be fine,” He laughs softly, “I’m a big boy, jagiya, I can take care of myself.”

You felt yourself pout at the thought, your sick boyfriend all alone with no one to help.

“I’ll come over, I really don’t want you to be all alone like that, Jinyoung.” Your voice was quiet, but firm, as you lifted yourself off of the bed to pull on some shoes and a sweatshirt.

“Really, Y/N, it’s fine, you don’t have to—”

“Babe, I insist. I don’t want you all alone while you’re sick.”

“No, wait, Y/N—!”

You were out the door before he could finish, and you’d hung up as well.

On the ride to Jinyoung’s apartment, via the Uber you’d called, you mentally relayed all of the things you missed about him. His hands, his voice. The way he looked at you. The way he’d cover his mouth when he laughed. His eyes, his lips. His kisses most of all. The way he held you.

Jinyoung was reserved, a sensible young man. He was rather abrasive when you’d first met, but you’d managed to bring him out of his shell. And in the two years you’d been together, all doubts you’d had before had simply withered away; you were almost sure he was the one for you.

When you arrived at his apartment building, you quickly exited the car, and entered the building before rushing up the steps, thinking about how well you were going to take care of your boyfriend. Make him some soup, help him with his blankets, cuddle him and maybe watch a movie.

He was on the third floor, and when you arrived at his door, you paused to catch your breath before pulling out your copy of the key, that he’d made you about a year ago.

As you entered the apartment, which was completely dark, an unsettling feeling washed over your body. The lack of light only added to the effect, and you swiftly pulled out your phone, unlocking it so the glow of the screen lit up the entry hallway enough for you to see.

“Jinyoung?” You murmured as you entered the living room, head moving back and forth as you searched for your boyfriend.

You looked towards the kitchen, and saw nothing in the darkness. Turning your head towards the bedroom, you raised an eyebrow.

“Jinyoung?” You mumbled again, pursing your lips as you began to slowly tread towards the bedrooms.

Jinyoung’s bedroom was on the left, facing Jaebum’s. The door was shut, and the nerves in your gut began to stir. Straining your ears, you frowned as you heard no response, once again. Had he fallen asleep?

Tiptoeing into his room, you knocked on the door softly, knuckles rapping across the wood.

“Babe?” You asked, slightly quieter as you pressed your ear to the door to hear. You furrowed your eyebrows as you listened attentively for any sort of sound.

Some shuffling, a soft whimper.

Jinyoung.

Taking a deep breath, your fingers gripped the knob, and you opened the door slowly, creeping into the room. By now, your eyes had adjusted to the dark, and your gaze went to your boyfriend’s bed.

The same bed you had slept in and been loved in so many times, was empty. Even though Jinyoung said he was sick. If he were sick, well, then it would be common sense for him to be in bed.

But you’d heard a noise from the room. Where was he?

“Jinyoung?” You called softly.

“Y/N,” You heard a familiar voice murmur, and your eyes drifted towards where the voice came from. There, in the far corner, was your boyfriend, huddled, on his knees. Even from where you were standing, you could see he was trembling.

“J-Jinyoung?” You asked, slightly louder, feeling your heart lurch as he flinched at the sound of your voice. You automatically lowered the tone of your voice. “What are you doing on the floor, baby?”

“Y-Y/N, y-you shouldn’t have come,” Was his reply, as he refused to meet your gaze. You winced at the sound of his voice. His voice, usually soft and warming, like chocolate and honey, was now hoarse and trembling. As you approached, his face came became easier to see in the dim light.

He looked so much paler than usual, the dark circles under his eyes so much deeper than they usually were. He looked gaunt, one foot in the grave — in that moment, the only thing you wanted to do was grab his hands and pull him out of it, pull him away and into your arms.

Taking a few steps closer, he seemed to snap out of his daze, holding up his hands and trying to back into the corner even more.

“Y/N, please don’t come any closer. Please,” He cried, and you crouched to get on his level.

By now, your anxiety was spiking. This definitely didn’t seem like the flu. It seemed like he was going through some kind of mental breakdown, and the last thing you wanted was for him to panic even more. So you did what he asked, and remained in your spot.

