#love watching their breath fog and thinking ‘as actors they have to breathe’

[stark-lord]

Repression Remix: Vol. 2

[thefreakandthehair]

@eddiemonth prompt, oct 27th:  Haunted House | Hunters Moon - Ghost | Funny read on ao3 + masterpost | tumblr masterlist

Haunted houses are supposed to be scary– fog, strobe lights, creepy crawlies and otherworldly creatures. Eddie’s prepared for all of that when he takes the job at the local haunt during his favorite time of year– it’s in the name, after all. 

What he’s not prepared for is Steve Goddamn Harrington to show up with a gaggle of pre-teens nipping at his heels like baby ducks demanding attention. 

“– don’t need your bat, it’s fine! It’s fake, Steve, c’mon.” He hears one particularly loud mop-headed kid arguing from behind his perch. 

Faux blood drips from the gash built up on his forehead down his nose and he smears it across his cheek, both for effect and because as much as he loves the hideous clown role, the viscous corn syrup trickling down his face makes his skin crawl. 

Wait, he thinks, furrowing his eyebrows as best he can beneath the special effects makeup. Did that kid just insinuate Steve Harrington wanted to bring a bat into a haunted house? 

“Yeah Steve, are you scared of spooky clowns now?” Another of his group sneers, this one a bit taller, skinny with darker hair. “Gonna show off and clobber some poor innocent actor like you did that demo–”

Steve hisses loud enough still for Eddie to hear him and grabs the kid by the shoulder. “Say it a little louder, why dontcha, Mike? Jesus Christ.” 

“Well, are you?” A redheaded girl asks as they get closer and closer to the entrance.

“After everything real we’ve seen, you think I’m afraid of what I know is fake?” Eddie can make out the shape of Steve standing with one hand on his hip and his finger pointing around at each of the kisd. “This was you little shits’ idea, remember that.”

Eddie’s grateful he’s toward the beginning of the haunt. He gets to set the tone for the rest of the show, and when someone particularly interesting piques his interest, sometimes he follows them around. Breathes down their neck a little, stands just a little too close without blinking, tilts his head with a ghastly smile when they turn around. 

Before they’ve even entered the house, Eddie’s decided to have a little fun with Steve Harrington. 

The fog machine kicks off, curling up from the floor around their ankles, spiraling like snakes up to the ceiling. Eddie grins and prepares himself for scare number one. 

The jumpscare. 

“Ow, you’re on my foot, asshole!” One of the kid whispers. 

“Then don’t stand so close!” Another responds. 

“We’re literally in a fucking hallway–” 

“Guys, language! And while you’re at it, shut the fuck up and pay attention!” 

When they’re in classes together, Eddie has to choke back the amused grin that plays at his lips when Steve shows off his bite but nothing is real in a haunted house anyways.

He lets himself smile. 

At least, until the sound machine groans to life. He waits for them to look around, to seek control, to figure out what the noise is and how to defend against it. 

“Welcome!” He screams with a cackling laugh, leaping out from his hiding spot and landing in a crouching position. “I hope you like it here, because you’re,” he circles around them with bent legs before leaning closer and shouting, “never leaving!” 

All of the kids scream simultaneously, devolving into nervous laughter. Steve though? Eddie watches Steve seize up and instinctually yank the kids closer to him. 

It’s not what he expects from the King of Hawkins High, dethroned or otherwise. Eddie’s heart clenches as he locks eyes with Steve, flitting back and forth between the rest of the haunt and the door they’d just entered through. His nostrils are flared, his lips tight, his eyebrows knitting together above his nose. 

Eddie’s gonna follow him alright, but not for the reasons he's initially planned. 

“My name is Krusty, and I’m your new friend.”

He circles around Steve like a predator and leans closer, his lips nearly grazing Steve’s ear. “Follow my lead, I’ll get you outta here.” 

Steve turns too quickly and their faces narrowly avoid one another, shoved between the kids itching to keep moving and the wall. Eddie nods and tries to make his smile comforting and reassuring. It must work because Steve’s shoulders drop from his ears and he whispers back. 

“Thanks.” 

—

Eddie bangs on the wall each time they enter the new room, cackling and yelling things like Fresh meat! and Look, I found us some new friends! The kids seem to be thoroughly enjoying themselves, and even Eddie can’t help but laugh when one of his fellow scare actors snorts in the curly-headed kid’s ear loud enough that he damn near jumps into Steve’s arms. 

“Jesus Christ, Dustin!” Steve topples backwards into Eddie, who braces himself against a prop cotton candy machine. “Remember earlier? It’s fake, Steve, c’mon?” 

From around Steve’s shoulder, Eddie sees Dustin shoot Steve an annoyed look with wide, incredulous eyes. 

“Alright, alright, you good?” Steve rectifies, his voice softer.

Dustin nods and straightens himself out with a pat on the head and ruffle from Steve before walking forward to rejoin the group.

“Last scare, Harrington” Eddie takes the opportunity to whisper in Steve’s ear, dropping out of character entirely. 

Who can blame him? How can he be expected to stay in the headspace of a terrifying, bloody clown when Steve Harrington is in his space, protecting little sheep when he’s afraid himself? And wearing some of the tightest jeans he’s ever seen?

He’s just a man. 

Steve whips around with furrowed brows and a wrinkled nose. “How the fuck do you know my name?” 

“Krusty knows everything.” 

He tries to shift back into gear and grins as he licks the fake blood that’s dripped down his nose to his top lip. It must be the fog machine, because there’s no way he just caught Steve’s eyes flickering down to track the movement. 

Nothing’s real in a haunted house. 

“Your children seem to have disappeared without you, let’s go catch them. Before someone else does.” Eddie claps his hands together with faux glee and skips ahead. 

The last room of the haunt is Eddie’s least favorite, truthfully. No actors, no human presence, just disorienting, kaleidescopic strobe lights, cobwebs hanging from the ceiling tangling themselves in whatever they can reach, and disembodied, whirring noises blaring from the speakers. If anything, it just gives him a headache. 

Steve’s charges handle it well enough; like many others, they complain that it was boring and Eddie overhears some of their constructive criticisms. He agrees with their stance, but can’t spend much time focusing on that. 

Not when he looks back to check on Steve only to find him with one hand over his eyes and the other scaling the side of the wall, cobwebs sticking to the sleeve of his jacket and knotting in his hair. 

Before Eddie can think about what he’s doing, his feet make the decision for him and he approaches Steve, places a hand on his lower back. Steve startles against the touch but doesn’t move his hand. 

“Just keep your eyes closed and I’ll get us out, okay? We all fuckin’ hate this room, trust me.” 

Steve nods and takes a shaky breath, letting Eddie guide him through the room as quickly and discreetly as possible. “It’s just the goddamn lights, man. I get migraines and these are the worst. Those kids give me enough headaches without the extra help.” 

Eddie gives a soft chuckle and shakes his head, looks Steve up and down briefly before they reach the end. Selfishly, Eddie wants to take his time and soak up the false reality of the haunted house and the safety it offers because really, in what other world will he ever be this close to Steve Harrington again? But he can tell the guy he’s suffering and Eddie has his fantasies to fall back on later. 

They’ve gotten him this far. 

“Why’d you bring ‘em then?” He asks, curious. 

Steve shrugs and sighs. “They’re good kids and wanted to come, and I’m the babysitter so, of course, it’s me. Gotta make sure they’re safe.” 

He says the last bit with a heaviness that Eddie doesn’t quite understand but they take their last few steps out into the night. The illusion of the haunted house crumbles, Eddie removes his hand as though he’s been branded, and Steve’s eyes flutter open. 

“Well, you did great. Your monsters are over there.” Eddie gestures with his chin towards the open field where six kids sit in a circle, laughing a bit too loudly. 

“Better go wrangle them up.” Steve pinches the bridge of his nose and comes away with a cobweb. 

“Oh yeah, you’ve got a little–” Eddie starts, reaching up impulsively to pick what he can out of Steve’s hair. 

He’s touching The Hair’s hair, and he doesn’t catch the rumored Harrington right hook for it. Instead, Steves stands silent as Eddie works, staring and blinking a few times. 

“There ya go, de-cobwebed. Free of charge,” Eddie smirks with pursed lips. “Unless you wanna tip, there’s a jar up front.” 

“Thanks,” Steve starts, running both hands through his hair and shaking as though to make sure. Or to torment Eddie. Maybe both. “For this and for uh, that.” He jerks his thumb behind them towards the house. 

“Any time, man. Any time. Spread the word, will ya? We could use the business.” 

Steve smiles at him as he turns to walk away, and Eddie wishes it was really him on the receiving end. But it’s not, because Steve doesn’t recognize him behind all the makeup. He’s just Krusty: bleeding heart, overly kind menacing clown. 

It's true, the motto. Nothing's real in a haunted house.

“Oh and, hey,” Steve calls out when he’s just a few steps away. 

“Yeah?” Eddie responds as Steve turns to look over his shoulder.

“See you in Click’s class on Monday, Munson.” 

[scrollonso]

Undead — Pedroscar

Oscar is honestly beginning to regret every decision that’s led him up to this moment.

He knows why he let himself be talked into going to a scare park this year, but he’s having a hard time keeping it in mind the longer he’s there. The thing is, he usually doesn’t scare so easily. His boyfriend loves horror movies and supernatural-type shows, and they’ve watched plenty of them together.

When he’s living in a moment straight out of one, though? It’s a little different.

The Undead Outbreak walkthrough is killer; he’ll give them that. He’d lost his friends a little ways in, going opposite directions in the maze. Stupidly, Oscar is now left alone, no one to cling to, bracing himself for whatever jump scare comes at him next. The strobe lights and fog machines make it hard to tell what’s a person and what’s a prop, but he’s doing his best.

Rounding a corner, Oscar finds himself at a fork in the walkway. From what he can tell, one way is slightly better lit than the other — meaning that’s probably the better option, probably leads to somewhere he actually wants to be. Still, he hesitates a beat, squinting toward the darker passageway. He thinks he can make out what’s meant to be a door a ways down, blocked off with yellow caution tape that reads ‘do not open’ in bold letters, splattered with fake blood.

More than likely a dead end. There’s got to be a zombie lurking in the shadows down there, waiting for an unsuspecting victim to launch themselves at.

Oscar turns to face the way he’d just come from, debating whether or not it’s wise to backtrack and find more of a crowd to follow. Just so he knows he’s potentially going the right way instead of either of these new ones. He’s not having an easy time figuring it out on his own. Safety in numbers, or whatever, even if none of this is real.

Before he can commit to a decision, however, there’s a hand clasping at the back of his sweatshirt, tugging.

He’s not embarrassed to admit that he lets out a pathetically scared yelp, trying to squirm away from the firm hold. The snarl of a zombie is uncomfortably close to his ear as he’s towed toward the blocked-off door at the dead end’s walkway.

Logically, Oscar recalls a reminder from earlier in the day that the scare actors aren’t supposed to touch the guests. Unfortunately, the logical part of his brain isn’t firing on all cylinders as he’s being dragged through a horror maze he can barely see clearly in.

He’s shoved back into the wall, a forearm barred across his chest to pin him there. It takes him a moment, maybe two, to adjust to the dimmer flashes of light in this area. Then he recognizes what’s happened; familiarity in the zombie’s dark curls and sharp jaw, even painted with false blood and rot, filmy contacts blocking out grey irises.

“Hi, amor.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Oscar wheezes, thunking his head back against the wall.

Pedro laughs, snapping his teeth playfully at him. “Told you I’d find you.”

“Almost gave me a heart attack, you cunt.”

Oscar tosses his boyfriend’s arm away from his chest, but makes a grab at the collar of Pedro’s tattered costume shirt instead. Before he can pull him in fully, he pauses, hazel eyes flickering over the gash at Pedro’s hairline, the couple of zombie bites along his neck. Oscar brushes his thumb along the edge of the prosthetic piece at the exposed juncture of Pedro’s neck and shoulder, nose wrinkling faintly.

“These look so real,” he comments.

“Kind of the point,” Pedro chuckles. “I can give you one if you want.”

Oscar snorts, eyes rolling good-naturedly now that his racing heart has started to slow down. “Oh yeah?”

“Mhm.” Pedro leans forward to close the few inches between them, catching Oscar’s lower lip between his teeth and pulling at it.

When it snaps back into place, Oscar breathes in shallowly, muttering, “Baby, you’re at work.”

“I’m bored. Hardly anyone’s come down this way.” Pedro curls both hands at his hips, shifts to slot one leg between both of Oscar’s thighs, pressing until Oscar lets out a soft groan. Nosing along the line of his jaw, Pedro hums, “Best case, even if they do, they’ll just think you work here too, and that I’m eating you.”

“Interesting choice of words,” Oscar exhales, half a laugh.

“That might be a little more obvious, I’m afraid,” Pedro mutters into the side of his neck. He kisses gently along the soft skin for a moment, Oscar’s head lolling to the side to give him more room.

“Have to wait until we’re home, then.”

“Mm, can do this in the meantime, though.” Without further preamble, Pedro bites down, digging his teeth in in a way that toes the line between pain and pleasure.

Oscar gasps when Pedro sucks harshly at the bitten skin, inevitably leaving a mark behind. The grip at his hips tightens, guiding Oscar to rock forward against the thigh pressed to the growing bulge in the front of his jeans. Pedro drags his lips an inch downward, sucking another mark into pale skin just below the first. Oscar continues rolling his hips forward on instinct, digging his fingers in on either side of Pedro’s ribs.

“Pedro—” Oscar cuts off on a breathless moan when Pedro slips a hand into his back pocket, palming at his ass and pushing him forward still. “Baby, I’ve still got to walk out of here.”

“Plenty of time to walk it off,” Pedro mumbles against his skin.

Oscar hisses, hips jerking forward, when Pedro sinks his teeth in again, a third mark sucked in a straight line down the side of Oscar’s neck. One of his hands lifts, sinking his fingers into familiar silky brunette tufts of hair at the back of Pedro’s head and tugging slightly.

“Not really my dick still being hard that I’m worried about,” Oscar manages on a winded chuckle; it tapers off into another moan after the fact.

Pedro hums lowly, then licks a broad stripe up the trail of bruises he’s left behind, nipping at the line of Oscar’s slightly stubbled jaw. Despite what he’s just warned, it’s Oscar that chases Pedro’s lips, tilting forward to kiss him slow, sucking his lower lip between his own teeth. He doesn’t bite the same way Pedro has been, slipping his tongue beyond Pedro’s teeth instead. Moaning loud and lewd into his mouth when Pedro shifts to give even more pressure where Oscar continues to rut against the thigh between his legs.

It’s dangerous, playing this game. They’re where Pedro works. They’re in public. Not to mention that, by all accounts, Oscar probably shouldn’t feel as attracted to Pedro as he does on any normal day while Pedro looks like he came out of a grave.

Still, his hips rock in a continuous, fluid motion against his boyfriend’s thigh. Chasing a high that he can’t think past the static in his head just yet to realize he can’t properly deal with as needed at present. Coming in his pants like a teenager is not exactly easily handled in the current setting. He still has to walk out of here, maybe with a little dignity left, if he can manage it.

His brain and body don’t seem terribly concerned with that, however, because he doesn’t stop. He continues to ride the slim thigh that offers his aching cock a delicious friction. Pedro’s other hand snakes into the back of Oscar’s hair, fingernails scraping along his scalp as they drag through his shallow waves. They both moan into the twist of their tongues when Oscar squeezes tight at Pedro’s waist, hips moving faster for a brief moment.

They both need to breathe at this point — cheeks heated pink, labored inhales and exhales shared, Oscar so close to cuming he can practically feel it in his damn teeth. Pedro inches back first, panting shakily between slick lips. His lips trail up Oscar’s jaw until Pedro reaches his ear, grazing his teeth at the lobe. Oscar shudders, taking in an equally shaking breath between parted lips.

“Pedro, baby, fuck. I—”

“Straight down that way, two lefts, then a right,” Pedro murmurs right in his ear.

Oscar blinks his eyes open dazedly, the flash of strobe light above them further dizzying. “What?”

Abruptly, Pedro cuts all contact with him; hands falling and a large step taken backward, the thigh between Oscar’s gone. And it’s a downright wounded noise that slips past his lips as soon as it happens.

Pedro inclines his head in the opposite direction from the current dead end they stand near when Oscar gawks at him in question. “The way out.”

Oscar wheezes out a loud laugh, head lolling back and forth. “You’re actually the fucking worst, you know that?”

“Oh, I know, cariño,” Pedro coos tauntingly, shiny and reddened lips curled in a smirk.

The fake blood around his mouth is smeared even more than it already was, meaning there’s some mingling with the fresh bruises on Oscar’s neck, probably around his mouth, too, all things considered. Oscar may look like he really was mauled by a zombie.

He takes a couple of slow, deep breaths, trying to steady his racing heart and ease the tension humming through his veins like electricity. Every muscle in his body feels charged, thrumming with an ache that refuses to dissipate. His legs are shaky as he shifts his stance, subtly adjusting his current predicament in his jeans, though he’s well aware there’s no hiding it. Pedro’s lips quirk up in a knowing smirk, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

Oscar steps forward, bridging the small distance between them, his fingers reaching up to gently catch Pedro’s chin between his thumb and forefinger. The touch is intimate, possessive, filled with unspoken promises. His voice is rough, still breathless from the tension between them. “I’ll see you at home.”

