#n that i focus solely on my own satisfaction with it rather than showing it off to someone immediately after its done AND not get a response

[rupertholmes]

oh yeah!! haha i never posted this!

[whatanoof]

Cold Hands and Warm Bodies

Merry Christmas! This is a Secret Santa gift for @autumnleaves1991-blog!

There’s a sequel now!

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Whiskey x Reader

Word Count: ~4.7k

Content: fluff, dancing, swearing, oral sex(female receiving), rougher sex, fluffy, smut, there’s a part at the beginning where Reader rejects a man’s advances but it doesn’t get past name-calling

A/N: I liked the idea of a lonely Christmas in a new city turning into something much better through unexpected events, especially since so many are going to be celebrating with less people than normal due to the pandemic. The music referenced is Gasoline by Halsey from her Badlands album.

Your parents had begged you to not complete the move over the holidays, surely it could have waited a couple of weeks so that you could celebrate with your family. But you were decided, and the timeline of your new employment was not up to you. Staying in LA for Christmas wouldn’t have benefited anyone. The confidential nature of your job meant you couldn’t talk about your job with your family, and that’s all that families really want to know besides if you have a boyfriend yet. This left more rumors flying between the aunts than bullets around a battlefield. At this point, you’re pretty sure that your own mother thinks that you’re a prostitute.

Alcohol is an easy option to curb loneliness. The drink burns on the way down, but you savor it. It’s been cold in the new city, and you haven’t been able to shake the chill since moving. Your current choice of atmosphere is the bar closest to your house, leaving you with the freedom to slam as many drinks as would let you forget how alone you are at the time of year when no one should be alone. You don’t have to drive home this way. But now, inside and looking around at the excessive Christmas decorations, you begin to wonder if this was the best way to avoid the holidays.

There are Christmas wreaths all around, draped over as many surfaces as possible. Mistletoe hangs near the corners of the cleared section of floor, and you wouldn’t be surprised if some of those corners were soon occupied by drunk dancers. Lights dangle over the bottles behind the bar, and the bartender is wearing a Christmas elf headband. And to top it all off, most everyone inside has a partner, making you stick out like a sore thumb. Your sole point of luck is that the bar isn’t Western based. 

“Well, hello good-looking.”

The moment is shattered by the stranger’s arm around your shoulders, pulling you too close for the small amount of liquor in your body. The brunette man smells like spearmint, but his breath clearly reveals his state of mind. 

“The name’s Grey. Now, I heard a little birdie that told me that you’d be coming home with me tonight.” His grin appears genuine, but something glitters in his eyes that sends an icy distrust through your gut.

You turn away. “No thank you.” Better not to give him any attention, drunks are never reasonable if you let them believe for even a second that they have a chance.

“Now that’s not very kind. I was being civil, and you rebuff a poor man who just wants a warm bed tonight. May I at least get the lady’s name so that I can address her properly? Where’s the Southern hospitality? ” You catch a concerned look from the bartender, though there’s no need to worry. This isn’t your first rodeo.

“Nonexistent, Grey.” You grab his wrist, yanking it off of your shoulder. 

For a blissful second, the contact is gone, then it returns, and now his fingers are digging into your bare skin. His hands are cold. The handheld taser in your pocket is burning, and you reach for it as he snaps, “Now, there’s no need to be a bi--”

“Hey now,” The new voice is sudden, but there’s a distinctive Southern drawl to the baritone voice that sends pleasant tingles down your spine. Now that is a voice that you could listen to the rest of the night. “The lady said no. And last I checked, Southern hospitality doesn’t apply when said person isn’t Southern.” 

The arm around your shoulders vanishes and you slowly reach for your bag. Angry voices echo behind you, but you’re too preoccupied with leaving to worry yourself with the brewing argument. Goddammit you had only come for drinks, and now you might have to duck out before a fight starts.

But the angry voices lower and the normal barroom din returns. You slowly release your bag to rest once again at your feet, and a new man appears on the stool at your elbow. 

“Good evening.” It’s the rumbling voice of your faceless Southern gentleman. 

He saved you, but that doesn’t mean you can trust him. Feigning disinterest is more difficult now, but you take a sip of your drink and focus hard on how the light from the glass catches the amber liquid. “Thank you for stepping up. Doesn’t happen often.” 

“Unfortunately. Mostly for the men if you end up pulling that taser.” The casual observation catches your attention.

You turn and finally look your gentleman in the eye. Oh. You weren’t prepared for him to be so-- gorgeous. That’s really the only word you can summon to your scattered brain at the moment because, damn. Dark hair brings out darker eyes that glimmer warmly in the lowlights of the bar despite the cowboy hat. A mustache accents plush lips. Tan skin and bold features draw you in, and you don’t want to stop looking except he clears his throat and you realize that you’ve been staring for much longer than the appropriate time.

“Is there something on my face?” Your eyes dart back up to his face and you’re struck by how unfair it is that someone can be so effortlessly attractive.

“N-- no!” Stammering, really? Dammit you’re a full grown woman, pull yourself together. “How-- how could you tell I’m not from around here?”

He beckons a finger to you, and you lean in. “I am an undercover operative working with an American based agency that deploys me worldwide to handle top-secret missions.”

You raise an eyebrow, leaning back to take him in again. The jacket over the tight shirt shows his athletic build rather well, and you wouldn’t be surprised if it were true, “Really?”

“No. It’s the accent.”

You laugh and roll your eyes. The pleased smile spreading over his face matches the one sneaking over your own. “You’re right, I just moved here.” A thought strikes you, “What are you doing alone in a bar during the holidays? No family or friends to visit?”

“None left that mean enough.” The statement is casual enough, except there’s a tension in his voice that makes you hesitate. “And I could ask you the same thing. What motivates a lady to move to a new city, all alone at Christmas?” The tension passes and he waves at the bartender, who immediately turns and starts making a drink. He’s a regular here, apparently.

“A job,” You swirl the remnants of your drink lazily before finishing it, “I’m starting tomorrow.” The last dregs slip down your throat, and the burning buzz will last for now.

“Ah, a beautiful woman and a hard worker. It’s too much for my heart.” 

“If that alone is too much, then this is going to be a short evening indeed.” The subtle innuendo doesn’t fly over either of your heads, and you don’t miss the smile spreading across his face when you flirt back.

“I think I may surprise you, darling. We’re both willing to work for what we want.” His drink arrives, and he takes a sip. Heat pools in your core at the implications. “If this evening is going to continue, may I have the lady’s name so that I can address her properly?”

You hum low in your throat in response. You’ve never brought a man home at the first meeting, never allowed flirting to be anything more than that on the first night. But something’s different about this one. In a split second decision, you give it to him. 

He repeats the syllables after you, rolling them around his tongue in a way that sends a thrill through you as you wonder what else he can do with it, “Gorgeous. George, another drink for the lady, on my tab.” 

You tilt your head back, catching his eyes, “And may I then have the gentleman’s, so that I may know the name of my fearless knight in… shining leather and spurs?”

He laughs, “Jack Daniels.”

“Jack Daniels, like the whiskey brand?” 

“Something like that.” His grin is mysterious and seems a little too practiced, but that’s fine with you. You smile back anyway. Your drink arrives, and you raise the glass to Jack as you take a sip, though you find that the burn of the whiskey doesn’t leave you with the same satisfaction.

A song starts playing in the background, and you straighten up and glance over your shoulder at the dance floor. “Wait, I--”

“--love this song.” You both finish the sentence together. You look back at him hopefully, and he looks at you with a bit of a challenge in his eyes. 

The stool scrapes across the floor and he rises, extending a hand to you, “Would you care to dance, sweetheart?”

“Depends. Are we going to square dance?” 

“Only if you want to, darling.”

“Yes to the dancing, no to the square dancing then.” You accept his hand and walk with him to the center of the dance floor. Your drinks remain abandoned at the bar.

The bassy thrum of the music and crooning vocals keep your hips undulating against his, but Jack has other ideas. He hasn’t let go of your hands, and your arms are crossed over your chest when he draws them up and over your head. Your arms extend and you spin, meeting his eyes as you grasp his hands. 

The alternative pop song doesn’t translate perfectly to the style that he brings, but you can hardly complain. Around you, people are grinding against each other, but a small space clears for him to sway and turn with you. It’s surprisingly fun compared to what you knew of night dancing in a bar. 

The tempo slows and you step inside his reach so that your back is against his chest. 

‘Are you strange like me?

Lightin’ matches just to swallow up the flame like me?’

His breath catches hot and heavy in your ear as you press back into him, savoring every breath and drop of sweat that is your effect on him. The verse fades, and you allow him to lead once again. The melody swells in your head, drowning out everything around you until it’s only him and you. But this time the lyrics make you wonder about the man holding your hands.

‘Well, my heart is gold and my hands are cold.’

The music ends with a crescendo and a final spin, and you’re left panting as your gaze locks with Jack’s. He’s holding you firmly, one hand on your waist, and your bodies feeling like they’re steaming in the chilly air. The spell breaks with a single glance upwards from him. 

“Well that’s a fine addition to an already wonderful night.” There’s a tinge of amusement in his voice, and you follow his gaze.

The mistletoe hangs directly overhead. You glance down, a thrill of nerves running through your body at the intensity in Jack’s stare. Something must have shown in your eyes or body language, because he relaxes and loosen his grip on your waist.

“Only with your permission of course, darling.” He’s fighting it, but disappointment clouds his tone, and he withdraws. “I understand if it’s not something you wan--”

You cut him off by snagging his collar and pulling him close. The surprise on his face gives way to a smirk as you quip, “Don’t mind if I do, cowboy.”

Then his lips are on yours and you’re melting into him. The bar fades into the background and you lose yourself in a man that you had met three hours ago. He tastes like your drink. Tingles spread through your body as he deepens the kiss, warming you to the tips of your fingers.

Then you’re being pressed backwards until you hit the wall, hands instinctively flying up to tangle in his already messy hair. Something soft and firm brushes your fingertips, and you snag it on instinct, lifting Jack’s hat to plop it on top of your own head. He breaks the kiss, a soft smile spreading over his face when he pulls back to look at you. 

“Do I make a good cowgirl?”

“Looks better on you than me, darling.” He kisses you again, hands sliding over your waist down to your ass, and you don’t think that’s a lasso pressing up against you. A low moan rumbles out of his throat, and you stifle a whimper at the sound. He chuckles, “Want to get out of here, cowgirl?”

“Yeah.” Lust boils in your stomach. You can’t seem to tear your eyes away from his kiss-swollen lips that part ever so slightly so you can see his tongue flick over them.

“Got any friends to notify of your immediate departure?” His breath ghosts over your skin and his dark eyes flick up from your lips to meet yours, warming your body as you lose yourself in the deep brown.

“No, too new to the city.” You whisper back, the noise of the club fading into the background while a wave of heat crashes over your body, swelling between your legs.

“Your place or mine?”

---

Funny enough, Jack didn’t bring a car either, but he doesn’t explain and you don’t question it. You don’t regret walking the short five minutes to and from the bar, especially when Jack pulls you close to his side as you walk. You’re just passing under the bridge on your street when he stops walking.

“Stop, do you hear that?” You instantly freeze, eyes darting around for any perceivable threat. There’s too many potential hiding places, the shadows of the bridge supports could hide a man of any size and--

“Listen closely…” He hums the tune from the bar and steps away, tugging you forward a couple of steps. He pulls you back into him, and you’re able to hear the melody through the vibrations in his chest. 

‘You can’t wake up, this is not a dream.’

You find your rhythm. The tempo picks up, only a shadow in your mind as you sway to the invisible beat. He matches you easily, and the two of you move with an unpracticed ease out from beneath the shadow of the bridge into the streetlight glow. The melody swells, and you laugh when a breeze ruffles your hair. You sing the last line to him.

‘Well, my heart is gold and my hands are cold.’

You end up back in his arms, breathing hard and smiling up at Jack. His fingers slip down to interlock with yours, “I can help with that.” You should be freezing, but heat throbs under your skin in time with your racing heart. 

He leans in, but just before his lips touch yours, you whisper, “Jack? We’re here.”

His eyes shift over to your front door briefly, then back to you. He grins. “Nice place.”

---

You laugh as you stumble through your front door, your back hitting yet another wall when Jack pins you to the side of the living room. Heated kisses trail down your neck and a muscled thigh slides between yours. You shudder at the contact against your clothed pussy, your heartbeat throbbing between your legs fiercely.

“Jack, bed’s that way.”

“Oh sweetheart, that would be the end goal for sure.” Hands support your rear, and you fold your legs around him. You’re vaguely aware of him walking you towards the door that you indicated, but you can’t bring yourself to pay attention when he’s licking into your mouth and he’s so close and so warm and right there for you to enjoy. He lays you gently on the bed, legs dangling off the edge. 

“You want this?” The question is so starkly unexpected that you blink and sit up for a moment. He’s standing there between your legs, hair disheveled and shirt half unbuttoned. His pupils are completely lust-blown and his shoulders are heaving with the heavy breaths he’s taking, and you’re struck with the thought that this is the first time someone has thought to ask. But you’d have to be half-dead to say no now. 

“Yes.”

And then he’s undoing your pants and dropping to his knees in front of you. Warm breath ghosts over your exposed skin after he gently peels your pants off. You squirm as large, warm hands rub over your inner thighs. “Beautiful.” But he is too, with the way he glances up at you from between your legs. He’s absolutely beautiful, as he carefully pulls your panties to the side and drags his tongue through your folds. 

“You taste better down here, sweetheart.” He immediately concentrates around your clit, tracing lazy circles around the sensitive nub and you forget how to breathe. 

Your hips roll against his face, trying to gain more friction than what he’s giving, and you whimper as his mustache leaves a tingling trail on your skin. The heat pooling within your core is begging for more, and you’re close to doing the same as he continues to patiently taste you. 

“Gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous. I’m going to make you feel so good, darling, you’re going to be screaming my name.” A thick finger rests against you, gathering your wetness and continuing to massage against your clit while his tongue finally dips to press against your entrance. You flutter in response, a whine scraping against the back of your throat. His tongue presses deep into your core, and you clench around the insistent pressure.

“Ja-Jack I’m go-gonna--” The words refuse to come smoothly, but he seems to sense your urgency. His tongue returns to your clit, sucking and kissing the flesh while his finger slips into your pussy. 

“Come, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” Every flick of his tongue against your clit pulls another whine from you. Fuck, something inside you snaps and then heat is burning through your body. The wave crests, and you dimly hear a choked moan when your floor muscles convulse and heat drips from you.

He continues to taste you long after you’ve stopped convulsing, while the light fades from you vision and you regain feeling in your limbs. And you understand something. He’s tasting you simply to taste you, giving for the sake of giving. You know why you allowed it to get past the flirting stage.

“You doing good, darling?” He climbs up over you and kisses you, lips molding to yours like they were made to. He tastes like you.

