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hazbinbossbrainrot · 8 months

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💖 Angel Dust 💖

VOs:

Michael Kovach (pilot)

Blake Roman (series)

Theme songs:

Canon:

AU:

Fave quote:

“IT’S NOT AN ACT!!! It's who I need to be. [Crosses arms to chest.] And this... [Gestures to the redlight street.] This is my escape! Where I can forget about it all! How much I hate... Everything. A place where I can get high, and not have to think about how much it hurts. And maybe... If I can ruin myself enough in the process, if I end up broken, I won't be his favorite toy anymore. And maybe he'll let me go...”

Basics:

True name: Anthony

Surname (AU): Romano-D'Amico

Birthday: 1st of April

Sex: Male

Year of Death: 1947

Cause of Death: Drug overdose (angel dust)

Sexuality: Gay

Age: 30s (biological)

Zodiac sign: Aries ♈️

Height: 8ft (including the heels he wears)

Nationality: Italian 🇮🇹

Bed type: Submissive

Species:

• Human being (formerly)

• Sinner Demon (jumping spider)

Style of speech: Slang

<> Accent(s):

<> New Yorker (standard)

<> Italian twang (when really emotional)

Occupation(s):

• Adult film star (pornography)

• Sex worker

• Drag queen

Other:

• Unnamed mafia (formerly 💀)

Likes:

• Husk (implied)

• Drugs

• Being abrasive

• Pranks

• Getting into scraps

• Cooking

• Flirting

• The colour pink

• Monetary gain

• Italian food

• Dancing (implied)

AU:

• Duets with Husk 🤭

• Pet names

<> Except for Whorebug (which is the only one he dislikes; most likely because that’s what Valentino calls him)

• Being called by his birth name

Dislikes:

• His feet

• Losing credibility

• Valentino’s abuse

• Memorising scripts

• Niffty getting into trouble

<> Niffty handling weapons

• Anyone pointing out his facade

<> Being called fake

• How expensive drugs & alcohol cost him

• Anyone else ending up like him

• Anyone discrediting his acting

• Charlie involving herself with Valentino’s affairs

• Forecast conditions

<> confirmed but not canonically shown yet ~ Viv stated that he doesn’t like weather the same way as a dog is scared of thunder

• Politics

AU:

• Being triggered when it comes to ownership of Angel & Husk’s (respective) “owners”

• Niffty being talked about (negatively)

• Kat’s life choices

<> Her occupation of being an exotic dancer (because it hits too close to home for Angel and wished she picked a more safer career)

<> Her doing drugs

<> Her rebellion

• Being called “kid” by Husk (considering technically Angel is older than him in Hell since he died first 🤣)

• People being ageist and vindictive about his relationship with Husk

Flaws:

• Agoraphobia (anxiety disorder)

<> PTSD

<> Panic disorder

<> Specific phobias

• Animotophobia (fear of emotions)

• Drug addict

• Victim of abuse (by Valentino)

<> Emotionally

<> Sexually (SA)

<> Mentally

<> Physically

• Neurotic

<> Particularly when really, really REALLY pissed off

• Alcoholic

• PTSD

<> Age regression (very common in people with PTSD)

• ADHD

• Self esteem issues (emotionally)

• Physical strength

• Low Frustrated Tolerance

• Self destructive

• Nymphomania (sex addict)

• Parasomnia

<> Night terrors

<> Insomnia

<> Sleep paralysis

<> Sexsomnia 🤣

• Borderline Personality Disorder (environmental)

Strengths:

• High alcohol tolerance

• Carnality

• Character growth (potentially)

<> To the point where Angel Dust may even drop his alias and just become “Anthony”

• Clean (drug-free)

• Physical attractiveness

Romantic interests:

Ex-boyfriend: Valentino (indirectly implied)

<> Definitely hinted at in the song “Poison” — obviously very early into the relationship before things went severely downhill

Husk (canonically implied)

AU/RP:

Stolas of the Ars Goetia (FWB / client)

Axel White (FWB / client)

Family:

Mother: Unnamed

Father: Henroin

(older) Brother: Arackniss

(fraternal) twin sister: Molly

Other (surrogate family):

(surrogate) Sister: Charlie Morningstar

(surrogate) Daughter: Niffty 😂

(surrogate) Daughter: Crymini (TBA)

Role-play (RP):

Husband: Husk 🤭

(surrogate) Sister: Snow Dust (OC)

(bio) Daughter 1#: Kat Dust (OC)

(Future) Daughter-in-law: T.J. Buckzo

(bio) Daughter 2#: Luster Dust (OC)

Aliases:

• Angie (by Cherri Bomb)

• Mi Amore (by Valentino 🤮)

<> Angel Cakes

• Whorebug (by Sir Pentious)

<> Spider

<> Striped Freak

• My Effeminate Fellow (by Alastor)

• Angel

• Slut (by Travis)

AU:

• Anthony (by Husk 🥰)

* Tony

* Ant

(Given the nickname because of how antsy Angel is and can be with his ADHD ~ also for the fact that it’s hilarious that he’s a spider only to be called another insect name)

<> Baby etc

<> Mama (affectionately)

<> Little Incubus

<> Loser (affectionately)

<> Baby doll / baby girl

• A.D. (by T.J., Snow Dust & Blitz)

• Papà (by Luster)

• Daddy (by Kat)

• Fratellino (by Arackniss)

Translation: “Little Brother”

<> Tony

• Romano-D’Amico (AU surname)

Affiliations:

• Hazbin Hotel (patron)

• Porn Studios (workplace)

• The Vee Tower (formerly residency)

<> Not confirmed but definitely implied in the music video “Poison” and “ADDICT”

Other:

• The Black Dot (1x04)

• Consent (1x06)

Friends:

• Charlie Morningstar

• Cherri Bomb (close friend)

• Niffty

• Husk (best friend — TBA)

<> Vivziepop has previously described Husk as Angel's "best friend" during later development streams for the pilot, suggesting that their relationship may be planned to greatly improve

Others:

• Fat Nuggets (pet)

Porn Studio employees (co-workers):

<> Dia

<> Summer

<> Kitty

<> Travis (client & director)

The Vees (acquainted):

<> Vox

<> Velvette

Hazbin Hotel employees (acquainted):

<> Alastor

<> Vaggie

• Sir Pentious (former enemy)

<> Egg Boiz (former enemies)

• Tiffany Titfucker (rival)

RP:

Axel (rival —> one sided)

Enemies:

• Valentino (boss, pimp, and owner)

• Sir Pentious (formerly)

• Exorcists

<> Adam

<> Lute

Abilities:

• Retractable set of arms

• Weapon proficiency

• Weather sensitivity

• Athleticism

• Cooking

• Bilingualism

<> Can speak one or two languages only; which is much different to multilingualism)

• Flexibility

Appearance & Personality:

Angel has a slender build and is the tallest of the main cast of characters. He is estimated to stand around 8 feet with his heels on.

His fur is white and he has a mop of fluffy white hair that extends from both the front and back of his head, with splotches of light-pink across it. He also has a distinctive and focal light-pink heart pattern on the back of his head. The light-pink outline of a heart also encircles his chest, the bottom point of which extends past his waistband and down to his crotch area.

His eyelids are light pink and the color extends up to his eyebrows, giving the effect of eyeshadow, and his lashes are dark and thick.

His irises are cerise pink. His right eye has a light yellow sclera, his left eye has a dark sclera. He has a wide mouth full of sharp, pointed teeth and possesses a single golden fang that sits slightly to his right of center, a feature he shares with his boss, Valentino. He has three cerise-pink dots under each of his eyes, which are intended to evoke freckles, although they are actually another set of smaller eyes.

One of Angel's most noticeable features is his prominent chest. The chest is actually composed entirely of fluffy fur, however, which Angel intentionally pushes up into a breast-like formation with his tightly pinned jacket for show.

Angel's everyday attire consists of a long light pink suit-blazer with horizontal white stripes down the length, reddish-grey miniskirt, and long reddish-grey thigh-high heeled boots, accessorized with a reddish-grey bowtie with a cerise pink center and a black choker. On his top set of arms he wears long cerise pink gloves with white detailing at the cuffs, on his bottom set of arms he wears long white gloves.

Though usually depicted with six limbs, Angel has a third retractable set of arms that he usually keeps hidden but can summon at will.

In background artwork seen in the pilot, Angel Dust's feet resemble those of a spider's.

How would you describe Angel Dust’s personality?

• Reckless

• Sexual (OTT)

• Sarcastic

• Sharp-witted

• Destructive

• Playful

• Vulgar

• Confident (excessive)

• Flippant

• Callous

• Cynical

<> Particularly about the idea of redemption however has a small hopeful part that it’s possible for him

As Anthony:

• Defensive

• Family orientated

• Shy

<> Through copping constant abuse from Valentino which would often make him nervous in his presence

• Hopeful

• Self assertive (outside the Porn Studios contract)

• Volatile

• Comedic (genuinely)

• Inferior

<> Seen when Charlie declared Sir Pentious as “official patron” at the Hazbin Hotel

• Attentive

<> Seen when Angel Dust rejected Cherri Bomb’s offered drugs after Husk mentioned about “undoing his progress”

• Protective

• Traumatised (via “Poison” at the end)

• Broken

Trivia:

• When it comes to physical contact Angel Dust always backs away (which is common in SA victims) seen with both Husk in “Masquerade” to bring him back to the hotel and Vaggie when throwing him off the building for a trust exercise

• The more Angel Dust (Anthony) gets upset the more his (New Yorker) accent gets thicker and automatically breaks out of his persona

• If Angel Dust hadn’t died at 30 years old he would have been around the same age as Husk if not somewhere between 12 years younger

<> However Angel is actually older than Husk down in Hell because he died first (which is kinda cool)

• Angel & Charlie have a “brother/sister” relationship (both Headcanon and implied but not confirmed)

• In a earlier draft of Angel’s character it appeared that when he blushed it showed on his upper body (face and chest area)

• Blake Roman (Angel Dust’s VA in the Hazbin Hotel series) is a huge Huskerdust fan

• Angel Dust’s birthday lands on April Fools Day (which explains he loves pranks so much 🤭)

• The name Anthony may come from the word "antonia", which means "priceless/praiseworthy and or beautiful".

<> His real name officially appears in the episode "Masquerade", signed on Valentino's soul contract.

• "Angel Dust" is Angel's chosen all-encompassing persona name, and one he uses exclusively in place of his actual name. It is intended as multipurpose for both his drag queen persona and his sex-work persona.[30] It is also a possible reference to his mode of death, a drug overdose.

* Whenever Angel is outside of work and doesn't feel the need to maintain his public persona, he prefers to dress in very cozy, comfortable, unsexualized clothing.

• In an earlier development stream, when asked if Angel is venomous, Vivziepop stated she did not think Angel was venomous due to being based on the jumping spider. However, she returns to this in a later stream, stating that Angel's bite may be venomous. But, that venom in Hell can't actually kill anyone, it just causes temporary pain or disfigurement and making them fall ill.

• During the gang war with Sir Pentious, when Angel's shadow is cast behind him, it appears much larger than him, with six arms and glowing red eyes. This implies that Angel can possibly transform into a larger form like other sinner demons.

References:

https://hazbinhotel.fandom.com/wiki/Angel_Dust

#SoundCloud #Spotify #angel dust #blake roman

19 notes · View notes

whatifyoulivelikethat · 2 years

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ego, m | jjk, myg

pairing(s): jungkook x reader, very brief mentions of yoongi x reader

summary: On the cusp of death (read: hangover), someone recounts the events of last night to you. It sounds serious, but it's not. All you did was fuck Jeon Jungkook on Min Yoongi's bed. Wait, you did WHAT?

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; no explicit smut, just descriptions of questionable... acts; heavy alcohol consumption; (adult) crack; possibly? friends-to-lovers

I thought about not posting this bc it's only comedic depravity but it made me laugh so I figured maybe someone else might laugh too XD

“I… regret living.”

“Oh, good. You’re awake.”

Light? Horrible. Sound? Distorted. Ow. Pain? Composed a thousand scorpions repeatedly stabbing you in the head or at least the fucking felt like that. And were your sleep paralysis demons holding you down or were you really so tired that you could barely move? Oh. No, it was just someone laying on top of you. A wave of oh fuck shimmered through your internal organs.

“I’m gonna throw up,” you wheezed.

“You better fucking not, because this is my bed,” the familiar raspy voice scolded you. “Also, need I remind you that you hate throwing up.”

Couldn’t argue with that. You fought back the tumultuous wave with several shaky breaths. A straw poked you on the lips. Ow.

“Drink.”

You drank.

What was the liquid? Only the gods knew. Maybe the demons too. You drank without question despite common sense shaking its head at you. Crawling back from death wasn’t easy, okay? The struggle was real. You felt a hand slip under the back of your head and lift it. Oh, very helpful. Long fingers, graceful touch, firm pressure. Familiar. Huh. Raspy voice.