Pedro, always quick with a teasing retort, snaps his teeth playfully, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Can’t wait,” he murmurs, his lips curling into a wicked smile that makes Oscar’s pulse race all over again.

Oscar lingers for just a second longer, the temptation to pull Pedro back into him almost too strong to resist. But he knows they can’t continue here, not now. With a soft sigh, he pulls back, his hand slipping away from Pedro’s chin. He takes one last steadying breath, forcing himself to remember that they’ll have all the time they need once they’re home — far away from the strobe lights and haunted maze, and definitely without the threat of being interrupted.

But as Oscar walks away, his body still thrumming with need, he can’t help but throw one last glance over his shoulder. Pedro’s eyes are locked on him, dark and filled with heat, a promise of what’s to come later hanging between them like a palpable force.

Oscar grins to himself, his pace quickening slightly as he heads toward the exit, anticipation already building once more. There’s no denying it — Pedro has him wrapped around his finger, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

[runninriot]

When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let's spread the self-love 💞

thank you so so much for this opportunity to throw some of my personal favourites out there 🥰🖤

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Despite everything, Steve never gave up on it. On love that is more than a sweet kiss and a great fuck. More than just a temporary connection between two people. He longs for a love that cuts like a knife, love that hurts. Love that lives in every fibre of your being, in every breath, in every tear and every laughter. Love that is engraved into your soul. The kind of love that brought him back to the place that caused him so much pain, love he was only allowed to experience once – not enough for even a human lifetime, definitely not enough to feed on for eternity.

Monsoon and Harrison E | 4k

Porn Actors!AU - that one still cracks me up (esp. when i think about my search history about 'professional porn shooting sets' 😂)

  “Mr. Monsoon, there are some papers I need you to sign.”    “Ugh, Stephen. Don’t bother me with that right now. I’m bored.”    “Is there anything I can do about that?”    “Hmm. Dunno. Is there?” Yeah, the script really is that bad but after they managed to say their embarrassing lines without blushing from shame, it’s on to the good part. The part that gets them paid. The part Eddie actually still enjoys, even after all those years. Because the thing is, no matter how automated fucking in front of cameras might be, it’s still sex. And Eddie loves sex.

Sweet Thing E | 9k

Pro Dom!Steve was something I never knew I needed in my life

“Please, Sir, more.” There’s an urgency in his voice, so much desperation in the way he begs to be punished some more but he’s had enough spanking for now. Steve loves to break Eddie but he’s not actually going to break him. There are other ways to make him come clean.

Go To Hell, For Heaven's Sake E | 13k

Demon/Incubus!Eddie my beloved

He loves to feed on their emotions but all he can do after they’ve woken up from their haunting dreams, is to observe them from afar. Watch them struggle to deal with fear and restlessness, hazily wandering through a wild garden of poisonous flowers in bloom, grown from the seeds he planted in the eutrophic soil of their minds. They’re precious creatures, puppets, toys for him to play with. So easy to break, so easy to use for his own pleasure. Pleasure he finds in these special kind of dreams.

Unlovable M | 19k

Steve's journey to self-acceptance - this one means a lot to me

Steve lets the words sink in, focusses on the rhythm of his heart, listens to the voice inside his head and finally, he understands. For the first time in his life, he can see everything clearly. It’s like a veil has been lifted, like the thick fog in his mind is finally vanishing and making way for blue skies and sunshine. This is the easiest decision he’s ever made. For the first time, he truly knows what he wants and isn’t afraid of what it is.

[seenoversundown]

Spooks & Cider

Daniel X Melody (OC)

Warnings : just fluff! Subtle nods to anxiety. Word count : 2.1k

She’s In Love With The Boy - Trisha Yearwood “She’s in love with the boy, And even if they have to run away, she’s gonna marry that boy someday”

Melody POV

I sit with my face pressed to the window that faces our family driveway, my hot breath fogging up the glass every time I take a breath. 

“Be careful tonight, mi amor!” My mom yells from the kitchen, the sounds of pots clanging together following behind her soft voice. “Remember, eleven thirty! No later, Melody.” 

“Yes, Mamà.” I replied, continuing to stare out the window for his headlights.

My best friend, Daniel, was on his way to get me for a haunted house. We’ve been close since grade school, but this past year there’s been a shift with us. I’ve always thought that Daniel was cute, I couldn’t have imagined he felt the same way. So tonight was a first for us, a date you could call it. The first outing since we’ve told each other how we feel. 

I really like you, Melody. More than anything else in the world, I think. Daniel’s words ran in my head like they were practicing for a marathon. I welcomed every round. 

My heart pounded against my chest as I watched his headlights turn into the driveway. Grabbing the sweater my mom is forcing me to take, I shout a quick bye! as I'm running out the door towards Daniel’s truck. Hopping into his passenger seat I can’t help but grin back at his soft, lazy smile. 

“Hi, Ducky,” he says as I buckle my seatbelt in. “I hope you’re ready for tonight.” 

“So ready!” I responded. 

I was not ready. I knew this, Daniel knew this. For our entire friendship I’ve never been one for scary things, I jumped when a piece of fuzz I was unaware of invaded my vision. 

So, a haunted house? Not great. 

Spending time one on one with Daniel? My favorite thing in the whole world. 

I watch as his hand reaches across the console to the radio, putting on one of our favorite songs. 

“Are you sure you’re ready, Ducky?” His eyes shot over to me, “you don’t have to lie.” 

“Scouts honor,” I reply as I try to put on a brave face. The car fills with the echoes of Daniel’s laughter. Guess I didn't look as brave as I thought. 

Daniel takes a couple more turns through our foggy neighborhood until we reach a parking lot filled with other victims for tonight’s festivities. We hop out of our respective sides of the car and I immediately pull my arms around me. The sinister music and screams from the house are wafting in the air.

Before I can think twice I untie the sweater from around my waist, mamà knows best, and ruin my outfit by putting it on. My eyes are wide as I look around while we wait in line. I can’t see much, but I don’t trust that they didn’t put actors in line with us for a little pre show scare. A large, warm hand grabs onto mine and gives it a firm squeeze. A yelp escapes my lips. 

“It’s not too late to go and do something else, Melody.” Daniel says while giving my hand a couple more reassuring squeezes. Standing in line our height differences are much more noticeable, I practically have to throw my head back to make eye contact. 

“No. We’re here and we said we wanted to do some spooky shit this season, so we’re doing it.” 

He locks our fingers together sending shockwaves throughout my body. 

“Alright then, Ducky. Let’s do this.”

Past the entrance gates, we enter an open field. The main attraction, The Killer Barber, sits on our right. To the left of us are some small vendors filled with hot chocolate and apple crisp to warm us on this chilly New England night. 

“What do you want to do first?” Daniel asks. “Get spooked first, then hot chocolate as a reward for making it through? Apple crisp is happening no matter what.” 

I grin at him, “I swear you can read my mind.”

Hand in hand we start walking towards the house. 

“I can’t believe we’re in our senior year,” he says. “Wait, we’re still doing matching halloween costumes right?” 

I can’t contain my laughter, he’s always been a bit scatterbrained. 

“As if anyone else could be the Gomez to my Morticia.” I give his hand a squeeze and watch as a small smile flashes across his lips. “If anything, senior year is about to be our bitch.” 

We haven’t struggled with finding other friends at school, but it’s clear we always move as one. Since we were young it’s always been Daniel and Melody. Our parents accepted we were attached at the hip, and I think mamà has always secretly hoped we’d end up together. She’s liked Daniel since the start, but when he started to learn Spanish she was downright sold on him. 

When will you bring Daniel around? 

Call Daniel for dinner, I’m making his favorite. 

Can you just marry Daniel? 

Okay, maybe she didn’t ask me the last question- but a girl can dream. The thought of being Mrs. Daniel Wagner had always set off a horde of bees in my stomach. Not butterflies, those seem too tame. Full blown bees. 

“Earth to Ducky?” We’re next.” Daniel’s fingers are snapping in front of me, effectively bringing me back to reality. 

The Killer Barber. Yaaaaay.

The attendant smiles weakly at us before waving us in. 

As soon as we pass the threshold a door slams and a voice shouts “Come for a shave, have ye?” 

Daniel laughs, fully enthralled. I, on the other hand, find his arm and grip it tightly with my freehand close to my body. 

“I’ve got you, Melody.” He says reassuringly. 

“Let’s ju-just get th-through this,” I stutter. I can feel my anxiety peaking. Looking at Daniel I know he knows this too. He moves me so that I'm directly behind him, my tall shield to whatever lies ahead. 

My eyes are screwed shut, trusting Daniel won’t walk me into any walls. I don’t know how anyone walks through these, the sounds are enough to send me running. 

“I promise, it’ll be the closest shave you’ll ever have.” A voice says a few moments later. I swear I feel the hot breath on my ear which causes me to scream. 

“Ducky, you gotta not look so scared, they look for that.” Daniel says. 

“What do you mean not look so scared?” I shout. “Next time we’re apple picking and making a goddamned pie. None of this haunted house shit!” 

I feel the laugh rumble through him before I hear it, and I can’t help but laugh along too. Before I know it we’re hitting the final room. I peek out from behind him and am amazed at the scene unfolding in front of me. It’s gory, of course, but seeing how someone had changed this into a super scary scene is astounding. A face pops up at me while wielding a straight razor. I can’t help but gasp and tuck myself into Daniel’s laugh.

“A couple more steps.” His voice vibrates his whole chest, I can’t help but snuggle in closer. 

Relief floods my veins when I realize he wasn’t lying, I feel the cool night breeze on my ears. I’m still gripping the back of his shirt when I feel him laughing.

“You can let go, Ducky. We’ve made it.” I feel his hands reach back and try to loosen my grip. He spins around to look at me once he’s finally free, a giant grin stretched across his face. Daniel quickly pulls me in, the scent of his fresh laundry and incense he burns in his room  surrounds me. I bury my face into his chest, the smell seemingly stronger here. I feel his hand rest on the back of my head, tangling with my curls.

“I knew you could do it.” He says as he rests his head on mine. “You’re a strong girl, y’know.” I swear I feel his lips press to my forehead for a moment before moving back into place. We stay like this for a moment longer in the chaos of everything. 

Finally parting, I can’t help the smile on my face even though I just got scared shitless. Pulling on his hand, I started dragging him towards our reward.

“Let’s go, Daniel! Hot chocolate and crisp is calling our name!” 

Our laughter echoes behind us as we break off into a sprint towards the concession stands. He intertwines our fingers, and somehow takes over leading us. 

“Those long legs are so unfair!” I laugh-shout. 

“Grow taller then, Ducky!” 

Reaching the concessions stand the smell of chocolate and warm apples fill the air. I can’t help but get excited for our little treat. 

“Pick a seat, I’ll grab our treats.” 

A quick squeeze back and forth of our hands before we part. Finding an empty picnic table turned out to be quite easy. I take a seat on the opposite side so I can watch Daniel in line. His tall lanky stature is illuminated by the small surrounding lights. His long curly hair almost looked like a halo around his head, so wild and free.

It’s a quick moment before he turns around with his hands full. Long legs taking long strides until they finally reach me. Placing our goodies on the table he takes the seat opposite mine. Placing a small white cup in front of me, I almost tear it out of his hands. I'm so excited for this.

Taking the top off of my cup, I’m delighted to find a mound of whip cream. 

“What’d you think, I’d forget how you take your hot chocolate?” He says from across the table. “Oh, I’m sorry. I meant whipped cream with a side of hot chocolate.” 

“Now we’re judging my hot chocolate order?” I cross my arms and throw a pout his way.

“Never would I ever,” he says. “It’s cute like you.” Daniel moves quickly and sticks a single finger into my whipped cream and then sets it on my nose.

“Hey! That’s a waste of the goods!” 

Daniel says nothing, just stands in his seat, leans over, and quickly licks the whipped cream from my nose. 

“Not wasted,” he says with a wink. 

My face immediately gets hot. I break into the apple crisp. The gooey cinnamon apple oatmeal mixture steams from the container and makes my stomach rumble. The smell is otherworldly. I quickly hand a spoon to Daniel.

Holding my spoon out I wait for him to do the same. 

“Cheers!” We say in unison.

It’s quiet for the next few minutes as we devour our treat. As we finish up Daniel collects our trash and I look at my phone, 11:00 shines back on my screen. 

“You ready to go, Ducky?” He comes up from behind me and startles me a little bit. 

“Absolutely.” 

Our hands clasp and our walk back to the car is quiet. Daniel comes to my side and opens my door for me, and my face runs hot again. I watch as he walks over to his side and climbs into the driver's side. 

It takes us a few moments, but once we finally get out onto the road, he settles his hand onto my thigh. 

“This okay?” He asks while taking quick glances at me. I rest my hand on top of his, a silent yes. His hand gets tighter on my thigh and the bees in my chest become frantic. 

My porch light slowly comes into view and my heart constricts at the fact that this night is coming to an end. Daniel pulls into my driveway and shuts off his lights. He hops out of his side and quickly rounds to mine.

“I had a really good time tonight, Ducky.” He says while helping me out of the truck. “Next time, nothing scary. Just us, I promise.” 

Daniel’s hand invades my vision and pushes back my curly hair. Suddenly I can only focus on the scorching heat coming from his palm while it rests on my chin. Looking up at him, I can’t help but lean in. I’ve been dreaming of this moment for years, but now that it’s finally here it feels surreal. 

When our lips finally touch I swear I hear fireworks going off. People cheering. A whole ass explosion. 

I wrap my arms around his waist as he cradles my head in both of his hands. His soft lips are even more plush than they were in my dreams. 

He pulls back too soon, peppering my lips with small kisses before finally ceasing. 

“Melody, you are everything. Get inside so you don’t get grounded. I’ll text you when I’m home.” A final kiss is pressed to my lips before we separate. The walk to my front door is hazy. I turn and watch as he pulls out of the driveway, waving before he gets out of view. 

“Mi amor, how was your date?” My mamà asks when I enter the door.

“Oh, mamà, it was everything.” 

Masterlist | Taglist

[turtlesocksv2]

Dead Friend Forever Finale Liveblogging

Ahhhhhh it's here!

This show does way too many recaps. I get that it's twisty but like. come one. we don't need recaps at the start of every episode especially when some episodes themselves are recaps. less talking more murder!

the visuals remain insane. sooo good. that opening with TanNew putting ont he mask and smoking while everyone else is passed out? Art. the cinnamon topography of it all.

HE'S GOT A FUCKING FOG MACHINE OF HALLUCINOGENS. absolutely unhinged King.

love that Fluke's worst fear is people shit talking him and the cops.

Top is still fucking breathing? but why.

it's a little mean to send White to Bad Trip Island with everyone else :( babygirl had nothing to do with it :( like i still love you but

love that he's like, giving them weapons. to cause their own downfall and turn on each other.

the final opening credits :( i love them so much they're so good. :(

i hate Top but i cannot deny that the actor is clearly having an AMAZING time being Evil in hallucinations and shit. I too would be chewing all the scenery if given that chance. good for him. Barcode is also having a great time being Unhinged.

lmao at the Viewer Discretion Is Advised that they put IN THE SHOW. was the opening disclaimer not enough??????

OH SHIT. NO IT WAS NOT ENOUGH. i fucking GASPED.

ok so I was pretty sure that Fluke was the one that posted the video but I guess not! Instead he's just being roasted with hellfire about being a fence-sitting, selfish, weakling and that's good he deserves it. If your friends are dong awful shit and you don't stop them, that does not reflect well on you.

Ooooh, Top's hallucination is interesting. Seems like his biggest regret is helping drug Non and helping taking him to the mafia. Veeeeeeery Interesting that White is the one to give Top the drugged/poisoned water. Because Top sees White as the most innocent? because Top was secretly into Tee and doesn't like White? because he sees White as the most like Non?

Mark my words: SOMEONE is going over that fucking railing! i thought it episodes ago when Fluke was holding White hostage and I am still on that hill.

Aaaaaaaand there it is! i knew Chekov's Railing was going to pay off.

Oh no. oh noooo. Is Tee going to kill White. :( or at least stab him thinking he's hallucinating 'setting Non free' or something. Anyway, TeeNon is real.

Hmmm, White's greatest fear is Tee's jealousy and...not being able to wait for him? Does White think he won't be able to not sleep with other people if Tee's away at college? That he'll catch something or it will leave a visible clue or Tee will just be able to Tell and therefore leave him? because it's about Tee leaving him but he thinks he'll be the one to cause it.

Noooo White :( babygirl you weren't even supposed to be here. The power of love breaking through the hallucinogens enough for Tee to question what's happening :( Tragic. Heartbreaking :(

Jin's biggest regret/fear is the video, and being Seen in that way.

and Phi's biggest fear/regret is not being able to save Non and his last words to him. so he has to watch Non die/kill himself over and over again. love that Phi still sees Non with the bracelet.

The power of love strikes again, freeing Phi from the hallucination. and boyfriend comes out SWINGING. good for him! anyway, callign my shot now that TanNew's mask is going to break and he's gonna get a big ol dose of the hallucinogen and see Non. Oh, or not break. Way to go Phi! Send him to Bad Trip Island just like everyone else!

TanNew just wanted to be a good brother. but he knows he wasn't. Non's thanks starts breaking the hallucination and grief, because he knows he doesn't deserve it. and then to see Non hanging like their dad.... :( TanNew is so sad.

thinking that last one was Non's real ghost. what with the lighting and all.