“Baby, whatever’s happening, it’s okay, I’m here—”

“You don’t understand… y-you need to leave. I’m f-fine.”

“Jinyoung, I don’t want to leave you like this. Come on, baby, talk to me.”

He pressed his hands to his ears, shutting his eyes tightly and shaking his head. “Everything is so loud… you’re whispering but it f-feels like y-you’re screaming at me, I-I could smell you from the moment you entered the apartment…”

Your heart was pounding in your chest, your brain desperately trying to make sense of all of the things he was saying but failing. Smell you?

“…I-I’m so h-hungry, Y/N,” He whispered. You felt tears welling in your eyes, frustration taking over as you couldn’t comprehend what he was trying to tell you.

“I-I’ll order a pizza, or something, baby, please just calm down—”

Your voice died down as Jinyoung finally met your gaze. The mere look in his eyes was the only reason why. His gaze was primal, manic. As if you were some simple guppy and he was a great white shark. Animalistic. He’d stopped trembling, and was now very still. You could hear a pin drop in the silence, and every hair on your neck stood up.

Because with a great white shark, came great white teeth.

Jinyoung all but pounced on you, knocking you to the ground as your phone fell out of your hands. Your head hit the floor and you groaned in pain. Your fight or flight instinct seemed to kick in, beginning to squirm in his grip.

“Jinyoung, let me go, you’re hurting me—”

He growled, and your eyes widened as he buried his face into neck, as he’d done a million times before. But this time was different, as he was pinning you down in a way in which you couldn’t move, or escape. You felt a tear roll down your cheek as he groaned in ecstasy. It was loud, guttural.

And it made your blood run cold, as you realized, that this was not your Park Jinyoung.

Suddenly, pain. Piercing into your neck as something sliced into its side, and you cried out as you felt your blood run in rivulets down your skin. He’d bitten you, you realized, and your panic took over. “Let me go,” You wailed, thrashing in his grip, “Jinyoung, please! Let me go, it hurts!”

You whimpered as you felt him mouth over the spot where he’d bitten you, before bringing his mouth up to your ear. “Be quiet and hold still,” He murmured, and you cringed, the smell of iron heavy on his breath. His tone was deep, different. Sultry.

Your arms and legs, out of nowhere, had begun to feel heavy. Your head fell back, your voice died in your throat. And the tears began to fall even harder, your body trembling as you began to think that maybe you’d die like this.

He released his grip on your arms, and despite your logic screaming at you to push him away, to punch him and run, you couldn’t. Your limbs felt like jello, you were practically paralyzed. And worst of all, the blood flowing from your neck wasn’t stopping.

With his hands free, he lifted your neck for better access, mouthing along the broken skin as you sobbed silently, your voice gone, stolen away. At this point, you weren’t sure if your vision was blurred due to your tears or your dizziness, starting to set in from all of the blood loss. Last of all, accompanying the rest of your limbs, your eyelids. The temptation to let them fall, and for sleep, or something even worse, to overtake you began growing with each passing second.

But you knew you had to keep awake, or it was game over. You’d never really considered how you’d die, but the idea of having it be in your boyfriend’s death grip as he drank your blood wasn’t exactly the best way to go. Sounds were fading, your vision was blurry. Your lungs felt like they were full of sand, too heavy for you to continue breathing.

You lurched out of Jinyoung’s grip, falling to the floor as something caused him to drop you.

“What did you — out of it! — She’s — can’t believe — almost killed her—”

Movement returned in your fingertips, but not before darkness overtook you.

Heavy.

Heaviness. Falling. No, not falling. Sinking, into the bed.

That’s what it felt like. Your head was killing you, the throbbing incessant. But it was something else that woke you up.

Fear, and the pain. Fear of what had happened to you. Jinyoung. The look in his eyes. The smell of blood. Teeth. Paralysis.

Pain, sharp in your neck as you sat up in the bed. You whimpered as your hand went up to touch the spot, brushing over swollen skin and, to your surprise, two clean puncture wounds, rather than an entire bite mark as you’d expected.

You took a shaky breath, and opened your eyes, squinting as they adjusted to the sunlight coming in through the window in the early morning night. It was then that you realized that someone was next to you. Much to your dismay, it proved a very painful task.