Min Yoongi.

You almost spat, but your blurry vision suddenly cleared to slim pale face and pointed dark brown eyes fiercely glaring, daring you to do something so rude. You did not, perhaps out of sheer fear and shock. Such emotions did wonders (and fuck-ups) to the body. Yoongi sat back up, tossing his head to swish back his long black hair, and placed the glass of misty water on his nightstand, next to the torn-open foil packets. Oh, how nice of him. Hangover meds.

Next to a pile of condoms.

Your eyes widened.

Unopened.

You mistakenly relaxed.

“You fucked Jeon Jungkook on my bed last night.”

Your eyes went full dinner-plates.

Massive-peepers mode.

You choked on nothing but your own shame, which happened to be a whole lot all of sudden.

“WHAT?”

“Actually, fucked is a strong word for what transpired,” Yoongi remarked coolly, looking disturbingly handsome with his messy bedhead, loose black t-shirt, and matching cotton pajama pants. Disturbing because it felt like he was about to describe something deranged. “Got naked and rolled around in the sheets like caught fish, complete with increasing, inexplicable wetness as more time transpired.”

You couldn’t compute anything since your head felt like it was being hammered into an anvil similar to those old-school cartoons, but you could feel the inexplicable urge to, ahem, fuckin’ yeet yourself from this situation. You tried to flail about in attempt to run except Yoongi’s legs were on top of your hips, pinning you in place. While he may look like a scrawny guy, he was not. Tal and slender, yes. Physically weak? Surprisingly not. Also, he reached over and pressed the top of the blanket to your naked chest.

To.

Your.

NAKED?!!

Chest.

Your nipples, for some idiotic reason, were hard and rubbing against his soft duvet – they absolutely did not understand timing. You grimaced and fall back, trying to fuse with the pile of pillows as Yoongi calmly let go and continued with mortifying you in the most deadpan voice possible.

“I believe various body parts went into various holes and then I had to intervene with the condoms, but thankfully – or not thankfully depending on how you look at it – I don’t think either of you noticed that he was unable to finish considering you were both black-out drunk. What you don’t know can’t disappoint you.”

???

“Y… You just told me…?” you croaked.

Yoongi hummed. “I assumed you would want to know why you’re naked and half-dead on my bed without Jeon Jungkook. Although, you are right. Maybe I should have asked if you wanted to know that you smacked him down spread-eagle on and proceeded to lick him all over like a starving dog with their empty food bowl.”

…

You had never thought you would welcome Death, but you welcomed him now. Like, right now. Death, please grant me a heart attack so I don’t have to listen to Min Yoongi describing what he witnessed with visceral detail. Please. PLEASE. You did not die. You felt like you were dying, but you did not die, because of course you wouldn’t. That would free you from–

“Then he proceeded to jack off onto your face, missed, got it in your hair and forehead, then he licked it off and you sucked it out of his mouth. Oh, I guess that means he definitely orgasmed.”

You passed away.

Not actually.

That would be too merciful.

“Y… Yoongi,” you coughed. “Why the fuck were you here?”

“Excuse me?” Raised eyebrow, unamused expression. “This is my bedroom. I’m the one allowed to be here.”

Fair point.

“And you told me to keep an eye on you since this was your first time seriously drinking.”

“K… Keep an eye… means not letting me fuck Jeon Jungkook on your bed!” Instant pain. Oh, shit, too much emotion. Your neck jerked erratically and you groaned, sipping once again as Yoongi and the glass of bliss reappeared.

“Oh,” Yoongi tutted.

Oh.

OH?!?!

You sipped and decided this was the moment. This was the end. You had lived enough life. Curiosity killed the cat after all, and being someone who never drank, you had become too curious about how you would act when drunk. Why not? Live fast, die young, right? You could only be young and dumb once (actually, no, the latter multiple times if you were shameless enough). But you figured this kind of decision was much better to do as your own personal experiment rather than in an environment being pressured by others. No party. Just you, Min Yoongi, and bottles.

Annnd his roommate in the background.

Kim Seokjin. Nice dude. Very tall. Loved games more than most people, probably (valid). Surprisingly chill in a one-on-one conversation (did that mean you were even more energetic than he was?). Worldwide handsome (everyone said so and you accepted that kind of peer pressure). Yeah, go ahead. Use the kitchen. Oh, but that night he was going to invite a couple friends over to eat pizza and play games. Sure, sure. No big deal. Just five other guys besides Seokjin, chilling in the living room and having fun playing Just Dance. All the best vibes. They would come into the kitchen and offer their two cents about your alcohol adventure before going back to the group. Everyone had been mindful and respectful.

You stared into Min Yoongi’s eyes.

He stared back, emotionless.

One might ask, why implore Yoongi for assistance? Because he knew about alcohol and he was only interested in the good stuff. You can get drunk like trash or you can get drunk like royalty. That was a way to look at it, yeah. You could get behind that. You were also very sure that Yoongi would not take advantage. If he wanted to fuck, he would say so to your sober, unhinged self. Not to your drunk, extra unhinged self. It had happened before.

What?

Anyway.

Yoongi removed the straw from your lips and placed the empty glass onto the nightstand. Then he heaved up a large jug of water from the floor and refilled the glass as he calmly asked his question. You stared at him, impressed by this display of power that would not have impressed you if you were less hung over, but any feat of strength was amazing to your swirly brain right now.

“Haven’t you been making googly eyes at Jeon Jungkook or am I mistaken?”

Jeon Jungkook? Yes, of course, he was there. Unlike the others, he got distracted by the bottles and the education presented by alcohol professor Min Yoongi, who had been wearing his black, half-rimmed glasses, of course. Education required him to look the part (not really, Yoongi had been feeling lazy). One moment, you were listening intently and then suddenly you found curious, bright-eyed cuteness sitting next to you and sipping from your cup as you tasted the various poisons. He was not your focus, so you let him do whatever. This was not because you did not think tattooed, pierced, mole-kissed Jeon Jungkook was not hot. Quite the opposite, actually.

You were simply focused on the mission and that mission was a baaaaaaad decision.

Also, Yoongi would become annoyed if you stopped paying attention to him since he was doing you a favor. He would rap you with his knuckles for losing concentration. Jungkook bounced in his seat next to you as you pointed to one of the glasses.

“I like this one.”

“I would not take another sip of that scotch if I were you.”

“You’re not my dad, Yoongi. And you’re not me, because then you would know that telling me I can’t do something is gonna make me want to do it more,” you huffed, taking the small glass and drinking the rest of the dark-colored liquid. You did not wince, because there was something nice about pain and because you had an ego.

Hah.

Yoongi had handed you water. “Didn’t say you couldn’t. Just said I wouldn’t.”

“Wow, that was so cool. Let me try some!”

You were already pouring Jungkook some while verbally prodding at Yoongi some more. “Oh, yeah? Why not, huh? Scared?” So arrogant. For who? Literally nobody but you. You didn’t care what Yoongi thought and you barely registered Jungkook next to you. You were too busy being fiercely possessed by this new fragile power. Your vision was gaining fuzzy edges, foreshadowing what was to come.

Yoongi had only smiled.

“You’ll see.”

You’ll see.

Joke was on Yoongi. You didn’t end up seeing or remembering jack shit.

“I do not make googly eyes at Jeon Jungkook,” you retorted, feeling your blood violently pump into your skull in your attempt to hold your head up to glare at Yoongi. Sheer willpower was keeping you alive. “I just think he has a–”

Yoongi immediately interjected.

“Nice, big, thick…”

Dramatic pause.

“Personality?”

You narrowed your eyes. Actually, that helped the pounding. Less light attacked your retinas this way.

“I think I hate you.”

And here Yoongi went on again with his feline indifference. “I’ll give you a couple more details and then you can make a more informed decision.”

You closed your eyes and groaned. In pain. Both physical and metaphorical.

“I don’t wanna know–”

Number of fucks given? Zero. “So, after taking all those shots and Jungkook trying to two-up you.” Chill? Yoongi had none. “I decide that’s enough and start putting the alcohol away, leaving the two of you to giggle at the kitchen island and compliment each other’s eyes.” He made a disgruntled, scrunched-up face. “Disgusting.”

You gagged and it wasn’t because you were nauseous. Well, you were, but not bodily. At this point anyway. You kept your eyes closed. He’s not speaking. I do not see it. If I do not see it, it’s not real. You kept telling yourself that. It wasn’t helping.

“Stop,” you grunted.

Yoongi did not stop. Didn’t his parents and the internet teach him about consent? “I turn around and you’re climbing his body like he’s a fuckin’ pillar of our nation while he faceplants himself into your tits,” he continued, completely monotone as if this was a calculus lecture and not the story of how you and Jeon Jungkook ended up drunkenly rolling about in Min Yoongi’s sheets. “It was when the clothes started coming off that I figured I should speak up and remind you the kitchen island is for a different kind of eating.”

You didn’t even bother to open your eyes but you were very sure he was staring accusingly at you, but what you didn’t see didn’t exist, or at least that was what fellow idiots liked to say. “You should have pried me off him,” you muttered.

“I distinctly remember you telling me, quote, you’re not my dad.”

Yoongi was definitely not, otherwise you would not have said yes to that time when he asked sober, unhinged you if you wanted to fuck.

What?

Anyway.

“Also,” he added, about to say something that was probably very unnecessary. “I knew it was time to leave the kitchen when you told me to hold your wrists so Jungkook could take off your panties. I politely declined, stating that if hyung walked in right then, he would literally die of a heart attack and I need him to help pay rent.” Yup, not necessary information. Glad he had no interest in killing Kim Seokjin though. Seokjin was a very sweet man. “So, I told you that unless you want to pick up the slack, you’ll have to go somewhere else to boink. Where did you go?”

Oh, God.

“Yes, upstairs to hyung’s room. And yes, you do owe me big time dragging you out of there and shoving you two in here instead.”

That would have been… very uncomfortable. And many things would need to be replaced in the aftermath. Kim Seokjin’s room was full of expensive figurines and limited-edition items. That would have been expensive. At least Yoongi had seen you naked already. Plus, there was some story about Yoongi wearing Jungkook’s (clean) underwear a couple years ago. There must be some closeness between them as friends.

You opened your eyes blearily, seeing Yoongi’s relaxed form sitting at the end of the bed, holding the straw out of the way as he drank water from the glass.

“T… Thanks…”

He glanced at you. Dark brown eyes shrouded by black strands and dark circles. Upper lip ever so slightly upturned in disapproval but overall expression general feline indifference.

Very Yoongi.

“The weird bit was when you and Jungkook told me to stand at the end of the bed while he railed you from behind.”

You closed your eyes again.

“Made me think I should fuck you in front of a mirror, ‘cause apparently you’re a freak.”

“Not as much of a freak as you for watching,” you retorted.

“And let you two puke on each other instead?”

Touché.

“I like my mattress, so, no, thank you.”

What was suffering but listening to Yoongi’s reasonable logic? Sigh. Your face scrunched. Hold on. Something wasn’t adding up. You were here, in Yoongi’s bedroom, listening to him recounting the events of last night while living in a half-life, a cursed life (maybe if you called the hangover that, it would be more bearable) and yet there was a clear space next to you that was completely and utterly empty. You frowned. Opened your eyes, discarding all previous annoyance you had towards Yoongi, snapping your head towards him. His gaze immediately shifted. Locked with yours. Strands of black framing his face, intense and serious.

Electric silence.

“Did… did Jeon Jungkook just fuck me and leave?!”

You might have yelled, but your body was not allowing that bullshit right now. You ended up very sternly wheezing. Nice!

Yoongi tilted his head. “Oh, no. He slept next to you all night. He woke up before you, right there.” He reached over and patted the area right next to you. “Holding your tits and everything.”

This was starting to sound suspicious.

“And I was here.” The Devil, er, rather, Min Yoongi, motioned to the other side of your body, looking peeved. “Barely slept myself with the weird ass noises you two were making. Apparently, you snore when drunk. Impressive lung capacity. Anyway, I had to make sure nobody choked on their vomit while asleep. You should thank me.”

You did not.

You just made another displeased huff.

Yoongi kept talking as if he expected this response. “Jungkook woke up, looked right at me. Looked at you.” He spoke calmly and deliberately, on purpose. Ass. “Then, he ran.” Yoongi thoughtfully chewed on the side of his lip. “His face was pretty red,” he added.

You closed your eyes again. I do not see. “I should have woken up…”

“You were dead and required more resurrection technique than he did. Possible that he wasn’t as drunk as you were and remembered more of what happened. I doubt he got far though, because the second he left the room, he yelped, I heard a crash, and then Hoseok started yelling, so I got up and closed the door.”