Ohhhh, Time skip! let's see how everything shook out.

so PhiJin are still together. Ok. Phi does movies or something? And he at least keeps tabs on Tee, which makes sense. Phi is full of guilt. Tee is fucking shattered.

"No one can help him He needs to get through this himself" Phi!!!! at least get the poor boy some therapy!!!!

"maybe we never left the valley house" AHHHHHH. YES. MIC DROP. inject season 2 straight into my veins!!!!! if there's one thing Be On Cloud is gonna do, it's open endings that drive me absolutely feral! Amazing!

I made 9 predictions in this post and out of nine i got 4, maybe 4.5. I'm still satisfied. I hope for a season 2. Y'all i had such a good time with this show and shouting about theories and memes with you guys. Be On Cloud really pulled it off with this one.

[gillianthecat]

Gaga won't let me screenshot, but I wanted their chemistry and their beautiful faces on here, so have this promo poster instead.

Bed Friend - episodes 1 & 2

Because apparently I'm still incapable of watching a show without writing about it. (That's part of why I've been reluctant to restart watching BL again, it ends up taking up so much more of my time than just watching a show.)

Uea looks so much like Saint from some angles/with certain expressions. It's not just me, right? And he's playing a character I could see Saint getting cast as, which only adds to it.

I love these two men so much already. This is a dynamic I love, and I think a variation of this is part of many of my favorite shows/couples (blueming, to my star, big dragon,

I appreciate Cheewin's experimentation, in the War of Y series with how far he could push what it means to be a BL, here with camera angles and editing and all the stylistic choices, but I have to say the results aren't really working for me. I think I've written my thoughts on Cheewin before, but this is solidifying my theory that his shows only work (for me, at least) when they have strong actors with good chemistry as the central couple. Which luckily these two seem to be. And when he doesn't over complicate things, which 🤞 he won't here.

Oh look, another middle aged woman as the villain of the story. I didn't think much of it in War of Y, with the two managers, but the appearance of Uea's mother is making me go hmmm. Cheewin, is this becoming a trend with you? Not that Uea's difficult, complicated relationship with an abusive parent isn't something that's interesting to explore, it just kinda makes me go hmm that most of the middle aged women I've seen in his work are so two dimensionally evil. But I've only seen some of it so perhaps that's not true overall.

I think I like this version of an office romance, where the office setting is background and context, but the actual work they're doing isn't the focus of the story. I think I just get too distracted and/or annoyed by the realism or ethics or whatever of the specific jobs they do, lol.

On that note, I suspect Middleman's Love will not be for me. All the annoying bits of Cheewin without characters I love to redeem it, and I get the impression, though without any evidence behind it, that it will focus more on the work they do. But I could be wrong! And end up loving the characters.

Kings little smiles when Uea tells him he's not mad anymore! He looks so pleased and hopeful. He likes this prickly man so much!

This scene with the STI testing feels like a PSA and I don't really mind. One thing I can trust Cheewin for is to advocate safe sex and openness around sex.

Ok, but this moment of King removing Uea's mask. I'm feeling many feelings, a few of them about the characters, most of them about the past three years of the pandemic. I think this may be the first time I've ever seen someone do this in a show or movie? Even including in the before times, on like hospital dramas and such. It's such a powerful intimate gesture, in ways I can't really articulate right now.

The way King looks at Uea. I can't get over it.

This whole scene from the walk in the park to Uea writing try? on the glass door he fogged up with his own breath... I love it. Just the tension between them. King feels so plausible as this confident playboy who also seems completely willing to fall for the prickly coworker. This shyness and amazement anytime Uea returns his overtures, without making his normal confidence feel fake.

Between this and the mask, the show is using literal physical barriers between the two in interesting ways.

Oh, I am getting invested in these two. Hopefully Cheewin doesn't ruin it for me.

[0613magazine]

230302 Cine21

[인터뷰] 류성희 미술감독이 묻고 RM이 답하다 ‘Closer‘ × ‘헤어질 결심’ 컬래버레이션

두 작품 고유의 무드를 살려

류성희 <헤어질 결심>에 대한 애정을 여러 번 고백해왔다. 유독 이 영화에 매혹된 이유가 무엇인가.

RM <마침내, 박찬욱>이라는 책과 <알쓸인잡>에서도 언급했지만, 8회차 관람까지 온 지금 이 영화가 왜 좋은지 정확한 언어로 형용하기가 굉장히 어렵다. 팬이나 마니아란 그런 것이니까. 그냥 내가 해준(박해일)이 되고, 서래가 되고, 안개가 되고, 망원경과 핸드폰이 되기도 하는 것이다. 그럼에도 구구절절 나열해보자면 적당한 불편함, 매혹적인 미장센들, 배우들의 연기, 안개라는 테마, 강요되지 않는 모든 것들일 것이다.

류성희 평소 미술에 대한 애정을 많이 보여줬다. 수많은 좋은 뮤직비디오를 만들어본 아티스트로서, <헤어질 결심>의 미술이나 시각적 이미지들을 어떻게 봤는지 궁금하다.

RM 세트의 느낌, 영상의 색(마치 가수의 보컬 음색 같다), 사랑과 죽음을 향해가는 방식들. 핸드폰의 시점…. 특히 서래와 해준의 집 색감이 너무 좋았다. 시네필도 아닌 어느 팬의 감상이지만…. 시각적인 레벨로는 어느 한 경지에 도달한 작품이 아닐까 싶었다. 너무 좋았다.

류성희 138분 러닝타임의 영화와 3분30여초의 음악은 리듬과 호흡이 다르다. 이번 작업에서 가장 중점을 둔 부분이 있다면.

RM 비주얼과 최대한 어울리기 위해(곡 느낌이 약간 만연체이기 때문에) 사운드를 좀더 로파이하게 변환했다. 몰아치는 전개와 가사 내러티브의 싱크를 맞추기 위해 극적인 드라마처럼 구성했다. 3분30초는 영화의 모든 안개를 담기엔 너무 짧으니까. 그리고 영화 무드에 비해 가사가 너무 많다는 생각이 들었다. 벌스 보컬 전체를 걷어내볼까 하는 생각도 했지만, 어디까지나 각각의 작품이 벌어진 이후의 컬래버레이션이기 때문에, 두 작품 고유의 무드를 잘 지켜보고자 했다.

류성희 <헤어질 결심>과 작업할 곡으로 솔로 앨범 수록곡 <Closer>를 선택한 이유는 무엇인지. 보컬들과 감성을 쌓아가는 전개가 영화의 서사를 만들어가는 데 어울린다고 생각한 것인지.

RM <Change pt.2>와 <Closer> 사이에서 여러 번 장고했다. 영상 자체의 무드와는 더 습한 느낌이 드는 <Change pt.2>가 맞을 것 같다는 생각이 들었지만, 애초에 영화를 염두에 두고 작업한 곡이 아니기 때문에 내러티브 전체를 담을 수 있는 <Closer>가 맞는다고 결론 지었다. 가사 전체가 다른 세계의 해준과 서래 같다는 생각이 들었다. 사운드는 좀 영하고 트렌디해서 안 맞는다고 느끼는 분들도 있을 수 있겠다. 하지만 가사와 영화의 스토리 전반을 이해하는 분들이라면 납득할 수 있을 것이다. 마지막 “Stay where you are”를 반복하는 부분은 우리 모두가 이루어지지 못한, 혹은 슬프게 매듭지어진 모든 사랑과 관계를 이해하고 납득해가는 방식이기도 하다.

English Translation

[INTERVIEW] Art Director Ryu Seong Hee asks and RM answers. ‘Closer’ x ‘Decision To Leave’ Collaboration

Makes alive with the 2 works unique mood

Ryu Seong-Hee: You’ve confessed your love on <Decision To Leave> for several times. What’s the reason that captivates you especially for this movie?

RM: Though I’ve mentioned this in a book called <Finally, Park Chan-wook> and on <The Dictionary of Useless Knowledge>, it’s very hard to describe the reason for my likings for this movie precisely in words, now that I’ve even watched this for the 8th time. Because that’s the thing about fans, or maniacs. It just that I can become Hae-joon (Park Hae-Il), Seo-rae, mists, telescope, and handphone. Nevertheless, if I were to jot down the lists, it’s the things like the right amount of uneasiness, fascinating mise-en-scènes, the actors’ actings, the theme of fogs, and everything that’s not forced on.

Ryu Seong-Hee: You usually showed your love towards arts a lot. As an artist that made uncountable good music videos, I’m curious on how you view the <Decision To Leave>’s art, or visual images as.

RM: The set’s feel, the videos’ tone (like the singer’s vocal tone), and the ways to love and death. The point of view of a handphone …. I especially really liked Seorae’s and Haejun’s house color’s impression. Though it’s just an appreciation view by a fan, not a cinephile….I just thought that it’s a work that would reach one state at a visual level. It’s really nice.

Ryu Seong-Hee: The rhythm and the breathing of a 138-minutes running-time movie with a 3 minutes and 30 seconds music are different. If there were the very most important part for this work, it’s?

RM: To make it as fitting as possible with the visual (because the song’s vibe is a bit persuasive), I changed a bit of the sound to a bit more lo-fi. I arranged it like a dramatic drama in order to be in sync with the fast-paced development and the lyric’s narrative. Because 2 minutes and 30 seconds is too short to fit in all the mists of the film. And, I had a thought that there are too many lyrics comparing to the film’s mood. I even thought of removing the entire verse’s vocal, but because it’s a collaboration which when each one of works have taken their place, so I tried to keep an eye well of the mood of these 2 works.

Ryu Seong-Hee: What’s the reason of <Closer>, a song of your solo album to works with <Decision To Leave>. Did you think that the gradually piling up emotions with the vocals was suitable with the making the epic of the movie?

RM: There are several thoughts going between <Change pt. 2> and <Closer>. I had a thought that <Change pt. 2>, a song with a more humid feeling that the video’s mood itself would be more suitable, it’s because it wasn’t a song that I created with the movie in mind, I come to a conclusion that <Closer> would fit because it can contains the overall narratives of it. I thought that the overall lyrics of it is like the another world’s Hae-Joon and Seorae. There must be some people that think it doesn’t fit as the sound is a bit young and trendy. But, those who understand the lyrics and the movie’s overall story would be able to understand it. The last repeating part of “Stay where you are” is also a way for us to understand and accept the loves that couldn’t be reach, or the love and relationships that’s been sadly concluded.

Source: Cine21 English translation by: verritaee

[defectivehero]

Could you maybe write about 2 boys who fall in love over multiple centuries, like as they progress they realize they can’t be without one another ?

fading away, your hand in mine

“You play your part and I’ll play mine, as we always do,” Alaric maintains, crossing his arms over his knees. Sebastian sighs from next to him, running a hand through his hair. The air is dense with the familiar omen of fog, and it clings to his skin. Each time he blinks, he sees what they had once been.

Sebastian and Alaric spent years, centuries, as actors. They’ve been enemies, friends, rivals and lovers. Their eyes gleamed blue, green, brown and hazel. Each lifetime they looked entirely different, but they still found each other every time. This particular lifetime, Sebastian found Alaric far too late for his own comfort.

“Is that really enough for you, Alaric?” Sebastian bites his lip, a familiar feeling heavy in his chest. Dread and relief fight for prominence in his mind. “Are you content to live like that? Losing and finding each other over and over again?”

“You know I’m not,” Alaric sighs, turning to look at him. His eyes flit about his face, as if memorizing his features. Sebastian does the same, trying his best to commit this moment to memory. “We don't have a choice.”

“Why should we have to lose ourselves in the first place?” Sebastian blurts out, words falling from his tongue faster than he can control. Hope still lives inside him, fragile and unfamiliar. Sometimes, it tugs at him and pulls. “You say we can’t have this. Then what can we have?”

“I’m not sure,” Alaric whispers, his hands restless as he fiddles with the strings of his sweater. He’s just as pretty in this life as he was in the others. Their past life, he had blonde hair and brown eyes. This life, his skin is a warm brown- kissed by the sunlight that peeked out from the clouds in the sky. His eyes still gleam with the intelligence and curiosity that Sebastian knows him for. “Fate seems to be against us.”

“I disagree,” Sebastian squints, swallowing hard. He’s still processing everything that happened in their last lifetime. Alaric died in his arms. He was forced to watch as the boy's eyes dimmed, their familiar intelligent gleam giving way to a hazed numbness. Sebastian rubs at his eyes roughly, disentangling himself from the memory. “Fate continues to bring us back together. It’s time that’s against us.”

“We are out of time again,” Alaric whispers, a troubled expression on his face. The fog around them grows thicker and thicker, taunting them. For the first time, Sebastian isn’t afraid. He’s just sad. Alaric seems to sense this, because he continues to speak. “I’m sorry.” The apology is far reaching, drenching their past life in its spotlight. Sebastian shakes his head, his eyes growing watery with unshed tears.

“Don’t you dare apologize,” Sebastian breathes, his voice cracking at the end of the statement. He can’t find it in himself to care. Alaric has seen him at his very worst. There’s nothing to hide from him. It’s this thought that spurs him to utter the words that he’s been wanting to say for several lifetimes. “The few moments I’ve spent with you are far more valuable than a whole lifetime spent with someone else.”

“Goodbye,” Alaric says, getting up from the ground to stand. Sebastian does the same and, before he can think about what he’s doing, he grabs for Alaric’s hand. The boys’ fingers lace together.

“We’ll find each other again,” Sebastian answers. It’s not a promise, but a recognition- an admission of what will happen next. He knows this, and Alaric does too. He says as much.

“I know,” Alaric smiles, squeezing his hand reassuringly. For a moment, the two stare at each other in silence. Dread coils in his stomach, and Sebastian recognizes the familiar signs of the fading process. He closes his eyes, unable to bear the sight of Alaric fading away.

Alaric’s hand slowly slips from his grip, until Sebastian knows he is standing alone in the dense fog. He exhales shakily and surrenders himself to his exhaustion, letting his figure fade and his eyes fall shut. Death greets him on the other side and for the first time, he doesn’t fear or mourn. Minutes, months and years pass, he thinks. He can't be sure- time passes differently there.

Finally, Sebastian feels ready. He takes Death’s offered hand, allowing it to coax his soul into another body. Memories flicker before his eyes. Sebastian allows himself a selfish moment to hold onto them before clenching his fists at his sides. He takes a deep breath and follows the pull in his chest, knowing exactly where and who it will lead him to.

[lou-struck]

Into The Maze

Eijirou Kirishima x Reader

-Kiri books tickets from the wrong type of festive fun

Wc: 1000+

You have been asleep for a few hours as Kirishima sits up next to you in bed, the blue glow of his laptop screen illuminating his face as he searches for something fun for the two of you to do this weekend for a date. Once again fall has rounded the corner opening the door for lots of seasonal activities for the two of you to do.

Finally finds the listing he was looking for. All the two of you have been talking about is going through the huge corn maze at the farm outside of town. He smiles to himself and looks over at you before clicking buy.

“You are going to be so surprised Pebble.’ He coo’s down at you, kissing your head as you stir in your slumber.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There’s corn, so much freaking corn, but that’s what to be expected in a corn maze, the surprising part was that when your boyfriend printed out the tickets the time of your reservation was after dark. It wasn't till you got through the line of people you realized something was up.

Looking ahead of you the Maze was pitch black with the exception of low rising fog and strobing lights that roared like thunder.

“Ei..Eijirou?” you said with a slight shake in your voice, “I think this is a Haunted Corn Maze, I…” You trail off as a chorus of screams and Chainsaws slice through the air.

Upon seeing you tense up, Kirishima wraps an arm around you protectively pulling you into his chest. His hoodie smells of cinnamon and cedar and you feel yourself relax in his hold. He carefully tilts up your chin and says softly “We don't have to do this if you don't want to baby.” He trails his fingers softly up and down your arm as he continues “If it’s too much we can always go home and put on some of those movies you like instead.”

Feeling brave and slightly frugal you go ahead and nod, flashing him a smile. “As much as I love Hocus Pocus, I think we should do it. We already paid and I'm sure it's... not as bad as it looks. Especially since I have a Pro Hero to watch over me.”

He puffs out his chest at your words almost feeling excited to protect you in the Maze. After all protecting cute things like you is something he classifies as manly. Before the two of you walk hand in hand into the maze you stop him one last time, looking him dead in the eyes you say “If you leave me there, you’ll regret it.”

Laughing at your threat the two of you walk into the maze prepared to witness the horrors within.

A thick mud coats the bottom of your boots as you follow the columns of drying corn husks a slight rustling seems to follow you. “It must be the wind,” you say under your breath. It does not go unnoticed by Eijirou who moves his hand protectively to the small of your back as he guides you along.

“Hey, I got you” he whispers in your ear “Let's try and make it funny, then it won't be scary.”

Heeding his advice the two of you make your way through the maze. You bravely laugh in the face of Zombies, Dentists, and Creepy children. Eijirou is also enjoying himself staying on high alert. If it ever seems like you’re getting too scared he makes sure to pull in close guiding you out of the scene making funny comments and jokes about what you just witnessed. You ere feeling confident and ready to finish the maze, get some hot cider, and go home to cuddle up next to your boyfriend watching Addams Family Values for the nth time this season. Everything seemed perfect.