You can’t respond, don’t want to when it means pulling away from this moment right now. The only thing you want right now is to stay like this, to stay in this perfect warmth, where the only thing you know is that he’s kissing you and you’re floating on the sheer feeling of being able to give because you feel like it.

Then he shifts, and you feel his erection brush against your thigh. And your gut tells you it’s his turn now. You move your leg, bringing it up between his thighs. It bumps against his length, and he tenses, pulling away and dropping his head to the crook of your neck. And you take the moment to flip the two of you, straddling his hips. 

“Give me a second, darling, have to find a condom.” His arm reappears from the edge of the bed with his wallet, but you stop him.

“I have an implant. Are you clean?”

“Last checkup, yes. And I haven’t been with anyone since.”

You smirk, “Well then I see no need.”

He exhales, arms going behind his head as he grins up at you, “I’d have to say, as enjoyable as that just was, seeing you like this?” He shakes his head, “Best part of the night.”

“It’s about to get better.” His dick is velvety hard between your thighs, and you can’t help grinding down on it just a little. 

“I’ll believe it when I feel it.” He groans, head falling back against the pillow. 

The challenge floats in the air, and you grab both it and his length in a single moment. He’s going to be saying your name soon. Notching it at your entrance, you sink down in a single motion. He drags against your insides so perfectly, fitting to you and filling you so completely. Your back arches at the burning stretch, but all you can focus on is Jack’s groan when your butt meets his hips, how his body seizes under you, and how his hands fly to clutch at you. 

But his cock inside you isn't enough, you need more contact, need to know that he’s right there with you. You grab his wrists and drag his hands up to your breasts, relishing the moan that escapes him as he squeezes them.

Your name echoes through the air, followed by his gasping breaths as you raise yourself off of him and sink back down. The heat starts building inside you again. His hips jerk up into you, seemingly unintentionally. “God, fucking perfect. Feel so good around me. Not gonna last, not after earlier, please sweetheart.”

You grind down onto him, finding your rhythm again. The fire inside of you is constant and overtaking you. It swells on its own without needing anything else besides Jack, who’s looking up at you like you’re the only star in the sky. 

“You look so good bouncing on my dick, cowgirl, but I’m going to have you under me, squirming for me while I get you to keep making all of those cute noises. I’ll be-- fuck!” His breath catches and his hands dig into the flesh of your hips, and a voice in the back of your mind tells you that you’re going to have bruises tomorrow. You can’t seem to bring yourself to care.

You fight to retain your own rhythm, but it’s unsustainable, and your screaming muscles wear down in the face of Jack’s strength. They give out, and you’re caught in the rhythmic slapping of skin as Jack takes over.

“Ja- Jack! Fuck!” You can’t organize yourself enough to think, let alone acknowledge him while he continues to drive up into you. The ragged cries ripped from your throat lose all coherency. It’s too much, and the orgasm rising through your body is taking your mind with it. A hand detaches from your waist and presses directly against your clit, rocketing you further towards your climax. “Jack!” 

“Come on sweetheart, I know you’ve got another in you. Let go. Let me take care of you.”

Your own orgasm hovers at the edge of your mind, but you shove it away in favor of tripping his. His breaths are coming heavier now, and his hips continue to slam upwards into yours. He’s going to outlast you at this rate, unless--

A hand grips your neck just enough that you register the pressure, and he drags you down against his body. The world flips around once more, and then you’re underneath him instead and his arms are planted on either side of your head as he-- fuck. The pace increases, no it must multiply by some large number because your body is shaking with every thrust, and the headboard is slamming against the wall and you’re glad that you don’t share these walls with anyone else. Your cry is muffled by his mouth, but the new angle causes him to drive up against something inside you that you swear makes you see a corner of heaven.

It spikes with a fury, driving you over the edge as you clamp down around him. Your body seizes, arching against Jack as the shockwaves claim your body. You’re rocketed somewhere high above the clouds for the second time tonight, and all you can really comprehend is how happy you are that you brought him home. And through the haze, you faintly hear him purring in your ear, “Good girl, pretty girl, gorgeous. Gorgeous.”

He keeps fucking you through your high, and you need him to cum. You need him to feel the same bliss that you do, and you know how to do it. The idea barely crosses your mind before your body accepts it, and your floor muscles clamp down almost of their own volition. He falters, and a gasp is the only sound you hear before he’s coming. His hips piston out and in one last time, and then he’s spilling deep inside you.

When the light fades from behind your eyes, you feel yourself being shifted. Your combined juices trickle down your leg as he pulls out, and your back is pressed against his chest. You drift, blinking in and out of consciousness. You feel him rise from behind you and then hear the sound of running water. He returns moments later, and there’s a damp cloth cleaning between your legs before he’s back in bed behind you, arms locked around your waist and pulling you close. His fingers intertwine with yours over your belly, and as they brush against the skin of your stomach, you realize that they aren’t cold anymore. He drags the comforter over your bodies.

The world around you is dissolving in a haze of exhaustion, but his voice rumbles through the fog. You’re so comfortable and warm, and by all rights you should be asleep. But you force yourself back to the world of waking, enough to hear him thanking you as he plants slow kisses along the back of your neck. The delicious warmth of his skin against yours draws you farther under and stifles the confusion at the statement, and you finally surrender to the exhaustion pulling at your body. 

---

Your phone alarm wakes you the next morning to an empty bed. 

Realistically, you shouldn’t have expected him to be there, shouldn’t have hoped that it could have been more than a one time thing. Right? You’re a certified badass, a top-rated handler at Statesman Distillery who has guided multiple agents and friends through life and death scenarios. You deal in realism and pessimism. You have had one night stands before, none of which led to any kind of connection. You don’t need emotional connection to function. This shouldn’t be any different. Right?

Except you know how you normally feel after one night stands, and this isn’t it.

You’re on autopilot as you shower and dress for your first day. All you can think about is the warmth of his hands as they ran over your skin, his smirk as he caught your eye, mouth glistening with your release. His quiet ‘thank you’ last night as he curled his body around yours before falling asleep. If you could have had a say, you would have wanted more than one night. A second chance, maybe, but it’s not like you get many of those these days.

Statesman Distillery is across the street from last night’s bar, and the brisk air helps to clear your head and prepare you mentally. As soon as you walk through those doors, you’re Agent Seltzer, not a girl pining for a man whom you barely know beyond his name. You hesitate under the bridge on your way to work. The music echoes in your ears and chest. You keep walking. 

The receptionist directs you to your new office. Top floor, third door on the left. It’s roomier than your last one, though now you’re at HQ, not the LA branch office. A woman meets you at the elevator. She is slight, but her steely composure and short cut hair give her an air of maturity and ability. 

“Good morning and Merry Christmas, Seltzer.” She’s holding a basket with a label that reads ‘Happy First Day!’ “I’m Ginger Ale, the head overseer of the base-side handlers, and I’ll be giving you the basic acclimation on your first day. Sorry that it had to be a holiday, but an impending crisis in Chicago has just taken a turn for the worse. The mission briefing has been sent to your tablet.”

Your brow furrows slightly, and she continues as if she could read your internal question. “This isn’t usually my job, but it’s the holidays and most of the other agents trained in onboarding are on leave. We’re throwing you into the deep end on your first day, unfortunately, but your superiors at the LA branch assured us that you would take to it naturally.”

She sets the gift basket on your desk, and you notice the largest item in the basket is a bottle of the famed Statesman whiskey. You idly take it out and study the label. “Interesting first day gift.”

Ginger shrugs with a faint smile, “That’s directly from your assigned field agent, Agent Whiskey. He gifts those to his new handlers.”

“Any reason why?”

“He--” She seems to start to say something, then stops herself, “It’s an early apology. He’s experienced, and he operates as he sees fit. He burns through handlers faster than a hot knife through butter.”

The challenge floats above your head at the explanation, and you take it. “I’m assuming that I will get to meet Agent Whiskey before our official briefing?”

“Yes,” Ginger checks her watch, “In about… two seconds.”

“Sweetheart.” The voice is achingly familiar, and memories of last night crash over you like a heatwave. Second chances, hm?

Part Two if anyone cares for it

[jaeminscoffee]

The midnight man | l.ty

Pairing- Lee Taeyong x reader

Mentions- Lee Donghyuck, Na Jaemin, Liu YangYang, Nakamoto Yuta, Seo Johnny, Kim Doyoung, Ten Lee, Lee Dong Wook.

Genre- Horror!au, angst, crack, part fluff.

Warning(s)- Evil entity!Taeyong, Manipulation, Major character death (lmao you'll actually punch yourself towards the end), sexual themes suggested, impulsive decision making, talks with religion.

Word count- 11.83k

Synopsis- 'Lust though pleasurable, innocent and vice, thee shall stay loyal to thy partner regardless of wants. To betray thy partner is to deceive thy people and hence the kingdom. Thou shall pay for thy soul shall remain wandering, driven by the desires but, shall not be able to feel the human love thou took for a grain of salt. And all who shall follow thy steps shall face the same wrath.'

@kpopscape

This story is pure work of fiction and therefore doesn't speak about the mentioned members' personality in real life. I, in no manner, am trying to encourage hate speech towards the members so please don't come at me. This story was written using a mix of a bunch of urban legends and few made up by myself and therefore it isn't going to be spoken about the same way as it is in google. I also worked really hard on this piece and it's by far, the longest story I've written so feedbacks would mean a lot!, also it could get a little boring since i took time to focus on the side characters too. Make sure not to repost my works and sign it off as your own because that's a little disheartening and mockful towards the writer. So all credits reversed to @jaeminscoffee 2020©®

If anyone here doesn't know the story behind the midnight game, then read on! Because I've described it throughout the story! Happy reading!

29/10, Thursday, 10:57PM

"We need to do something this halloween man, Y/n come on!" 

Your friends all collectively whined as you constantly kept rejecting their proposal. 

Halloween is bullshit. It's overhyped and in all honesty, childish. You'd rather prefer staying home than go house to house and make a fool out of your existence. Not to mention you were all past the age of trick or treating. And to add on top of that came all the sugar rush you'd all go through at the end of the day. "For the last time, Hyuck we're not dressing up like crewmates and going trick or treating. I've got other things to do for the love of god" you grunt, rubbing the scrunched up skin to soothe the pain at the temples. University has been acting up again and so has life. "If your 'other things to do' is binge watch high school musical then no, you have no other better things to do" Yangyang bites back. 

"It's just, I don't feel like it anymore, alright? It feels too weird going out asking for candies when we're all literally 19 and above. It's time to up the notch." you say, plopping down.

When Haechan called for an emergency meeting in pure 'among us' style back at the guys' dorm, you'd expected it to be about something along the lines of having to console Jaemin or someone for having been stood up on a date. What you didn't expect was to have the boys prepare an entire presentation on who'd dress up as what character from among us and who'd be the impostor, do a little play and then say 'red is sus' and then ask for candies. What made it worse was that you thought they were just pulling a prank on you when in all reality, they were dead serious which made you go, 'oh, oh they aren't pretending to be stupid, they're just in their original form.'

"It won't be that bad, doll. It's a genius plan if you ask me" Jaemim chirped in on the conversation finally after looking back and forth between you, Donghyuck and Yangyang caught up in a meaningless fight. "I don't see how any of this is genius, Jaem. If this plan's anything, it's stupid." You pull out your phone after making your way all the way to the headboard of Jaemin's bed. "How about we try out one of these creepy pasta games?" Yuta finally spoke up. Jaemin's brother, an early graduate, senior and of course a dear friend of yours. Yuta, despite the age difference between your classmates and you, had little to no trouble blending in with the tiny group of yours. Probably the only one who didn't behave like a toddler and the most sane one according to you. Yuta's been an amazing planner since junior year where you first met Jaemin, Yangyang and Donghyuck who then proceeded to introduce you to their senior friend group that consists of Yuta, Johnny, Doyoung; Donghyuck's cousin and Ten. You guys had a friendship the entire campus was envious of. But two year after you getting into the university, the seniors had to graduate. But that didn't stop all your bonds from staying as strong as ever. Not even after Ten got his posting in a town a little far away from the one you guys lived in. The distance didn't change anything between you guys and you were as close as you could ever get. 

"Creepypasta?" Donghyuck inquired, looking straight at the guy who aimlessly scrolled down the screen of his device as Yuta didn't even bother looking up while passing the confused boy a nod. Sitting up cross legged from his previous side sitting posture, Yuta showed his phone screen to Donghyuck, who immediately got surrounded by the other two while you stare at the oldest in the room, slightly intrigued by the idea. "Creepypasta's like these horror-related legends that have been copied and pasted around the Internet by people who're too bored for their own sake." you explain as Haechan took the phone out of Yuta's hand who agreed to your explanation. "I read some sick games that I kinda wanna try out and see for myself," he said, looking at you with expectations and then the rest who seemed too immersed in surfing the website. 

"Yuta, you of all people should know better than to think all these made up crap's real" you say nonchalantly. 

Yuta's a huge skeptic, and so were you. Which is why you got along really well despite the mentioned age gap. The night gatherings back at the boy's dormitory or the girls (in this case, girl, yours) would always end up in narration of on spot made up stories of all genre, mostly horror because apparently according to Jaemin 'Rom-com's overhyped, sci-fi won't be fun when you narrate it out loud, mystery can easily turn boring, comedy, meh i guess, but a good horror story narrated properly, -yes, like you, Haechan- while adding jumpscares here and there could actually result in y'all being too scared to use the bathroom on your own'. And yeah, you'd startle here and there but the stories weren't believable enough for you to actually be scared. On the other hand, Haechan and Jaemin were scaredy cats. Literal toddler's who're so gullible, you could literally tell them there was an alien invasion news flash two minutes ago and they'd be hiding under their bed. And then there's Yangyang, he just doesn't care. He goes along with the plans solely for the fun of it and for the other's' (Haechan and Jaemin) reaction. "That's the point. I don't" he shuffled around to shift closer to you,

 "Which is exactly why i want to try them out" 

Maybe it's the feline that crossed over his body, maybe it was the fact that his spirit just wasn't ready to leave the human realm yet. Maybe it's the mourning of his family or maybe it's him himself knowing full too well his potential was truly wasted due to the fast departure. Whatever it was, his spirit was definitely made restless. 

The world is a cruel place where harsh actions are always sugar coated by honey like words. It's how he knew the doings of his people were wrong that made him disappointed. The practices of the people, his people, were stupid, meaningless and only harmful to the human kind. They fend off the satisfaction of their almighty even if that means that there needs to be sacrification of their loved ones, their nemesis, or them themselves. And it was his ancestors fault for starting all these practices. 

Passed down generations from generations was the curse put on the first of their bloodline by the princess he'd defied to go out and be ruthless by disregarding his duties as a husband, a father, a member of the royal courts and as a human being.