You half-laughed and your brain hurt. Guess Jung Hoseok must have stayed over. Great. Another person who knew what happened between you and Jungkook. Awesome. “Why didn’t you help him?”

Yoongi’s reply was, once again, logical.

“You’d be worse off without me.”

A moment of silence.

Mostly for your dignity.

Okay, okay, enough about that.

“Yoongi, I’m… dying.”

“You should eat. I can make you some kimchi fried rice. Or pan-fried tteokbokki. That would probably be good.”

You almost sat up, but then you remembered you were naked. Oop. Also getting up was a bit of a feat without intense emotion. At this point, Yoongi had already gotten up to fetch his slippers while you hobbled and clawed your way up from the mattress like a horror movie creature, all while hugging his blankets to your body.

“Where… are my clothes?”

“On the chair. I washed them.”

You felt a little sick and not because you were hung over. “Oh shit, did I puke on myself? In front of you and Jungkook. Shit. I’m so fucking sorry–”

“No. I just thought you might want some clean clothes.”

“… Oh.”

“Also, we don’t stock panties in this household, so the only way you can get clean ones is to do laundry.”

Haaaah…

“… Don’t say it.”

Yoongi kept his back turned as you wormed your way over to the chair of neatly folded clothes. “Say what?” Very calm. Too calm.

“You know what.”

“That your panties were filthy and soaked?”

A muscle above your eye twitched.

“I don’t hate you. I loathe you.”

“It seems that Jungkook had an intense effect on you.” Deadpan, monotone. Yoongi might as well have been discussing how to find the area beneath a function. Except he wasn’t talking about math. He was being an asshat.

“Loathe entirely,” you hissed, yanking on your clothes.

“Oh, hey! You stayed over? How are you? You look rested. Oh, hyung, I have to leave now. I have rehearsals, but I ordered some food that’s on its way right now. Kimchi fried rice and potato soup. Seokjin-hyung’s absolutely dead in his room, so I wouldn’t bother him. He’s getting old, haha!”

Jung Hoseok’s kilowatt, heart-shaped smile shone brighter than most people’s futures. Probably including yours. You had to squint and mumble some kind of response as you attempted endure the embodiment of the living sun that was this golden, tan, bouncy morning person. Could not relate, especially right now. Thankfully Yoongi was doing the talking and thanking. What would you do without him? Not be drunk and be blissfully asleep at home.

Well.

It wasn’t Yoongi’s fault you got drunk.

That was your fault.

No, it’s my ego’s fault!

(No, it was definitely your fault.)

Fuck.

You formed a wobbly thumbs-up to Hoseok as he patted your head and laughed, telling you that you were cute, which was very nice of him but you did not believe it considering that you felt like a sack of potatoes thrown down seventy flights of stairs, but. You know. Hoseok was a nice guy. He would never tell you that you did not look cute out of the goodness of his heart.

You gave him another weak-ass thumbs-up as Hoseok waved from the front door and bounded off into the sunshine.

“How does he do it?” you sighed in awe.

“No idea,” Yoongi hummed, nodding. “He–”

Both of you heard a noise. It sounded like someone colliding with kitchen cabinets. Instead of being startled, both you and Yoongi scurried towards the noise, which very much explained why people died or horror movies – or survived, depending on what you both did upon entering the kitchen and assessing the situation.

Thankfully, the ghost was not a ghost.

“Jungkook?”

The young man leaning over the white kitchen sink had long, wavy black hair, a strong jawline, and plushy cheeks. Cute visible moles on the bridge of his nose, cheek, and under his lower lip. Skin that was usually a light tan but currently a sickly shade of pale green. He was wearing blue cotton long pajamas with tiny adorable angels printed all over them. The shirt was halfway unbuttoned as he held it open and leaned over the sink. The man lifted his head as you said his name. Big dark chocolatey peepers, startled at the intrusion.

Jeon Jungkook croaked something like your name.

Then, he threw up into the sink.

“Ugh, geez, not in front of the lady,” Yoongi chastised, saying the word lady as if it was a very loose label for your current state. Although you were not pleased, you could not protest the truth. “Here let me get you some water and a toothbrush, hah…”

You looked away out of politeness and also because you didn’t want to vomit yourself. Strangely, you felt alright despite definitely not being as fit as Jungkook. Hm, maybe Yoongi had done a good job of taking care of you physically (not mentally, that butthead). You did need to go to the bathroom though after all that hydration. You decided to give Yoongi and Jungkook some privacy as you crab-walked to the downstairs bathroom and emptied your bladder.

You checked the three hairs on your wrist as at least a solid minute went by.

Apparently, your bladder contained a whole goddamn sea, holy fuck.

Anyway, after finishing your business and washing your hands, you left the bathroom for the kitchen to be greeted by semi-shirtless Jungkook sitting at the kitchen island with a big glass of misty water, looking less green and twice as embarrassed. You decided it was time to be the mature one and plopped yourself beside him, patting his back soothingly.

Oh, yeah, and Yoongi was there.

This ain’t about him.

“Hey, you alright? Feel better after barfing?” you quipped.

O-Oh. Word choice there was a little questionable.

Jungkook winced. “Ahahaha… y-yeah…”

You rubbed his back some more. “There, there. I heard food was coming. You’ll feel much better after eating.” You ruffled his black hair. It was nice and soft. He must have showered. “These are Kim Seokjin’s pajamas, right? You didn’t want to get vomit on them, huh? Keke, you’re so considerate, Jungkook. That’s good.” You were talking too much. You were making this awkward. You heard the sizzling of pan-fried tteokbokki. Those big brown eyes were looking everywhere but you. Your mouth was frozen in a politician’s PR smile and you were still rubbing his neck. Jungkook was not stopping you. He was not moving away. His mouth was open. It seemed like he was attempting to form words.

Suddenly, Yoongi appeared with a spatula and spoke directly to you.

“Unlike you, Jungkook remembers everything.”

He disappeared again.

Your hand stopped moving.

Eh?

Birds chirped outside.

Jungkook fixated on a blank spot in the ceiling and didn’t make a peep.

“EHHH?!”

Most people would fling themselves away from the moment but, for some irrational reason, you grabbed Jungkook’s cheeks and shoved his face into your face, shaking his noggin like dehydrated islander checking a fallen coconut.

“You what?”

After his eyeballs stopped rolling in his skull, Jungkook wheezed and slumped in your hands, pulling a long face and puppy expression.

“I… I guess that’s how it is sometimes…”

Well, he was more fit than you. There was probably some difference between the way his body processed alcohol and the way your body processed alcohol. This was your first time. Your body wasn’t used to you willingly poisoning it. Ah, so it made sense. And, oh, what a strange shivery feeling creeping up your legs and back as you held Jungkook’s face. Your fingers fanned his cheeks, smushing them a little, and he was looking back at you, awe and wonderment as if you were different in the light, hey, maybe you didn’t look so bad after all, and then it hit you.

You blinked.

Rapidly.

“Jungkook.”

“Eh?”

“You remember what we did in Yoongi’s room?”

A moment of silence for Jungkook’s dignity.

“A… Ah. Y-Yeah… kinda…? I couldn’t really control myself… b-because I… you… I l-like you…”

You were hearing the sounds he was making but all you could think about was Yoongi saying you pinned Jungkook down and licked him all over like a starving dog. Oh, shit. You slowly let go of his face, feeling the blood drain from your own. Jungkook’s normally strong voice was getting smaller and smaller, until there was no noise at all.

“U… Uh,” you squeaked. “I… I didn’t lick you… right?”

Emotions flashed in his eyes. Apprehension. Confusion. Recognition. Pupils dilating. Definitely knew exactly what you were talking about. Saw the horror in your stricken face. Immediate denial of any recollection in attempt to save your dignity.

“N… No! Did you? N-No, I don’t think, uh, well, I don’t remember such a thing, ahah–”

There was a clatter of a heavily loaded plate and a sudden pointed glare of feline indifference appearing between your and Jungkook’s face. Disapproving black-brown orbs looking straight at you. Held your gaze for several long seconds. Turned slowly. You heard Jungkook gulp as Yoongi made deliberate eye contact with the younger man for even longer, even more excruciating seconds.

Then Yoongi slowly retreated and held up two pairs of chopsticks.

“Eat.”

You sat there and ate pan-fried tteokbokki with Jeon Jungkook as Min Yoongi stared you both down from the other side of the kitchen island, wearing a simple black apron and his glasses.

You leaned closer to Jungkook.

“Why is he staring like that?”

Jungkook mumbled under his breath.

“I don’t know. Keep eating.”

You kept eating. It was spicy, hot, and delicious. It was not a very big plate. It was gone in an instant with Jungkook’s ravenous speed and efficiency. He did make sure you had an ample amount though. The doorbell rang.

Yoongi marched away.

You let out a relieved breath and rested your head against Jungkook’s broad shoulder. “Whew. Why did that feel so stressful?”

“I dunno,” he mumbled beside you, drinking from his glass. “Maybe hyung is mad at me for, uh…”

You waved a hand. “Nah. You would be dead already if Yoongi was mad at you. He strikes when you’re weak.” You spoke from the personal experience you had less than twenty minutes ago. “Besides, it’s just sex, it’s not like you like me or anythin–”

Your mouth froze mid-sentence.

The birds outside chittered even louder.

There was a long whistle of echoey wind against the building.

“Y… You already said you liked me earlier,” you hollowly recalled.

Jungkook cleared his throat awkwardly. “U-Uh, yeah. Like you. Not liked.”

This was the moment that you decided not to overdrink again. Not because you regretted having sex with Jungkook. Absolutely not. Even with Yoongi making you look like an idiot (you were who you were, you could accept that). No, the reason you decided better not do that again was because of the next couple minutes. More sober, you could have handled this with a little more finesse.

Oh, how you would look back at these next few minutes and cringe.

“Ah… r-right. Me too. Like you.”

Am I malfunctioning?

“Me like you,” you stuttered out, suddenly an idiot.

“Maybe we should, um… let us move in a more natural direction,” Jungkook offered, ignoring your shitty grammar. Probably didn’t even notice. He scooted his seat closer, holding you up more. You snuck a glance. He was bright red from neck to forehead. “Eat and rest and…”

“Fuck?”

Both of you yelped and clung onto each other as Yoongi showed up with two big bags of fried rice and soup.

“Seems reasonable. I’ll join in this time since you’ll both be sober.”

“What?” you choked as Jungkook grumbled under his breath, “You should have joined in yesterday, hyung. I thought you were going to help me. I was so nervous.”

Eh.

Ehhh?

EHHHHHHH????

The other male held up his hands after placing the two bags on the counter. “Sorry, one of us has to be responsible. You were both drunk. I was fine with watching you two flop all over each other. Soup or fried rice? Ah, we should have the soup since hyung can’t have any.”

“I hate you, Yoongi.”

He did not seem the least bit bothered by your untruthful announcement. “Uh huh, sure, after I did all that work reviving you so you wouldn’t throw up in the sink that the young one here.”

“Hey!”

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #yoongi x reader #yoonkook x reader #bts smut #jungkook x you #yoongi x you #yoonkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you

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blametheeditor · 6 months

Text

Terms Of Agreement | Chapter 3

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Run Down: The monster under your bed, the one in the closet, and your sleep paralysis demon fight for custody.

Content Warnings: Cursing. Mentions of sleep paralysis, hallucinations, and sleep deprivation. Mentions of death, murder, and accidental deaths. Mentions of treating others as lesser than, addressing someone as 'it'.

A snow day is a good writing day

______________________________

Fritz stares at his bedroom door with terror as the sun slowly sets, watching as the light grows dimmer and dimmer until it is nothing more than a thin sliver of red on the wall across from him.

Then it disappears.

The teenager tenses, because tonight he will be visited by one of three beings who want his soul. Will do everything within their power to make the night unbearable to the point he willingly gives it away. And now with the daylight gone for eleven hours, they can come anytime they please to stay for as long as they’d like.

At least he knows someone will come and he won’t be left paranoid, though he doesn’t know who exactly. There’s a set schedule for every other day in which Fritz will actually be left alone for three nights. But it’s Saturday, and that has been set aside to be a ‘surprise’ on who it will be.

So he waits, not wanting to be caught off guard by James or David. Because unlike Vincent, he never saw the two before meeting them, completely unaware they existed even if it was in the form of a hallucination. Meaning unlike his sleep paralysis demon, Fritz can only speculate about what they can do.

“I’ve actually kind of missed this,” Vincent’s voice rumbles the moment his room becomes dark enough that shadows seem to form shapes that aren’t there. Or maybe there are things crawling along the floor, invited by the demon slowly forming.

Fritz doesn’t know if he should be relieved it did end up being Vincent. Because at least he can try and prepare for the two unknown monsters. But it also means he’s in for a sleepless night.