Then came the clowns…

Nearing the end of the maze you and Eijirou run away from a masked actor with a chainsaw till you reach a small bright yellow house lined with fluorescent lights. This color palette can only go to one type of horror that can’t so easily be ignored. Eerie carnival music began to play as the clowns began to skip out through the corn husks. Their gleeful laughter places fear in the deepest part of your heart. You go to run away but your legs are stuck to the ground in fear. The actors seeing your terrified reaction step closer to you fake blood splattering their jumpers.

The Smallest one comes up to you smiling far too wide.

“You’re so pretty!” She sings, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “I wanna be pretty just like you!!”

You can't really speak so Kirishima fills the silence, stepping in front of you “Yeah she is! But we gotta go home.”

She lets out a cackle and tries to skip around to you only to be blocked by your boyfriend. “Nooooo, she should stay longer to play with me.” She pouts and makes another step towards you.

Sensing your discomfort Eijirou decides that enough is enough and picks you up easily making a mad dash for the exit leaving your creepy acquaintance in the dust as she yells for you to come back and play with her.

Arriving at the exit of the maze the two of you catch your breath finally feeling safe and unstressed. He looks over at you to make sure that you aren't completely traumatized from the experience he just put you through only to see you smiling.

"You did so well Pebble." He says to you kissing you on your forehead

"It had to be clowns Eiji" you laugh "I think I could take her next time."

"I know you could" he chuckles back "Come on let's go and get something to warm us up for the ride home."

"You're paying right, I have a trauma fee that only accepts snack credits," you say taking his hand dragging him towards the hot cider and candy apples.

"I wouldn't have it any other way" He smiles following after you thinking that maybe you can go back into the maze next year, this time on purpose.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Here’s My Problem: I Can’t Get You Out Of My Head

Seventeen + BTS Detective!Jeon Wonwoo x Actress!Reader Characters: Jeon Wonwoo, Jeon Jungkook, Kim Mingyu, Chwe Hansol (Vernon), Seungcheol (S.Coups), Chan (Dino), Yoon Jeonghan Summary: Wonwoo’s cold and calculating personality makes him a top detectivee. He’s currently in the middle of a murder investigation when he meets you, his favorite actress. His mind goes gooey when you’re near him though, and it messes things up for everyone. Can he deal with his dilemma? Word Count: 5k+ Warnings: Mystery, fluff, angst, detective au, actress au, TRIGGER WARNING graphic depictions of violence, stalking, killing, obessession, etc.

A/N: I’m going for that fall out boy/the 1975 kind of song title, ya feel me. And just like my Hoshi fic, I made Jungkook and Wonwoo siblings just because they have the same last name hekhek

And in case you start thinking otherwise, yall this is a work of fiction that does not represent reality at all.

Playlist:

Forget About It - All Time Low

Oh My! - Seventeen

Dream Girl – SHINee

I Love You 3000 – Stephanie Poetrie ft. Jackson Wang

Red Moon – KARD

Love U – Monsta X

Touch – NCT 127

Focus On Me – Jus2

Blue Flame – Astro

Psycho – Red Velvet

Let’s Not Fall In Love – BigBang

Slow Dancing In The Dark – Joji

Try Again – d.ear ft. Jung Jaehyun

Guess Not – eaJ

You Calling My Name – Got7

The Jeon brothers were popular in their neighborhood for being swoon worthily good looking. They were so popular in fact that girls from other schools in their proximity came around just to glimpse at them on the school bus.

The younger of the two, first name Jungkook, was an all around remarkable fellow. He was good at sports and academic, making him popular not only for his looks but as well as his athletic achievements.

The older Jeon on the other hand, Wonwoo, was far more reserved and mysterious. He excelled in his classes and was a top student in his class, but whatever loudness or extroversion his dongsaeng had, he did not possess.

It was somehow a match made in heaven for the brothers. They complimented each other and helped where they could.’

It was unsurprising the two began extremely different careers after graduating, Wonwoo having studied criminology, and Jungkook, filmography. Never did the two brothers think they would get an opportunity to work with each other having left the academic scene, until Jungkook finally got the greenlight to start production on his childhood dream project: a murder mystery film.

To be honest, it was an old, black and white mystery film that shaped the brothers into choosing their careers. Having been so fascinated with solving puzzles since he was younger, Wonwoo remembers vividly how amazed he was at how intricately woven the movie he watched with his brother was. And his said brother, Jungkook, found so much splendor in being able to watch such things, that he told himself he wanted to be someone who made those for a living.

And now here they were years later, working on a murder mystery film together.

Jungkook hired his brother to be as a specialist on set. To be honest, Jungkook thought his hyung would be a little bit more excited about it when he was going to be helping Jungkook not only live out a childhood but as well as be on set for a production he actually enjoyed the genre of.

In fact he had to beg Wonwoo to agree to work with him. Wonwoo argued he was in too deep with real life cases to be focused on the fictional case Jungkook wrote about.

And to be fair, Detective Jeon did not reach his rank for nothing, but neither did Director Jeon earn his reputation for nothing.

Still, the only reason why Wonwoo agreed to his brother because of you.

His favorite actress.

"Hyung," Jungkook calls his brother from the couch, "you should watch this drama. It's really good."

Wonwoo was too busy with his English homework to care.

Jungkook ate some chips and turned to his brother that was sat by the far off desk, "Hyyuuunnnngg!"

Said hyung grumbles, "I'm busy."

"Ya, the girl is really pretty."

"Good for her then."

Jungkook scoffs.

After Wonwoo had finished his homework, he decided to watch with his brother, not before scolding him of course. "You know, you'll be in the last year of your college soon too, so you better stop wasting your time watching dramas."

Jungkook rolls his eyes, "I'm literally studying filmography. This is studying for me."

"Aish, what do I know," Wonwoo hisses, grabbing some chips from Jungkook's bag. Once he turned to the screen, Wonwoo felt his eyes widen slightly. "You're right, she's pretty."

"Right? I'll hire her for my murder mystery movie," Jungkook says, nonchalant.

It amazes Wonwoo, even after months of working behind the scenes on this film, that he gets to see you in real life.

Even right now as you acted out a dialogue with another famous actor, Kim Mingyu, it felt surreal when he remembers you're actually just a few steps away.

Jungkook was initially baffled by how star struck Wonwoo was to meet you. I mean, he expected his brother to maybe fan girl, but he flat out blanked when you introduced yourself. For the first time in Jungkook's life, he saw his brother had no wits with him. It's still so hilarious to him that Wonwoo lost his so-called mysterious grace when you smiled.

"Cut! Good take," Jungkook called. He then went over to his brother who was holding a paper bag. It was obvious to anyone Wonwoo was holding some lunch.

Jungkook smiled. He extended his hand out, clearly expecting whatever his brother bought was meant for two, "what is that?"

Wonwoo scowled and moved the brown bag away, "it's not for you."

"Aw what? You bought food just for yourself."

"No. I bought this for-"

"The country's sweetheart," Jungkook teased and wiggled his eye brows.

Wonwoo deadpans and replies dryly, "Yes. Mingyu asked me to buy the sandwich I had the other day."

Jungkook raises his brows and crosses his arms.

Wonwoo clears his throat, "and yes. I bought an extra for her. Why? Can't I?"

Jungkook sneers and slaps his brother's shoulder, "homie is whippedt, with a T."

"What are you? A prepubescent teen?"

"I am cool."

"Ya, is that the sandwhich?" Mingyu calls, suddenly near them. Wonwoo's breath hitches when you smile and wave his way.

Jungkook sniggers softly and decides to watch it play out.

"Thanks, hyung," Mingyu states. Wonwoo and he were close because Jungkook and Mingyu were friends after working so often with each other.

Wonwoo turns to you but looks away when you catch his eye. He clears his throat and finally gains the courage to turn back, "ya... I got you a sandwich too."

Mingyu, who had gotten his sandwich at this point turned to the remaining one in the bag, Wonwoo, you, then pushed the sandwich your way.

You gratefully take the bag and turn to Wonwoo with a grin, "you didn't have to get me one."

Wonwoo scratches his nape, "... the thing is, I wanted to."

Mingyu and Jungkook turn to each other with wide eyes. You chuckle and feel blood rush up your neck.

"You know actually--" Wonwoo starts but gets cut off by his phone ringing. Jungkook eyes him hotly, trying to telepathically tell him not to answer it, but Wonwoo does anyway.

Mingyu rolls his eyes as Wonwoo begins to get into a deep conversation with whomever is on the other line.

Once he's done, Wonwoo turns back to his brother and says, "there's been another murder, I have to go."

Jungkook only nods and doesn't stop him, not that he would, not thay he could. It was terrifying to know that his older brother was so close to bringing a serial killer in.

It started long before production to Jungkook's latest project began. Missing person reports for college girls began to get filled, soon after these girls would be found dead. Initially, theses cases were treated separately since the incidents were scattered all over the city and were seemingly random. It had only been a few months since authorities announced the murders were done by the same person.

It was Wonwoo who spearheaded the investigation.

Wonwoo was on his way to his car to get to the latest crime scene when he was pulled from the back of his coat.

He quickly turn to see what it was holding him back and felt his cheeks burn at the sight of you panting and smiling, "hi."

Wonwoo raises a hand.

You huff, "detective Jeon."

"Yes."

"To be completely honest with you, I'm not sure if you like me or not. You don't really pay me much attention, but when you do you're awfully sweet when you're not avoiding eye contact."

Wonwoo opens his mouth but closes it right after.

"I understand you're a very busy person, and again I'm honestly not sure if you even like me, but I wanted to aks anyway: would you accompany me to a party next week?"

Wonwoo audibly gasps to which you gasp and giggle to. At this point, Wonwoo's face is burning, he can feel it, but he manages to nod, "I would love to."

You break into a smile and nod, "okay? Okay."

"Okay."

"Okay. Next week, friday, okay?"

"Okay."

"Okay good."

tIt was honestly not tha good, considering Wonwoo couldn't stop thinking about it. How was his brain going to get through this crime scene before him when all he could think about was you. It was a real problem. Every time he looked into the room, he found something that reminded him of you, the laundry scattered in the bedroom floor, the posters of celebrities on the wall (to be fair there was one of you in the room), the trinkets on the table. Your everything was fogging his head.

He was lucky Hansol was as sharp as ever because it seems not even the putrid smells in the air was snapping Wonwoo out of his trance.

The date- was it a date (YES IT'S A DATE HYUNG -Jungkook)- came both quickly and agonizingly slowly.

Wonwoo wore a new suit he brought just for the occasion, and for that he was grateful, because this party you took him too was a lot fancier than he had anticipated. It was apparently one of those exclusive events that select people got invited to.

To say Wonwoo was intimidated and out of place would be completely accurate. He was never a party goer, even in college, but if it meant he got to see you dressed up in a rose gold dress and red lipstick then count him in.

Wonwoo tried to stay as close as you as possible-- not for any perverted reason, but so he wouldn't lose you and to protect you from anyone who would dare attempt anything perverted.

You forced him to dance though he never really danced much, but much like the reason why this party was appealing, he enjoyed dancing because of you.

Bless your soul you noticed how awkward Wonwoo looked and decided to call it quits for the dancing. The rest of the night was then spent drinking champagne in the venue's tiny balcony. It was honestly the first time you two had talked by yourself, and though it was awkward, your heart skipped at how Wonwoo described his passions with his deep voice and how he clumsily complimented you.

Honestly, you thought Detective Jeon was the most attractive man you had ever seen, both outwardly and inwardly. He had been nothing but a gentleman around you and never treated you like a distant celebrity, though the many times you've been told how much a fan of yours he was. You wanted to kiss his lips as he continued to speak, but you controlled yourself.

The most that you gave him was a kiss on his cheek when he called a cab for you. Wonwoo would've drove you home had you not specifically told him not to bring a car cause you two would be drinking.

It was still an amazing night regardless.

Page 6 of the newspapers thought so too, Wonwoo learned, as he walked into the station when he got to work.

Hansol rolled over with his office chair, wiggling his eyebrows, "how you doing there, chief."

Wonwoo pretends like he isn't all smug about it when he is, but when he thinks about how this may be impacting you, he doesn't feel smug at all, "mind your own business, Chwe."

"Ya. It is my business because you're dating my first love!"

Wonwoo snaps at him and sneers, "ya! Focus on your work."

Hansol sneers, "so protective."

Wonwoo mutes him out by putting on headphones that played the soundtrack of his favorite mystery film. As he tapped his foot to the beat, he reviewed the file of the serial murder case he was on.

There were a total of 13 victims-- that's how many films you've been in--

Wonwoo screws his eyes shut and shakes his head. That was the most inappropriate thought he could've suddenly thought of.

He reviewed the latest profile of the victim. She was in her last year of high school and played the flute. Wonwoo recalls how you attmepted to play a flute in a variety show.

Wait.

Stop it.

Shit.

Wonwoo increases the volume of his music. He reads that the victim is from your hometown. This actually makes him shiver. Wonwoo rips his headphones off and decides to take a bathroom break, taking his phone with him. This is where he sees a text message from you that reads: are you coming on set today?

Wonwoo quickly replies: yes.

Can you buy me a sandwich?

Yes.

The rest is history.

From that moment moving forward, Wonwoo's confidence is through the roof.. he not only manages to have a decent conversation with you with other, but even when it's just the two of you. He asks you out, to which you agree. He takes you to an ice skating rink, when he flaunts his skating prowess to your shaky legs. Don't tell him though, but you were faking it so that you can cling on to him tightly and closely. But no one mention either that Wonwoo totally saw through it.

Soon enough you became comfortable enough to cook to take him to your place to hangout. This was were Wonwoo finally addressed something that had been bothering him.

"Are you okay with what's happening?"

You knit your brows at his question.

Wonwoo clarifies, "I mean there are a lot of articles about us. At first it was pretty vague, but now they are mentioning my name in the papers. Are you okay with that?"

You pout and raise your brows, "are you okay with that?"

Wonwoo shakes his head, "I've never really cared about what people thought about me, only my friends and family."

You nod. Wonwoo looks in expectation. You can't help but chuckle, "if you want the truth, it's good publicity. You're a famous detective and the netizens are actually in love with you now because you're so handsome."

"... wait really?"

You pout and cross your arms, "I can't believe you're enjoying that."

Wonwoo can't help but laugh at your faintly jealous reaction. He pulls you to his chest and kisses the top of your head, "well, what I really enjoy is being close to you."

You relax against him and unwrap your arms just so you could cling on Wonwoo's torso.

"But you know what I would enjoy more?"

"Hmm?"

"...if... you became my girlfriend."

You pull away slightly and turn to him. You break into a smile, "I thought you'd never ask."

You then take his cheeks and pull him close to your face. You plant your lips on his and his pulls you closer by the small of your back. The kiss encloses the both of you in warmth. It's electric and so calming all at once. It just... feels right, y'know.

It's just pure bliss for the two of you.

At some point, Wonwoo really wasn't need on set anymore, and yet he came around to visit you and Jungkook. Who were you fooling, clearly Wonwoo came around to see you.

He would sometimes be able to take you out to lunch, depending on both of your schedules.

One this for sure was, you clearly both loved each other.

But that shouldn't have been affecting him so badly at work. It perturbed him that everywhere he went, too often even on his case that he thought of you. It disgusted him so much. He pushed all these thoughts away whenever it sprang into mind.

Wonwoo leaned back on his chair and turned from the evidence board he had been staring at for the last ten minutes, to the cup of coffee on his desk. He begins to recall one early morning he spent drinking some hot brew with you.

He smiles. Now that is a welcomed thought.

"I still don't get the correlation," Hansol spoke, making Wonwoo turn to him. He continues, "I'm starting to think that maybe the killer is just fully psychotic."

Wonwoo sighs, "the chances of him being a random picking killer is pretty slim at this point. Some of these girls are the same height and build, and some of them play the same instruments."

"Yes, but they have nothing collectively in common."

Wonwoo shakes his head, "there has to be. My gut is telling me there is."

Wonwoo's phone rings, except it's not his handphone but his work telephone.

"Hello, Detective Jeon from Seoul district 1 station."

No one replies, but there is heavy breathing from the other end. Wonwoo stands from his chair and presses the record button on his phone.

"You can't get her!" he growls in anger. He begins to scream and throw things in the background. Wonwoo pulls the phone away at the loudness.

The man on the other end heaves again. Wonwoo asks, "who is this."

"you know exactly who I am, you bastard!"

"No. If I did, you'd be in jail."

He laughs, "you think you're so good, huh?"

"Who and where are you?" Wonwoo asks, turning to Hansol pointing to the phone. He immediately understands and runs off to try and track who's calling form the other line, or at least where he is.

The man is shuddering in anger, "you will never have her. She's mine!"

Wonwoo feels bile rise from his throat, "who is she? Did you kill another girl?"

"Not yet, but I will if you don't back off. She's the only one I've actually loved and you want to take that away from me?"

"If you love her, why would you kill her?"

"SO YOU COULD NEVER LAY A FINGER ON WHAT'S MINE!"

"Women are not posses--"

"I WARNED YOU. STAY AWAY, OR SHE DIES!"

Hansol couldn't trace the call fast enough. And Wonwoo couldn't sleep that night.

This was when his visits began to lessen. He began to fully focus on his work again, no distractions, and for once, he hadn't thought of you. This was a direct consequence however of both sleep deprivation and not seeing you for a whole eight days.

The next day you visited him at work. It caused quite a commotion and Wonwoo's exhausted mind didn't take kindly to that, which was why he snapped at you and was super cold.

Hansol told him off for rudeness, but he just couldn't rest easy when he could do something at work that could help fins that lunatic serial killer. Chief Seungcheol agreed however that Wonwoo should take a break though.