Lee Dong Wook. The root of all evil, the main reason the males of the family line faced the same wrath as him, all cursing at him but one namely enjoying his role. The pagans, dating back to the roman times era had a very, let's say, interesting method of punishing. The said lords they'd worship, the people following the religions had a strong belief that nature is sacred and that the natural cycles of birth, growth and death observed in the world around us carry profoundly spiritual meanings. Gods and goddesses of life, or say, death or anything else that exists beyond life and death, they believed in all. 

The doings of his ancestors started off innocent. Sacrifices to the lords of goodness and tranquility, a peaceful life by the towns and outskirts, forgiveness for wrong doings and of course, happiness. It's how any religious rituals would go about and all were happy until the said betrayer of the group came in with that curse of his. 'The doings of his shall be repented for all the men following shall be the one paying it,' 

At first glance when the man returned back to his royals, there were little to no suspicions of a curse being casted on him. He seemed normal to his family, his people except for the occasional forcing people to do something they despised. And it wasn't just the men of the family instead, it was all. But mostly the men, unless the same sin were to be committed by the females. Obscure behaviors have been asked to follow starting exactly at midnight to the witch's hour be it hurting your loved one, your enemy, doing sinful things, allowing self to get manipulated and mostly, shortening their own life time in the human realm. It was all unexplainable. Why was he asking people to do things like this but most of all, why are they even listening to him? 

It wasn't until they discovered that Dong Wook, for one, was never the one who returned home. On a second note, he, 'Dong Wook' mainly only targeted the men whose doings were similar to his that was fueled by the same sin that had him going. Which only remained undiscovered. The curse was unbeknownst to all still, Dong Wook himself remained undiscovered. Or proposed by the elders of the community, his body remained undiscovered while his spirit roamed restless among the people. 

The pagan romanticists are, in most cases, ignorant of the “paganism” they praise—the redeemed paganism of Christianity depicted in the transfigured water of the True Well of Life. Wrestling with the Greek gods, however, leads us to see the hyper-anthropomorphization of the gods with one intention in mind—justification of sexual lusts and displays of power over the weak.

The oldest written account of the Greek deities is from Hesiod. His Theogony, literally “birth of the gods,” charts out the genealogies of the major and minor deities in two branches. The first set of gods come into existence without sex. The second set of gods come into existence with sex; often very graphic and violent sex and they continue to have violent sex after their birth. 

As Hesiod continues to describe the birth and death of the gods and great monsters of antiquity, the chaining of Prometheus to his eternal torment is described. So too is Hades’ rape of Persephone. Battle is depicted left and right, and “a terrible din arose from their dreadful wrath, and the work of power was revealed”. Lust, sex, and war reign supreme in Hesiod’s telling of the birth of the gods. Moreover, it is from this brutality and carnality that Hesiod gives them praise—only those with enough cunning and ambition are worthy of having the praise of the muses.

That the gods birthed through sexual lust are themselves lustful was not missed by Christians of the pagan community. Though St. Augustine received the Romanized version of the Greek myths, he goes to great lengths and laborious pains—using the pagans’ own prophecies —to highlight the moral depravity of the gods in Confessions and City of God.

His sin, after all the years, was lust and the want to dominate. 

'Lust though pleasurable, innocent and vice, thee shall stay loyal to thy partner regardless of wants. To betray thy partner is to deceive thy people and hence the kingdom. Thou shall pay for thy soul shall remain wandering, driven by the desires but, shall not be able to feel the human love thou took for a grain of salt. And all who shall follow thy steps shall face the same wrath.'

Oh, how lust was a dangerous feeling. 

29/10 continued. 11:28PM

It's how you all circled around in the living room like any other day that was comical to you. Instead of reading out your own made up story, it so happened to be the Creepypastas Yuta screenshotted for what he wanted to try out and see for himself. It wasn't even his idea to read them out. Haechan and Jaemin's 'too curious for their own sake' selves were the ones who wanted to read it out loud. "How about we sit in the order of who's gonna read out what and when?" Yangyang suggested, standing up from his seat. "Yuta read out the topics and we'll pick randomly." 

"No fun! Hold up," Haechan did some pretty exaggerated hand actions before getting up and heading to his room, well, Jaemin's room to do who knows what. "Okay? I'll get the candles!" Yangyang said, him getting out of his seat too, "And I'll go get the bible, jesus christ" and Jaemin was out of his seat too. You look at Jaemin in a funny manner, as though questioning him with your eyes if he's actually going to get a bible or not, "What? I don't want to die young, I'm too hot for that" he said, before following Haechan's steps to his bedroom, "Yikes, you aren't going to die dude" 

"Okayy, I'm back, make way bitches" Haechan dictated to which he earned a few groans and a smack on the ankle from Yuta, "Jaemin! I can't find the candles!" "It's beside the Reese's cups! Second rack inside of the refrigerator!" Jaemin says while walking back up to your tiny circle with an empyre comic in his hand and a cross pendant dangling off of his neck, "That's a bible?" you question. "Shush, do not question the power of avengers and fantastic four." Jaemin replies, holding the comic up close to his chest. You all collectively dismiss it with a concerned look directed towards the male, "Are we not going to question the fact that Jaemin keeps his candles inside the fridge?" 

"So here's what we're going to do, I've got these tiny papers which have numbers from 1 to 5,because we're five people and I've folded the paper into chits, once i toss it, we pick random sheets and the number you get is when your turn to read is, any objections?" Haechan explained, "Even if you have any, keep it to yourself because I don't care" he bites in again while juggling the folded sheets in a closed palm while the other supports his body by it being planted behind him. "Okay I'm back with the candles" Yangyang finally joins in on the circle, completing it, "You took that long to find one candle?" Yuta asks, "No i was eating the reese's cups" he replied, wiping his hand on your jean clad thighs earning him a loud whine of 'Eww that's disgusting man' and a little too far from soft smacks on his shoulder, "You piece of sh-" Jaemin starts, "Okay all, Focus!" Haechan cuts him off, ready to throw the bits onto the space between the five of you in front of the now lit candle (Thank you, Yuta), and so he tossed it a little high up from the ground, letting the paper fall of his palms and onto the floor while being cautious of not throwing it anywhere near the flame. 

"Now let's arrange ourselves according to the numbers, who's number one?" Haechan asks, Yuta raises his hands while pointing at where he's sitting, "I'm not getting up, y'all arrange yourself so that the person going second is to my right and the last person would be to my left", you all look at him nonchalantly, "What?" with a shake of your head, you proceed calling out numbers, "Number two?" Haechan shoves Yangyang back to take his place beside Yuta, "bitch." Yangyang seats himself beside Haechan, followed by Jaemin and lastly, you. 

"First, Yuta!" Jaemin slurs the elders name, receiving a death glare from his cousin. Nevertheless, Yuta cleared up his throat and switched his attention to his phone screen, "The first urban legend is from Japan, ironically." He states as a matter of fact, "It's called Aka Manto."

"Aka manto is an urban legend related to toilets—particularly those in elementary schools.-"

"Is that why you take a relatively long time inside of the bathroom? Are you, you know? Tickling pickles with Aka Mant-ow! Sorry!" Yangyang was wasted as he was tackled onto the floor by Yuta, while the rest of you cracked up, "Now let's get a little serious, come onnn!" Haechan whines. 

"This phenomenon is known all over Japan, with countless variations on the same theme. It usually takes place in a specific stall in a specific bathroom in the school. Usually it is an older or seldom used bathroom, often in a stall with an older style squat toilet.  Often the fourth stall is the cursed one, as the number four is associated with death." "I'm so glad our university has only two stalls," Jaemin chimes in, suddenly grasping the cross pendant. 

"Most stories follow this general pattern: while at school late in the evening, a student suddenly finds him or herself in desperate need of a toilet. The closest restroom available is one that is normally avoided by the students; it is older and less well-kept, separated from the rest of the school, and is rumored to be haunted. But with no time to search for a different restroom, the student enters. He or she does their business, and when they have finished, they reach for the toilet paper only to find that there is none. Then they hear a strange voice" Yuta looks up from the phone screen, "“Do you want red paper? Or blue paper?”" 

"None bitch, give me the classic white,"

With a roll of his eyes, Yuta continues, "If the student answers, Red paper, moments later, they're stabbed and sliced up violently that blood seeps out of them, painting the walls of the stall red and it soaks up into their body, making them appear red", "And if the student responds blue paper, then their blood is going to be sucked up dry, leaving them dead and blue-faced on the floor."

"But! If you try to outsmart Aka Manto, by replying to question with, i don't know, "Yellow paper" then too, dead is inevitable, you will be shoved onto the floor where the spirit is said hold your head down in the dirty toilet water until you drown and well, die" Yuta ends with a shrug of his shoulder, "Seems pretty bullshit to me" and you agree alongside, though, it could be a little creepy if the existing legend did turn out to be true. "Okay next!"

Yuta leans back a little more, pressing onto your side which you took as an invitation to lean on his shoulder. When you did so, all Yuta did was beam at you and wrap his arms around you to keep you close after handing the phone over to Haechan, "If you want me to start reading you have to give it up for me. Give me the grand welcome that i deserve" the lad said in a childish voice which again only earned him a few smacks and half hearted applauds. "So this one is apparently called, the one man hide and seek" though all narrations were being taken on a lighter note, the mood set in the room gave you enough space to picture the stories, added to that came the factor that Donghyuck knows exactly how to narrate what. 

"The "One-Man Hide and Seek", also known as the "One-Man Tag," is a ritual for contacting the dead. The spirits, which are wandering restless on the Earth, are always looking for bodies to possess. In this ritual, you will summon such a spirit, by offering it a doll instead of a human body." He lowers his voice while focusing solely on the screen.

"The warnings say that if you have any psychic abilities, you may feel unwell or be prone to accidents during the ritual." He raises his eyebrows, looking at all four of you in a curious manner. The things you need for this game seems lowkey sketch"

"One stuffed doll. It must have limbs, Rice, enough to stuff the doll full. One needle, and one crimson thread. One pair of nail clippers. One sharp-edged tool, such as a knife, glass shard, or scissors. One cup of salt water. Natural salt would be best. A bathroom, with a bathtub and some form of counter. A hiding place, preferably a room purified by incense and ofuda. There must be a TV in there." Haechan's face contorts with each requirement for the game. Letting out a defeated sigh, he hands the phone over to Yangyang, "Of all the stories i could've narrated, i got chosen for this and for what? Just to contact stupid poltergeists. Just play a ouija board and go" 

Giving Haechan a sympathetic pat on the back, he takes the device. Looking through the screen he cracks up a smile, "Alright, listen up closely. This is an Urban legend classic"

"The Slender Man-" a bunch of 'aahhs' of realization resonate through the room

"-is a supernatural creature that is described as appearing as a normal human being but he is described as being 8 feet tall and he has vectors or extra appendages that are described to be as sharp as swords. The creature is known to stalk humans and cause many disappearances. He is described as a shadow creature that has a missing face. The creature fits into many mythologies in legends from nations such as germany and celts which brings up the possibility that he could be real." Yangyang pauses to add in a little more life to his reading while all of your paid full concentration to him

"A man named victor Surge found this legend and made his own version of it which he called slender man. The slender man is not exactly evil according to mythology but victor Surge’s version shows him as an evil creature that stalks humans to kill. In mythology he was actually trying to save you from a painful death by taking you to the underworld early." he ends, placing the phone down in front of him, screen down. "Kills you to save you from a death and collectively shortens your lifespan? Seems legit to me" Jaemin chimes in while the rest of you chuckle whereas Haechan pouted at the device in front of his friend, "I should've gotten that story" 

"My turn!" 

"So, ahem-" Once the focus is all on him,Jaemin  looks down onto the device containing his part of narration. "- This is an urban legend about a girl named Daruma who was a young Japanese woman that died in the bathroom, which upon entering to take a bath, it stumbled and her forehead ended up against the edge of the tube, destroying it the brain, at the same time that her eye embedded in the tube , leaving it in consequence, one-eyed key and later , dead by bleed out."  "Oh god ouch" You hiss as though your forehead was the one that hit the edge, " Her appearance as described is apparently; black hair that is entangled, her clothes rotting and made shreds. She only has one eye. Her left eye is completely open and injected with blood." "That's gruesome," Yangyang adds, earning a nod from Jaemin who's eyes were still fixated on the screen. "And apparently there's a ritual that you can follow to summon her into your house for twenty four hours straight" At the silence, he continues. "I'll shorten it, so you have to begin it right before your bedtime, shed all your clothing and enter your bathroom, turn off all the lights and fill in your bathtub, climb into it while being seated facing faucet, close your eyes and start washing your hair while chanting "Daruma-san fell down" and keep chanting that until you're done washing your hair, and yeah don't open your eyes."

"If you did it right then you'll get this image of a japanese who'll slip and fall in front of you. Even if you hear a noise behind you, do not open your eyes, no matter what it takes, Ask out loud, 'why did you fall in the bathtub' and let that hang in the air. With your eyes still closed, get up and out of the tub and be careful not to slip and do not drain the tub. Go to your room, don't turn the lights on, shut the bathroom door closed and sleep. Wake up the next day and carry on with your day and you'll apparently feel her presence alongside you all day. She'll constantly try getting close to you, when she does, scream 'Tomare!',"

"That means stop," Yuta adds to which you all hum in understanding.

"To end the game, capture her gaze from over your shoulder and say 'Kitta' which means 'I cut you loose' while swinging your arm in a chopping motion. If you followed the procedures then you'll be rewarded but if not then, run. That's all it says here" He stops, looking a little shaken at how he created an image of it all in his mind. "They didn't say how to get rid of her if you fail following the procedure?" you ask

"No." Jaemin shrugs it off

"Alright boys, my turn"

30th October, Friday, 10:53PM

It's probably how you read out your part of story telling, or it was how he felt the game was a little too unrealistic that had Yuta hooked onto the urban legend. 

Yuta found himself at his dorm doing a little more research on the midnight ritual. A backpack already consisting of all the elements required for the game, 'could it really be played just by one person?'. Whatever it was, he really wanted to do the game. He wanted someone to accompany him, of course. But knowing his friend group, not many would be ready to play it alongside. Doyoung was probably busy preparing his resumes for his job interviews. Johnny's all the way back in Chicago for a little family time. Ten was a little too far from your town so he'd feel bad calling him all the way over just to perform a probably demonic ritual. Donghyuck and Jaemin are out of the question, they'd obviously say no. Yangyang has a company party to attend as the heir. And you had to study for your test on Monday so he didn't really feel like disturbing you though, he did inform you that he was going out to have some fun and that you could join him anytime. Closing his laptop with a sigh, he gets up and walks over to where his bag was sprawled across the floor, picks it up and makes his way out of the studio apartment like dormitory after grabbing his car keys. 