“I don’t know about you,” the demon grins as the wide smile hovers too close for comfort. “But it’s just more fun this way. Though don’t get me-”

Vincent cuts himself off. The only problem with his sleep paralysis demon not having any pupils is the fact Fritz can’t see what exactly is being looked at. Either the cowering redhead currently paralyzed, or something else.

Fritz attempts to flinch as a catastrophic hand appears, but it’s only used to gesture toward his room with a finger. “What happened here?”

...his room. The one he completely rearranged the previous night due to the realization there were powerful beings that wanted him dead. Fritz had forgotten what could be seen as a punishable offence hadn’t actually been seen, had actually assumed the three knew and were waiting for the perfect moment to make him regret trying to defend himself. Maybe even laugh at such a pathetic attempt.

It turns out they can’t sense when he’s challenging their authority. But being paralyzed as he’s questioned over it with undeniable proof directly beside him might be worse than being loomed over by all three. Because then he at least wouldn’t be surrounded by darkness, completely in their mercy to do whatever they want with him.

...I was scared.

A dark chuckle sends a shiver down his back. “If you weren’t, I’d be worried. But you do realize this could’ve ended badly for you if I didn’t find it first.”

Y-You’re not mad?

“Mad?” Vincent grins. “I’m impressed. It takes a lot of courage to do something like this, albeit extremely stupid, but I don’t blame you. The other two however wouldn’t agree. David will see it as a challenge and destroy your dresser with everything inside it. James will see it as disrespectful and lecture you after assigning an impossible task for you to do.”

Fritz stares up in disbelief, waiting for the demon to drop the act and find a suitable punishment for what he did. Because if David and James would, then why wouldn’t Vincent? Especially when it gives the perfect opportunity to not hold back. Unless the sleep paralysis demon will wait until the morning to tell the others so they can all contribute instead of just one.

“How you can trust anyone at this point is beyond me,” Vincent smirks. “How about we get your room put back together, that way there’s no proof it ever happened.”

That’s when Fritz’s want to scramble away from the terrifying snap of fingers that could break his bones turns into action. Softly shrieking when the paralysis vanishes and his head hits the wall, curling into a ball as he gasps for air. Waits for the dream to come into full effect, or for a hand to grab him.

“Well are you just going to lie there or get your room straightened out?”

Fritz stares at his now open door, Vincent lying outside it, looking amused. As if he doesn’t mind giving up precious minutes that could be used turning this night into an inescapable nightmare.

“Wh-Why?” is all he can ask.

The sleep paralysis demon shrugs. “Why do we do anything?”

They watch each other for a few moments in silence. It’s only when nothing happens, not even an annoyed sigh the teenager isn’t doing anything despite an admittedly generous offer, that Fritz believe this isn’t a trick. Tentatively moves to stand up from his mattress, watching Vincent closely so he’s at least ready if his sleep paralysis demon decides to put him through a hallucination.

Nothing grabs him when his feet are set on the floor. Only an eyebrow is raised as a relieved sigh escapes.

Just in case Vincent called the other two and they’ll appear at any moment, Fritz quickly grabs a corner of his mattress and yanks it toward his bed frame. Struggles to find a proper angle to get it over the edge before finally being able to shove it into its proper place. Can’t help staring at the empty space of darkness underneath in case something reaches out to grab him before carefully pulling his dresser away from the closet door.

It couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes, but Fritz feels wired by the end of it, covered in sweat and terrified James and David will take this as an invitation.

“Feel better?”

Vincent laughs at look he earns, one that says the room might get rearranged all over again by tomorrow night. Even if it does mean getting his dressed destroyed, at least he’d know when David appeared when it’s his turn on Monday.

But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t appreciate the warning. “Thank you V-Vincent.”

“Oh don’t thank me yet,” his sleep paralysis demon purrs. “I’m thinking bottomless pit tonight.”

Fritz lunges toward his bed, barely managing to wrap himself under the blankets before the sense of freefalling leaves him silently screaming.

And this time, he never stops falling. Just like what was promised instead of only being trapped for a few minutes to a few hours, it goes on through the entire night. Meaning the freezing air rushing past him lasts for what feels like days, making his heart skip a beat each time his blanket is nearly ripped away. It leaves him exhausted in both body and mind, pleading for it to stop even though he knows it won’t, his stomach twisted so much he can’t imagine eating anything ever again.

Fritz finally screams as his bed slams into the ground, waking up with a jolt with the expectation all of his bones were turned to dust. Stares as daylight streams through his window as he confirms he’s psychically unharmed before burring his face into his pillow.

“Fritz,” is said not even a minute later, tense as he realizes David is demanding his attention just outside his door. “You have five minutes to get ready.”

I don’t want to.

Fritz actually thinks it over for a minute, about what would happen if he disobeyed and just ignored the giant’s words. Wonders if he could pretend to be asleep and act innocent when he isn’t in the hallway by the specified timeframe. Maybe even negotiate being given just a little more time to be able to have a dreamless sleep, even for a single minute.

The want to rebel vanishes quickly when he feels the ground shake, remembering what it’s like the stand only a few feet from the catastrophic shoes that cause such earthquakes. The reminder that considering he’s no taller than David’s fingers, he shouldn’t be testing just how creative the giant can possibly get. Or the monster’s willingness to listen to suggestions from Vincent if they get offered.

It’s a bit of a chore getting out of bed, Fritz’s limbs protesting every step of the way, his hands unable to properly cooperate as he opens his dresser drawers to find warm clothes to wear. He’s fairly sure he takes more than five minutes with all of his struggling, especially when he’s forced to fight his tied shoes because he would not be able to retie them.

But he finally peers out of his bedroom to find David standing just outside of it. Looking thoroughly unimpressed, something that’s terrifying coming from such an imposing figure at this angle, but nothing about taking too long is said.

“Um-m, good morning?”

The monster scowls, and Fritz grips the door to keep himself from ducking back into his room. “Was that meant to be sarcastic?”

“N-No, not at all! I, I just-”

“Unless you genuinely think the morning is a ‘good’ one despite spending an entire night with Vincent, then I suggest you refrain from making such assertions,” David growls.

Fritz trembles when it’s clear he made someone who wants him dead angry, and with no one else around to ensure he isn’t killed. If he gets out of this alive, at least he’ll know to choose his words much more carefully. “Y-Yes, sir.”

For a split second, David actually looks surprised. But it disappears as the same expensive dress shoes that terrorized Fritz yesterday shift in place. “James and Vincent are waiting for you in the kitchen.”

It’s a miracle the redhead is able to leave his room completely without needing a full minute to force his body to obey. Maybe because, despite not trusting David at all, Fritz hadn’t been crushed last time. Or maybe it’s because he’s fearful of what might happen if he does something to make the monster angry enough to punish him.

No matter the reason, Fritz is just glad he isn’t being grabbed. More than happy to do everything in his power to stay as far away as possible from a hand that can squeeze, crush, or dangle him miles above the ground.

The only issue is the fact he hadn't realized just how cumbersome walking through carpet while only a few inches tall is. So far he’s only really transversed across tile. Which isn’t perfect, and the grooves between each make Fritz feel as though he was walking up and down small hills. But carpet presents a whole new challenge. Like he’s trying to walk on top of really thick grass that are in odd bundles. Ones with small enough gaps he can’t step through, but enough to trip him if he isn’t careful.

Then David takes a step, making the ground jump and cause Fritz to trip from his unsteady footwork with a yelp.

“What are you doing?” the monster demands.

The teenager is quick to get back on his feet, looking over his shoulder and instantly regretting it. Never will he get used to the sight of someone over a hundred feet tall glaring down at him like an ant needing to be crushed. “I-I-I’m just, the ground’s-s-s hard to walk o-on.”

“Are you having trouble walking over carpet?” David asks incredulously.

“I’m s-s-sorry,” Fritz breathes. Unable to speak any louder. Shaking as he expects the shoe to step on him right here and now. “I-I can do it. I’ll, I can go faster-r-r.”

Eyes bigger than his head roll as a hand waves to continue. Fritz doesn’t need to be told twice, turning in order to speed up his pace. His muscles hate it, both the large steps he has to make and fact he’s trying to jog, but he can’t stop. As soon as he gets to the end of the hallway, he’ll be on tile and able to slow down. For now he needs-

Fritz yells as his shoe catches a strand, wincing as his arms twinge from pain after catching him. Feels his entire body tense at the sound of a loud sigh from high above. Quickly tries to stand up again.

Freezes when he feels warmth. Warmth he’s all too familiar with whenever Vincent sweeps him up. Screams when something grabs his shirt and pulls him up. One that turns into a garbled choke as his collar digs into his neck. Then his feet leave the ground.

WAIT!

Fritz kicks out of pure panic as he watches the floor get further and further away until he’s forced to close his eyes before it becomes too dizzying. Before he faints because he can only picture falling from such a height, knowing he could never survive. Curls into himself as tightly as possible as he silently pleads not to be dropped please don’t let him fall.

“Relax,” rumbles like thunder around him. “I’m not going to drop you, but I’m not watching you stumble and trip all morning long.”

Fritz’s eyes open just long enough to see there’s a hand hovering a few feet below him. Can’t help a whimper when a single footstep makes his collar dig a little further into his neck. But he doesn’t attempt to plead to be put down or to be held more securely. The faster David gets to the kitchen, the quicker he’ll be put on solid ground.

“David, what the hell are you doing.”

Even though Vincent’s voice made Fritz feel ten times better knowing the giant who knows how fragile humans are is close by, vertigo overshadows any sense of safety, his eyes snapping open out of terror thinking he’s falling instead of being lowered down.

His fears are unfounded this time, kicking instinctively once the kitchen counter is finally close enough to safely land on, shrieking when his shirt is let go just a foot too high.

“He was taking too long so I picked him up.”

“That looked more like dangling,” Vincent says.

Fritz takes a few deep breaths in order to calm his heart, just glad he wasn’t dropped and never wanting to do that again. Glances up at David to see the monster looking prideful of what he accomplished. Vincent isn’t facing them, but at least his sleep paralysis demon doesn’t sound happy about the chosen method of transport. Despite it seeming like he will be dangled again, the teenager will take at least one giant preferring ways a little less terrifying.

“I got him here safely, didn’t I?” David smirks.

“And yet it seems like you’re trying your hardest to kill him before he chooses,” Vincent shrugs as he finally turns away from the stove.

A purple hand then reaches toward Fritz, the teenager almost running to not be held so soon after not only a morning of being faced with terrifying heights, but the entire night as well. His fears are unfounded when he spots a plate balanced on a fingertip, quick to accept it in order to stare down at bacon and eggs.

Right. He should eat. Get enough strength so he doesn’t lag behind and give anyone an excuse to grab him.

What if I’m dangled again?

The thought of vertigo and food mixing together has his stomach flipping in protest, the enticing smell almost making him want to gag. Remembering his nightmare has Fritz hurriedly shoving the plate away as he covers his mouth.

“Here.”

He doesn’t hesitate to accept the offered glass of water. Well aware he might be disrespecting Vincent by refusing food that was made solely for him, but unable to find it in himself to even look at it again. “I’m sorry-”

“I should’ve known,” the demon smiles. “Was it just David, or the nightmare?”

“B-Both.”

“What did David do?” James asks, seemingly appearing to loom over Fritz, the redhead curling into himself at the realization he’s trapped between two giants leaning on the counter. Both watching him closely.

“Picked Fritz up too quickly,” Vincent hums. “And dangled him after he was in freefall for about ten hours straight.”

“It sounds like he would’ve been fine if that wasn’t his torture last night.”

“And I’ll be mindful for next time so I don’t go overboard! It’s you who refuses to learn from your mistakes.”

“Again it sounds like he would’ve been fine if he wasn’t falling for hours on end.”

“You weren’t actually falling.”

Fritz hesitates before meeting James’ gaze, uncertain if the monster was talking to him. But Vincent doesn’t stop his argument with David, and it seems like an answer is wanted even if what was said was more like a statement. “I-I know.”

“Then why do you act like you actually were?”

The tone isn’t accusatory, but Fritz can’t help feeling like James is almost annoyed. “I, um, I think the v-vertigo made it real? F-For my body, not my mind.”

The black void eyes stare at him for a moment. “Are you just weak, or are all humans like this?”

“Um-m-m-”

“James, he’s a teenager,” Vincent cuts in. “He can’t answer those questions to the full extent you want them to be. So don’t resort to insults when you don’t get your way.”

“It’s not an insult when humans can’t tell the difference between hallucinations and reality.”

“I don’t think you’ve experienced a proper hallucination before, then.”

“D-Do all of you not make hallucinations?” Fritz pipes up. Not wanting another argument to start up, especially now that it’s clear it’s all the three seem to do when talking to each other. And, this might be the only chance he gets to prepare for the coming week.

“The only one who doesn’t do any type of hallucinations is James,” David announces, crossing his arms as his glares at said monster. “Vincent’s the only one who can control your dreams, but I’m the one that turns the shadows of your room into creatures waiting for the perfect time to grab you.”