The moment his head was put on straight, he felt extremely guilty for taking out his emotions on you. Wonwoo apologized profusely and of course you couldn't stay mad because you understood how much stress he was in.

But the thing was, he just couldn't get you out of his head. Again and again, everything he did reminded him of you. The evidence even lead him back to you like a compass and it was too much for him too handle.

This was exactly why it hurt so much when Wonwoo decided to let you go for the sake of the case.

He explained everything to you so neatly. "I am so madly in love with you that I see you everywhere. I see you in the sky. I see you in my coffee. I see you in the breeze. I see you in my sweaters. But I see you too in the evidence I have for the case. I see you in the files and the map board, and it's seriously messing with my head."

It was a line out of movie. It didn't mean it didn't hurt. You were crying your eyeballs out. You didn't understand what breaking up could do to help.

"You wouldn't be mine anymore, so that would incline me not to think about you."

You so badly wanted to slap Wonwoo for saying that, but you couldn't, because he was breaking up with you to catch a killer and prevent anymore murders from happening. If he was that bothered, he probably shouldn't be on the case anymore but you couldn't ask him to leave it when he was distracted because of you.

So instead, you turned away and left.

Wonwoo almost ran after you; it took everything in him not to.

"Don't worry, Jeon," Seungcheol comforted, placing a hand on Wonwoo's shoulder, "the sooner we catch the lunatic, the sooner you can get back with your girlfriend."

"Not unless I get her first," Chan from forensics chimes in, walking with new files of evidence.

"Dude," Hansol barks.

Chan gives an innocent face, "what? I'm trying to lighten the mood." He then hands the file over to Seungcheol, "here you go chief. The killer branded the latest victim's neck with three squares."

Wonwoo spins on his office chair.

Hansol knits his brows deeply, "has he done that with the other victims?"

"No. This is the first time."

Seungcheol places a hand on his chin, "wait. Why does this seem so familiar to me?"

Hansol watches Wonwoo begins to spin the other way around.

Seungcheol shakes his head and rattles his brain for some answer. He suddenly turns to Wonwoo, "ya. Do you know 'The Sleeping Tower'?"

Wonwoo turns to Seungcheol, "yeah, the killer in that drama marked his victims with three squares."

eSungcheol has goose bumps. Hansol turns to Wonwoo, "wait, what is The Sleeping Tower?"

Wonwoo says faux nonchalant, "a drama my ex is in."

Hansol pulls his head back.

Seungcheol moves to the evidence board, "wait just a second, Wonwoo. Did you say all the evidence point to her?"

Everyone shifts their attention to the chief. Wonwoo stops spinning on his chair, "are... are you telling me wh-"

"What do you see, Wonwoo?" Suengcheol asks.

Wonwoo stands form his chair and walks over. He begins to explain the correlation between you and the evidence and the... victims' personality. He argues with himself as he explained what he saw. As he pointed out one thing, he disagreed it could make sense. Wonwoo continued on like that until he actually hears himself say it. This is the first time he’s ever said all this aloud.

Hanson and Chan turn to each other in bewilderment as the detective being to point out strong points.

Wonwoo nearly falls down when he realizes it. Seungcheol turns to him, but Wonwoo's already bolted out the door.

Wonwoo is calling you nonstop. He's gripping the steering wheel so hard.

It all makes sense now. The shirts, the hobbies, the physical attributes, they were all yours. The victims had your merchandise, liked things you did, had procedures done to look like you-- they were your fangirls

And the killer was obsessed with you.

Wonwoo stepped on the gas and turned the siren on.

He screamed your name when he got to your home. You lived in a quiet apartment complex. The good thing about that is the people would be alerted by suspicious people and noise, there were bound to be at least eye witnesses, and there would be cameras in the area.

Wonwoo still had the keys to your apartment. His hands quivered as he jammed the key open.

Once he stepped in someone screamed, "YOU'RE TOO LATE!"

Wonwoo fumed as he saw a long haired man laughing as he stood an open window. He took a moment to assess that he has nothing but a twisted look on his face, he had nothing on his hands or clothes. He charged for him, which in hindsight may truly have been a bad move because he got kicked in the gut.

"I have nothing to live for anymore," he whispers as Wonwoo recoils at the assault. It enrages the detective, and it drives him with enough adrenaline that when the psychopath tires to jump out of the window, he catches him and sequentially bashes the guys face into the sill. He pulls him away and begins to assault his face.

Wonwoo is screaming with tears running down his face when it dawns to him the psychopath said it was too late. He pulls away from the knocked out man. He is shaking.

He screams your name and looks for you in every room. His mind is racing. He’s just too frantic to even begin to think what could have happened to you. He falls to his knees when he reaches the bathroom. There is red scattered everywhere and tub full of it. He makes a desperate sound.

He can't see properly from all his tears. He quickly crawls to the tub and heaves heavily when he sees the body in it.

Wonwoo's hand his trembling when he takes on of yours and feels for a pulse. His lips quiver when he can't find it. He turns to your submerged face and gently moves it to try and get a pulse from your neck. He reels back and makes a horrible sound when he finds a long slice that is gushing out red. Wonwoo at this point is sat on the wet ground, trembling with tears.

He is out of his wits.

He has no idea what to do.

He doesn't even notice that the police team is already here. The next thing he knows is he isn't in your apartment anymore. He is inside a police car, he thinks.

Wonwoo is numb to it all-- the sounds, the flashing lights.

He wonders how he wound up in his brother’s house, and how they both ended up crying in each other’s arms.

"Breaking News: After finally a week's worth of trial, the Supreme Court rules 25 year old Yoon Jeonghan triple life sentence after finding him guilty of the murder of 14 women. He admitted to his crimes and claimed they were out of love. He was a deeply obsessed fan on one if his victims, the actress who was recently given a memorial three days ago. Detective Jeon Wonwoo, who was head investor of the serial killing case, was awarded a medal of honor for apprehending Yoon, which he declined. Detective Jeon was also the boyfriend of the late actress, and was seen with his brother, Director Jeon Jungkook, at the service saying a few words in memoriam of the country's sweetheart."

[parkjiminiemouse]

Time: Clock

“W-What?” Your voice came out meek as all your previous anger suddenly faded. Turning around fully so you could face him you didn’t even realize how close he had gotten. You instantly lean against the door to get a little more space away from him, to clear your fogging mind.

He took that moment to trap you. Gentle as ever he lifts your chin and presses his lips against yours. Just like you had felt nights prior his lips were warm, soft, and pillowy. They were everything you had dreamed of for the past few weeks.

Warm encased your body as he wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you as close as he possibly could. You didn’t waste a second and instantly kissed him back.

The kiss didn’t last long as your phone rang which startled you both. Pulling away Seonghwa watches as you grab your phone and answer it only to hear Yuna yelling from the other side of the phone. He suppressed a chuckle as he listened to you scold her before telling her you both would be down in a minute.

When you hung up you looked up at Seonghwa and gently pecked his cheek before exiting the room.

Replaying that moment in your head over and over you couldn’t help but tune everyone out. At the restaurant you decided to distance yourself from Seonghwa a bit as you were still flustered. Thankfully Seonghwa seemed to notice and made no attempt to place himself next to you at the table. Luna watches the exchange with furrowed eyebrows but shrugs it off after a bit of thinking.

“You and Seonghwa did what?!” Sookie exclaims which causes everyone else’s attention in the car. Thankfully, it was just your members but you instantly felt the tension start to rise. “Shh. We didn’t do anything bad.” You say before brushing her off as you felt Kiyoko’s eyes watching your movement.

Yes your argument with Kiyoko ended but there were still some terms you both agreed to go by and you were already started to break them. Telling Sookie what was happening was a mistake and you knew it would cost you.

When you got home you instantly rushed into your room but Kiyoko followed closely behind you. Before you could close the door she stuck her foot in and pushed her way in. Taking a deep breath you turned to face her.

“You broke one of the terms.” She stated it more than posed a question but you knew it was because she already knew. Nodding, you then quickly make your rebuttal. “Yes but, he kissed me.” She sighs, “Do you know what that would do to our careers? Do you know what could happen when our fans find out or their fans find out? That would be detrimental!” She exclaims, she was beyond furious at that point. For you to be so unable and so unwilling to keep your promise made her angry beyond belief. “You really are selfish! Everything they said about you during our trainee days were true.” Her words were like a knife to the heart. She knew how terribly you were treated during your pre debut days and to bring it up in an argument was below the belt. Huffing you pushed her out of your room.

“I won’t allow you to talk to me like that. Maybe you should learn to watch your mouth and clean up your act.” She scoffed, “I’ll learn to do so when you can learn to keep your promises. Maybe you’re just so thirsty for dick and that’s why you’re acting like this! Get a fucking grip. You’re living a fairytale! Park Seonghwa doesn’t really like you! He’s an amazing actor though.” That comment stuns you.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Kiyoko rolls her eyes. “You meet him once and all of a sudden he’s in love with you? Doesn’t that sound like some stupid fan fiction to you? I’m trying to help you so that you don’t get hurt by him!” Shaking your head you wanted to refuse the idea altogether but no matter what it still lingered in the back of your mind. Not once had Seonghwa given you a reason to have doubt in him but not once had Kiyoko’s suspicions and loyalty towards you given you any reason to doubt her. Even if it didn’t seem like it, Kiyoko loved being your friend more than anything and you both knew that. She just wanted to keep it real with you but sometimes the way she crafted her words made them feel like she was spitting venom in your face. At that point you were conflicted. Who to trust?

Kiyoko watches your expression change and the sadness that shone in your eyes only made her worry. You really liked him huh? Maybe she should’ve just kept Yeosang’s secret like she promised but she just couldn’t. She refused to let you get hurt. “I’m sorry.” Was the only thing she heard come out of your mouth. Here you were, apologizing to her when she’s the one who helped break your heart. Taking you into her arms she rubs your back. “Don’t be. I’m sorry for being so cruel. I just want to have your back and prevent you from harming yourself farther.”

That night you didn’t sleep a wink.

You were dreading going to work the next day but you put yourself together and acted as if nothing had happened the night prior. Which means you acted as if you and Seonghwa hadn’t kissed and you pretended that Kiyoko didn’t just help break your heart into pieces.

To the unknowing person your actions seemed to be normal but to your members and Seonghwa who had developed an understanding towards your behavior and it’s patterns you were acting a little unusual. Yuna and Sookie suspected that it was just because of your fight with Kiyoko but Luna knew there was something more going on.

When brainstorming and filming ended you made your way towards your stuff. You truly didn’t want to be around anyone at this point in time but Seonghwa didn’t seem to take notice. Crouching down in front of you so you both were eye level he tilts his head.

“Are you okay?” Kind and caring as ever it almost made your heart melt, almost. In all honestly, Luna watched the interaction and her heart hurt for Seonghwa. Kiyoko on the other hand watched and her heart hurt for you.

Seonghwa felt a pang of pain run through his body as you practically told him you wanted nothing to do with him. Was there something he had done wrong? He tries to calmly reason with you as to not draw attention but you only shoot him down with leave him with no explanation.

Time flew by and in about three months the album was about to be finalized. Still, there was something missing and it weighed on all of your shoulders as you tried to figure out just what it was. The dynamic you all had first created changed drastically. You and Kiyoko had grown way closer than before and Luna and Seonghwa had grown close too.

To say you were a twinge jealous would be a huge understatement. You longed to be the one Seonghwa relied on again but you trusted Kiyoko. You trusted that she had your best interest in mind so you refrained from growing closer to Seonghwa.

Unfortunately for you, you were one to be easily tricked. Luna had told you that she needed help setting something up for Seonghwa’s upcoming birthday and though you were hesitant when it came to anything to do with Seonghwa you decided that it would be a nice distraction from work so you agreed. Much to your surprise you found yourself not working on Seonghwa’s surprise party but actually in a place that was all too familiar.

Before you could fully register though, Luna pushes you towards the gazebo and runs off. Unfortunately for you, you had little to no idea how to get back and even if you did Luna took the car with her. Sighing you looked towards the gazebo and there he was.

The moonlight shined down just right and the dims lights around the gazebo were beautiful. Walking through the field of flowers he gently takes your hand and that’s when you realize why Luna and Seonghwa had grown close.

Because Seonghwa wanted you.

Leading you under the gazebo he pulls the seat out for you. Hesitantly, you take a seat and he scoots them chair in. Sitting across from him you notice the familiar sweets he had made for you on your very first date.

“Hwa…” you wanted to cry. Tears brimmed your eyes as you looked down at your lap. Oh how you had missed him so much. You resolve was crumbling right in front of your eyes as it was now his turn to brush your hair away from your face.

“Would you have came if you knew?” The question lingered in the air for longer than Seonghwa had hoped and he assumed he got his answer but then you spoke,

“I would’ve.”

[cronengirly]

Does anyone else remember the horror remake boom of the early 2000s through the early 2010s?

Let's take a stroll through memory lane and compare review scores (not an objective measure, but a useful one)

Up first, John Carpenter's The Fog and it's 2005 remake. 75% is a pretty respectable score imo, but somehow the remake managed to dig up the bones of a good movie and create such a terrible recreation that it's only worth 4%.

I think that's actually pretty impressive, you have to screw a movie up pretty bad to get a score that low. The IMDB and Letterboxd scores are a little more forgiving, but the fact that there's still a stark drop in score is telling.

Next, we have Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Tobe Hooper's original is a classic of horror cinema, that 89% is damn well deserved (The lower score provided by Common Sense Media seems to be because the film isn't exactly child friendly, but... No shit?)

The 2003 film is... Well it's typical of the early 2000s horror scene, it's dingey, it's gross, it's grimey (maybe that's what you want, especially from TCM). 37% is pretty fair imo, it's not the worst of its ilk, but it's nothing to write home about either.

A Nightmare on Elm Street. This is one I have some STRONG feelings about. This is one of my favorite horror franchises, and while the first isn't actually my favorite (Freddy as a character having not come into his own yet and the franchise not quite settled on the sillier track it would would eventually make work) it is absolutely one of my favorite horror films and 95% seems pretty reasonable to me.

A Nightmare on Elm Street (2010) is a film that seems ashamed of its roots. In many ways it's a fairly faithful adaptation of the first movie, recreating some elements basically beat-for-beat. I think its biggest failure was... It felt generic. Even in the very first film, Freddy had a distinct personality. He wasn't a mute brute with a knife, he was fully cognizant of his actions and cracking wise the whole time! Freddy is a villain defined by his humor, and this remake failed him in that regard. A snarky, sadistic killer is turned into any other bland, vaguely nasty slasher villain.

I have a little more to say on this one in particular because I actually grew up watching Nightmare on Elm Street, the franchise has a major place in my life, and I personally think its most underrated entry is partly overshadowed by this dull snoozefest. Why waste any more breath on this movie when I could have been talking about Wes Craven's New Nightmare?! The strange, metatextual film that recognizes Freddy's place in pop culture and tries to reckon with, among other things, the glorification of violence and the parasocial attachments we form with actors *as* fictional characters.

Okay, okay, enough pretentious farting about on the subject of New Nightmare, let's talk Halloween. This is the second Carpenter film on this list because he got particularly shafted in the remake department.

What is there that hasn't been said about the original Halloween? Nothing. It's great, it's simple, Loomis is a bastardman, let's just move on.

Rob Zombie's Halloween is-

Actually, no, let's back up a sec.

Rob Zombie is a musician/filmmaker who I need to preface this by saying: is fine. I have no beef with Rob Zombie. I listen to his music sometimes when I commute, I like House of a Thousand Corpses, I love that the Living Dead Girl video is an homage to The Cabinet of Doctor Caligari. All of that is fantastic.

I just think that he was a weird choice for a Halloween remake. Carpenter's original film is at times very subtle and understated, while Rob Zombie's filmmaking style is much more aggressive and often surreal. Apparently Zombie just really liked Halloween and wanted to do his own take on it, so like... Fair enough?

Rob Zombie's Halloween is just not that good in my opinion, I can't totally nail down why, I just don't enjoy it very much. Maybe it's due a rewatch.

Anyway, if you actually read that uhhh gold star, you listened to my barely coherent ramblings for longer than I would have.

I'd be happy to hear other people's thoughts, whether it's dunking further on the early 2000s remake culture of an impassioned defense of any of these films. What are your takes?

[princess-of-riviaa]

Record Breaking

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Reader (first person POV)

Summary: Porn without plot, or the time Henry wants to bring your pleasure to new levels.

Warning(s): dirty talk, thigh riding, fingering, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, aftercare

Word Count: 2,766

“How many times have you cum before?”

It’s an intimate question, one I take by surprise. I audibly gasp at Henry as he finally closes the distance between us. His hands come up to rest on the counter on either side of my hips, blocking me in. He leans down to bring his face close to mine and my arousal starts to drip through my panties at the lustful look he’s giving me.

“Um…” I struggle to remember his question, let alone think of an answer. “F-four. That’s my record.”

He quirks an eyebrow, like this surprises him. “Four? And who was the magical guy that did that to you? Anyone I know?”

I swallow before shaking my head no. “It was… on my own. I’ve never actually had more than one orgasm with a guy before.”