Not like he believed it was real, it's incase if the legend turns out to be even the slightest of reality, he wasn't going to get his dormitory haunted, instead opting to perform it at the house he grew up in, his childhood house. That was left abandoned ever since they moved out months before his younger brother was born after his father had an episode still unknown to him inside the place. It was convenient enough to perform the ritual in and no one lives there anymore, and it was just a few minutes from where his house was anyways. 

Reaching the place and swinging the backpack over his shoulder, he makes his way into the surprisingly still intact house. Not much time to waste, looking around, Yuta slowly made his way up the wooden stairs, the wood creaking with each step he took to prove the existence of this house dated long back. The guest room shut lock from lack of human souls even when they used to live there. The paintings still hung off of a single screw, nostalgia hitting him straight as he recalled the one time he was playing catch with a neighbor's kid and ended up breaking the glass frame. The wallpaper's adhesive seemingly had gotten weaker from how they had started coming out from nooks and crannies of the walls. The place, without doubt, looked a little creepy but nonetheless felt homely. 

Switching on all switches from the main controller that was in the control room right by the end of the hallway, the entire darkness was replaced with light as the bulbs shockingly still seemed to function. The warm white colour of the lights took Yuta all the way back to his growing up years, missing all the fun he'd had there and all the memories he'd created. He, though grew up mostly by himself from how busy his parents were on the weekdays and sometimes the weekends, missed them more now that they live far off in Japan with his mother's family. Especially now that he was in the place they spent the most time together in. Shaking his head, he had no trouble navigating his way to his childhood room. Where he set the bag down.

He reached out to his back pocket to get out his phone, switching it on as the screen illuminated, 11:28PM, the screen read. To kill the time, Yuta set up all the items required in place to proceed the ritual smoothly. He pulled his laptop out of the backpack once he was all set to maybe watch something on the internet. It being other peoples attempt at the ritual he was about to perform.

11:55PM.

Yuta inhaled, having only a few more minutes until he had to proceed. He recalled your words,

"Alright boys, my turn" You snatch the phone out of Jaemin's hand who seemed really immersed in finding out more about the legend he just read out about, earning a pout from him. "I was reading" he let out in a whiny tone immediately going stoic after receiving a 'do i care' look from your end. "Okay, so the story I'm going to read out is called the midnight man, or the midnight game" You scroll back and forth through the pages the oldest of the group screenshotted. "From what he's gathered, there's not much backstory, but apparently it's a ritual or mostly a punishment that the pagan's use to punish the betrayer of the group who failed to stay loyal to their lords or the group. One of the people of the religion will summon the midnight man to an abandoned house where they lock up the said betrayer who'll then be put through god knows what by the midnight stranger," You stop to look up from the screen to look at each of your friends before letting out a sigh. 

"My take on this though is that it's highly impossible since the rules here state that once you start the ritual you aren't allowed the leave the place until the game is completely done unless you want the midnight man to follow you around for as long as you live, so unless the midnight man actually favored the pagans, there's no way they could punish the betrayer without one of the loyal ones passing away along with the one being punished" you state, "But what if, it's the midnight man that they preach? You know, like, they could be praying the midnight man" Haechan adds in a point which seemed to make sense, "That's possible too" 

"Why would someone preach an evil entity? That's so sketch" Jaemin asks perplexed. "They did a lot of sketchy things back in the days, Jaem. I wouldn't question it," Yuta chirps. "Is there any other backstory given about the midnight man?" Yangyang finally speaks up, "Well not really, but when i was taking screenshots of this it apparently started with a curse on someone whose identity is unknown to most. There was no such thing as the midnight game or ritual until the said bewitched man came back into town. I only know up to there, but there are high chances that he's probably the origin of the ritual." Yuta explains. "Why does Y/n get the best always, that's so unfair"  Haechan's dramatic self whines while leaning onto Yangyang who rolled his eyes but nonetheless threw his hands around the latter's shoulder, "Anyways, the procedure for the ritual is given here."

"You need one candle, a lighter or a match box or anything that ignites fire, a piece of paper, something to write with, a sharp object, it could be a pin, it just needs to be something sharp enough to draw blood, a wooden door, and salt for protection-" You read out, "Now why the fuck would they need blood," Jaemin asks, shaken up. "That's for them to know and us to find out" 

"Here's how the invitation for the midnight man goes. Begin prior to midnight," 

Yuta stood up from his bed, and walked up to the backpack on the floor, picking out the papers he'd brought along and took out a blunt pencil. 

"Write your full name- first, middle, and last- on the piece of paper with your writing implement." He wrote syllable by syllable, Nakamoto Yuta. "Prick your finger with the pin and squeeze until a drop of blood appears. Dot the blood on the paper and allow it to soak in. Turn off every light in your home." He took out the small safety pin he brought along from his jean pocket, pressing his fingers hard and pricked into the skin as hard as he could, keeping in mind to not draw too much blood. Yuta let the droplet fall right in the space between his last name and first. 

"Place the paper with your name and blood on it in front of the closed wooden door. Light the candle using the matches or lighter and place it on top of the paper. If you are using a taper, make sure it is placed in a candle holder." He walks up to the door and places down the paper with his name and blood on it, with the half melted scented candle he brought along. Yuta took out his phone once again, 11:59. "Knock on the door 22 times. The final knock must occur precisely when the clock chimes 12am. Open the door; then blow out the candle and close the door. Relight your candle immediately." He starts to knock on the door, drumming on the dusty wood, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22.

He checks the time once again, 12:00AM.

He leans down to pick the glass jar containing the candle, relighting it, 

"I welcome you."

Taeyong loved the tiny creatures in the human realm. They were so naive and so, stupid but weirdly smart at the same time that made playing with them ten times more interesting. The callings from them, or the way they say it in the human realm, summoning the spirit was the only way he could gain access to enter the place. Summoning wasn't even necessary. Saying his name out was more than enough for him to go up to you. Midnight man, midnight stranger, midnight visitor, pagan's god, What not had the human's named him. 

The only one besides his ancestor of said curse that enjoyed the power of punishing people was Taeyong himself. The youngest of the bloodline and the freshest of pagan's spirit, he loved the power he had. Sure he had no access to love, instead besides lust and range he felt nothing, maybe amusement too, but none other than that and he seemed perfectly fine with that. Human's always seeked lust more than love either way so he found no problem in being void of feeling a vulnerable emotion. Instead, he found love pathetic. Watching human's from where he lived, he'd seen all from men and women seeking love by going to heights of trouble only to waste away your remaining life with one partner. Leeching off of pleasure at times when you had a significant other. He always got a hearty laugh from all of that. According to him, if you want someone, get them. Instead of tailing them and trying to be a goody two shoes, just make them yours in a way that's inevitable for them to fall for you. Control how they feel. Easier said than done since he was the only one with the ability to do so, 'how fucking pitiful'.

So when he saw you and your small group of friends discussing about him, laughing at all the assumptions you made along the way, he wanted each of you to himself. "My take on this though is that it's highly impossible since the rules here state that once you start the ritual you aren't allowed to the leave the place until the game is completely done unless you want the midnight man to follow you around for as long as you live, so unless the midnight man actually favored the pagans, there's no way they could punish the betrayer without one of the loyal ones passing away along with the one being punished" you're smart and that was intriguing to him. He liked the way you thought of things and the male beside you too, you both seemed to take tales of him as a grain of salt and that, besides angering him, made him feel the want to prove himself to you. Taeyong found the other three cute, seemingly scared of him just the way he liked it. 

His ancestor's who held the same power as him, the curse actually, came to be known as said lord because of their power of manipulation and to inject in their worst nightmare into their minds that had the people divide themselves into groups. One that believed the power they had was for the good and considered them to be their god, their savior. And the other being the one's scared of their power and the fear that the same faith would bestow upon them that had them pray for forgiveness for sins they never committed. So your friend had the point a little, but it was inaccurate. They believed him. Believed Taeyong and feared his power. He loved people bowing down in front of him, eyes trembling and body shivering. It gave him a sense of dictatorship. And he had set his mind to have both of you non-believers fear him. 

Having been brought up with little to no love, Taeyong followed down the same path as his great grandfather. Not having enough time to feel the vulnerable emotion, he chose to go down the path of pleasure and power play. His powers though, seemingly stronger than the past generations, probably due to the fact that he was young, ruthless and free of care. He could make himself appear physically in the human realm in any shape and form, though he always preferred to go in his original, but less scarier form. His visuals were out of the world. He didn't have to scare people to make them obey, instead all he had to do was pretend to be there and just be himself and that only made humans seem even pathetic to him. 

"Relight your candle immediately"

12:01PM, The main event. 

"Keeping your candle in hand and your salt and matches or lighter close by, begin to move about your home. Should your candle go out, you must relight it within the next ten seconds.  If you are successful, continue moving about your home. Do not stop moving until 3:33 am. If you are unsuccessful in relighting the candle, immediately surround yourself with a circle of salt.  Remain inside the circle until 3:33 am. At 3:33 am, it is safe to stop moving or to step outside your circle of salt. You may also turn on the lights. The game Is Over."* You conclude. Hissing slightly at the sudden pain by your shoulder that was exposed from the minimalistic clothing you'd adorned, the stranger looking over it all smirked to himself. 'Got it'

Yuta opened the door again, mindful to keep his phone back in his jean pocket along with the lighter and of course, the salt be brought along. Starting from the end of the hallway, nothing seemed to change except now, the eerie silence was starting to bother him, 'Just 3 hours to go,'. He didn't miss a single corner, walking room to room, corner to corner, mindful to stay inside all the way. The temperature of certain rooms seemingly lesser than others. A cold pocket. 

"There are few warnings too," you swipe the image to go to the next one, "At 3:33 am, the Midnight Man will leave your home. After he has left, you may safely end the game. Do NOT turn on any lights during the game.  Do NOT use a flashlight during the game. Do NOT go to sleep during the game. Do NOT use a lighter instead of a candle during the game." Check. He had a lighter on him just to relight the candle anyways. 

Taeyong, following the guy seemed to be quite impressed by his bravery. Not even the slightest of shaken up as he proceeded to walk about the villa. That's good, no slip ups and he seemed too good to mess anything up either ways, and that bored the entity. Where's the fun if he just succeeded? 

To avoid the candle from going off at the sudden flickering, Yuta covered it up the best he could with his hands and checked around whether any windows were left open. Darkness engulfed the surrounding all of a sudden, the lad being taken aback, 10 seconds. He rushed to take out his lighter, 9,  pressing the button repeatedly to ignite the flame only to get a small blue flame instead, huh? 8, running back full speed happy that he was in the premises of where his backpack is, he pulled the spare lighter, a brand new one out of the side pocket, 7, repeating the same process of flicking the button over and over, 6 until a bright orange flame engulfed the dark room, 5, he immediately grabbed his candle from besides the bag, 4 reaching in close by the wick, burning himself slightly in 3-, the process. Yuta heaves out a sigh of relief, while the spirit laughs at the frantic boy. 'He's cute.'

For a breaker, he took out his phone, looking at the time that seemed to pass by quickly throughout the ritual, 2:47 AM. A little more while to go until he'd finally get it over with. "Do not attempt to provoke the Midnight Man during the game." You ended for the nth time that night, "Which idiot would-" Yangyang asks "Haechan-" Jaemin pretends to cough while blurting out his best friends name, the mentioned feigning offence while tilting his head to the side, tongue poking at the insides of his cheek. "Seems like that's pretty much it." you shrug while the older guy beside you leaning back on both of his hands, "I kinda wanna try that out" Yuta raised his eyebrows at you. "Halloween night? We all go together" you chirp in, both of you whipping your heads to look at the three perplexed boys. "Uh, I have to water my fish on halloween? She'd get pretty thirsty". Jaemin's eyes wandered about, coming up with an excuse, "And I gotta walk my rock yo, physical fitness." Haechan adds, "Can I bring my fish along? She could use some exercising". 

"Come on guys, it won't be that bad, we'll stick in a group?" You pleaded, trying your best to muster up the cutest puppy eyes. "I'm down" Yangyang shrugs. You do a tiny seal clap, looking expectedly at the other two, Yangyang and Yuta doing the same. "We stick together?" Haechan asks, to which the three of you nod your head, 

"Alright then we're down too"

[3:04AM 30th, October. ]

A few more minutes left until he'd succeed, Yuta was starting to grow tired of constantly roaming. He'd usually not the one to wear out that quickly, but for a reason unknown to him, he felt utterly sleepy, tired, hungry and just wanted to lie down. He decided to take a small break, the candle still light, dangerously flickering but yet still intact. Yuta sat by the foot of the stairs as Taeyong looked at him with the same cocky smirk on his face, contemplating whether to pop out or not. 'Maybe let's make it subtle? '

Taking up the form of a black humanoid figure, Taeyong makes his way towards Yuta whose eyes seem to be dropping low with each passing second. Upon hearing the sounds of footsteps Yuta looks up, a hand on his forehead from the sudden throbbing headache. Letting out a loud yell at the figure in front of him that disappeared almost immediately, he rushed to grab his lighter again. The sudden temperature drop made him shudder. Taking out the new lighter, he pressed the button again and again as the time limit started to exhaust, 6, at a successful fire, he reached for his candle, only for the flame to go off when it neared the candle wick. "what the fuck.." 5, "come on.." he stated in a rushed voice, sure that he just saw whatever he saw once again. Finally flicking the button one last time, he succeeded in lighting the candle. 

Contrary to popular belief, the midnight man didn't always radiate death. Sometimes he just messes around with the humans because the underworld could get a little boring. And as the curse states death and wrath is only to be faced by those who sinned and the boy playing right now seemed to be of no threat. All Taeyong wanted to do was get the guy to believe in his existence. Skeptics were like an insult to him. So if he had to prove himself and his existence on his own, then so be it. He gets some pretty good experience out of it anyways. 

Yuta stood up immediately, remembering the warning's you'd stated, "Do not stop moving until 3:33am", walking back up the stairs, he took out his phone to check the time, 3:29am. Almost. 

The same sounds of footsteps resonated from behind him, Yuta took an immediate U-turn. Going back down the stairs and roaming the empty, dark hallways, making sure to enter each and every room, keeping a mental note to thank his parents for having a slightly confusing infrastructure. The wax was almost completely out in the glass jar, but he had to hang in there for a little longer than 2 more minutes when he felt something brush his shoulder, much similar to how a friend would drape their hands over his/her friends' shoulder. He could've brushed it off as anything if it weren't for the sharp pain he felt right after the feeling of someone touching him. He's getting the proof he wants. Almost as if someone pulled his hoodie, Yuta stumbled back, letting out a shaky scream, tripping on his own foot, landing butt down onto the floor, catching a glimpse of the same humanoid figure he'd been seeing. He needs to get out of there. 

Stumbling back onto his feet, Yuta bolted it upstairs, grabbing his phone once again to check the time, 3:32am. Reaching his room, he set the candle down right beside him, vary of the windows and doors, starting to back his backpack, the sounds of rushed footsteps running start to where he is ringing through his ears, hands shakingly packing his bag. Keeping the candle closeby, contemplating whether to draw a salt circle or not since there was only less than half a minute left when the same humanoid figure neared him with fast footsteps, reaching by the door frame with a loud agonizing scream only to disappear immediately. 