“James is more ‘physical’ in a way. Grabs your blanket and pulls it off you. Scratches and pounds on your bed so you jolt awake. No true mental manipulation,” Vincent explains.

That’s...extremely helpful. And explains a lot. Including why they all like to fight with each other. He can imagine David trying to prove why his technique is better than the others.

“So, does that mean you all help each other?”

“No,” is said in unison.

“Helping means sharing, and I’m not willing to share a soul.”

“Can’t exactly do it, either. Once it’s consumed, it can’t be reformed.”

Fritz feels his lungs lock up as the sentence fully processes. About a soul being consumed. Like his own currently being fought over by the three surrounding him.

Vincent’s smile suddenly gets close enough he could kick it. “My, we haven’t gone into that detail yet, have we?”

“The interesting part is demons being the only one who consumes them,” James chimes in. “Monsters simply keep them for all eternity.”

“Meaning you can either sit on a shelf like a trinket, collecting dust in a dark cupboard with a hundred other souls, or a quick painless death at the very end of the road,” his sleep paralysis demon purrs.

Fritz finally forces himself to take a deep breath. Spots the plate of food that had been made to ensure he doesn’t die before he chooses someone to have the rights to take his soul. For David and James to keep locked up forever, or for Vincent to eat.

And the worst part is that neither seems better than the other.

Fritz hugs his knees before looking up at Vincent. “I should stop ask questions every time I eat.”

The demon chuckles as he carefully collects the abandoned plate. “That would be wise.”

“So for future reference, how do we pick him up without hurting him?”

“How do you feel, Fritz?”

Nauseous, but now for an entirely different reason. One that has him never wanting to be picked up again. Run to Jeremy’s house and come up with a plan where he doesn’t have to lose his soul. Find a comfortable place to just sleep and pretend it’s all a dream.

The teenager sighs. “You can pick me up.”

“Alright, David, show me how you did it last time.”

Before Fritz can fully comprehend what that meant, the back of his shirt is suddenly pulled taunt. Not even a second after and he’s yanked up, gaging for more reasons than one.

“It’s choking.”

“You were choking him the entire time?”

“It didn’t look like I was!”

Fritz gasps as he’s quickly lowered back down, coughing once his shirt is no longer attempting to strangle him. Yells as he attempts to scramble away when the fingers return. “No, wait-!”

“It’s just me,” Vincent rumbles. A sentence that doesn’t make him feel any better. It also means that even though Fritz actually manages to find his footing and run, his shirt still manages to get snagged.

Only this time, somehow, he isn’t choked as he’s lifted up. Still curls up with fear as he watches the counter disappear, but he can actually breathe. His stomach not trying to twist itself completely into a knot, though it was still left behind.

Fritz looks over at David with surprise before flinching at the hatred directed toward him. “I can’t help but feel like he was being dramatic before.”

“Even James could see you were choking him. This method works, but you can’t just yank him up. Be gentle and lift him up slowly. Same goes for when he’s in your hand.”

“He’s so fragile he needs to be picked up slowly? That’s what was wrong?”

James snorts as Fritz is slowly lowered back down, quick to face toward all three so no one can yank him up suddenly. “Maybe you should shrink down to its size and see what it’s like.”

“No way in hell.”

“Then you pick him up slowly and carefully,” Vincent scowls. “Or else if he dies by your hands, you owe James and I a soul.”

David aims his sight down on Fritz. “If that ever happens, I’ll find a way to make you pay.”

Which means it’ll be a loosing battle ever getting on the monster’s good side.

“James, your turn.”

Fritz doesn’t hesitate to sprint in the opposite direction as fast as possible. Screams when a hand blocks his path. Doesn’t get a chance to run again before the fingers curl around him to scoop him up. Freezes when he realizes the digits are purple, waiting to see if he’ll just be handed over. Going limp when he’s only held as his back is gently stroked.

“Maybe later.”

“Maybe never.”

“At least we all agree James is the worst.”

#hello hello!#long-time no story #but we have a Fritz!#and the Editor threatening to steal Writing Motivation #meaning this battle has been won #though I apologize for the odd time #hoping to get a good schedule soon #hope ya'll have a good day!#FNAF bois #g/t #giant #tiny #Terms Of Agreement #Terms Of AU #BTE writing #cw #content warning

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minijenn · 9 months

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Jen Tortures Herself With Every Dreamworks Animated Movie Ever: Antz

So as I mentioned earlier, I'm watching every Dreamworks animated movie (and special) ever because... I don't know, I fucking hate myself, I guess. But for reals, this studio is so weird because sometimes they'll make the greatest movies literally ever crafted (Prince of Egypt, How to Train Your Dragon, Puss in Boots the Last Wish) and other times they'll make absolute shit like what I had to fucking watch to kick this marathon off. Goddamn fucking Antz.

I plan on doing drive by reviews of each of these movies on here because well, what's the point of watching all these films if I'm not gonna share what I think. So yeah, let's start with 1998's Antz, the first Dreamworks animated film and by god its one of their worst.

If you asked me to tell you what Antz is about, I'm honestly not sure I'd be able to give you a coherent answer because I'm not sure Antz itself knows what Antz is about. Like I think its about individuality? About breaking free from opressive systems?? About thinking for yourself? I guess? But like its annoyingly heavy handed with that message to the point that it doesn't let its audience think for itself. It does a lot of telling instead of showing and as such creates a viewing experience as dull as the dirt these ants call home.

Also lets talk about these Antz. They are Ugly as Sin like seriously who looked at these character designs and thought this was ok???

Most stompable ants of all fucking time if you ask me and the non ants aren't much better. Behold, my new sleep paralysis demons:

As for how the characters act... yeah they're not much better than how they look. The main character, Z, is an annoying asshole who just spends most of the film bitching (and yes they actually use that word, this movie is weirdly littered with swears and cussing and sexual innuendos? More on that later) about his shitty lot in life and even once he breaks free he's still agressively uninteresting. His love interest Bala is just as uninteresting, an arrogant bitch who flip flops about how she feels about him with almost no development whatsoever. The side characters are all forgettable, and the villain, General Mandible is just your generic "wants to rule everyone and get rid of anyone who opposes him" bad guy. The world they inhabit isn't really that creative tbh, they hype up this place called Insectopia but its just a trash heap where a bunch of stoner bugs live and its really not that important to the plot at all really so why do we care???

Blatant product placement what what

Also yeah that plot. It starts out as Z being incontent with his lot in life as a simple worker ant and so he switches places with his friend Weaver so he can be a soldier ant, only to be the lone survivor of a battle against a group of opposing termites. This somehow leads to him and Bala winding up outside of the colony and they go on a lame ass adventure that seems incredibly rushed while Mandible is planning to wipe out all of the "lesser" ants and take Bala as his queen i guess? idk i kinda zoned out toward the end bc i was so soul-crushingly board with this movie.

The animation can be impressive for the time I suppose, that's really the only good thing I have to say about it but even then, the colors are dirty and unappealing, the characters are, like I said, all incredibly hard to look at, the music is bland and forgettable, the set pieces are garish and boring, and the writing oh god the writing.

Ok so I have no idea who this movie is meant to be for??? Like its rated PG right but they're constantly throwing out swears like bitch and ass and anus and making sex jokes and I'm just like??? What??? Is this a kids movie? Because what kid would enjoy this thoroughly unpleasant kinda dark movie? Is it for adults? Why would adults want to watch a movie about wisecracking ants??? Who is this for? Why did they make this? Ok well I know why because Pixar was making a very similar film at the very same time as this and Jeffery Katzenburg is a Petty Bitch

Really, at the end of the day, all I can say about this movie is just... don't bother with it? It really sucks, its agressively unappealing and unpleasant to sit through, and when its not assulting you with you how gross it is, its assualting you with how painfully boring it is. I don't think I even cracked a smile once while watching it. What a fucking way to start a Dreamworks marathon off on. Jesus.

Overall rating: 1/10

Verdict: Step on these damn Antz already

Next Review (Prince of Egypt)

#jen watches #dreamworks watch #jen tortures herself with every dreamworks movie #antz #dreamworks animation #movie review #bad movie is bad whoops #i didnt like it idk man

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theallenshorefangirl · 5 months

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@voidwritesstuff @screechinginthevoid

After the Tapes Chapter 6 (Sorry if it's bad, it's been written since March and April) plz forgive me. I forgot how to write.

As the fresh March rain hit the cabin,it was about 7:00 am.The cabin was quite.The calendar date was the 25th of March.The only room in the cabin that was active with noise,was the kitchen where Desmond,Laz,Jerico,Lucas and Allen were busy like bees in there.”Alright this needs to be perfect for her.” Jerico kept them on their toes while cooking.”Allen stop eating the buttercream frosting!? And Desmond stop playing around with the pancake batter.Lucas you know better stop putting a bunch of sprinkles on the cake!?” Dios mio!? Laz, can you help me keep the children at bay.”

Laz chuckled and nodded. Lucas,Desmond and Allen all slowly turned to Jerico and frowned. ”yeah that's right I called you children cause you're all acting like one.” They all get back to the task at hand.Allen peered in the doorway to his and his sisters room.Laying in a burrito blanket on her own bed was Z.She found a way to keep herself asleep and from the sleep paralysis demon. ”Z wake up time to get up.” Allen knocked on the wood of the bed.Half awake Z sits up. ”Huh?” “Come on rise and shine,take a shower and come to the kitchen.” Allen kept poking her with a random stick he snagged from the tree next to the window “Alright,alright I'll get up.” Z was really annoyed but she got up eventually and took her morning shower.

Once she was done as soon as she stepped into the kitchen she was bombarded with confetti and streamers.”Happy birthday Z!” They all called out.Z stood there embarrassed.Allen escorted Z to a chair where homemade chocolate chip pancakes were on a plate and a chocolate buttercream frosted sprinkle cake sat in the middle of the table.”We made you breakfast and a cake!” Jerico laughed as they sat down to eat. “Wow, it looks great!” Z spoke with joy and a hint of sadness to her voice.

*Timeskip to Town* The town was abandoned and Mayer security was nowhere to be seen.Desmond wanted to grab a few things from his apartment and office area to try and liven up the cabin that Lucas put add-ons to the house for more room for everyone.While Jerico,Lazarus,Desmond and Lucas were busy with collecting stuff from the apartment and to get food at Homa Mart.Allen and Z headed back to the one place that made them feel like themselves again.Icarus Point Lighthouse.

Allen thought Z needed to take in a breath of air from being cooped up in the cabin.He made sure no Mayer Security was roaming about the place and took Z inside.They both reached the top of the lighthouse.Z looked out amongst the ocean and started crying.Allen,worried like he always was, and walked to Z's side.”What's wrong your the birthday girl is everything alright?”

Z's face was red and her eyes started to turn red from how much she cried.”Allen that's the thing I don't feel like a girl I feel like I'm nothing.I don't feel girly…I feel like a void ripped my thoughts straight from my head.Like a singular moon different from the rest of the stars and suns and moons.” Z trembled, losing her balance and fell to her knees sobbing and hyperventilating intensely like an anxiety attack was happening.Allen pulls her close.``Shhh it's alright I think I read it in a book your not female nor male but you don't fall under those categories.I think it's called Non-Binary or enby if I'm not mistaken.” Allen has read multiple books from Desmond’s mini library in the cabin and tries to understand what they were like: books on bird species,cute cats and cuddly dogs,how to comfort a love one,ect.Anything Desmond had he kinda had it.Allen pulls Z close to himself and hugs her.”Do you want me to use Non-Binary pronouns with you?” Allen rubs her back letting the tears stain his canary yellow turtleneck.``With you,you're only allowed to call me by your sister. I don't mind,but I want the others to use enby pronouns.” She sniffled and wiped the tears on her pale violet sweater.``It's ok,we can tell the others when we are back to the cabin…ok?” Allen rubs little circles around their back.

*Timeskip to dinner* They all,got back safe in the cabin.Desmond had his chaise lounge and his chair back,along with a working computer and a few other items like patient files,records and tapes.Lucas was making some grilled lemon salmon and some side dishes to go with it.Everyone sat down to eat.Allen stood up,and the room went quiet.”Guys,Z wants me to tell you all they want to use Non-Binary pronouns from now on.” He sat back down.Z was sinking in her chair,the ringing in her ears were loud and felt like liquid fire was pouring down her eyes.”Z,you're ok with us no matter what you are.” Jerico piped up.”We would even still love you like family if you were a worm!” Allen nudged Z's shoulder.”No matter what kiddo,you're ok in my book.” Lucas gave a warm smile.”If you need anything,let us know.” Laz nodded.Z sat there crying for a good while.Desmond and the others gave them a hug and rubbing their back.After a while they ate the delicious lemon salmon and finished the rest of the birthday cake.