I swear his pupils dilate even more at that. “I swear I’m gonna keep you here and make you touch yourself until you orgasm that many times one day, but as for now…” His lips brush against my neck, just under my ear, and I shiver, which makes my chest brush against his. Every inch of me is already on fire and he hasn’t even done anything. His mouth latches onto my skin and begins to suck hard enough for me to cry out in pleasure. When he finally pulls away, there’s a cocky grin on his face--he knows exactly what he’s doing to me. “As for now, little one, I’m going to be the one to make you cum. Over and over again. Until we break that little record of yours. How does that sound?”

I’m only able to nod, my arousal locking my throat up.

He smiles before kissing me, his tongue instantly pushing inside my mouth. I moan loudly, which only grants him more access to me. His hands latch around my hips and pull me tight against him. I feel like putty in his arms with the way he’s making me burn alive. He nudges his leg between mine, moving me until I’m practically sitting on his thigh. He begins to move my hips back and forth. I know exactly what he’s doing, but I’m just too fucking aroused to feel nervous about it. My hips move of their own accord. His hands return to my sides and he watches my expression as I begin to ride his thigh with fervor.

“That’s it, little one, I want you to ride my thigh,” he growls, the sound of his voice making my breasts ache. “Ride me until you’re staining my clothes with your cum.”

I don’t dare stop, feeling my mind numb with a blissful fog. Either Henry’s a mind reader or he can see what I want written clearly on my face because a second later he’s ripping my dress off of me and kneading my breasts in his hands.

“Oh, fuck!” I cry out. I clutch onto his shirt, needing something to ground me.

“The things I’m gonna do to you, to this perfect body of yours… God I can’t wait to destroy your fucking pussy.”

His words and the images they procure in my mind make me moan. My hips begin to move even faster. I can practically taste my first orgasm now and my eyes squeeze shut as I chase it down.

“F-fuck!” I cry out as my body explodes with pleasure so intense that I can’t breathe for several seconds. Fuck, fuck, fuck he feels so good, and he hasn’t even touched me yet…

He kisses me slowly. It’s the kind of kiss that I can feel in every inch of my body. “You’re such a little slut, coming all over my leg like that…” He pulls his leg back and we both glance down at the wet spot on his jeans. “Look at the mess you made.”

“I’m sorry…” I gasp out, still feeling the effects of my orgasm.

“No you’re not,” he laughs darkly. Then he sets me on top of the counter and forces my legs apart. “But you’re about to be.”

I open my mouth to ask him what that means, but a second later he shoves a thick, calloused finger inside of me and a moan comes out of me instead of words. He moves his finger in and out of me at a pace too slow to do anything but tease me.

“P-please…” I cry out.

“Please what?” His voice is a low growl.

“Please fuck me,” I manage to get out. “I want to cum on your hand.” Normally I’m too embarrassed to talk dirty, but my arousal has pushed me past the point of modesty.

Henry licks a stripe up my neck before nipping up my ear. I melt into him just as he adds another finger. The stretch comes with a painful sting but it’s gone the moment he starts curling his fingers inside of me, replacing the pain with hot euphoria. It takes just a few flicks of his skilled fingers to make me reach the edge. One touch of his thumb against my clit pushes me over the edge and I clench his shirt as my body shakes uncontrollably. My breath gets stuck in my throat, my vision turning white.

“H-holy fuck,” I gasp out. A second later Henry’s fingers are pushing their way into my mouth. I taste my arousal as my tongue brushes against his thick digits. My gaze jumps to his as I suck on his fingers. The way he looks at me… I can tell he’s thinking of shoving something else inside my mouth and letting me suck on that instead. I let out a pornagraphic moan around his fingers, just to tease him.

“If I had known you were such a fucking slut…” he begins, but never finishes his thought.

I wait until he pulls his fingers out of my mouth to reply, “What? What would you have done?”

He places his hand on my stomach and pushes me back until I’m lying across his counter. His hand slowly crawls up my body until it wraps around my throat. I let out a moan as he tightens his grip, choking me.

“I would have claimed you as mine a lot sooner,” he says, and then he puts his mouth on me.

He licks a long stripe up my already-soaked folds. That is enough to make my entire body shudder. My pussy is sensitive from the last two orgasms and the stimulation hurts, but that fire in my core is still too far away for my liking. I want to be surrounded by it; I want to be burned alive in it. And I want Henry to be the one to make me feel it.

If there’s one thing I take away from tonight, it’s that Henry Cavill deserves a fucking gold medal in eating a girl out. That tongue of his is magical and he knows just how to use it. I’m gasping and writhing beneath him in no time. He gives attention to both my clit and my entrance, occasionally fucking his tongue in and out of me well enough to make my eyes roll back in my head. I clutch his curls between my fingers, torn between wanting to push him away and wanting to bring him closer to my pussy, even though he’s already as close as possible. His hands find their way under my ass and lift me up from the counter so he has a better angle. My hips buck up to meet every movement of his tongue until I’m coming, I’m coming so intensely that I squirt. He steps back but still keeps a finger brushing over my clit, making me squirt for several long seconds. I have no doubt I’m making a total mess of his kitchen floor, but that’s the last thing on my mind right now.

When I’m able to focus again, his mouth is on mine. I kiss him back hungrily. Henry’s suddenly covered in too many layers; I want him open and vulnerable, just how I am. I reach for his shirt, but he must know what I want because he yanks it over his head and tosses it on the ground before I have to say anything. I gasp at the sight of him.

Henry Cavill is a high-status actor. There’s no doubt about it. There’s also no doubt about his perfect physique, since there’s plenty of shirtless workout photos of him on the internet. But Henry Cavill, the actor, the star, the celebrity--that’s not who I’ve gotten to know in this last month over nervous dates and late-night phone calls. The Henry I’ve gotten to know is a simple guy who plays video games and loves his dog and is insecure about his body, unable to see the perfections in himself. The Henry I know, the Henry I’m falling for, is so human it overwhelms me sometimes. And now, as I see him shirtless in person for the first time, it’s like those two different versions of Henry are colliding and morphing to become one. I suddenly feel awestruck and intimidated, like I don’t deserve to see him like this.

“Shit,” Henry grumbles.

I meet his gaze to find him staring at me like I’ve disappointed him. “What is it?”

“You’re doing it,” he says, like it should be obvious. “You’re suddenly remembering I’m Superman, I’m the Mission Impossible guy, I’m The Witcher.”

With every passing second I can sense him building his walls higher, locking his heart away from me.

“Henry…” I start, but don’t know what to say. He’s right; I am doing that--I’m completely dehumanizing him, idolizing him, turning him into a god in my head. And I promised on our first date--the first time we saw each other in person after being two strangers who texted for weeks--that he didn’t have to worry about me ever doing that.

He turns to pick up his shirt, but before he can put it back on I grab his arm. Carefully, but hard enough to gain his attention.

“You’re not Henry Cavill to me,” I tell him. “You’re not the same Henry to me as you are to every other person in the world. You don’t have to prove anything, be anything other than who you are. You’re an actor who’s been in huge, successful films because you’re talented, and I applaud you for that, but it doesn’t change how I see you.” I won’t let it change how I see you. “You’re not just the movie guy to me, okay?”

He hesitates. The look in his eyes tells me I’ve convinced him, but his body betrays him.

“You’re Henry,” I continue, “the guy who’s best friend is his dog. You’re the guy that bought me a new pair of shoes when my heel broke on our first date. You’re the guy who I hate taking to family dinners purely because you get along with my family better than I do. You’re not the movie guy to me, you’re a million other things. So please don’t put your shirt on. I want to look at you.”

That convinces him. He lets go of his shirt and keeps his arms at his side, letting me take in every inch of him. He’s not even flexing yet his abs and biceps are outlined clearly beneath his skin. He’s large, his shirts hiding just how broad he is. Dark, curly hair swirls around his pecs and beneath his naval, hugged on either side by the V of his hips, which disappears beneath his jeans. I finally notice the erection straining against his zipper and it takes every ounce of self-control not to reach out for it.

“Fuck,” I softly exhale as I bite my lower lip. I’m suddenly very aware of my heart racing in my chest, adding to the heat coursing through my body, and the fact that I’m very, very tiny compared to him. The size difference between us is almost laughable. When I look back at his eyes, I realize just how blown his pupils are. The air between us is electric, filled with sexual tension.

Henry slowly, teasingly slowly, reaches for his jeans. He pops the button. I catch a glimpse of dark blue underwear as he drags his zipper down, taking his time to reveal what I’m so desperate to see.

“Henry,” I whine without meaning to. As soon as his name leaves my mouth I’m blushing like an idiot, though it just makes him smirk.

His fingers hook around his belt loops. He tugs them down. My heart is in my throat at this point and I’m so wet that I can feel my arousal drip onto the counter. My eyes catch onto the writing on the band of his underwear. Calvin Klein is written in bold, white letters. I have no idea why I need to know that, but I feel myself storing that information away for later. His underwear is tented with the thick outline of his erection. I’m just now beginning to realize that Henry is big… everywhere. I swallow when I realize that he’s easily seven inches, but probably closer to eight.

How the hell am I supposed to fit him inside of me? The thought scares me as much as it arouses me.

Henry finally, finally lowers his underwear. I realize I’d been holding my breath when I let out a humiliating moan at the sight of his cock. There’s a thick vein that runs along the side. He curves a bit along the head, and his tip is red and already leaking pre-cum. I lick my lips, wanting him in my mouth as much as I want him buried deep inside of me.

When he finally speaks, his voice is loud amidst the quiet tension. “If you aren’t ready to do this, tell me now, because in a few seconds I won’t be able to stop.”

I force my gaze to meet his. My want must be written all over my face because he doesn’t hesitate a second longer. He closes the distance between us and pulls me in for a slow, sensual kiss that I feel in every inch of my body.

“I want you,” I get out between breathless kisses.

He growls in response and his mouth begins to trail down my neck, down my chest. He stops to suck on each of my nipples before moving his mouth lower.

“Henry!” I call out before he can put his mouth on me again.

He freezes and looks up at me, his eyes completely dark with sinful lust.

“I don’t want your mouth,” I say. “I want--I need…”

“Use your words, little one.” He kisses each of my hips as he waits for me to speak. The way he touches me sends me straight to cloud nine. His hands, his mouth, his tongue--everything about him is addicting.

“I want you inside of me,” I admit. “I want you to fuck me, Henry.”

His smile presses against my skin. A second later he stands up and wraps his hand around his cock. I let out a ridiculous moan as he drags it between my folds, not just to soak up my wetness but to tease me until I’m close to the edge again. I reach out for him, grabbing onto his arm as he grips my hip in his hand. With his other hand he guides his cock to my entrance. He barely pushes an inch inside of me before the pain starts, my walls already stretching to the point of a bitter sting. I hold my breath as he slowly enters me, careful not to go too fast. My legs are spread wide on the counter, allowing me to watch his cock disappear inside my pussy. I let out a small whimper when he’s not even halfway inside of me; I swear it feels like he’s ripping my body in half. He’s so big, and I’m so tiny, so tight… But the pain is gone as soon as he bottoms out inside of me, his head resting snugly against my cervix.

“Fuck, you’re so goddamn tight,” Henry grunts out as he leans in for a kiss. This kiss isn’t about the passion or the heat--it’s his way of telling me that this moment is as much about me as it is about him, and if I need him to stop, he’ll stop. He won’t push me. I can trust him.

And I do trust him, enough to say, “Fuck me, Henry.”

...

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[jtrbluv]

hell-ish | pjm

summary: can be read as a separate oneshot or a continuation of ‘we’re not really strangers’“

“But do you remember when we went on a field trip to that amusement park in 8th grade? Around halloween time? … Yeah, I think that’s the moment I pretty much fell in love with you.“

pairing: jimin x reader

genre: fluff, humor, establisedrelationship!au

word count: 7.7k+

warnings: profanity (they are beyond terrified), inaccurate depictions of amusement park shenanigans, neurotic clowns (but they’re acting)

A/N: IM SO SRY ITS LITERALLY NOT EVEN HALLOWEEN ANYMORE GOODBYE DD; in my defense they typically have these typa things open after halloween ends... miss rona just isn’t allowing it this year ofc ;w; a special thanks to @viopera​ , @koushiningg​, and @bangtans-peaceful-piegon​ for letting me use their likeness, i love u all. and i hope you enjoy this late halloween fic right before thanksgiving break!

The car rolls to a smooth stop. The man in the driver’s seat puts the car into park—turning towards you while placing a reassuring hand on your thigh.

“Hey,” he says, a small close-lipped grin painting across his features, “you excited?”

You reposition in your seat so you can face him, or more specifically, your best-friend-turned-lover—the sight of him smiling causes you to elicit one of your own, your nerves slightly subsiding.

“I am actually,” you admit, “how long has it been? Six? Seven years?”

“Around there I think, but we should probably get going. The lines are probably going to be stupid long like always,” he suggests, his hand leaving your thigh only to ruffle the hair on top of your head, "Here's to new memories Y/N."

You step out onto the pavement—the crisp, cold night air nipping at your cheeks and nose. The cooler temperature serving as a reminder that winter was yet to come and autumn was about to come to a close. You form an O-shape with your mouth, exhaling sharply and seeing your own breath swirling and blending into the air around you.

Footsteps approach you from the side as you shut the car door. Your head whips around to see Jimin walking towards you with a dopey grin plastered on his face. In response, your eyes playfully loll back, a stream of air huffing out of your nose.

You shift your focus back towards in front of you, eyeing the roller coaster that intimidatingly loomed beyond the fence of the park, the drop tower that appeared just as high, and the other neighboring attractions that towered significantly enough to be seen from afar. The whole stretch of the park emitted a red glow, from what you could assume was from the large-scale lighting and technology that was spread out across the expanse.

A soft hand slides its way from your forearm down to your palm, intertwining all in one smooth motion. It was warm and comforting much unlike your frozen, almost entirely numb ones.

“Someone’s a little cold aren’t they,” he teases, using his other hand to attempt to rub more warmth into yours.

“You know my hands are chronically cold,” you pointedly whine, causing small clouds of air to shoot out of his mouth and nose due to his laughter.

He locks the car and you two begin making your way towards the entrance—from what seemed like a mile, in reality, was only a block away. There was practically no gap in between the two of you the entire time, taking advantage of each other’s body heat amidst the numbingly cold weather.

The wait wasn't too shabby, but you knew it was because time always seemed to pass by so much faster when you were with him, most of the pastime consisting of talking about how your past week has been, the fuckton of assignments you two had gotten, and the dangerously high intakes of caffeine you two had consumed as per usual.

The conversation ceased after a while, and it was just the two of you pressed side to side in comfortable silence, hands still intertwined. It was interesting to see such a vast variety of ages all around you—the most common age range were teenagers or people of the same age as the two of you, which wasn’t a surprise. After getting past the ticket booth and security check, you

two finally make it inside.

The first thing you notice is the large, antique carousel that hadn’t changed in the tiniest bit since the last time you were here.

The meticulously decorated entrance—brought to life by the fire torches, heavy-duty fog machines that didn't allow one to see after 10 feet ahead of them, bright lights that were replaced by either no lights at all or a faint red tint, and just the whole ambiance—had greatly juxtaposed the simplicity and familiarity of the carousel that stood in the eye of it all.

The heat of the fire torches allow you to regain some warmth back into your body—you create a small gap in between you and Jimin, in which he pouts and lifts your intertwined hands up to his face, pressing a kiss into the back of your hand.

“So, where do you wanna go first?” He asks, swinging your arm back and forth after passing through the gates.

“I’m fine with whatever,” you enunciate a bit loudly, the usual noises of amusement park shenanigans hindering your hearing.

“You sure about that?”

You click your tongue, “Jimin please, I’m a college student now, not a puny 8th grader anymore,” you argue, watching him turn away as he tries to stifle his laughter, “I swear!”

“Alright! Alright! I’ll believe you,” he eventually caves, frantically waving his hand to dismiss your concerns, “But I won’t believe you until I see it.”

“Oh, so we’re gonna play that game huh,” you retort, brows furrowing as a smirk creeps across your face, “Alright, so what do you think about riding that?” You ask innocently, motioning up towards the drop tower that forced one to crane their neck all the way back just to see the top.

You break your focus as you look back down and turn towards him to gauge his reaction. His jaw dropping down to his knees—eyes widened in complete bafflement and horror.

“Y/N. I am literally going to fucking die if I ride that shit. Oh my god.”

“What do you mean? It’s totally safe! I’ve been on it so many times.” You attempt to console him, knowing it’s futile because of the piercing glare he gives you right after you say that.

“And that’s supposed to make it better how?!"

You soothingly rub the back of his hand in an attempt to ease his nerves, “Of course I won’t push you if you don’t want to, you know.”

He sighs, “Well, now you’re just making me sound like a puny 8th grader.”

“I can assure you that you very much, are not Chim.” And he smirks at that, tightening his grip on your hand, making you wish that you didn't give him that ego boost in the first place because he surely didn’t need any more of that.

You take some time to mull over your options, but instead, go with whatever your gut feeling was initially leaning towards, “Okay, so what if every time you take me to a house, I have to take you on a ride. You get to choose the house and I get to choose the ride.”

He nods in acknowledgment, “I’m listening.”

“Does that sound valid?” You inquire.

He bites on his bottom lip, taking a moment to quickly cogitate between the options you had given him, and at last, he nods, "It sounds like a win-win."

"Or a lose-lose." You chuckle, and he mirrors.

He shakes his head, “I know you like rollercoasters and all that scary shit, but there’s also a ton of stuff that they’ve added since we’ve last been here.” He replies, thinking out loud, while making you feel more content with your decision, “You got a deal ma’am.” He affirms at last—releasing his grip to offer you his hand to seal the deal, in which you confirm resolutely by shaking it.