“Don’t move your neck too much,” Jinyoung muttered as he came into view, “I don’t want you to hurt anymore.”

Now this, this was your Park Jinyoung. You knew as much from the way he was speaking, quiet yet firm, in that gentle timbre you adored so much. From the way he looked at you. But how much of a difference was there between the Park Jinyoung that had attacked you and your Park Jinyoung?

“D-don’t look at me like that,” He murmured, looking down. You realized then that you’d been staring at him, wide-eyed and unmoving.

“Please don’t look at me like you’re scared of what you see.”

You didn’t reply. You didn’t want to lie to him and say that you weren’t. You swallowed the lump growing in your throat, grimacing in discomfort at how dry your throat felt. Sighing, you let your eyes flutter shut, before opening them again a few seconds later.

“What happened to you?” You asked, your chest tightening. He went to place his hand over yours, but you watched his face fall and your heart fall as you pulled your hand away before he could. He took a deep breath, gazing at you earnestly. “I haven’t been completely honest with you.”

You leaned back against the headboard of the bed, frowning. “What are you saying, Jinyoung?”

“What I’m saying, Y/N, is… I’m a vampire.”

You stared at his face, unsure whether to laugh or cry. Slowly, your hand went to the wound on your neck, fingers ghosting over the two incisions on your neck. Your mouth fell open, and you met his gaze. He was tearing up, something that rarely happened. “I love you so, so much,” He said, voice cracking, “And I never meant to hurt you.”

“But you did,” You choked out, beginning to cry as well, “Y-you could’ve killed me. I-I was terrified, Jinyoung.”

He moved towards you, and you pressed yourself against the wall. You heard a sob fall from his lips, as he realized that you couldn’t tell him that you weren’t scared, because you were.

“Please don’t touch me.” Your shaky voice was barely higher than a whisper

“Y/N,” He said softly, “Please. I know it’s fucked up, and J-Jaebum told me that I should be ready to—”

“Jaebum?” You asked, staring at him. “Was he the one who pulled you off of me?”

Jinyoung wiped his tears, nodding. “I didn’t even realize what I’d done until he pulled me off, Y/N. I hadn’t eaten in weeks. A-and I told you not to come, b-because I was afraid that this would happen.”

He’d moved away from you, to the edge of the bed, giving you the space you so desperately needed as the room began to feel too cramped, too small for you and the man you loved. You stared at your lap, vision blurry with tears.

“Does Jaebum know what you are?” Your voice was almost too quiet for even you to hear. Jinyoung nodded, eyes blank and empty. “He’s one too. H-he healed you.”

You nodded in response, pursing your dry lips. “I have to leave, I-I have to get out of here.” Your tone had a certain finality to it, and he got up at the same time you did.

“Please tell me you’ll come back,” He pleaded softly, “I need to hear you say it, jagiya, I’m begging you.”

“I-I can’t tell you that, Jinyoung.” Your voice was trembling, as he walked towards you. He fell to his knees in front of you, and you broke out into tears. “Please don’t leave me,” He begged, “I-I love you. I adore you, I need you. You’re my everything.”

“I love you too,” you sobbed, and he smiled as you said it. Taking a deep breath, you walked up to him. towering over him as he looked up at you, teary-eyed, delirious at the idea of living without you. His eyes fluttered shut as you pressed your hand to his cheek, and he pressed himself into your palm. You hiccuped through the tears, and his eyes opened to gaze up at you.

He looked at you as if you’d hung the moon, and all the stars in the sky. And that was the worst part, you thought, as you stepped away from him, letting your palm fall back to your side. His face fell, and you shook your head, tears streaming down your face.

“But I can’t trust you anymore.”

You hoped, heartbrokenly, that that was the last time you’d ever see your Park Jinyoung, on his knees in front of his bed, crying for you as you exited the room.

Because love and fear, both of the things you now felt when you looked at him, were a deadly mix.

You learned that the hard way. And so had he.