It was now 11pm and they all sat atop the radio tower.Lucas gifted a good sized telescope that could see pretty far away.The cool spring air was fresh and crisp.The stars twinkled like glitter.Afew of the constellations glimmers familiar colors like red,purplish pink,light blue and pink.They all admired the beautiful display as they headed back to bed.Allen and Z both looked out the window as the rain started to pour in.”I'm so proud of you. You know that.I would give you the best sibling ever award if that existed.” Allen laughs.Z smiles and yawns,leaning onto Allen.”Same to you, Al. I mean, without you, it would be boring.” Allen's smile widened.”I forgot to tell you, but I loaded everyone's pillows with confetti.” Once Desmond,Laz,Jer, and Lucas laid down a cloud of confetti poured out of their pillows.The heard groans of disappointment.They both laugh hysterically.”Nice bro.” Z nods in approval.”Hey perfect opportunity, and I took it.” Allen gleamed with joy.They both headed to their beds and went to sleep.

#insoundmindau #afterthetapeau #ismafterthetapesau

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complicitsacrilege · 1 year

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Armand for the character thing of course

Of course 💖 because the gremlin is obviously the best

Sexuality Headcanon: so I HC that Armand's sexuality is... Weird. He is bi, but his sexual preferences are almost entirely based on blood exchange (assuming vampires can have sex. If not, that's irrelevant anyway). Sex isn't nearly as provocative for him as the act of being in control and observing before participating only to drink blood from his partner(s). Sex is just a bodily function, but blood exchange is the real pleasure for him. Both in a sexual way and in the kill.

That goes without saying, he almost never gives his blood to anyone, though he'll drink from anyone he wants. Canonically, to my 1am brain's recollection, he only shares his blood with Marius and Daniel (possibly Louis, depending on show or book canon), and he offers Lestat his blood.

Gender Headcanon: Armand is trans. That's my big gender HC for Armand. But honestly he forgets he's even trans because it just doesn't really matter for vampires at a certain point?? Like what does it matter what's in your pants or whatever unless you're entangled with the human perspective on desire? His gender is Armand, The Vampire. That's it.

A ship I have with said character: so besides the obvious Devil's Minions, I also ship him with Santiago and a couple others!

A BROTP I have with said character: they never really interact but Mael & Armand would be gremlins together and you cannot convince me otherwise lmao

A NOTP I have with said character: Armand/David. Honestly, David with anyone.

A random headcanon: Armand is basically everyone's sleep paralysis demon at Trinity Gate. He just kinda shows up and stares at them like 👀 hey kid, u got gamez on ur phone?

In the show verse, he does this frequently to Daniel when he's trying to have a peaceful rest in his locked bedroom. After he reveals himself of course. Before that point, he'd just creepily watch Daniel sleep a la Edward Cullen from the corner of the room and leave before he's really noticed. Though Daniel swears he saw someone looking at him from the closet one night.

General Opinion over said character: I think in general, Armand is very misunderstood. He's a very easy character for people to project trauma and relate trauma to - for better and worse. That said, I would die for him.

#thank youuu!#asked and answered #iwtv #vc #himb #headcanons

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danielt1985 · 6 months

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An analysis of Billie Eilish’s ‘WHEN WE ALL FALL ASLEEP, WHERE DO WE GO?’

Written by Daniel T. Gaming - 3/29/24

Today marks the 5 year anniversary of Billie Eilish's debut album, ‘WHEN WE ALL FALL ASLEEP, WHERE DO WE GO?’.

To celebrate, I want to make this thread that analyzes each song for what it's about & why it exists. I've actually done an analysis on this album before, so this is just gonna be a summarized version.

!!!!!!!

This 14 second monologue of Billie pulling out her Invisalign was actually the first thing her & Finneas EVER recorded for the album. Fittingly enough, its length matches the amount of tracks on the album (14 seconds = 14 tracks). Also, the track’s title is officially pronounced ‘Seven Exclamation Points’.

bad guy

The biggest single on the album. It's a track that Billie wrote to mock at people who put on fake personas & make themselves look more important than who they really are. The title is actually a reference to Scarface, in which Al Pacino's character, Tony Montana, says "Say goodnight to the bad guy!"

xanny

Billie wrote this track after her & her friends went to a party. She noticed afterwards that they started acting rather unusual. Smoking, drinking, vomiting, acting up on her, it made them feel like different people, and that was something Billie wanted to represent. Especially in the chorus, where the distorted bass & Billie's textured vocals really imitates that of second-hand smoking.

you should see me in a crown

This is the first single off of the album. It's actually written off of a line from BBC's Sherlock!

"We wrote this song ‘cause of Sherlock, actually, 'cause there’s a scene where Jim Moriarty says, 'You should see me in a crown’ and me and my brother were like, ‘Hey, that’s jiggy as f*ck.’ Then we just sorta made the song about being jiggy I guess, and you should see me in a crown, so there it is." - Billie during the premiere of the song on BBC Radio 1.

all the good girls go to hell

Billie's take on Christian symbolism & climate change, even taking key notes from Ariana Grande & continuing the indication of God being a woman. This song is in reference to the California wildfires that happened around the time "you should see me in a crown" was being released.

wish you were gay

Also a very early track Billie wrote. It was written when she had been rejected by a guy she liked. She was hoping for other reasons that weren't about her to be the reason for his rejection, and she thought of the idea that he could've been gay. Ironically enough, when the song dropped, he got in contact with Billie, and told her that he turned out to be gay after all!

when the party's over

A song about distancing one's self from romantic interest, Billie wrote this as more of an angry perspective, rather than sad. It's also based on a story in which Finneas had drove away from this girl he was dating with. It's a feeling you're not happy about, but it needed to be done.

Flipping over to Side B, we have a song about feeling regretful for being rude to a friend. Billie shows a lot of sympathy to her friend, and regrets hurting them as is.

"When people hear that song, they’re like, ‘Oh, poor baby Billie, she’s so hurt.’ But really I was just a dickhead for a minute and the only way I could deal with it was to stop and put myself in that person’s place."

my strange addiction

Written off of the TLC series, 'My strange addiction', Billie finds herself taking on another person when she should be taking a break for herself. The interludes & opening are also sampled from The Office episode, 'Threat Level Midnight' (S7:E17)

bury a friend

Sleep paralysis. Demons. Fear from what's beneath. All of which combined makes up the creepiest song on the album. It's about the idea of a monster being under Billie's bed, and the confusing relationship she has with this monster. It's also where the title of the album comes from.

What also adds to this unsettling tension is dentist equipment that was recorded for the album. This song also transitions smoothly into...

ilomilo

Going from fearing somebody, to fearing loneliness. The song's idea also comes from the video game of the same name, in which you control both Ilo and Milo, as they are separated apart, solving puzzles in order for them to reach each other. That concept of escaping loneliness plays into this song incredibly well. The lyrics for it would also be used in the documentary, ‘Billie Eilish: The World’s A Little Blurry’.

listen before i go

By far, one of the saddest songs on the album, Billie writes a heart wrenching story of a woman who is ready to end her life by jumping off of a building, writing her final message to her friends & her partner.

The track really pulls at you, with how openly depressing its structure is. It even has these bass jabs that appear in the middle that really make you feel like you have like an instant panic attack. The track ultimately ends with a bass thump, with ambulance sounds and screaming, ultimately leading us to believe that she had actually done it.

i love you

Toxic dependency is a tragedy as old as love itself. In the penultimate song for the album, Billie sings about two emotionally distraught lovers trying to find peace in each other.

This guitar-eccentric “love” ballad is also the longest song on the album, clocking in at almost 5 minutes. The title for her longest song would later go to ‘Happier Than Ever.’ And with this track being the penultimate song helps wrap the album into a nice bow. A bow covered in blood, tears, sadness & spiders.

goodbye

To finish off the album is a one minute melancholic medley. It samples the bridge from ‘xanny’ and recites all of the album’s songs in reverse order. From ‘i love you’ -> ‘bad guy’, and ending it off with a tape stop.

Billie wrote this because she didn’t want the album to just end inconclusive. She felt like albums ending with a random song from the track list doesn’t make it feel like it actually properly ended. So she wrote this ending piece as a way to cap off the album. She also uses this track to end off her concerts too, even to this day.

Conclusion

When I first picked the CD up for this album in June 2019, I was honestly not knowing what to expect. I did hear a few of the singles before the album released but I wasn’t expecting something as intense as it did. And I LOVED it.

I know that Billie has evolved a lot since this album’s release, and I know she’s had even MORE critical and commercial success since, but I will be forever grateful for this album’s existence. It got me through some of the darkest times I’ve ever had, and every listen to this album gave me a fuzzy experience that I don’t think will ever be replicated again.

To Billie, Finneas, and the WWAFA,WDWG crew… thank you. Thank you for giving us one of, if not, the GREATEST album of 2019, and for the 2010s as a whole. May Billie continue to seek success and continue to be one of the most important pop stars in the music industry.

-❤️ Daniel

#billie eilish #Billie #Eilish #music #alternative #when we all fall asleep where do we go

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colormepurplex2 · 2 years

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Dream For Us | Plagued By Nightmares

↳ Hyung Line x f.Reader ⤜ Strangers/Lovers ⤜ Rating: MA 🔞 ⤜ WC: 5,981 ⚠️ Sexual banter/talk, alcohol consumption, angst, sleep paralysis, talk of nightmares

Next Chapter⇾ ◅ Back to chapter list

"I need her," Hoseok murmurs to himself, absently dragging a finger through the oculus. The scrying pool ripples around his digit, distorting the scene playing out in it. It's some well-to-do, swanky bar with plush seats and twinkling fairy lights; but the main focus is the three 'friends' having a drink. He hates to think of them as friends, but that's how they've been labeled. He has peered through the pool enough times in the last few weeks to recognize the ebony-skinned fiend and the towering demon parading as a jockey ape that have attached themselves to the figure that holds his attention the most– the one that's utterly captivating to the point it's alarming for Hoseok– you. How and why those two rogue lechs latched themselves to you, he's yet to figure out.

"Ooo, is that the next one?" A bright, titillating voice asks from over his shoulder, ripping him from his thoughtful observations.

Hoseok glances back, eyes flicking over the figure behind him. The last thing he wants to deal with right now is Seokjin's over-eager bullshit. Annoyance pulls at the corners of his eyes but he forces his muscles to not flinch and give away the fact he'd rather bury his fist in Seokjin's perfect face than actually speak to him.

He turns, focusing back on the scene in the oculus. "Yes," he finally answers once he's sure his voice won't betray his inner turmoil. Not only does he wish to hit his own brother, but the fact you're now laughing at something the friend-disguised-fiend said on the oculus, stirs a green-tinged feeling deep in his belly. Jealousy is a bitter flavor on his tongue. It's one he hasn't tasted for a very, very long time. These desires should be beneath a being such as him. That's what The Rite was created for after all; to make the act of acquisition a transactional process and to remove all possible emotional conflicts. There is an order to these kinds of things, one he has no choice but to stick to.

He presses his lips into a thin line, willing the errant thoughts of familial violence and untoward bitterness away. The last thing he needs is one of his brothers picking up on his odd discomfort over the next oblation. It's not like there is anything inherently special about this one. You're merely human, not a speck of luster in your veins; he should just let one of his brothers have you. But, still, something tugs at him and makes him linger over the oculus just a moment longer, taking in the sensuous curve of your throat and the way you place a gentle hand on your demon friend's shoulder before he wills the image to disintegrate. It quickly fades away in a swirl of muddied colors until all that's left is the placid silver surface of the scrying device.

Seokjin steps up to the oculus, frowning down at the large pool. "Why'd you do that? I wanted to see more," he mutters, continuing to be oblivious to the way Hoseok is tensing beside him with barely restrained frustration.

"You'll get to see more soon enough. The Rite begins next week. We have plans to make. Call the others, we'll convene after we speak with Father." Hoseok waves a dismissive hand at Seokjin before turning and striding from the observatory and into the gloomy twilight space beyond. He disappears in a whirl of dust, not even waiting to hear if his brother offers a response.

༻ஓ๑ ✧ ๑ஓ༺

Four shrouded figures gather around the gnarled stump of Ithid, the ancient soul-devouring tree that their father reaped when he formed the Kingdom of Dreams. Now, instead of unlit souls going through Ithid to the afterlife, they become a part of the Dreamscape where the God of Dreams uses them to further his Kingdom and power.

The ash-colored bark hums if anyone draws too close, remnants of the life force still clinging to the roots of the ancient gatekeeper. One false step is all it would take for Ithid to regain power. All it needs is a trickle, just enough essence to begin to thrive again. Which is why there is a permanent repulsion haze clinging to the withered remains of the once Guardian timbre. Anyone who gets closer, drawn in by the hum, succumbs to a crippling snare that will hold them in place until the God of Dreams comes to claim them.