Just like he said, the amusement park most definitely stepped up their game ever since you both were middle schoolers, navigating the large expanse with a bunch of other measly and equally puny peers.

The deeper you two make your way into the park, the more themed attractions lined the path. At this point, you could barely make out the bottom half of your legs due to the thickness of the fog. Actors were running around left and right—faces decorated with FX makeup that you could barely discern because of the dim lighting—effectively scaring others, clear by the amount of ear-splitting shrieks you've heard in the past ten minutes that was enough to make your eardrums burst.

Jimin takes note of your slight tenseness. He wasn't oblivious and he knew that you were trying to feign nonchalance—but the razor-tight grip on his hand and lack of chatter on your end was saying otherwise. But just like everything you do, he thought it was cute anyway.

He promptly squeezes your hand, making you turn to face him, "Do you want the first pick?"

You hum, "You can have it if you want."

"Are you sure?"

"Yess," you drag out exasperatedly, "how many times do I have to tell you that I'll be perf– !" You abruptly halt as a zombie (that very much isn't real is what you keep reminding yourself) whizzes past you, brushing against your shoulder and making you jump and trip over your own two feet.

The man beside you is quick to react—leaping in front of you with his arms out so you could fall into his grasp. And you do, gripping his arms to better steady yourself and stand up. As you attempt to straighten yourself out, your head sinks into his chest, laughter erupting out of the two of you to the point where his knees almost give out.

You detach yourself from his chest, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes from laughing so goddamn much. Finally regaining your poise, you immediately slip your fingers back in between his. He cards a hand through his locks with his remaining hand while taking deep breaths.

While tugging him away from where you two were standing to avoid another ruckus... granted that you were at a haunted amusement park, you shout into foggy air, "I'm fine, I'll be fine Jimin! Let's go!", hoping that maybe if you spoke it out into the world, you could manifest it into being true.

Well, weren’t you wrong.

-

A rare and near impossible feat is what you were able to accomplish: forcing Jimin to make a decision. Despite him already being a trademark libra, you always believed that one of his most standout and consistent libra-esque traits was the fact that he was so indecisive. To which had resulted in him forcing you to make decisions instead of him most of the time, whether they had been trivial or not.

The moment you realized that this "feat" wasn’t much of a feat, after all, was when you two had finally reached the entrance of the first haunted attraction he had chosen, his impulsive and most likely ulterior-motivated driven decision causing you to retract all preceding moments in which where you were being stubborn and indignant in him making the first pick.

Just your luck, his explanation behind his decision (and your almost near-death experience) is that he says and you quote, “Start off with a bang! We get the worst over with now so it’s all smooth sailing for the rest of the night. Trust me.”

For some context, you had a very  rational fear of clowns. The year of 2016 was already bad enough as it was—a time in which you had gotten out of your first serious relationship, afterward giving yourself the most horrendous haircut in your entire life because you were emotionally strung and the scissors… well they just happened to be within an arm’s reach.

Later on in said year when you had become a junior and assignments had been piling up higher and higher without any shits given whatsoever, your minuscule fear of clowns had been blown out of all proportions—ultimately fueled by the number of clown sightings around your town and one altercation that you still think about until this day. Four years later, you can still vividly recall the time where you were coming home after studying all day at the local library and on the other side of the street, you had spotted a clown—feet planted to the cement sidewalk, body immobile besides their head that would keep its focus on you as you continuously made your way down the street. As you began to quicken up your pace, the clown began to reciprocate your actions from across the way, and you came to the conclusion that you didn’t really wanna die that night so you sprinted the entire rest of the way home.

And here you two were, at the front of the line standing behind the black curtain entrance—next to a rugged wood sign with the words, CLOWNEUROTICS, inscribed with a dripping, rich red liquid which you surmise was fake blood and not Kool-Aid.

“I cannot believe I let you have the first pick and you do this to me” You quip, chewing the chapped skin of your lips, breath shallow and bated.

“Y/N, you’ll be just fine. I’ll be here right beside you, remember?” he assures you once more, giving you another tight squeeze on your hand.

The curtains swish open, the employee in a simple all-black ensemble motioning the two of you to come inside. You close your eyes, taking one deep and steady inhale before stepping in.

You can barely make out your surroundings, let alone Jimin, who was standing right beside you. The worker’s voice hollers over the deafening noises of the tent. “Follow the path, don’t go backwards, or else you'll hold up the line. And you see that green light?” He asks while pointing to the tiny green bulb that was down the hallway in front of you, “Take a right from there.”

Jimin replies, knowing that you’re too fear-stricken to form coherent sentences at the moment, “Alright, thanks.”

The man nods, and Jimin tugs on your hand as he begins to walk forward. You follow closely behind, reminding yourself to take breaths before you flat out lose consciousness.

As you reach the end of the hallway and the green light bulb the man mentioned, Jimin pauses and turns around to stand in front of you, placing his hands on your shoulders.

“Y/N, I know you hate my guts right now, but I’m sorry in advance and just know that I love you, okay? You have full permission to torture me after this.” He reassures with a wide grin.

“Yeah, yeah, I love you too,” you grumble, lips downturned and head hanging low.

You feel his soft lips graze over your cheek, leaving a chaste peck before giving you an airy, irresistible smile that you can’t really help but relent, even though it already feels like your heart is about to implode on itself.

Taking a right, the setting of the attraction comes into periphery. White walls and floors—reminiscent of a hospital, are tainted with blood, a disarray of medical equipment, and severed body parts. You take notice of the vacant hospital beds, sheets crumpled and stained with red. Framed pictures of medical staff were hanging by loose nails, glass shattered, bloody splatters and smears all over the frames, walls, and white tile.

You two reach a doorway, next to one of the hinges was a sign that clearly said, Psychiatric Ward. Well, I guess that explains the neurotics part.

In an attempt to swallow down some of the fear in your throat, you tighten your grip on Jimin’s hand while opting to slither your remaining hand around his bicep.

He takes notice of your actions that were propelled by your increasing fear, and naturally, he can’t help but feel bad, “Hey, you know I’d never let anything happen to you.” He tells you, shaking you out of your slight daze, “You can hold onto me the whole time and stick your head in my shoulder just like you did years ago, I won’t mind,” he teases while booping your nose.

“Alright, let’s just get this over with, please.” You huff out, determined to somehow put on maybe not a brave, but a braver face than what he expects from you.

You manage to fail in a whopping, record-breaking, ten seconds of going inside.

The first jumpscare was so entirely predictable—the thunderous pounds against the wall, the trudging and supposedly neurotic clowns (although clowns are already neurotic enough as they are) had all built up suspense until a head of a clown had shot up from around the corner. Their usual clown features distorted with gashes in their skin and blood dribbling out of the corners of their mouth, clothes ripped and stained. Your entire body violently spasms, a shrill shriek, and an embarrassingly long string of curses leave your lips in a matter of mere seconds.

You don’t even notice the man you’re holding onto folding over in laughter because the clown is still very much still following you even after you turn the corner, but before you can recalibrate and trek forward another clown materializes just sparse inches at your side. Your entire body forcefully jerks back, knocking into Jimin, but the force doesn’t phase him in the slightest as he swiftly brings his arms around your frame to prevent you from falling back.

Next to you, the man’s laughter hasn’t ceased a bit the entire time, and as you quickly dash forward and away from the clowns that you oh-so-wanted to knock a tooth out of, while clinging onto his side, he presses a kiss to the top of your head, “Hanging in there?”

“I think I’m gonna murder you before I murder any of these clowns.”

“Noted!” he chimes while playfully bumping his head into yours.

As you two turn another corner, the sight of more clowns banging against vacant windows on either side of you has you wincing, and you could swear you could feel your left eye start to involuntarily twitch. You come to the indubitable realization that amidst dozens of clowns, you are evidently the biggest one here.

The sounds that blaringly elicit from your lips are the nearing equivalent to keyboard smashes with a variety of curse words in between. In short, if you had a swear jar, you’d be practically penniless at this point.

The clowns are quick to take note of your cowardly conduct, using it to their advantage and targeting you specifically—reaching and intruding so eerily close that you’re almost convinced that they’re actually touching you. You cower in their presence, squirming and sinking deeper and deeper into Jimin’s hold as you make your way down the path.

Beads of cold sweat began to assert their own path down your forehead—heart ricocheting against the walls of your chest, straining the cords of your throat because of your never-ending shouts and shrieks of terror upon terror. Your whole body was convulsing and shivering without fault, even when accompanied by the body heat of the man next to you, the harsh lighting of the overhead lights, and the lack of ventilation in this shoddy tent proved to be no match against your bodily functions that were going completely haywire. If you were an Amazon package, you would have a large ‘Caution: Handle With Care’ sign slapped right onto the box.

The pea-sized amount of pride that remains within you is the only thing stopping you from completely losing your shit.

Jimin's laughter—airy and unwavering, tickling the shell of your ear was the only thing keeping you grounded, serving as a constant reminder that at the very least when you might have lost all your pride and composure, you still had him by your side.

Without much forethought, he continues to lay kisses along your temple, clutching you close to his chest and keeping you upright as your knees constantly buckled under the weight of your looming fear, crumbling composure, and the grisly clowns that were most definitely preying on your downfall.

The ten-minute duration—which to you, had felt like a whole lifetime-and-a-half had finally come to a close. Once you were able to discern what you thought was the exit of the tent—the small opening leading to what had looked like signs of civilization, you booked it without hesitation, hastily tugging Jimin with you to the point where he nearly tramples over his own feet and crashes to the floor due to the sheer and sudden force.

You two finally pass through the exit. Feeling as if you had just ran a timed mile in five minutes, your body caves immediately—hunching over, briskly bringing your hands to your knees to support your deteriorating physiological state. The sound of your heavy breathing gets disrupted by Jimin’s laughter. You stand up, straightening yourself out when you realize that other people were starting to make their way towards the exit too, and you two were clearly blocking the way out.

Jimin takes you by the wrist and swiftly pulls you aside as more people start to trickle out of the tent. You two lean against the metal fence, comfortably silent as he lets you catch your breath.

You huff out, taking deep exhales as you speak, "Holy fuck, what even was that?"

"The funniest thing I have ever seen," he shoots back with a smile, slightly breathless as well.

You blink rapidly, body slumping against the fence, still completely cynical and disbelieving in what you had experienced. Biting the inside of your cheek so hard you're pretty sure you left teeth marks, you wipe your sweat with the hem of your sleeve.

"You okay?" he asks softly, closing the gap in between the two of you.

You nod, affirming your composure in hopes that it would solidify it for real. Giving him a smile to ease the nerves you knew he had, you visibly saw his smile widen, and with that, you ruffle his hair, take his hand into your own, and walk a few steps forward before announcing brazenly into the chilly autumn wind,

"Drop zone time."

"Y/N PLEASE—!"

-

"Don't do this, anything else but this please." He pleads, lips jutting out while childishly tugging on your sleeve.

You groan, "Bub, we had a deal."

He presses his lip together, "I know... but just look at that! How does that even look remotely safe enough for one to ride?" He tries to reason with you, staring up at the attraction that he believes should not even be labeled as an 'attraction' in the first place.

You chuckle softly, shaking your head, "If it was that much of a safety hazard, it wouldn't even exist Chim."

"I will never understand why people ride this out of enjoyment and pleasure. This is insane," he says, his eyes trailing to the long line of people behind the two of you.

"It's three seconds, I swear. Three seconds compared to my ten minutes of cussing and wanting to punch a clown in the face is very reasonable in my opinion. You’ll be just fine, I’ll hold your hand the whole time," you add on.

He quietly freezes in place—eyes fixated on the tower, hands leaving the fabric of your sweater. You feel his warm hand come in contact with yours, the back of his hand grazing your knuckles. Lacing your fingers in between his, he meets your eyes, giving you a timid, lopsided grin. A silent affirmation that had said more than words could’ve. I trust you but I’m still scared shitless.

“You guys are next,” the worker announces, opening the gate and gesturing you two to come inside. Jimin’s smile dissipates, face contorting into a look of mortification at the man’s words—eyes widening to the size of what would be considered as utter shock and lips curling into a form of disgust.

Tugging lightly at his hand, he whips his head towards you, waiting to speak until you two have passed the gate, “Y/N, I’m literally gonna piss my pants like I’m not even joking.”

“Jimin!” you say in a hushed yell, “Please don’t, I know your pride is too precious to you for you to annihilate it by pissing on a ride that even kids go on.”

He scoffs, “Okay fine… but we’re getting churros after this.”

Your brows furrow in confusion, smiling at his tone, “Why would I argue against churros?”

“Hello, miss? Come this way, please,” another worker greets, leading the two of you to two vacant spots of the ride where you presume were going to be yours.

You nod, making your way towards the two seats, hearing Jimin splutter incoherent words and sounds from behind your shoulder.

He immediately plops into the innermost spot, refusing to be on the outermost seat that only had one accompanying seat on one side, albeit it truly didn’t matter. And of course, you don’t tell him that.

Smiling at his overt signs of apprehension, you slide into the spot next to him, beginning to put on the seatbelt over your lap.

Drumming his fingers on his knees, he already has his seatbelt buckled and his over-the-shoulder restraints locked and secured into place.

“Ugh, can these things go any tighter! I can still move under here,” he tuts, vigorously trying to push the restraints closer to his body, yet his attempts are proven to be in vain.

“Bub, they still want you to be able to breathe,” you remind him with a small giggle, your head popping out of the U-shaped bar to look over at him—his brows knit in concentration, nose scrunched, lips tucked into his mouth.

In a final attempt, you hear the man beside you take a sharp and deep inhale, only to hear a tiny click emit from the restraint shortly afterward.

He releases his bated breath, only to come to the realization that he can’t extend his stomach all the way forward, the bar forcing it to come short. He splutters, bringing his hand to cover his face while he coughs only to realize that his arm can’t fully reach around the bar to meet his face.

You watch this entire scene unfold out in front of you—wishing you could do something to help the poor guy, but you already knew your attempts would be pointless in the end as your arms are physically incapable of extending that far. You sink back into your seat to make sure he doesn’t see the fact that you were trying so hard not to laugh.

“Jimin, deep breaths, in and out,” you instruct him as the worker starts to make their rounds around the ride, double-checking for seatbelts and secured restraints.

“Y/N, that’s the problem, I can’t.”

“Try scooting back into your seat,” the worker suggests to Jimin, giving him an empathetic smile.

“What do you mean–oh, erm, thank you.”

She nods, shaking Jimin’s restraint a little more energetically to reassure the man of his safety.

As she leaves, he says to you, “Y/N, I can’t believe you convinced me to go on this.”

“Me too, honestly. I’m really proud of you Chim.” You admit, reaching out a hand towards him in which he takes.

“Three seconds, right?” He reiterates.

“Give or take, yeah.”

“Y/N—!”

Your seats suddenly clatter, signaling the start of your long ascent. Jimin’s grip on your hand tightens substantially, causing you to groan out in pain.

He quickly takes note of the noise, loosening his grip ever so slightly, “Oh my god, sor- oh fucking hell, there’s no going back now?!”

You chomp down on your bottom lip before another sound could escape your mouth—his grip on your hand tightening the higher you two go, “No, no you’re fine, it’s okay..”

“HOLY SHIT WHY ARE WE ALREADY THIS HIGH UP?!” He yelps, kicking his feet against the air—people’s heads starting to look as small as ants, the rest of the park coming into view as if you were experiencing it from a drone’s point of view.

“Dumbass, don’t look down!”

“It’s too late–what the hell, why can I see the whole damn city from here?!” He sticks his head out of his restraint, looking up and trying to find the top, “wHen the FUCK does this shit stop please, Y/N, I cAn’T do this?!?!”

“Chim. Breathe. Deep, steady breaths, okay?” You say while audibly taking breaths so he can do the same.

“Okay, okay,” he says, voice cracking but following suit.

After you think that he finally manages to get a grip on himself, you decide to try to take his mind off the situation at hand, “Jimin, look at the view.”

His breath softens as he begins to take in his surroundings. He could see everything. To him, it feels as if he had the city in the palm of his hand. The rollercoasters that reside next to the tower were practically reaching eye-level to him, and despite the lack of color due to the theme of the park, he thought it was mesmerizing anyway. He marvels at the fact that he could even see past the park—catching a glimpse of the cars zooming on the main highway, minute specks of light emitting from the windows of skyscrapers, people living in their own little worlds in each one, And of course, the envy of it all, the night sky—the dark depth littered with a multitude of stars in their own little patterns and worlds of their own as well.

The overhead speakers trumpet, ripping Jimin out of his trance-like state, “Welcome to the drop zone brave newcomers. I hope you’ve had an enjoyable trip on the way up here. And I hope that your descent is just as enjoyable as well. We will be dropping in... “

Jimin heaves out, “Now that’s just plain rude at this point.”

“Ten.”

“Are you okay?”

He scoffs. “What kind of question is that Y/N?!”

“Nine.”

“Jimin, you’ll be just fine,” You reassure for the umpteenth time.

“I swear if this is longer than three seconds–”

“Eight.”

He frantically kicks the air. “Fucking hell! I can’t believe I’m doing this right now, I miss the ground.”

“Seven.”

“We’ll be back down to earth sooner than you think, I’m telling you.”

“Six.”

“Oh my fucking god, oh my fuck–!”