Not realising the stress of tears flowing and the tresses sticking to his forehead, Yuta looked at the door frame in a perplexed yet confused manner. What the fuck was that. 

Taking out his phone once again while grabbing his backpack, laptop and the car keys in the other hand, 3:34 am. He'd made it through. After reaching the front door, not even bothering to close it, he rushed to his car, starting it before pulling up your contacts, seeing the messages he'd never sent you. 

Yuta san 1:39am: The boys said they won't make it tomorrow, it's gonna be just you and i

Y/nleE 1:43am: Why not? 

Yuta san 1:45am: Dk, they said they aren't interested. So come near xxxx tomorrow at 11:30. I'll meet you there. 

Y/nleE 1:48am: Coolsies. 

Yuta san 3:38am: Y/n don't come here, gather the boys and meet me by Haechan's dorm tomorrow. The game's no fucking joke. 

And with that he started driving away quickly to his dormitory, not once looking back at the house to see a human. Or a human like figure standing there, A bright red hair standing out due to his blood drained looking pale skin. A smirk on his face

Message not delivered. 

31st October, 22:37PM, 2020.

Today was a weird day, 

Having all plan's set two days before, you'd make sure to keep yourself ready for whatever you and your friend group were supposed to do today. You finished up all your assignments earlier that day to keep yourself free from afternoon and on. 

The weird part was that, no matter how much you kept your phone for charge, each time you tried calling one of the guys to ask for the sudden bailing out on plan, which is a shocker because they've never done that, your phone kept switching off. You could've gone all the way to their apartment, well, dorm, but you decided to wait until later to do so. Maybe a few minutes before leaving to the place Yuta texted you so that they'd have no choice but to come along. Since your last time texting with Yuta, you hadn't heard from him. Granted, he did text you quite late at night saying he's going to do god knows what and to tell you of the sudden plan change, but you hadn't heard from him after, that being weird since he literally lives a floor below yours, he could've come any moment but nope. You kept a mental note to tell him off later. 

You took out your phone once again to check if they'd sent any messages or missed calls only to have an empty chat box, other than that of your other friends that is. Added on top of that came the constant pricking feeling on your shoulder blades from the last day you hung out with the boys. The pain would appear randomly and it would be hurtful enough to draw blood, which is weird considering the fact that you kept yourself away from all sharp objects and had a full sleeve covering the area. 

One stone, two birds. Taeyong's motto. 

After having interfered with your phone, your friends, trying to keep you away from them until you'd go through the same as your other skeptic partner, Taeyong made sure that Yuta would be sick enough after returning home to keep him from even getting up from his bed. Temporary paralysis. Your other friends, of course they tried reaching out to you, only for him to cut the service to keep you away from them for a while. They got easily distracted from you ignoring their texts as they were focused on reaching out to Yuta. 

Unknown: Hey Y/n, I'm Yuta's friend. He told me you aren't replying to his texts so asked me to do so. 

Y/n: Who's this? 

Unknown: Oh! I'm Taeyong! A close friend of well, your friend XD. 

Y/n: Nice to meet you, Taeyong. I'm Y/n but it seems like you already know that. 

Unknown: Yeah :). Yuta's on his way here and told me that you'd be joining us? Are you nearby?

Y/n: He left? No, actually, I'm just leaving my place. I guess I'll meet you there? 

Taeyong: Meet ya :)

[23:22PM, 31st October, 2020 continued. ]

Hailing a cab to the address Yuta had sent you with his friends, Taeyong's number saved on your phone in case the later won't pick up, you left your place. Still feeling a little eerie from how Yuta just decided to leave you behind when he could've just offered to go together, which is pure Yuta style. He probably wasn't in the best of moods but he could've at least texted you letting you know of his departure from the apartment building. 

The journey to the given address didn't take that long surprisingly. A little towards the outskirts of the town in a much aloof part but nonetheless, doable. It's not like you'd be alone there any ways. Paying for your fare, you took your purse, brushed your fingers through your hair to tame it a little from the ride, and turned towards the building, jumping slightly at the bright haired guy sitting by the front porch. Adorning the simplest of fit, a black knee slit jeans, with a graphic tee and a black leather jacket with a chain or two. He, in no doubts, was ethereal. His pale skin stood out the most in the street light if you could call it that and his lips seemed a little drained of blood, eyes hollow yet captivating when he looked up from the dirt below him to you who still stood yards away. Smiling, he got up, making his way towards after brushing off the invisible lint from his jeans, "Hey" he offered you his hands for you to shake upon reaching you. "Hey..? Taeyong, right?" 

Wanting so badly to smirk, he only looked down with a silent snicker, looking up immediately to not look suspicious, "Yeah, Y/n..?" you nod in response, shuddering from the coldness of his skin, "Have you been out for too long? You're freezing," you exclaim, looking at him with a guilty expression and taking a mental note to hit Yuta for not arriving earlier. "Oh no, i just reached a minute or two prior to your arrival." you nod in understanding, withdrawing your hands from his hold, "By the way, Yuta called me a few minutes ago, telling me that he wouldn't make it and to just carry on" Taeyong said, looking at you with his eyebrows raised at your confused, innocent expression, his humane form threatening to change into his original form. "What? Why? It's like,-" you look down at your wrist watch, "11:50! And he's bailing out now?", smiling at you in fake sympathy, he replied, "he said he had other things to take care of," "But you said he'd left the place and was on his way here?" you ask, hands on either sides of your hip, "Last minute plan changes" Taeyong shrugs, "Anyways, let's get inside?" 

He pointed towards the front door with both his hands, gesturing you to go forward first. And so you do. You offer him a smile before turning your back towards him and making your way towards the old house, the door seemingly open. Climbing up the stairs with caution, humming at the sound of dried leaves crunching up below your feet with each footstep. Taeyong stood behind where you two had introduced yourselves for a few minutes, a few more minutes. "Taeyong? Are you not coming?" you turn around slightly, looking over your shoulder at lad standing still, "Yeah, I'm coming" he replied soullessly, still standing his group until he saw you open the door ajar and then took his first step forward. Not bothering to go too quick. 

The insides were simple, very very simple yet magnificent. The flooring seemed to be that of wooden finishing that creaked with each step you took, implying that of how old the infrastructure must be. You look around in awe, clutching at the sling bag that you carried along. You go corner to corner, not bothering to look behind to see if the friendly stranger was hot on your trail, instead seemingly being captivated by the olden time-ish wallpapers and paintings and antique pieces that the wall adorned. Taeyong on the other hand was just growing restless, 4 more minutes until he could play his next victim, he was growing frantic. He did follow you inside, instead opting to walk the opposite direction as you, towards where he'd hidden the paper with your crimson blood and name written on it, contemplating whether to just tear it and carry on proving his existence to the female in the room. 3 more minutes, he bit into his lips, "Taeyong? Look, i found something!" He heard you scream.

Puffing out a breath of frustration, Taeyong replied "Coming!" and he walked out of the room, hands in his pocket towards where you stood by the bottom of the stairs, looking at the lighter in your hand that seemed relatively unused. "I found lighter down here" you look at him with a tiny pout evident on your lips, looking back and forth between the candle and the guy, puzzled. "It must be some thugs who came here to smoke or something" He shrugged it off, taking the lighter out of your hand. It must be you over analyzing things but without a single light turned on in the villa with only your flashlight acting as a source of light, but Taeyong looked even more lifeless than before. Eyes dark ebony and dangerous, somehow intimidating, lips adorning a bright shade of red in contrast to how you saw it the first time, and his aura had seemingly darkened. 2 more minutes. You shake your head and walk up the stairs and towards a room which has it's door wide open. Choosing to lay out your things there, you stretch out a few stiff limbs, "So, me and the boys were planning on doing the midnight game, you know. One of those stupid creepy pastas? I can't believe all of them bailed out on me last minute," you speak particularly to no one in the room, assuming that Taeyong was listening to you, whose ears only perked up at the words midnight and stupid. Midnight. 00:00Am. The devil smirked to himself. Midnight, at last. 

"I mean, Yangyang, Jaemin and Haechan came off as no shock to me- they're the other friend's by the way, but Yuta, it's weird for him to at least not let me know." You keep going, scrolling through your phone screen, only for it to load suddenly, No internet access. Sighing, you pull out offline downloads, "Did he tell you anything else? Like if he's feeling unwell or something?" you ask, letting the question float in the air, waiting for a reply. Getting known even after the passing of a few seconds, a minute too maybe, "Taeyong?" you stand up from the bed, well, the bed frame and make your way outside, "Tae?" you look left and right, searching for any moving soul when you feel your phone vibrate in your hands, and the sound of notification resonates through the eerie silence. You look down at the device in your hand, one new message from Yuta san and an immediate black out of the screen. Impossible. 

You remembered full well charging your phone to a hundred percent before leaving your dorm. Hell, you even kept it on airplane mode your whole cab ride. Shrugging it off, you keep your phone beside your bag and then proceed to go out to look for your new friend? acquaintance? You didn't even know how to classify him as yet. "Tae, if you're trying to scare me, I'll give you heads up, it doesn't work on me." you chuckle, walking to the room beside the one you were previously lounging in. "It's past midnight and we both seem too uninterested to try out whatever we were supposed to anyways, how about we just head out?" you start, looking down at your wrist watch which displayed 00:09 on the screen in neon green. "I mean, it was stupid enough that my friends and i even decided to try it out knowing it's some made up shit to scare some seven olds, probably" you continue, feeling as though you're talking to the walls at the lack of response. "Taeyong, come on. I'm growing bored." 

"Tae-" "You know, the way you logicised made it seem like you're smart enough. It was impressive," you hear his voice, a little too hoarse and plain for your liking, he continued before you could muster up a reply, "But seems like you aren't all that smart after all, seeing how you believed a total stranger and are even ready to spend time with him." you look around the place, only hearing his voice but his figure to be nowhere near you, "Taeyong, what are you talking about?" you head out of the room you currently stood in, jogging to catch his voice.

"It was a little angering you know? The way you spoke about me and my followers, it was disrespectful. And I could've taken you then and there, but what to do. You seemed too cute to take your soul without a small game? Is that what you humans call it?" You feel breathing fanning the nape of your neck and a cold air following it right after, making you turn back, "Your friend got his share of play" you whip your head forward, finally seeing the male in front of you, standing by the door frame of a connective hallway, you swore you felt his presence behind you though. His infamous smirk still adorning his features. Figure a little more towering and intimidating. If you thought he couldn't have seemed more lifeless a few minutes ago, then his appearance now only seemed to prove you wrong. "So it's only fair if you got your part of the play too, right?" 

"Taeyong, you're only making your existence weird for me, let's go if you're done." He only tilted his head in amusement, "Oh it's only about to get weirder, darling" You turn back to face a blood red shot eyed male, well, Taeyong, eliciting a gasp from you, you look over your shoulder to see the place where Taeyong stood a blink of eye ago. "How..did-" His chest visibly vibrated from the hearty laugh he let out, "How did I do that?," you step back as his voice dropped even lower, only for you to bump your back into something rigid, something cold, making you let out a yelp as Taeyong seemed to stand still in front of you, "I can do a whole lot of things," you feared turning back, the insides of your stomach hurdling around as whatever was behind you reached their arms up and held you still in a vice grip. "Y/n!" you hear a voice scream from downstairs, "Y/n! Come out! We need to get out of here!" you recognize the voice as that of your friends, Yuta's. 

You squirm hard to loosen the person's grip on your shoulder. Once succeeding, you bolt down the stairs, skipping a few steps, tripping now and then but nevertheless making it down without landing face first as you hear Taeyong's laugh thunder throughout the place. You take a turn to reach the front door, where Yuta stood in all his glory. You immediately run into his embrace, ignoring how his body seemed just as cold as the one you felt from whatever Taeyong was, "Y-yuta, he's sick, let's go, we need to go!" you try pulling Yuta's body a little closer to the exit, only for him to stand his ground, wrapping his hands around you even tighter as he caressed your hair, "Oh, Y/n.." your body goes stiff as your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, that sounded nothing like your best friend, "Yuta..?" 

You try pulling your head away from the nape of his neck to look at him, "No darling, it's 'stupid made up shit''," his body vibrated once again from the laughing against yours, as you feel yourself growing scared each passing second. You try mustering up all your strength to bring it to his sides and push him away when you feel a plush yet cold muscle press against your neck, only for it to go futile. "Still made up for you?" you feel a sharp pang of pain flow through your nerves, result of him biting the skin in a manner far too away from soft, "Taeyon-g- lord--midnight man, whatever you are.. I'm --sorry" you say in a hushed voice, scared that if you voiced out a little louder, he'd pounce at you. You feel him nibble at the soft skin, making you whimper, "Oh no, darling, do not apologize. Your doings really intoxicated me. Kept me entertained for a while." 

"But now, it's angering me to know a feeble creature as you kept poking fun at my people. At me. And I want no more than to turn you into something belonging to me. Who'd worship me the way 'my people' do." He whispered against the area, lifting his head up and leaning down, making sure not to let go of his grip on you, "oh no, pretty girls aren't supposed to cry. Tsk tsk, what is this, Y/n" His eyes bore holes onto the crown of your head. "Look at me." he acted on making you look at him faster than you could, "Could you beg for forgiveness? Give me a piece of yourself?" he inched closer to your face, a small snarl escaping his throat at your scared and trembling figure, "Or you could just be my queen and come below with me, and you'd not have to cut down your lifespan" 

"Are you turned on by all of this, Y/n? Or is it out of fear?" you let out a shaky breath as the tip of his nose touched yours, "Because i can smell you from here and oh," he let out what sounded like an animalistic growl, "Is it delicious.". "Taeyong, please let me go.. I'm sorry. I really am, just please don't hurt me,-" you let out a whine of pain when you feel his other hand knot his fingers in your locks and pull it back with much aggression, immediately planting his lips onto your trembling once, bearing his fang like teeth into plush flesh to draw out blood, earning a loud high pitched scream from your end as you try your best to push him away, futile once again. His hands tighten their grip at the waist while his other hand pulled your head further back, latching onto the firm skin of your neck, treating it with the same aggression, puncturing through the skin with his teeth as your hands go limp beside your body, nevertheless, letting out a whimper from the harsh treatment, which, in all your defense couldn't be help since you still are a human with all emotion any human would feel, that including lust. You feel his cold lips curve into a smirk against where blood flowed out, lapping it up with his tongue as you feel your vision blacken the more as time went by. 

"Oh darling you're no different than me.."

4th November, 19:48Pm, 2020.