There have only been a few unfortunate beings that have found themselves at the mercy of Morpheus in that way, weeping in the clutches of the spell. He will do anything within his power to keep Ithid from regaining the strength needed to resurrect. The Dreamscape relies on it remaining dormant. The four sons he sired were merely a means to an end, his own guardians created to help ensure that never happens.

"Hypnos sends his regards," the sudden, silken voice of the God of Dreams pierces the silence, drawing the attention of the gathered figures. Morpheus moves with grace, his black cloak floating out behind him like a gauzy shroud. "Finally, the time has come for our Kingdom to begin The Rite. Four of you means four oblations over four years, the first bestowed upon us soon. Have you decided who will receive first?"

Silence answers the God of Dreams. Finally, after a few more moments, one of the figures steps forward. "That has not been decided yet, Father. We were hoping to have more time to come to that conclusion."

Morpheus turns a curious eye on the speaker. "You all have known about this for centuries at this point. Have you not already had plenty of time for that? I expected more effort from my sons. Have I been too lax in my ways, allowing too much freedom in my realm?"

"We do as we're tasked. This is a decision we would rather not make lightly, as it does hold significant changes for the receivers," a second figure steps forward and offers.

Morpheus gives a derisive snort. "You have a week to make that decision, otherwise I'll be making it for you." With that, he coalesces into a swirl of golden sand that floats away with a sudden gust of stale, piny air.

"Well, that went well," another voice snarks.

"Shove it, Yoongi," the first figure, Namjoon, snaps. "Father is right, we should have made this decision long ago. We knew The Rite would be passed to our Kingdom after Hypnos'."

"Who do you propose, then?" Seokjin, the second figure, asks. He steps closer to Namjoon, letting the subtle glow from unseen lights highlight his features in stark relief. "Shall we draw straws?"

"I'll be the first," comes Namjoon's curt reply.

"Abso-fucking-lutely not."

Namjoon turns, taking in the last figure now stepping out of the gloom and into the light. "Hoseok, don't start. Going in order is the only way that truly makes sense and removes all responsibility of choice from our shoulders."

"No," Hoseok replies simply, drawing out the syllable in a monotone.

"Besides," Yoongi chips in, striding up alongside Hoseok, "if we went in order then Seokjin would go first, not you. Or have you been lulled away in the Dreamscape for so long that you've forgotten about our creation?"

Hoseok shakes his head. "Still not happening. I want her. I'm the one that was designated as the oculus sentinel. I'm the one that's been watching her, protecting her mind, so by rights, she should be mine."

"You're only the sentinel because the rest of us were busy actually doing our jobs." Seokjin crosses his arms over his chest, glaring at Hoseok.

The death glare that Hoseok turns on his brother would shrivel any mortal soul. Seokjin just scoffs and rolls his eyes. “You’d rather draw straws?” Hoseok mocks with his own eye roll.

“That was a joke, you jackass. Gods, act like you have some social skills. You’ve been hanging out with the quasi-deities far too much.”

Hoseok bares his teeth in a sneer, his white-blond hair ruffling across his forehead as he jerks his chin up. “Leave them out of this.” Seokjin may be his brother, but Hoseok doesn’t tolerate anyone bad-mouthing his friends like that.

Yoongi throws a hand in the air. “Shut up, the both of you. Father expects us to make this decision and you know if we don’t then he will take matters into his own hands. Now, we don’t want that, do we?”

Seokjin and Hoseok grumble in agreement, shifting their stances away from one another.

“Yoongi is right,” Namjoon says. “Instead of arguing over nonsensical bullshit, we need to come up with a solution to our problem. Preferably before Father steps in on our behalf.”

“What do you propose?” Hoseok asks, directing his question to Yoongi. “You’re the only one that hasn’t offered a suggestion or tried to stake a claim so far.”

Seokjin mutters under his breath about how his suggestion of drawing straws wasn’t truly a suggestion, but his irritated words go ignored. Yoongi glances around, eyes falling on the brittle bark of Ithid for a moment as he thinks.

Finally, he glances up, meeting the eyes of each of his brothers. “We let the oblation decide.”

Namjoon’s brow scrunches. “What? Do we just approach them and say ‘hey, I know this is weird, but you’re scheduled to die next week and one of us needs to claim your divine soul. Care to play eeny-meeny-miney-mo or maybe you can just spin around and blindly point?’ Not exactly a great idea there.”

Yoongi chuckles, shaking his head. “If it were that easy, sure. But, no. I’m talking about taking the next week and we do what we do best. Infiltrate their dreams and give them a good dose of what we have to offer. Once they pass over and come into the Dreamscape, we can have them choose based on their experience. All souls have to go through a transition period before Father accepts them into the Kingdom anyway, that’s the perfect time to let them choose.” He shrugs like it’s a solid, genius plan.

“That’s kind of fucked up.” Hoseok chews his bottom lip. “But, so fucked up that I think I like it.”

“I don’t know,” Namjoon huffs. He shifts his weight, shoving one hand in the front pocket of his black pants and adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose with the other. As a Demi-God, the glasses are completely unnecessary, but Namjoon has picked up a few mortal quirks over the centuries. “Can we consider that truly fair? We need to set some ground rules.”

Yoongi nods but before he can offer anything further, Seokjin speaks up. “No sex. Absolutely no touching of the oblation at all.” He gives a pointed look to Namjoon, who is known to frequent the mortal realm the most; hence the acquired quirks. “We only reach out to them in their dreams.”

“That’s a given,” Yoongi raises an eyebrow and smirks, “knowing what The Rite involves, we should probably bar orgasms as a whole. That includes our own.” There is a collective groan from the others. “A necessary stipulation, but you all know as well as I do that’s the dangerous territory where an oblation is involved. Forming a bond with a mortal before their soul crosses over can be detrimental to our power and even our very existence.”

“Right,” Hoseok agrees. “No sex, no orgasms on either side, we only reach out through dreams. Anything else?”

They’re all quiet for a moment as they mull it over. Seokjin finally breaks the silence, “I’m okay with this if you all are, but who goes first?”

Hoseok slaps his brother on the back, a slow smile curving his lips, letting the gesture finish fizzling the hostility in the air between them. “We draw straws, of course.”

༻ஓ๑ ✧ ๑ஓ༺

The balmy summer nighttime air feels good on your bare shoulders. You trail one of your index fingers through the condensation collecting at the bottom of your glass, the ice nearly melted away. Mel is going on about something, but you’ve long since tuned out the conversation between her and Gavin.

Your friends mean the world to you, even if you’ve only known them for a few years now. Melrose and Gavin are inseparable, they have been since the last foster home they shared together at seventeen. You know their story, all the highs and lows that make them who they are today. Not for the first time do you glance between the pair and think about what it would be like to have a connection like the one they share.

“Earth to Peach, are you listening to me?” Mel snaps her fingers in front of your face. The click of the colorful beads in her long braids adds to the pop from her digits. Dark eyebrows furrow over her chestnut eyes that frame either side of a straight nose with a buttoned tip. Her plump lips are pressed down into a frown, the electric purple lipstick coating them only amplifying the expression as it contrasts against her ebon complexion.

You jerk back in your seat, your eyes locking onto hers. “What? Sorry, I was uh- just thinking about work,” you lie, picking up your drink to cover the guilt you know is plain on your face.

“Peachy, babe, don’t be like that. We’re your friends, you can be honest and tell Melrose to shut the fuck up if you don’t want to hear about Roy-the-roidhead for the hundredth time tonight,” Gavin offers with a knowing smile in your direction. His bright blue eyes catch the glimmering lights overhead, adding even more dazzle to how ridiculously handsome he is. His blond hair is immaculate as always, perfectly styled in a way that accentuates his smooth forehead and slim nose. He’s tall, broad in the shoulder but narrow in the waist; the body of someone who spends most of their free-time striving to be a real-life Adonis. It definitely shows.

You press your lips together before setting your glass down again. The watered-down rum and coke taste too sweet in your mouth. “You know how much I hate that name,” you murmur, ignoring the rest of his statement. They took to calling you Peach about a year ago. It started out innocent enough, the pair dotting over how sweet you are but over time it’s morphed into more salacious claims than anything.

Mel scoots her chair closer to yours and throws an arm over your shoulder. Her skin is warm against yours. “But you’re so sweet, Peach,” she winks and drags her teeth over her bottom lip. The purple lipstick holds true, a testament to the formula. Maybe you should ask her what brand it is, pick some up for yourself. You can’t help but smile, a soft laugh bubbling up your throat even as a blush colors your cheeks at her implication and your silly thoughts. “Now, as I was saying, Roy invited me…”

Just like that, the atmosphere shifts like you hadn’t been called out for ignoring the conversation. Though, you’re not sure if it’s for the better or not. Slowly, the words begin to turn into a buzz instead of the coherent rant from Melrose. You don’t mean to tune her out again, but your attention drifts and you find yourself back in your own thoughts. It’s a nice night to be out, at the beginning of the weekend, and the bar is full of life. The later it gets, the louder it will be in here and the more bodies that will fill the space. One more drink and you’re certain Gavin will ask you to dance. You hope he does, at least, as you could use the distraction from your own troubles.

Ever the reliable one, Gavin downs his next dirty martini and pushes back from the table. The squeak of the wooden chair legs against the linoleum flooring cuts Melrose off from her current tirade about Roy and his latest diet obsession. “Um, excuse you, Gav. Where the fuck do you think you’re going? I’m not finished with my story.”

Gavin gives her a saccharine smile and throws a ring-covered middle finger in her direction. “You’re boring me, Mel. I’m taking our friend here to go dance.” He turns to you, his eyebrows bouncing. “What do you say, Peach, ditch this snore fest and join me on the dance floor?”

You try to suppress the smile that tugs at your lips. “Sorry, Mel,” you offer, casting a quick glance her way. “Roy sounds great, though, I’m really happy for you,” you lie, yet again, considering you’ve no idea what Roy actually sounds like since you haven’t been paying attention to a word she’s said about him.

Before Melrose can respond, Gavin is grabbing you by the hand and tugging you up from your chair. You catch a menacing look ghosting over Melrose’s face before she schools it and rolls her eyes. “Whatever, assholes, Roy wanted to hang out tonight anyway. I’ll catch you both on Monday.”

“Sometimes I’d wish she’d just go hang out with her flavor of the week before spending a few hours with us and doing nothing but yapping about them,” Gavin says, leading you toward the crowded dance floor.

You’re not sure what to say in response to that. It’s not like you can blame Melrose. Guys are…well, guys. She gets bored and likes to keep life interesting. Which is more than you think you can say about your own love life. Your eyes flick over Gavin as he spins around and gives you a sly smile.

He tugs you close, slowly running his hands down your arms and letting them land on your hips. The song playing has a soft beat to it, not quite slow but not a quick thumping rhythm either. It’s perfect for the steady sway of your hips that Gavin sets, his hands helping you move with the music. His eyes slide closed and his chin tilts back, the smile still clinging to his lips. Lips that you’ve thought about kissing more than once. You don’t, though, because you can’t. It would be too awkward.

Gavin is your friend and you’re fairly certain he doesn’t see you in any sort of romantic light. He just really likes to dance and maybe you have a little crush that keeps you from ever saying no to him when he asks you to join him. His hands on your body, innocent as it may be, are an added bonus you file away for secret, personal enjoyment.

The jewel-toned halter top that Melrose talked you into wearing, gives Gavin access to more skin than you’d typically be putting on display. His hands travel from your hips and over your shoulders to play in the hair at the nape of your neck. Goosebumps pop up along your arms and down your spine. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip in an attempt to hide your grin.

You let yourself get lost in the moment, the freedom that dancing with Gavin brings you. The music changes, the next song is an instrumental remix of one of your favorites. “Fuck yeah, I love this song,” you gush, moving your hips at a faster pace.

“Be careful, Peach. You keep moving like that and I might want to take a bite.” The words out of Gavin’s mouth have your hips stuttering to a stop. You stare at him wide-eyed until he realizes you’ve stopped moving. His chin drops and he raises an eyebrow at you. “Don’t stop,” he teases and drops his hands back to your hips, giving them a squeeze. “Unless you want to.”

Your hips automatically start back up, as if they have a mind of their own. “You’re funny,” you mutter with a shake of your head.

Gavin leans in close, his body pressing closer to yours than it’s ever been. He’s so close you can feel the tug and rub of his clothes moving across yours, the rough braid of his jeans against your thinner ones. The close proximity has a surge of heat flaming into your cheeks. “I wasn’t trying to be funny,” his voice is low, a husky whisper that tickles your ear. He chuckles when you let out a small, strangled sound instead of a response. “Oh, Peach, if you only knew,” he continues, pulling back and giving you a meaningful look.