“Five.”

“Oh fuck, holy shit–!”

“Jimin, I’ll be right beside you–”

“Four.”

“–the whole way.”

“OH MY FUCKING GOD?!”

“Thre–!”

Before the countdown can finish, you two plummet, plunging down at great speeds—a feral-sounding squawk leaving Jimin’s lips when it all happens.

He squeezes his eyes shut, refusing to see what was going on—letting go of your hand, he opts to hold onto the other handlebar on the restraint instead. His breath is caught in his throat, the ride is moving so fast that he can’t even produce any noise, let alone move his body.

Just like you have been saying this whole night, the ride ends in a blink of an eye. Or more specifically, three seconds, give or take.

Jimin slumps in his seat—fingers still curled so tightly around the handlebars that his knuckles turn pale.

You stick your head out of your restraint, craning your neck to look at him beside you, “Jimin, it’s done, it’s over.”

“Are you sure?” He mumbles.

“Open your eyes.”

His head slowly rises, eyes remaining shut. Cracking one eye slightly open, he loosens his grip on the handlebars before opening his eyes and letting out a deep sigh of relief.

"That wasn't so bad, right?" You beam, waiting for the restraints to be lifted.

"I wouldn't know, I had my eyes closed the whole time," he shyly admits, lifting the restraint off of him and unbuckling his seatbelt.

You two jump out of your seats, heading towards the gate and bidding the drop tower goodbye, juxtaposing afterthoughts lingering in the air.

"That felt so weird, I don't know if I wasn't able to move or if there wasn't enough time for me to react," he chuckles dryly while twining his hand with yours once again.

You smile, "Probably a little bit of both," you suggest, eyes scanning the park for any signs of a churro stand, "but hey, you survived!"

He smiles at that, teeth out and all, "We both did," he assures earnestly, "and now as an incentive, we are getting churros."

Your eyes light up—the sight of the bright neon sign being the next destination of the night. Jimin notices your sudden reaction, quickly looking in the same direction as you and pinpointing the small churro stand from afar.

To your luck, the line isn't very long—people are most likely preoccupied with the multitude of attractions that are only going to be available for this appropriate time of the year, taking advantage of the opportunity before having to wait for an entire year before getting to experience it all over again. But you and Jimin weren't like most people, and you two strongly believed that churros should be indulged in at any time during any situation. And right now, it was being utilized as a form of consolation, just in the shape of a deep-fried pastry sprinkled with cinnamon sugar.

After obtaining your consolation desserts, you two resume your journey around the park. Too preoccupied indulging in your churro, you’re temporarily able to block out the commotion that was occurring around you, keeping four out of five senses focused on said churro and churro only. 

“You feel better?” You ask, taking a brief moment to dust off all the cinnamon and sugar off the corners of your mouth. 

“Mmhmph,” he incoherently mumbles, after shoving half a churro into his mouth. He abruptly pauses, cheeks puffed up and eyes wide, realizing he can’t talk and instead he nods with a grin as wide as his mouth would allow him to stretch out. 

You giggle at his actions, taking your focus off of him to take another bite. 

A few moments later, when most of your churros noticeably nowhere to be seen, you ask, “Where should we go next?”

He cinches his brows together, “We probably shouldn’t go on anything to extreme, considering we just ate. How about the ferris wheel?” He suggests, pointing to the attraction that was standing in front of the two of you. 

You nod, “You’re right, these workers already go through enough. And we shouldn’t add cleaning vomit to the list.”

He chuckles, “Agreed. Let’s go, the line is pretty short!” He exclaims jubilantly, flashing you a mega-watt grin while pulling you along with him towards the gated entrance. 

Leaning against the gate, you two wait for the round of riders that were currently riding to finish, mindlessly scrolling on your phones to pass the time. 

The gate entrance opens, tearing your focus off of your phone and back to reality. The enormous and dazzling neon wheel that stood boldly enveloped your vision in replacement of your dim and dark-mode setted phone screen, making you blink a few times to adjust to its harsh hues. 

One of the carts comes to a halt, doors releasing as the group of friends inside it begin to grab their belongings and head out. The worker in charge motions you to step inside after they leave, the two of you following suit. When you two become situated and seated, they press a few buttons on their control panel, the doors promptly swinging close. A few brief seconds after, the cart jolts before moving just enough so the other people behind you could board onto the next cart.

The carts reminded you of the teacup ride at Disneyland—built in a circular shape, seats lined around the border with a small gap made for the entrance door, but of course, it was void of steering wheels in the middle. Now that would just be a recipe for disaster, and a solid segue into Jimin vomiting all over you.

He nudges your leg, “It’s so funny to me.”

You turn to him, “What is?”

“Out of all things to do while being here, and we’re riding the ferris wheel,” he beams, a light chuckle leaving his lips, “I don’t know whether to pity us or not.”

“All my pride has left me already and I’m okay with it,” you tut, lips unwillingly curling upward as you replayed the scenes of what had happened earlier at the drop zone, “I wouldn’t talk too much if I were you Mr. ‘I’m gonna piss my pants.” You tease, poking him in the side.

He scoffs, squirming slightly where you poked him, “I am still proud of myself, I didn’t think I was gonna make it up there.”

You turn away, holding in your laughter, “I didn’t think you were either.”

“Hey! Don’t even get me started on you,” he says, nose scrunching and brows furrowing, “those poor clowns were about to get their noses punched in if it wasn’t for me being there. I think your screams and threats were starting to scare them more than they were scaring me.” He fires back, giggles erupting in his throat and interrupting his words.

“I’m not even gonna argue against that. We are so sad,” you say—laughter flaring up in your chest as well, the two of you keeling over so hard the cart begins to swing back and forth.

“Woah! Woah! Woah! Easy there,” Jimin yelps as you two take notice of the movement and immediately cease your actions, hands grabbing the ends of the cart to try to stabilize it. 

Just as your cart has moved up enough for you to start seeing an overhead view of the park, he whips his phone out before saying, “Lemme take a picture of you, the view is so nice here.”

As he whips out his phone, you scoot to the other end of the cart as he brings his phone up to his face and focuses it on you. Naturally, you bring your hand up, hand changing to a trademark peace sign as you flashed a smile for the camera. He brings his phone down many lock screen worthy pictures later, happy with the result evident from the grin etched onto his face. 

“Your turn,” you say, motioning you two switch spots as you take your phone out of your pocket. 

Jimin, infuriatingly photogenic, simply sits while staring off into the distance, jaw on full display as you begin to rapidly snap pictures. Hearing your camera clicks he changes his position—turning towards you as the chilly wind blows through his hair, eyes crinkling and dazzling smile on full display that you can’t help but smile at the familiar yet all too breathtaking sight. 

Placing your phone in your lap, you scoot closer to him—leaning your back against his shoulder, you prop your legs up onto the seats. Turning towards you, he snakes his arms around your waist as his chest comes in contact with your back. You let yourself sink deeper into his grasp, conforming into his body as warmth spreads to your fingertips. Your head lulls back, falling into the space right below his collarbones as you stroke the back of his hands gingerly with the pad of your thumbs. He rests his chin on top of your head, the two of you simply admiring the view below. 

The ride still hasn’t started—people still boarding the ride as the carts momentarily halt and move from time to time. 

Not long after, your cart reaches the very top. 

Head peering over the edge, he turns back, “See, why did we have to go on the drop tower when we could’ve went here instead,” he grumbles, the peak of the tower standing nearly just as tall as the highest point of the ferris wheel to the point where you could stare directly ahead of you without tilting your head.

“Well that takes all the fun out of it,” you tease, making him frown, “Hey! You keep forgetting what you made me go through before that. Don’t think I’ve gotten over it that quickly.”

Looking displeased at your answer, he quirks a brow, “You seemed to be fine when we were riding the tower.”

“What can I say, you make a very good distraction.”

“I think I could say the same for you,” he proposes, “I swear I saw some of those clowns turn away and start laughing every time you threatened them. I was like ‘Yes! That’s my feisty girlfriend!” he cheers, pumping his fists into the air. You cower down in embarrassment, grinning to yourself while trying to swat his arm away. 

“I feel so burned out already though,” you say, head falling back into his chest, “I think it’s ‘cause we’re here at night.” 

“And because you track-starred your way through that entire maze,” he adds.

“That too.”

“I feel it too, we did more walking than anything else to be honest.” He says, which is very much true. The drop tower was all the way on the other side of the park and the churro stand took you guys a whole twenty minutes just to find. 

You hum, “Should we head out after this then?”

He rests his cheek on top of your head, “Yeah, if you want to.”

“I feel bad though, it feels like we just got here,” you admit, chuckling into his arm. 

He shakes his head, hands reaching over to play with the ends of your hair, “Don’t feel bad, I think we’re still hungover because of midterms. And besides, I’m hungry and I don’t wanna eat a ten dollar hotdog after just eating a stale ten dollar churro.”

“Yeah, we can just eat one dollar ramen, we’re still college students above everything.”

And you truly couldn’t argue with that. “Of course.”

Taking your hands off of his, you prop a hand onto the cart to sit yourself up onto the seats. He releases his hold on you, his arms returning back to his sides as the warmth of your body dissipates to his dismay. 

You adjust your sitting position so you could face him—reaching out to take one of his hands into your own. Your eyes bore into his, gazing into the pools of honey that were his irises. The view is slightly obscured as his eyes crinkle.

He smiles, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

You don’t even register that he’s speaking to you until he leans in slightly, his features starting to appear bigger as he starts to close the gap between you two. You shake your head once he gets so close in proximity that you could see each crinkle that etches themself on the sides of his eyes each time he grins. 

Your eyes flicker to his lips, taking notice of the action as you quickly revert back to his eyes. He smirks

“Thank you for taking me here,” you say as your eyes intently gaze into his once more, “above all the trepidation we’ve put each other through tonight, at least we’re here together.”

He nods, gratitude evident without him having to utter a single word. It’s as if time is frozen, everything around you stagnant and still, eyes boring into each other because nothing could just quite compare to this. Not even the surreal view of the city or the ability to see all the bustle within the amusement park or even the stars that littered the sky. 

You press your lips against his. Although you initiated the action, the sensation of his lips against yours, regardless of how natural, sends a flurry of shockwaves down your spine. Your body tingles—as if you’re floating and the cart you were sitting on wasn’t even there to support you. 

And he kisses you back. His lips are warm, welcoming, and comforting—like wrapping yourself in your favorite blanket in the comforts of your bed, the indescribable bliss as the fabric consumes your body and runs over your skin. 

Kissing him felt even more blissful than that.

The kiss isn’t fervent, but it’s full of longing. It’s as if he’s communicating to you, through the way his lips mesh against yours, that he plans on making up for all the lost time. Time that could’ve been spent doing things like kissing you, loving you wholeheartedly and unashamedly, was spent pining for each other with the label of being ‘best friends’ standing in the way for far too long. He wants to make up for it just as much as you do. 

He slides his hand under the crevice of your knee, pulling you closer to him as he continues to kiss you. You bring your hand up to his neck, entangling your fingers into his hair as you lightly scratched at the surface of his scalp. 

He kisses you like he’ll never get to again, which isn’t completely false—the fact that you two were so high up in the air to the point where the stars look tangible, basking in each other’s presence and each other’s presence only. 

Frustrated at the abnormal layout of the seating, he hooks his arms under your legs—hoisting you up and placing you in his lap so you were straddling him—incognizant of how the cart was starting to dip due to the unequal distribution of weight. 

The gesture makes you squeak, and you can start to feel him smile against your lips. Before you could do anything else, the cart totters—rocking a few times before moving, signaling that the ferris wheel is finally beginning its journey. 

“Oh fuck—!”

“Oh shit—!”

The two of you immediately detach from each other as you take notice of the unbalance, hurriedly leaping onto opposite sides of the cart while gripping onto the sides for dear life, the cart rocking back and forth at a concerning extent. You sneak glances at each other, your faces painted with the same expression of shock and distress.  

Seconds pass and the cart steadies—laughter instantaneously taking over the two of you.

“I think that’s our cue to leave,” he says, a little breathless while his body hunched over his seat.

“Remind me the next time we kiss to check if we’re less than a foot above the ground first,” you tease, playfully swatting his knee.

He grabs your hand, pressing a kiss onto your knuckles before shaking your intertwined hands up in the air—obnoxiously shouting into the frigid autumn wind, “Yes chief!” 

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MASTERLIST

[wastelandcth]

Haunted House - cth

summary: dovey’s birthday leads her and calum to a field in the middle of nowhere for a night of fun and screams, hopefully. 

author’s notes: in celebration of dovey’s birthday, i present the haunted house! i love these two so much and i can’t believe calum really made her go through this for fun! 

warnings:  just fluff and dovey being scared of werewolves. 

masterlist || request

Calum knew his girlfriend was a badass. She was never bothered by the hate from the fans or the drama that usually came with dating him. She was fearless and that's exactly what Calum loved about her. He'd assumed that her only fears were the ones she had mentioned in passing before, heights and brown cows, which he never really questioned much. As her birthday rolled around and the nights got chillier with the fall season, Calum thought the best present to get her was taking her to a haunted house experience that had been all the rave the year before. He'd booked the tickets a week before her birthday weekend and told her to be ready to have the night of her life, not giving away many clues as to what he meant by that. 

Her birthday had been filled with breakfast with her parents, a small get together with their friends in the afternoon, and as the sun went down on the Los Angeles landscape, a trip to the outskirts of town. Calum had been keeping the entire night a secret, only laughing at Dovey when she complained about not knowing where they were going and why she had to be wearing a blindfold and asking if he was taking her to the middle of nowhere to murder her. 

"You can't murder me on my birthday, Calum, that'd be so mean!" she pouted as she leaned on the center console of his car, "Although it would look pretty sick on my tombstone for the dates to be the same, just different years. That's thoughtful of you, I guess." 

"You are the weirdest person I've ever met, have I ever told you that?" Calum asked and laughed, his hand finding hers as he pulled into the parking lot, "Don't have to worry, I'm too cute to get blood on me!" he nodded and parked the car before he undid the blindfold and let it fall onto her lap, "Surprise! It's a haunted house!" 

As Calum led them into the open field where the event was being held, the smell of kettle corn and barbecue flooded his senses and the lights and music playing reminded him of festivals back when he was a child. Dovey hadn't let go of his hand since they'd gotten their wristbands and tickets ripped at the entrance, her eyes scanning the crowds and looking around the entire field, not that he was complaining. It wasn't until they reached the entrance to the first haunted house exhibit that Calum realized why she'd been so quiet. 

"Are you...scared?" he asked softly and looked down at his girlfriend, who looked like she was seconds away from running off to the car again. 

"What? Of course not! Why would I be scared?" she laughed, shaking her head quickly, "There are children going into this Cal, maybe you're the one who is scared." she mumbled, scoffing a bit at him but never meeting his eyes. 

"Right, yeah. Well, good thing we have a few more houses after this one then, huh? It's going to be a fun night, doll." He chuckled, trying to slip his arm around her shoulder, which Dovey instantly rejected and just squeezed his hand harder. Calum had only been dating her for around eight months, but he knew when she was lying, she was a terrible liar. As the man standing at the entrance of the house scanned their wristbands, Calum realized exactly how terrified Dovey was by the shaky breath she let out once they were led into the dark hallway. 

In the darkness, Calum felt her death grip a lot more, he felt the way she pressed her body up against his side and how she shuffled along with him as their group moved forward. As they stepped into the first scene, which consisted of a dark graveyard with fog covering most of the room and a wolf howling through the speakers somewhere above them, Calum couldn't help but chuckle as he pulled Dovey along the scene. She'd freeze up every time an actor would jump out at them, letting out a shriek and hiding her face in his shoulder as they walked away. 

The first house was a blur of flashing lights, fog, and werewolves. If Calum had asked Dovey about the story, she would've tried to make up a summary but her hand was freezing in his and the thought of having to go through more dark hallways with people jumping out at them made a shiver run down her spine.  The second house, Dovey took with a bit more pride, since vampires made her laugh and Edward Cullen's sparkling skin was a good distraction from the dark hallway she and Calum were currently standing in. She still held onto Calum's arm for dear life as they walked through, trying to focus on the design of the rooms instead of the fact she almost punched one of the scare actors when they jumped out from a coffin. 

Near the end of the night, when Dovey's adrenaline had gone up and crashed with the number of times she screamed and hid behind Calum, they decided that sitting in the back of Calum's car and watching the stars was a better way to end the birthday celebrations. Calum had brought some blankets and had them spread out in the back, with the trunk open so that they both could lay down and watch the endless stars in the sky. Being out in the middle of nowhere meant that the lights were dimmed and the stars shined brighter for them both. 

"You know, even though I literally closed my eyes and screamed the entire time tonight, I think this has to be one of my favorite birthdays ever. Thank you, for spending it with me, Calum." Dovey said quietly as she turned to face him, pulling the blanket closer to her as the wind got chillier. It was one of the few moments where their normal banter seemed nonexistent, where Dovey opened up her heart and let Calum in further than before. It usually only happened when she was really tired, her brain too close to sleep to realize what she was saying, but it made Calum's heart race every time. 

"I'm glad you had fun, didn't realize you were so brave." Calum teased because it was one of the few times he got to tease her and still know she wouldn't reciprocate, "Happy birthday, Dovey. I love you." he whispered and pressed a kiss onto the top of her head, knowing she was already drifting off when she mumbled an I love you back onto his shoulder.