[aparticularbandit]

pulitzer, faulkner, dickinson, parchment please?

writer asks

pulitzer: tell about/link a piece where you fielt your writing was the best.

grind.  other than the ending.  and, like, i know most people don’t like it as much as my other stuff because emilio pov and whatever but i was and still am very happy with how it turned out.  i don’t think the coffee/sex/etc. metaphors are super anvillicious (they’re not particularly subtle but like? i’m proud of them?  they feel natural to the fic?) and i think it does what it was supposed to do and i actually like it.  i was really proud of grind when i wrote it and i’m still proud of it.

faulkner: what tropes do you LOVE writing? which ones are your guilty pleasure?

i...don’t really think about tropes when i’m writing?  and i don’t know the names for all of them. >woobie (LUISA FUCKING ALVER), knight in sour armor, determinator.

but story tropes....

trauma conga line.break the cutie.i did what i had to do and discussions around it.i love playing with sliding scales so sliding scale of idealism vs. cynicism is one of my particular favorites.  ^^...i also guilty pleasure graphic descriptions of body gore and playing around with cannibalism BUT i don’t think that’s in most of my fanfics.  might come up in a handful of dust.  probably definitely would’ve come up if i’d done the multi-chap expansion of body, body like i thought about doing oops.bandit likes writing dark topics how did bandit end up writing a lot of romance.

dickinson: what insecurities do you have about your own writing? what do you think you should improve on?

i suck at writing comedy.  i have a really hard time making my writing funny.  my jokes don’t hit.  when there are jokes.  i’m just not good at it.  (this is actually why i like ‘twas the night before Christmas so much - it actually makes me laugh.)

i’m also not great at having distinctive character voices in terms of dialogue.  if i have two similar characters talking at each other with no description and no dialogue tags - petra and rose, maybe - you should be able to tell them apart just by wording and how they speak and etc. and with my writing, i really don’t think you can.  i struggle with that a lot.

i’m not good at having my characters interacting with their surroundings.  i’ve gotten better at it,   but i have to actively fight to be conscious of it sometimes.

also trying to carry on conversations between three or more characters is really hard because inevitably i end up forgetting one or more characters being involved in the conversation.  but i think that’s just something that needs practicing and there’s fics that help with that a little bit.

also also my characters do tend to all feel the same...or similar.  (there’s a series i started that would have lampshaded that, actually, but that’s another story.)  i tend to have a handful of character types/themes and then variations on those themes.  how i write miss lint, for instance, feels a lot like how i used to write my very first original character.  luisa’s a lot like ara (who is...another character i go back to over and over and over).  rose takes some similarities from dana.  like - i can follow that.  idk.

parchment: how often do you or your personal life influence your writing?

i want to say not as much in fic as it does in novel stuff, but i don’t think that’s rightly true - it’s just...less blatant?  XD

my stories throughout high school and college (...and middle school) were very much hugely influenced by my life because that was how i worked through different situations or quandaries i was facing.  the book i consider my first novel was basically about a mixture of my ocd and my bpd - both of which were undiagnosed at the time - but in a fantastical sort of etc. setting.  crossroads may be super meta but it was also kind of sort of an allegory in how creations relate to a creator (but gets complicated from there because, given that it was metafiction, i didn’t want it to be strict allegory because...obvious reasons, God is God and bandit is not, etc.).  ara’s story was dealing with religious issues dealing with being gay (and also bury your gays trope...which is a combination of that and bandit just kills people in bandit’s stories - bandit used to be more whump inclined than romance inclined i blame the rpc and the roisa fandom).

i think it’s much less...like i said, much less blatant now than it was then.  XD

there are still definitely aspects of myself in each of my characters - i think, for me, it would be impossible to write these characters if i didn’t connect with them personally in some form or fashion, even the despicable ones (i know this is not true of all writers, but it is true, to some extent, of me).  some of them more than others (there’s a lot of me in my rose, and there’s a lot of me in my luisa, and there is significantly more of me in my miss lint, which is probably why i keep bringing her back).and there are definitely slightly more...relevant impacts - i was in iop when i started if you lived here, you’d be home now, which was definitely a huge part of wanting to write that part of luisa’s life.  i’d gotten out of a huge explosive fight with my mom when i started and posted the first chapter of luisa and the fox.so, uh, tl;dr - often.  frequently.  a lot.  just.  a little more subtle now than it used to be.  XD