"She's awake!!" you blink multiple times to get accustomed to the blaring lights in the room, a comfortable white filling your eyesight. You move your head towards the side to find all your friends sprawled out on each side. A drip connected to your hands making you squint in confusion, "Can you hear us, Y/n?" you feel your shoulders being shaken as jolt, "Hey? Yeah i can hear you, why won't i be able to?" you ask, confusion still laced in your voice, "Because you hadn't responded to us the last time we called you. And because you've been laying dead the past few days" Jaemin spoke up first, earning a smack from his elder brother 

"Why didn't you stop when we screamed your name the other day, Y/n? You literally weren't breathing the day we found you" Yangyang inquired and stated, "And why did you leave us all on seen??" Haechan added, "Most of all, where were you even??" Yuta spoke. You hiss at all the questions being thrown at you as you try sitting up by the inclined hospital bed, "Screamed? Didn't respond? I left you on seen? That's highly impossible and where was i??" you stare blankly at the plain wall in front of you, trying to remember any such episode. The more you strained your head, the more clueless you grew. Your throat starts to grow dry so you turn your neck to check if there are any water bottles nearby, only for a sharp pain to flow through your nerves at a particular spot in your throat. You yelp at the sudden pain, "I'll get the doctor," Haechan rushed outside, when you reached out to touch your neck, feeling it with the tips of your finger, feeling in the swollen skin, the dried up blood when it all hit you. Your eyes grow wide as you start shaking, for it to be first noticed by Yuta, "Yuta, that house! The game, it's all real! I saw hi-him, his name! I swear he's real!" growing concerned at your sudden frenzy behavior, Yuta kneeled down beside your bed, holding your non-injected hand giving it a comforting behavior. 

"Calm down, angel. Tell me point by point," he encouraged you to take in a long breath, as Haechan rushed in along with the doctor whose face was half covered with a doctor's mask, "Doctor, he-he's probably out for me, you need to get me far away from here! Please" you beg with your eyes stinging with all the tears, "No one's going to get you from here, Ms. Y/n, you're safe here" You pause your frantic actions for a while. That voice sounded a little too familiar for your liking, making you think you're over analyzing everything again. The doctor gestured to your friends to leave you up to him to have a doctor to patient talk. All of your friends nodded in understanding, giving you one last reassuring smile before collectively leaving the room. 

The doctor, once after making sure that everyone left, removed his mask to reveal the oh so familiar smirk and the hair protector, rustling the same, familiar bright red hair with the same familiar pale fingers of his. Your eyes widen, mouth falls wide ajar

"Oh wait, there's one last warning, Do not assume that the Midnight Man has left your home for good at the conclusion of the game. I'm for real done now" You laugh at your friend who snatched the phone away from you,

"Pleasure to meet you again, darling"

[jtrbluv]

die for you | jjk

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: angst, songfic

word count: 3.4k

rating: PG-13

warnings: intoxication, harassment, fighting

you're scared to be lonely 'specially in the night i'm scared that i'll miss you happens every time 

song: die for you-the weeknd

exes!au

A/N: hi! this is a revamp of the very first fic i’ve ever written on this blog. i decided to do this because i am revamping and scrapping my original idea of a songfic overall! if you’ve been on my blog before or if you haven’t, i originally wrote songfics so that the storyline would flow along with the lyrics of the song which i realized soon thereafter that it was impossible because we all read at different speeds and it greatly hindered the creative process in general. now i decided to just solely come up with stories out of inspiration of songs. i highly recommend listening to the song while reading! 

The pungent yet all too familiar liquid burns against the back of your throat as you feel it gushing deeper into your system. Absentmindedly, you slam the shotglass back onto the wooden counter, earning a disconcerted look from the bartender that had been serving you for the past hour and a half. You lick the remaining alcohol off of your lips, relishing in the way the fluid tasted against your tongue.

The alcohol buzzed in your system, leaving you in a piddling daze as you rest your cheek in the palm of your left hand. Your remaining hand fiddled with the shot glass, face contorting into a deep glower at the empty contents, hoping that the alcohol would replenish itself without you having to empty your wallet. You avert your eyes to behind the counter, eyeing the different taps they had in store along with the selection behind the glass cabinet. The bartender that had been supplying you all night came back into your periphery, noticing the familiar thick streaks of velvety red that resided beside his natural onyx locks. He was scrubbing the counter a few feet away from you, the sleeves of his white button-up rolled up to his forearms. What was his name again? Sam? John?

You obnoxiously clear your throat causing him to look up from what he was doing, “Can I get another shot?”

“I know I might be a bartender and all, but don’t you think you should slow down a bit?” he asks, brows furrowed in both bewilderment and concern. His nametag read San.

You toss your eyes back in irritation at his words, “I’ve done this before, I think I know my limits.”

He presses his lips into a thin line before sighing out in defeat, grabbing the near-empty bottle behind him as he fills up your glass back up to your satisfaction.

“See that wasn’t so hard, was it?” you indecently spit back just as he tips off the glass. He scoffs at your remark, setting the bottle back on the counter behind as he goes back to his task.

You down the glass in one swig, nose scrunching at the bitter taste on your tongue and the stinging sensation that accompanied it as it traveled down your throat once more. You return once again to your state of solitude and melancholy. This time you twist around in your seat, eyes trailing to the whatever was beyond the door of the bar. The building itself was located in a generally busy area of the city, made obvious by the frequent passerbys and occasional onlookers that would peek in through the window.

The soft glow of the lights that were emitting from neighboring buildings magnified the growing buzz of alcohol in your system as they began to appear hazy. It had an endearing and seemingly familiar twinkle them which made you visualize the irises of a boy who once had your heart. Oh, how you wished to be able to see him smile again—the way his eyes would morph into two crescent moons accentuated by the whisker-like wrinkles that would etch themselves onto his temples. His mouth would stretch into a wide D-shaped curve, his slightly larger front teeth coming into view the more you made him laugh. The warmth that would encompass your whole body when he would wrap his muscular arms around your much smaller frame—he made you feel protected, at ease, at home. The feeling of the soft, pillowy flesh of his lips against your own—pigmented by the strawberry chapstick he loved so goddamn much because he said it tasted like candy. The vision is short-lived when the deep timbre of someone’s voice pulls you out of your daze.

“You seem to be having a lot of fun by yourself,” he whispers into your ear, his breath fanning over your cheek as he stands a little, actually a lot closer than you’d like.

Disgusted at his mere presence you send a scowl his way while moving to another seat to create more distance. Not deterred in the slightest, he slides into the seat next to you—using his foot to turn your chair so you’d be facing him.

You’d be lying if you said he wasn’t attractive. A coy smirk adorned his well-made features as he intently stared back at you, wanting more after you had made obvious that you didn’t. The honey-like hue of his irises juxtaposed the darkness of the glare he was giving you. He wore a form-fitting black button-up—the first few buttons unhinged at the top on purpose to show off the silver chain that adorned his collarbones. The leather jacket he wore over it accentuating the curves of his muscles. You tear your focus away from him, turning back to the original position of your chair so you’d be facing behind the counter.

“Playing hard to get I see, well I’m always in for a good game,” he pretentiously states, the smirk widening onto his features as he inches closer to you.

“Really, you couldn’t think of anything better than that,” you say as a giggle involuntarily erupts from your throat. His smirk morphs into a grimace of disdain at your reaction. The grin on your lips slowly dissipates when you take a glance at his overcast features.

“Sorry, I’m not in the mood for company,” you deadpan, taking the shotglass in your hand as you scanned behind the counter to look for the bartender, hoping to exchange your tiny glass for a much bigger one.

His hand come in contact with your own, fingers wrapping around the glass and pulling it out of your reach, “I didn’t ask for your permission.”

Your breath hitches as you gasp in shock at his sudden action, taken aback by his intrusiveness. You slide out of the chair you were sitting in—the buzz of the alcohol abruptly fleeting your body out of pure abhorrence of the sleazy man standing in front of you.

“I refuse to deal with this type of bullshit right now and people like you.”

You hastily grab your wallet out of your purse, digging to find a reasonable tip to give the bartender who undeservingly had the displeasure of serving you for the past two hours now. Setting the money down on the counter next to San, you give him an apologetic smile to hopefully make up for the migraine-inducing irritation you’ve most likely given him. He nods in return with a small grin, taking the money and slipping it into the back pocket of his jeans while leaving the counter to start bussing empty tables.  

Turning on your heel, your senses set straight on leaving the bar and going back to the comforts of your bed. As you begin to make your way out the door, a hand snakes around your wrist, yanking you back and causing you to stumble over your own feet—eliciting a string of curses to spew from your lips. Your head rams into their rather toned chest, and as you detach yourself from their body you notice the thick fabric of their leather jacket and the glint of light coming from the silver chain resting on their exposed collarbones. You quickly put the pieces together, craning your neck upward to take a glimpse at the man’s face and recognizing that it was the imbecile who was still refusing to leave you alone. Out of instinct, you bring your hands up to where your head had just made contact with his chest and pushed him with as much force as you could muster. Alarmed, he staggers backwards, nearly tripping over the barstool that he was leaning against until he slams his hand on the counter to steady himself. You unknowingly take a few steps towards the door of the bar, keeping your eyes glued to the man in front of you. An inaudible noise leaves his lips as his focus shifts back towards you. Eyes narrowing as he recalibrates his focus, the knit in his brows as prominent as ever as his irises started to morph into a darker shade of ebony. The corner of his lip slowly starts to curl upward—your hand reaching out to grasp the wood of the doorframe on its own accord.

He swiftly pushes himself from the barstool, readjusting his clothes as he momentarily tears his focus away from you. Taking advantage of the few seconds, you whip your head around and take a quick glance outside and instinctively, you book it.

The wind howls and nips at your cheeks as you bolt down the street. The fabric of your jacket ripping against the currents of the wind as you weave in and out of city folk—most of their expressions painted with shock as they halt in their tracks and scurry aside as they start to notice you sprint full force down their direction.

A loud, discernable and gravelly “HEY!” erupts from what you would was the aforesaid man of the night. The echo of his footsteps and their increasing pace could be heard in rhythm with your own.You dismiss it almost immediately, continuing to shoulder others without apology and turning corners in hopes of losing him.

The longer you run—the more the adrenaline begins to seep out of your body—being replaced by fatigue along with the reality that your body was starting to cave. Your lungs start to burn and your throat becomes painfully dry, forcing you to have to take deep gulps before you flat out couldn’t breathe at all. The muscles in your calves and shins on fire and tensing underneath you reminding you that the last experience you ever had of running had come from high school P.E. class.

You whip your head around to survey the area behind you before darting around yet another corner and continuing your pursuit.

As you adjust your focus back to the streets in front of you, you collide into the chest of yet another man. You substantially knock him over, causing him to almost fall back but he picks up his feet from under him, regaining his stance while holding onto your forearms and you, unconsciously holding onto his for dear life as well.

While muttering inaudible apologies to the man, you begin dusting off your pants before reaching up to dust the fabric of his black hoodie. His hand wraps around your wrist as you start to do so. You freeze in your tracks. The action this time around is much more gentle, almost gingerly in a way. Your eyes trail to the slender fingers that wrapped around your wrist before moving to his face before finally settling into his eyes.  The hazy, twinkling specks of light all the more visible in his orbs.

“Y/N?-“

The sound of heavy, quickened footsteps pull you out of your trance. Before the man could finish his words, you yank him aside to the coincidentally located brick-walled alleyway. You couldn’t even consider it an alleyway—being just the perfect width to fit both of your bodies and deep enough to keep you both hidden from sight. On a whim, you motion him to stand in front of you so his body would encompass the opening. He had an all black hoodie and sweatpant ensemble going on, and you hoped that with the poor lighting you two would remain unnoticed.

You both remain there, silent and still. Your back pressed up against the brick wall, hands clutching onto the fabric of his hoodie while nestling your head into his chest. He simply stood there in bewilderment at the chain of events that had just occurred. He would have never imagined that your first encounter since your breakup would be like this.

He decides to break the silence first, “Y/N, is everything okay?”

“Um, well” you whisper back in response, finally detaching yourself from him, “it’s kind of a long story. I was at a bar and there was this creepy guy who just wouldn’t leave me alone,” you explain while peering over his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, but can you please stay with me,” you quietly murmur while looking up at him, “for the time being, I mean. I think he’s still looking for me.”

He gets a small whiff of your alcohol-scented breath, but your expression and tone made it clear that you were sober for the most part. “Of course, I mean, did you really think I was just gonna leave you here?” he asks you while chuckling under his breath, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

Before you could react to both his question and his actions, you detect the same gravelly voice that had caused you to land in this mess in the first place. Your eyes widen in fear— trailing to the aforementioned man standing in front of you. Jungkook notices your sudden change in expression and his eyes tread the same path—staring daggers into the man without delay as rage began to pulse through his veins.

He takes a step forward, one of his hands coming in contact with your body as he promptly motions you to move behind him.

“I’ll say this once, and I’ll say this nicely,” Jungkook begins, voice low—like subdued thunder, a tone you had never once heard come from his lips, “if you lay another hand on her, you are going to regret it. And I’ll make sure of it.” You could feel him quivering with anger beneath your fingertips and you could swear you could hear your own heart hammer against the walls of your chest.

The man smirks, not affected in the slightest at Jungkook’s words as he steps towards him. His arm writhes out of your grip as he slams his fist square into the nose of the man’s face. He stumbles back, wiping off the crimson red blood that began to trickle out of his nostrils. The smirk is quickly replaced with a smolder of rage and resentment—cocking his head to the side as he spits out more blood, still reeling from the previous hit before he lunges towards Jungkook, anger visibly spiking within him. You quickly sidestep as Jungkook’s back comes in contact with the brick wall, the wind visibly knocked out of him.

Overcome with both distress and rage, you run to the man’s back bringing your hand up to his face and clawing him in the eyes, disarming him. With your other free hand, you grab the flesh of his swollen nose, curling your fingers as much as you could—digging your fingernails and twisting the tendon. A guttural groan escapes his throat as he spirals towards you, pushing you into the pavement and kicking you in the ribs. The shrill scream you emit causes a wave of fury to stream through Jungkook’s bones—he surges towards the man, vigorously slamming into his body with full force right into the hood of a car. You hear the man’s head come in contact with the metal with a loud thump as his body crumbles to the ground. Jungkook’s body towered over his as the man desperately swung, arms flailing as the two wrestled on the cement.

Running on pure, unfiltered anger, Jungkook smashes his fist into the man’s jaw—the bone-shattering noise making you wince. The man ceases action as he lies there unconscious. Jungkook removes himself from the man, groaning in pain as he attempts to stand up. He sees you standing in front of him, streams of tears running down your cheeks—clutching the spot where the man had kicked you. Your eyes retract to his form, scurrying over to him as you carefully help him stand up. Wrapping his arm over your shoulder, you guide him as he limps towards the brick wall and leans against it. You cautiously slide out of his hold, kneeling down to the unconscious man and pressing two fingers to the crook of his neck—the detectable beats alerting you that his pulse was still intact. The sound of police sirens and red and blue flashing lights come into view as one officer gets down from his car. You briefly describe the situation starting from the altercation at the bar to the current disposition of it all—an ambulance taking him to the nearest hospital where he would later get arrested. You and Jungkook both reject their offer of taking you two to the hospital despite your pleas for Jungkook to go, considering the cuts and bruises that were littered across his face and neck. He assured them they were minor so they let you two go without further dispute.