Maybe it’s a testament to how truly desperate you are in the romantic department, but Gavin’s words stick with you. Even after you part ways outside the bar. He heads in one direction and you go in the other. Gavin and Melrose live next to each other, in quaint little townhouses that are on the other side of town.

You inherited your house from your grandparents. It’s cute in its own way, cozy and full of wonderful memories. The drive to your place is nearly double the drive to their places from your job. You all work at the same marketing firm that’s just a few blocks from the bar you’re walking away from.

It’s been hours since your last drink. Your aching feet can attest to at least four of them spent dancing with Gavin. He also practically drowned you with cup after cup of water in between songs. It’s tempting to call for an Uber, simply because exhaustion is starting to set in and the last thing you feel like doing is concentrating on the road for thirty minutes. But, you take a deep breath and slide behind the wheel anyway.

An hour later you’re pulling an oversized t-shirt on and climbing into bed. Despite the fatigue sitting heavy on your chest, you can’t bring yourself to close your eyes. There’s a reason you agreed to go out tonight even when you didn’t really want to. It’s the same reason you’ve been staying up until ridiculous hours in the morning all week while still managing to crawl into work on time. Caffeine has become a constant crutch that you cling to. The headaches and lethargy from lack of sleep can’t compare to what comes when you close your eyes; the nightmares that leave you sweaty and choking on the taste of fear.

Sleep paralysis is what the doctor called it. You prefer to think of it as your own personal demon. It’s been so long since you’ve had a peaceful night of sleep, one not plagued with thrashing and low whimpers that ultimately lead to your eyes staring at the ceiling and your body feeling like it’s at the bottom of the ocean. That’s what scares you the most, the pressure.

You slap a hand on your cheek a few times, willing the exhaustion to recede. It doesn’t. The thought of getting out of bed and fixing a cup of coffee drifts through but it slithers through your grasp as your eyes flutter shut. It’s impossible to resist the pull. A low, pained moan sounds in your throat as sleep washes in on a wave of utter darkness.

༻ஓ๑ ✧ ๑ஓ༺

There aren’t many things that Hoseok enjoys more than entering someone’s dreams. It’s a seamless process, sliding into the gaps of consciousness. His brothers thought he was kidding when he suggested using Seokjin’s joke as a way to choose. They all grumbled a little when he pulled the longest straw, giving him the role of going first. Hoseok loves first impressions, they’re so impactful. Plus, he has a little surprise up his proverbial sleeve that he thinks you’ll never forget.

“Hey, Hoseok!” Speaking of, what’s that phrase, ‘speak of the devil and…’? Hoseok turns slowly from his observation of the oculus to the newcomer.

“Jimin, thanks for coming.” His eyes rove over the other being, taking in the slim cut of his suit. Always dressed to impress, he doesn’t disappoint. Jimin is perfect for what Hoseok has in mind.

Jimin sidles up beside Hoseok to gaze into the scrying pool. “The others won’t be far behind.” He gestures to the oculus, “That the one?”

Hoseok gives an affirming hum. “Like clockwork, the tall one will be asking her to dance soon. Then the fun begins.”

“Oh, good. We didn’t miss the party.” Two figures step out from one of the balconies, arms linked together. Jungkook and Taehyung look just as good as Jimin in their trim pants and button-downs.

“What Taehyung really means to say is it’s good to see you Hoseok and we’re looking forward to whatever it is you have for us to do,” Jungkook uses his elbow wrapped around the other man’s arm to bump him in the ribs.

Hoseok grins, feeling the anxiety quickly draining away just from being in their presence. Seokjin called them quasi-deities, and that may be technically correct, but they’re also his best friends and know him better than any of his brothers ever could even pretend to.

“It’s good to see you guys, too,” Hoseok agrees. “Shall we?” He turns back to the oculus, willing it to focus on you, out yet again with the two creatures he’s come to loathe.

Jungkook and Taehyung crowd in between Jimin and Hoseok. “Who’re the creeps?”

Hoseok’s lip curls in disgust. “Some sort of dream fiends. I haven’t been able to figure out where they came from or what their intentions are. None of my brothers know them and if I ask Father, he’d only give me some backward response that really isn’t a response. So, I can only assume they came from him or maybe remnants from Hypnos’ temper tantrum a few centuries ago.” He shrugs, but the fact he can’t pinpoint your two friends really bothers him. He needs first-hand information.

“Should we take care of them while we’re at it?” Jungkook asks. “Low-tier dreams like that are easy enough to dissolve.”

It’s a good thought, something Hoseok already has considered. “Get a feel for them, if you think they pose a potential threat then take them out. Otherwise, let’s just stick to the plan.” He continues, explaining in detail exactly what he wants from his three friends.

The three quasi-deities laugh. A sound that Hoseok plans to use to his advantage. You have no idea what he has in mind for you tonight. After he watched you toss and turn every night this week and crawl out of bed with tears in your eyes this morning, you deserve a little fun- and he’s the one that intends to deliver it.

༻ஓ๑ ✧ ๑ஓ༺

Like a rinse and repeat cycle, you’re back at The Well House with Melrose and Gavin. It’s a Saturday night and you’re certain you’d rather be at home in bed right now. But, last night was an especially brutal one. All week has been one tortuous night after another. The nightmarish episodes seem to only be getting worse. You almost didn’t bother with functioning today because it physically hurt to drag yourself out of bed. The nightmares felt so real, the darkness that caressed your mind like a tangible thing.

“You look tired, Peach,” Melrose frowns, tilting her head to the side as she scans your face.

You grimace. “Uh, yeah, I didn't sleep great last night.”

“Maybe what you need is to wear yourself out, that always helps me sleep like a baby,” Gavin offers. You know exactly the kind of wearing out he’s thinking about. He’s almost finished with his third drink of the night meaning it’s nearly time to hit the dance floor.

As tempting as it is to lose yourself in dancing with Gavin tonight, you’re simply not sure if you can physically do that. The weight of your eyelids alone could keep you rooted to this chair for the next week if you’d let it.

“Not sure I can even stand at this point,” you mumble, knocking back a large gulp of your drink. “I probably should just call an Uber and head home, honestly.”

Melrose throws herself back in her chair, an arm dramatically draped over her eyes. “No! You can’t leave. The night is still young, come on, promise you won’t leave me with this asshole.” The arm over her eyes flings out toward Gavin who just barks a laugh, shaking his head.

“How about this, you give me one dance and if you’re still feeling like this then I’ll order you an Uber myself?” Gavin steeples his hands together in front of his chest, lips turned down in an exaggerated frown. “Please, Peach.”

You glance at Melrose who now has her arms crossed over her chest and is glaring at Gavin. She catches your eyes, her demeanor instantly changing and she gives you a smile and nods that it’s okay. “One dance,” you say, looking toward Gavin, “then you call me an Uber.”

“If that’s what you still want, then, yes.”

Melrose doesn’t usually dance. But, tonight she follows you and Gavin to the crowded expanse of polished wood that serves as a dance floor. It’s not too late into the night, so the crowd isn’t nearly as pressing as it normally is when you’re dancing with Gavin. Even so, he pulls you in close, as close as he was the other night. The music is slow, grinding with a thumping bass beat. Melrose melts into the crowd until you lose sight of her completely.

Dancing becomes mindless, just a blur of movement and the increasing beat of your heart. The song ends but you don’t stop dancing as it bleeds into the next one. Gavin’s hands migrate along your body. They trail over your arms, hips, and shoulders, offering touches that do nothing to quell the sizzle of attraction you have for him. Your exhaustion wanes with every passing beat and sway of your hips.

A throaty laugh breaks through your mental fog and draws your attention. Three men dance together to your left, their bodies meshed together so thoroughly you can’t tell where one ends and the others begin. They’re all devilishly handsome, maybe even more than Gavin which you would have once thought was impossible.

Gavin is pressed against your back, hands gripping your hips. You can feel his warm breath gusting over your ear and down your neck as he crowds in closer. The air feels thicker, charged with static energy. The dancing trio is suddenly right in front of you. You tell yourself they’re just moving with the crowd, that their shift couldn’t possibly have been deliberate; until one of them looks you in the eye and winks.

“Hi, pretty lady,” his charming voice carries to you over the thrumming bass beat. The gorgeous man might as well have spoken a spell because you’re suddenly enchanted. The two men moving along with him to the music give you heated smiles, the ones you only read about in romance novels.

Gavin’s hands on your hips tighten a fraction, bringing your attention back to your friend still dancing at your back. “Eyes on me, Peach,” Gavin sing-songs as his strong hands guide you around until you’re facing him. He pulls you close, fitting your smaller frame against his towering one. Warmth bleeds through the silk of your blouse where his large palms now rest on your lower back. You barely register the occasional flick of Gavin’s icy eyes over your shoulder until you feel a larger warmth against your back.

“Easy, friend, we just want to dance,” the same charming voice from before is so close you jerk in Gavin’s arms. “You don’t mind, do you?”

Gavin’s jaw ticks, his lips pressing into a harsh line that mirrors the one now creased between his blond brows. “Of course not,” he grinds out between clenched teeth. His eyes peer down into yours, the icy chips now full of storm clouds. “I’m going to go grab a drink, Peach, I’ll be right back.”

Before you’re able to formulate a response, Gavin is peeling himself away and disappearing through the throng of dancers. “There, that’s much better,” one of the other men chuckles. He sidesteps until he’s taking up the vacant spot Gavin just left. “Hi,” he waggles an eyebrow at you, “you’re an excellent dancer.”

The self-deprecating snort that works its way out of your throat has heat flaring through your cheeks. “Uh, thanks, I guess.”

“How adorable, she lights up like a Christmas tree when she’s embarrassed,” the third man sniggers, mischief twinkling in his dark eyes when he moves in closer to your side. All three of them press in closer, their bodies moving in time with yours.

This wouldn’t be the first time you’ve gained new dance partners while out with Melrose and Gavin, but it is the first time Gavin has left you on the dance floor like this. Maybe it should be alarming, being alone with three complete strangers, but there is something about them that feels comforting.

Gavin and Melrose both appear out of nowhere, Gavin’s large hands gripping your arms and trying to tug you from the middle of the three men. “Let’s go, Peach.”

The man at your back snags Gavin’s hands and tosses them away. “Don’t put your hands on her like that. You may be her friend,” he snarls, twisting the word with disgust like it will hurt more that way, “but right now you’re being more of a nightmare than anything else.”

Gavin bares his own teeth but his eyes narrow the slightest bit and Melrose scowls. “You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into,” she offers in a tone that’s alarmingly caustic.

The man pressed to your front slowly steps away and moves into Gavin’s personal space. He leans in and whispers directly into Gavin’s ear. Your friend blanches, jerking back away from the man. Melrose steps up like she’s about to confront the man but Gavin shakes his head and pushes her behind him and out of sight. The hostility slowly dissipates from the air, draining away until you feel like you can breathe again, not realizing you had been holding your breath. Gavin turns his eyes on you. “Have a good night, Peach, we’ll see you…um, when we see you.”

His odd farewell has a weird feeling settling in your belly. Suddenly, you’re not so sure you should be dancing with these guys, considering they just ran your friends off somehow. Sure, you don’t like the way Gavin grabbed your arm, but he’s still your friend and you don’t even know these guys.

“Er, I should probably go,” you begin to try and untangle yourself from the other two men.

The man that got in Gavin’s face turns and shakes his head at you, a slow smile pulling at his plump lips. “Nonsense, we’re just getting started. I’m Jimin, and this is Jungkook,” he gestures to the man at your back, “and this is Taehyung.” Jimin places a hand on the man at your side’s shoulder.

They’re so close you can really see their features. Strong jaws, masculine builds, and perfectly styled hair above dark chocolate eyes that seem to peer right into your soul– these men are what dreams are made of.

“Let’s keep dancing,” Jungkook nudges your ass with his hips. “You look like you could use the stress reliever.”

He’s not wrong. You laugh ruefully as you let them guide you back into a sensual rhythm. Slowly, the tension from the confrontation with your friends begins to bleed away, replaced with a calming sort of lull that’s filled with music and the weighty press of their bodies against yours.

You lose track of hands, feeling strong fingers grip or caress over various parts of your form. You think it’s Jimin maybe, or could be Taehyung, who first presses lips to your neck. The sensation sends tingles down your spine and has your eyes fluttering shut. “You’re beautiful when you let go. I’m so jealous,” Jungkook murmurs in your ear. He presses in close to your front, hands secured to your waist.

“Hmm?” you try to open your eyes but your lids are so heavy. You want to ask Jungkook what he means about being jealous. The words won’t form. All you can do is lick your lips and rub them together. Your mouth feels sticky, sweet in a way, like you just ate a bit of honey.

“Just keep dancing, pretty lady, we got you.” The words barely register before numbing darkness sweeps in and you’re floating in the one place you’ve been trying to avoid– your dreams.

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