“I’m driving you home. I don’t care what you say,” you huff out, one of his arms draped over your shoulder as you guided him into the passenger seat of his car. To your surprise, he relents and gives you a small smile while digging through his pocket for his keys.

The drive back to his apartment is fairly silent, yet comfortable nonetheless. You guide him the whole way to his apartment despite his own efforts to prove that he was okay before groaning involuntarily in pain. You finally reach his apartment, fishing for the keys in your pocket as you unlock the door, setting him on his couch. Recalling the layout of his apartment, you find a first aid kit in one of his cabinets and return to his side. You begin to lay out the contents of the kit out onto his coffee table, ripping open the package of antiseptic wipes before cleaning the cuts on his face. He grimaces, flinching at the sudden stinging sensation.

“Oh my god,” you flinch in sync with him, “sorry, I should’ve given you a warning,” you mutter apologetically.

“No, it’s okay,” he responds, giving you a reassuring smile. You bite your lip before continuing, more gently this time.

Your hands meekly drop to your sides as you let out a deep sigh, “Jungkook, I don’t even know what to say,” you murmur softly, tears brimming at the corners of your eyes, “I’m so sorry.”

He gingerly wipes a tear away with his thumb, “Don’t be. I would never let anyone hurt you Y/N, regardless of how you feel about me.”

“For a split second, I thought you killed the guy,” you say jokingly, causing a chuckle to leave both of your lips.

“I’d gladly both kill and die for you Y/N,” he states matter-of-factly, a small grin lacing his features.

You take a moment to process his words, thinking of what to reply with.

“Thinking back, it’s kinda ironic. How this all turned out,” you admit, thinking out loud.

“What do you mean?”

“Before he approached me in the bar, I actually happened to be thinking about you,” you confess, looking up at him to see his reaction.

“About me?”

“Yeah,” you huff out, diverting your gaze away from him, taking a brief moment to process the words you were about to say, “I miss you. I miss you a lot. And I miss what we had.”

Time and awareness had stopped in a collision of senses when his lips met yours. The coppery taste of his blood mixed with his strawberry chapstick is what you notice first—the taste lingering on your mouth. A wave of warmth spread throughout your body at the sudden contact—tingles running down your spine as you relished in the pure feeling of his lips being on yours again. It’s as if he leaves imprints every time his fingers come in contact with your skin, trailing your jaw before settling on your neck—fingers entangled slightly into your hair. Both of your lips moved together in accord—the all consuming, crashing tides of familiarity, longing and unspoken words that didn’t need to be voiced out loud to be known. It was all there. Mapped out. Clear as day. Vulnerable as ever.

Your lips detach, foreheads still in contact as he graces your vision with the sight of two crescent moons lacing his features. And in that moment you knew—the hazy, twinkling specks that consumed his eyes. They were undying. As undying as the stars that provided light for the dark abyss of the night sky. And as undying as the feelings you two had for one another.

-

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MASTERLIST

[ellebabywrites]

Behave - Byun Baekhyun

Type : Oneshot // Smut // Mafia!au

Word Count : 2330

Author Note : This took sooo long to do, I’m sorry to the anon that requested it // BUT // here it is , I hope you enjoy my lovelies 💛

Growing up , you’d always been very aware of your family’s “business”. More than a few kidnapping attempts; the occasional banquet shoot out; you’d grown used to being under constant threat of attack. Your father wasn’t a particularly “liked” man. That’s a horrible understatement. Your father was probably one of the most hated amongst the head families; or EXO , as the organisation liked to be called. Meaning he had quite the abundance of enemies; that all saw you as target number 1. If you’re looking to bring down a top Mafia boss, daddy’s little girl is probably a good place to start.

While your father portrayed himself as a ruthless and cold tyrant to everyone else; he was never that way with you. He’d been raising you alone since you were 8 years old; after the unexpected death of your mother; and there was nothing in the world he cherished more.

Despite more than half of the Mafia world gunning for your head; you lived a rather carefree life. Knowing enough to be cautious but also still being young and free. Well … as ‘free’ as you could be; and a large part of that was due to one person, Byun Baekhyun.

The Byun’s were close family friends, Mr Byun being your father’s longest ally. The close working of your fathers meant that you and Baekhyun had practically grown up together. It didn’t take a genius to see that the pair of you had soon become completely smitten; never leaving each other’s side; you always had each other’s back. So when you grew into young adults and the attempts against your father, and subsequently yourself, became more and more severe - there was only one way that could assure your safety.

An alliance. The Byuns’ weren’t nearly as hated as your own family, merging together would not only ensure your protection from any outside threats, but would also strengthen the business side of both parties.

The alliance was cemented in the form of an arranged marriage between Baekhyun and yourself. Not that either of you minded. Truth be told, at this point the love you both shared was undeniable, lingering stares and touches were no longer the extent of your relationship. It had become something much more. Moments stolen away from functions and business events, to be pressed up against each other in hallways and closets. The definition of childhood sweethearts.

Now, 3 years later, the Byun family were the biggest Mafia in Seoul, led by Baekhyun after the passing of both of your fathers. He had stepped up and taken charge, diminishing half the families that had threatened the pair of you for most of your lives. He was a king. Nobody dared touch him or you anymore. So when he got a call in the middle of the night from Chanyeol, his right hand, a few weeks ago, about a possible threat - he went straight into action.

Much to your displeasure. He was gone more often than not; whenever he was home, he was stressed and tired and certainly not in the mood for the kind of relief you were needing.

It was starting to wear you down. You suddenly felt lonely in this big house without him. You’d been attached at the hip since you were 12 years old, sleeping in the same bed since you were 17, now he was gone and you notice just how cold everything seems.

It was your anniversary week and to say Baekhyun had been extra flakey recently would be an understatement, so it’s no surprise to you when he comes home an hour late and starts preparing for a meeting in his office.

“Baek? What are you doing?” You ask, irritability evident, in the doorway watching him gather various files and papers.

He doesn’t answer you.

“Baek!”

Sighing loudly, he stops his movements to shoot a glare in your direction before continuing, “the guys are coming over, we’re having a meeting.” He walks straight passed you without a second glance, angering you even more as you’re forced to follow him through the house.

“Now Baek?! Really?!”

“Yes now, isn’t that obvious.” He was being blunt with you, meaning he was extra stressed, but unfortunately for him, this was the last straw and you weren’t going to let it slide. Not today of all days.

“It’s our anniversary Baekhyun!” You yell at his retreating back, “it’s our fucking anniversary! Can’t this wait for just one goddamn night?!”

He stops in his tracks and turns around to face you, scowling and eyes piercing.

“I’m aware that it’s our fucking anniversary Y/N, but I’m a little busy trying to keep you safe. So excuse me if I don’t exactly have time right now!”

Both tempers were reaching boiling point as you remained at a standoff for a few minutes, simmering in pent up frustrations and stress, just glaring at each other.

When suddenly the doorbell rang, signalling that the guys were here and this conversation, or lack thereof, was put on hold. Moving towards the door, Baekhyun turns to look at you once more, expression hard and eyes cold so you knew that he was serious.

“Behave.”

You certainly were not going to behave.

The guys all sit around the large meeting table, hardly speaking as they read through the reports in front of them. From the looks on their faces, whatever threat they’re facing is big, even for EXO and if you were a better woman maybe you would understand and back off. But you’re tired; frustrated; horny and all dressed up with nowhere to go. You’d been around long enough to know that Baekhyun, along with the rest of EXO, could handle whatever was coming; so you let impulse take over.

Back in your bedroom, you strip down to nothing but the black lace lingerie set you’d worn especially for Baekhyun, and pull on a matching silk robe before sauntering off into the meeting room.

Without a word, you move around the table and place yourself on your very shocked and angry husband’s lap. Ignoring the incredulous stares of the other 8 men.

Eyes challenging yet again as you look back at Baekhyun, with an expression feigning innocence. His hands gripped your waist harshly but he knew the game you wanted to play and he wasn’t going to be the first to back down. Not yet.

Ignoring his tightening grip, you tear your eyes away from him to look around the table at the others; who are staring at the pair of you with wide eyes and hints of amusement. With a cough to clear his throat and after repositioning you on his lap so he can see the rest of the table, Baekhyun continues on with the meeting.

The whole time you spent fidgeting and mumbling digs at him under your breath. He’d blown you off for weeks, cancelled your anniversary plans and now, had the audacity to ignore you after you had made such a show of yourself. Your bratty behaviour does not go unnoticed by the rest of the table, in fact, the boys struggle to keep their focus on the meeting at all, especially when you start to get even more bored and discreetly open up your legs , swinging them gently.

“Behave.” Baekhyun’s gruff voice whispers into your ear as he roughly pulls your legs back together. Not caring about the audience around you.

Rolling your eyes, you lean up on the desk.

“Junmyeon,” Your voice is as sweet as honey, focusing solely on the man opposite you, “you fuck your wife regularly right?” Your crude question makes the guests pause and stare at you once again, but it’s the quiet growl you hear from your husband behind you that spurs you on. Turning to the man directly next to Junmyeon you continue, “Jongdae, you satisfy your girlfriend, don’t you?” eyes blinking innocently at him, Jongdae failing to suppress a laugh.

Having enough, Baekhyun pushes you off his lap and grabs your wrist, pulling you out of the room into the hallway.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” He hisses once you’re both out of earshot, “you’re acting like such a fucking brat right now, we’re in a meeting, this is fucking serious Y/N!”

“And our anniversary isn’t?!” You shout back, not caring if the others hear, “everything will be fine Baek it always is, but I won’t be! You’ve been gone for weeks, I’ve been alone for weeks! It’s our anniversary for fuck sake!”

His eyes shake in anger, stepping closer so that your faces are mere centimetres apart, “We will talk about this later. Go.”

And then he’s back to work, leaving you to simmer in the hallway. Angry tears threatening to fall down your cheeks but you wouldn’t dare give him the satisfaction.

It seems like forever before you hear the sounds of everyone leaving downstairs. You’re lying in bed, still in your underwear and robe, waiting for the inevitable fight that’s to come once Baekhyun gets upstairs. You know you pushed him tonight, when he was already stressed enough, but did you go too far? You don’t think so. Surely the whole EXO empire would’ve survived one night without him. You have needs and your husband has not been fulfilling them. What else could you have done? If the nerves accumulating in your stomach are anything to go by, probably something a little different.

Baekhyun enters the room. He’s silent but his eyes convey everything he’s thinking.

“Do you think that was funny?” He asks. Snapping off his tie and as good as ripping off his shirt. You daren’t speak.

“Are you seriously that desperate to get fucked you have to put on a show in front of our business partners, our friends?!” His breathing is heavy but even, as he removes the rest of his clothes, it makes you question what the hell he’s planning on doing next.

“Wearing barely anything, spreading your legs, talking to them about their sex,” he walks to the bed and grabs your ankles, pulling them around his waist and leaning over you. You still don’t speak, just stare up at him, eyes just as harsh as his own, letting him know you’re still angry.

“You embarrassed me Y/N.” His lips coming down to suck at your collarbone, “such a naughty girl,” one of his hands moving to unhook your bra while the other rips the panties right off your body, making you gasp out, “You couldn’t just behave for one fucking night.”

His lips tease up your neck, jaw and cheek, distracting you from how his hands slyly grab yours and attach them to the headboard with his previously discarded tie. It’s the pressure on your wrists that snaps you out of the daze he’s locked you in, “what the fuck Baek!” You whimper childishly, you’ve both done many things in the bedroom but he’s never tied you up before. You felt excited and nervous all at once.

Ignoring you, Baekhyun starts kissing down your body till he reaches the space between your legs. “You’re so wet Y/N,” His fingers prod their way along your slit, sending shivers straight to your core. You’d teased him earlier and now it was his turn to tease you. “You really were desperate huh? You missed me that much you’re all hot and bothered already my naughty baby?” You can feel his breath fanning against your wet skin, the build up making you pull at your wrists impatiently.

“Please Baek, I’m sorry for before I just missed you so much, please touch me”

Almost immediately, Baekhyun moves his lips around your clit and starts sucking harshly, scraping his teeth against it every now and then, sending shivers down your spine, bringing you closer and closer to your high. His hands grip onto your hips, pressing down to stop your squirming, forcing you to face your approaching orgasm head on. Then, just before you’re about to let it all go, he pulls away, smirking down at you.

“Why’d you stop!?” You whine at him out of breath, desperately tugging on the tie that’s stopping you from pushing his face back into you so he can finish what you started.

“That,” he wipes his mouth, moving to kneel between your legs, “is for misbehaving in front of our guests earlier.” He smugly responds, all the while slowly stroking himself.

Not even waiting for you to fully recover, he pushes himself into you in one rough movement, causing you to scream out at the sudden stretch, “Act like a slut, get treated like a slut Y//N.”

He starts thrusting into you at an unbelievable pace, hands firmly on your ass, holding you to him as he pounds into you. His mouth leaving wet open kisses on your shoulder before nipping at your ear to whisper, “This is what you want right Y/N? To be fucked like this, hard, rough, tied to the bed like the slut you are huh? That’s why you were being such a fucking brat in front of all our friends? You missed me fucking you like this? Are you happy now?”

Feeling you clench around him, Baekhyun brings one of his hands to grab at your breasts roughly, slipping his tongue into your mouth, rolling his hips deep into you. Pleasure rips through your entire body, shaking uncontrollably, moaning out curses as Baekhyun keeps chasing his own high; which follows soon after. His cum mixing with your own, coating your insides. He continues to rut into you a few more times as the pair of you cool down. The only sounds being your combined heavy breathing and the rustling of sheets.

Baekhyun drops down next to you on the bed and reaches up to untie your wrists, pulling you to lie on top of him. His fingers idly begin combing through your hair, lulling you to sleep to the sound of his heartbeat. Nothing else is said between you. While not solving the problem entirely, you’re sure you won’t have to do quite as much begging on your next anniversary.

[thebritishblabbermouth]

Jungkook Fanfiction- BTS Mafia AU

Heyya :))

@atricksterwithwings requested a beautiful BTS mafia au, and I loved writing this for her. I’ve split it into three parts. Scroll down for the first and for the link to the latter. 

A/N: I’ve mentioned Zhang Yixing in this fanfiction aside from the other BTS members. Its totally okay if you dont know who he is...although you probably do, he’s like such a popular sheep ;) Find information about him here . 

Tell me your thoughts on this fanfic, Id love to receive any sort of feedback on my work and I totally think that likes and reblogs are recognition too :) Have fun reading, I know I really enjoyed writing this :) Its like 12 pages long on a word doc...idek anymore xP Jungkook is gorgeous. :) 

Also...there is cursing in this, mention of the mafia from different nationalities and part two and three are rated M (its smutty xP) Reader discretion is advised if any of these things bother you. 

Lots of love :) <3 - Enjoy :)  

PART 2

PART 3 (final)

1.

Jeon Jungkook stood at the 77th floor of Euphoria, the headquarters to the largest crime syndicate east of the Pacific Ocean. The height was dizzying for most, but not for him.

Jungkook had no fears; or so was assumed.

The man himself, was built at an impressive 6 feet and constituted of raw muscle, protein and a rather cynical approach towards life. Outwardly, the leader of the most legal crime syndicate was cold, intimidating and the type to burn you to ashes with a glare from his heated eyes.

Inwardly, he was exactly the same.

He was well aware of the effect he had on his employees, men and women who knew exactly of his affiliation with the Japanese Yazuka and the Italian Camorra yet pined to work under Jeon, the sheer power of his company bringing everyone to their knees with respect.

Euphoria was a giant.

It had dealings with government run telemarketing firms, banks, real estate agencies, alongside finance and technology markets. An easy way to convert money earned through extortion, gambling and trafficking to its pure and pristine form. The corrupt politicians whose elections he had funded didn’t complain. No one cared where the money came from and no one dared to ask otherwise. The cause of the founder’s formidable aura wasn’t a secret. Everyone knew how he had been tortured by his father, abandoned on the streets by a mother who seemed to love Heroin more than her own son. The story had been plastered all over the internet, and Jungkook would never deny reading through its many exaggerated versions. They were entertaining and did well to remind himself about how important money and power were, without those weapons, he too would be sitting in a room, writing about a life that belonged to someone else.

Materialism was reality and wealth- it’s currency.

~~~~~~~~~~~

‘’Sir, your coffee…’’ you said, walking through the office doors, a skip in your stride. There was no knock. No hint of awkwardness, no aspect of fear in the way she spoke. If anything there was the undertone of coercion, almost coaxing the man to leave his billion dollar thoughts in the gutter and focus solely on the warm drink.

Your playful extortion had worked, he was focused. Just not on the coffee.

Three months ago, Euphoria had issued an internal opportunity- PA to Jeon Jungkook. The post received 3 applications from his 20,000 employees. Min Yoongi, his chief of finance and operations took to appointing the least qualified of the bunch, a woman- aged a mere 22 years. The pitch to his ever frightening boss had been simple. ‘’You’ve let down 30 men in the last 6 months. I am done handling my job as well your shit. Those Harvard lunatics are too busy tending to their stupid resumes and I don’t have time for the garbage they throw at me when you fire their sorry arses. You’re settling with the woman, she’s got sick parents to feed- she won’t give a damn for ego as long as you pay her on time.’’

Jungkook could only snarl at the curses, the audacity of the man to speak in the way he did. Anyone else and they’d be lying in a pool of their own blood within seconds of the first word spoken against him. But Min Yoongi couldn’t be touched and this was a fact.

Jeon Jungkook was putty in the hands of his elder brother.

Today, he sent thanks to his sibling, for his aggressive outburst and daunting approach. You were priceless and the best decision ever- professionally of course.

He gave no reply to your request, not even a glance spared in your direction as your placed the drink onto his desk. There were just a series of footsteps, the man walking over to his maple work table, ready to do as he was told.

You had no idea of the prerogatives you held, and at that point, neither did him. The slight tease in your voice had mellowed down completely- replaced with the air of innocence and obeisance. Jungkook groaned at the sight. 

‘’So I was thinking…it’s Christmas Eve tomorrow…and well…’’ you said... Shuffling your buckled black heels.

‘’You aren’t leaving early.’’

His abrupt command had no thought behind it. Other than the fact he couldn’t let you out of his sight for more than a few hours, often paging you unnecessarily just to make you think of him.

He doubted you ever would if he didn’t.

‘’I am not…my parents are flying in tomorrow…it’s a small get together at my place with a few colleagues. I figured since you didn’t have anything planned…you could join us?’’  

Your apprehensive feet clicked across the hardwood with anticipation, the weightlessness behind your request holding the air in a trance.

‘’You’re my personal assistant, not event manager. You do not handle my private affairs so don’t think for a second that I care about your stupid Christmas dinner or the family I saved from crumbling.’’

It wasn’t what he had intended to say. Rather, his mind had flourished a thought he needed to keep locked away. He wanted to tell you that he’d love to join your family, share potato salad and amusing anecdotes across the table... All the while pressing his hand into your thigh- a subtle promise of sinful satisfaction later that night. But he wouldn’t dare to voice his feelings. You didn’t need to get involved with his shit, the scars that graced his back or the life full of gluttony and gambles he had chosen to lead. It was compulsion, to remind you every second of every day that the apartment which he bestowed upon you just 3 floors below his office- was a gracious boon, a gift given to improve your petty life. You had to be reminded of your father and how had been released from Jail after almost overdosing on the crack he had envisioned to peddle. Jeon Jungkook had to remind you of how ugly your tear stained face looked as you begged on your knees- begged for him to save your family.

There was simply no other way.

If you weren’t reminded, you’d crawl your way into his heart and sit there- encasing it completely.

He was just a damned moth to your flame.

‘’I know…and I am trying…I am trying to repay you. Please. Come over. I won’t waste your time.’’ You said. The words articulated with a purpose, were laced with meaningful sorrow but you couldn’t help the small smile that graced your lips.

He hadn’t declined.

Jungkook noticed how your full lips turned upwards, noticed how you had bent your head downwards, trying to hide your amusement. He knew he hadn’t said no, he knew inside the pits of his soul that was going to attend. Your reaction publicised his private notions completely.

It wasn’t hard to hate you.

Rather, it was the easiest thing in the world. His life had been built upon layers of lies, fear, judgement and mistrust. You tore everything apart with one look. He despised the hold you had over him, envied your purity and tried his best to tarnish it with his own two hands. Even if it meant burning your entire persona to ashes. He was well aware of the impact his audacious remarks on your large heart, knew just how much you wished to throw your small fists at his chest in rebuttal- he could see it in your eyes. But he knew you’d never break.

‘’Get out. I don’t have time for you.’’

Fuck.

Why couldn’t he just say no?

Probably because the thought of abjuration had never once crossed his mind.

~~~~~~~~~~~

11 pm saw him standing at your door, a bouquet of Lilly’s in his hand. The flowers had almost wilted away. What the hell was he doing? Why was he even here? There was no noise from behind the oakwood and why would there be?

Your offer had been for dinner, not a midnight snack.

He wasn’t going to come, prove you wrong and act smug about the ordeal. However he had shown up, at 7 pm, flowers fresh and suit prim. Ready to tap onto the door and shimmy himself into you…your apartment. But his confidence dropped as he heard your laughter, it was beautiful, natural and something he had never experienced before.

Jeon Jungkook had never made you laugh, but had every thought of hearing you scream.

It wouldn’t have mattered to him if you were any other woman, but the lack of knowledge frightened him, made him think there would be another man who would have the pleasure of witnessing both sounds.

Every. Single. Day.

His heart beat erratically, edging him into a state of worry and insanity. What the fuck was wrong with him? It would be a complete lie if he said he hadn’t just stood in front of your door for 3 hours, praying he didn’t hear sounds of men. The silence at 11 pm provided comfort and he walked away, only after dropping the Lilly’s inside the vase at your desk.

You had been pleasantly surprised the next day, and you knew exactly who they were from. The flowers- drained from their pretty colour -were beautiful nonetheless and you couldn’t help but run your hands over their soft petals.

They were perfect- just like him.

 ~~~~~~~~~~

2.

‘’See that guy over there…he’s checking you out hon.’’ Lisa, the American-Chinese intern, stirred her tea at an exceedingly sluggish pace. Her eyes were glued onto the 27 year old accountant who stood in the corner of the room, photocopying his work and humming to himself. She’d been a temporary employee at Euphoria Inc. for a bare 3 weeks but had done well to pair 4 couples with her self-praised matchmaking skills.

3 of said relationships had broken up within 24 hours. And thus, It was only natural that her impeccable track record attracted many an employee to her small cubicle, ready for her to set them up with dates and one night stands.

It seemed that you were her next target.

You sighed and turned to look at Jamie. He was tall, considerably well-built and had this collegiate boyish charm to his appeal, his long-slightly raven locks sat faultlessly over his glasses.

The image was so immaculate it made you uncomfortable.

I

However in your opinion, the man on the 77th floor was nothing short of perfection. His ruffled hair didn’t need to be waxed and placed as it were; it fell naturally and it made you want to run your hands through it. His rugged and damaged personality sheltered his otherwise kind heart and you saw right through the vile facade. You didn’t hope for him to change. Didn’t hope for him to suddenly become a goofy cheeky soul; the kind who would sit and chat with his workers.

You loved the man as he was. A little broken but a hell of a lot confident.

‘’Lisa…I don’t really want to date him…’’ You mumbled, eagerly emptying coffee beans into the machine.

She laughed at your reply and peeled her eyes away from the man. ‘’Who said anything about dating love? I just said he was checking you out.’’

It was hard not to grimace at her words but as crude as they were you had to smile politely. Offices were run on brutal honesty and cut throat depositions. There was no room for pleasantries or hospitality and any that appeared were a courteous formality. You hurried in your steps and brewed the concoction with ease. It was 8 am and he required his morning fix, even though he never actually asked you to prepare it. You had just finished placing his black on the tray and had turned around to deliver it when a firm body crashed into yours, spilling the brew all over your clothes and the floor. The heat burned through your blouse and scorched your skin, it had been hard to not curse at the pain but you dealt through it, eyes shut tight in response.

‘’Oh my gosh! I am so sorry!’’ said the voice. It was a man, sharply handsome, his cheekbones were protruding and you were sure his skin glowed. It didn’t take long to recognise him.

Kim Taehyung.

He had been a prospective fiancé, from a year ago.

From a time when you had no viable job, no future and the money the Kim Family offered in exchange for your hand in matrimony, had been a welcome surprise to your household. They were staunchly against same sex marriages and Park Jimin had been banned from their home with immediate effect. The marijuana had inflected your otherwise gentle father and he had agreed in seconds to the proposal, not once considering your opinion. You had declined Taehyung in private, and he had hugged you in thanks. The man was humble and docile in more ways than one, and his heart had been taken years ago- by none other, than his childhood piano teacher. There was no way Taehyung would’ve agreed.  

‘’Tae!’’ You screamed, surprised yet elated at the discovery.

‘’Hey there fiancé. Glad to know you remember me…but really, why do we always meet in the worst of situations.’’ He walked over to the counter as he spoke, grabbing up as many napkins as he could find. His gentle hands took to patting at your chest, handing you the tissues while doing so and it didn’t take long for to dry up your blouse.

‘’I thought you’d be more respectful than that. Letting your fiancé walk into my building and displaying yourself open for the man. Tch Tch…I guess a lowlife is always a low life no matter what her circumstance.’’ Jeon Jungkook stood against the door, leaning onto it with a posture that screamed indifference. But in all reality, Jungkook was seething.

The small Glock tucked into his suit was ready to fire and destroy Kim Taehyung and maybe even leave a flesh wound inside Jamie the accountant.

However in that minute, his primal desire had been to destroy you. How dare you hide the news of your engagement? How dare you wear that damned pastel pink blouse to work, and let another man touch you so unabashedly? How dare you smile when you saw your betrothed? He hated you for everything.

And he hated himself for falling for you.

‘’And who the hell is this Joker?’’ Taehyung turned around to look at Jeon, the tissues in his hand soiled from the spillage. He had been invited to the corporation by Min Yoongi, a dear friend who had promised him help with TaeMin Designs, an upcoming entrepreneurial, founded by his beautiful husband. It didn’t occur to him that he’d meet you, but he was pleased that he had.

You were wonderful.

If it hadn’t been for your confidence, he would have never proposed to Jimin, never left his awful family and never been as happy as he was now. He owed you his life and his prosperity.

‘’Tae…he’s my boss. I’ll talk to you later. Please. I’ll call you hmm?’’ you tried your best to nip the fight in the bud. Taehyung was cool headed but an agitated version of the man could lead to the emergence of fists and blood. You were lucky he understood your pleas, and he grunted towards Jungkook while exiting the room, the daggers leaving his eyes were filled with venom and anger.

‘’I’d like you to pay attention to your job. Not to every single man out there. Why don’t you just do as you’re told? I don’t care what you do and who you do it with when you’re out of here.’’ Jungkook straightened himself against the wall and pocketed his hands. He told himself he enjoyed watching your eyes brim, told himself that his anger was justified. But god knows how much he wanted to cradle you and whisper apologies until you were forced to believe them.

‘’Let’s keep your sluttish acts away from the office hmm?’’

It was a harsh blow, enough to cause the first tear to slip from their confines. Why did he have to behave like that?

Why did you have to love him regardless of the way he did? 

~~~~~~~

3.  

‘’How long is it going to take you leave? It’s pretty simple. Take the bag to KM Constructions, drop it there and leave. What’s so hard? '' Jungkook’s anger had sky rocketed ever since the incidence in the cafeteria and he didn’t even understand why he was asking you to be a bag drop. Never once in a career spanning 6 years had he ever made a woman a part of a deal. But it seemed that you were an exception with everything.

‘’I am just leaving Sir.’’ You said, buttoning up the grey pea coat.

He noticed how inappropriately dressed you were, how feminine and vulnerable. He knew how lecherous men could be, knew it wasn’t safe. But annoyance clouded his senses and he threw the thoughts away. It was simple enough, no interactions. You’d be fine.

If only he knew.

Part 2

Part 3 

[thranduilsperkybutt]

So Much For My Happy Ending

Gif source:  1  |  2  |  3

Imagine being the reason Detective Loki doesn’t have a partner.

Pairings:  Detective David Loki/Reader

Warnings:  Angst, some fluff; language; flashbacks/time-skips; I am not a cop so probably incorrect cop-jargon!!!

Word Count:  5,017 words

Reader Gender:  Female

Author:  Meg

Summary:  A series of blurbs that tell the story of how and why Detective Loki doesn’t have a partner.

A/N:  Uhm? My hand slipped?? And I’m crying??? I’m sorry????

“No.”

“No?” Captain O’Malley scoffs, and David feels his eye tick with the annoyance of it all. “You need a partner, Loki. Fucks sake, just take Carter, or Wedge! Hell, take anyone with you; I don’t care!”

“All due respect, go fuck yourself, Captain,” David huffs, not flinching when the older man slams his hand against the desk in front of him, before pointing angrily at him.

“Fuck you! I’m gonna’ let that slide this once, considering what happened, but it’s been a year, Loki! You know damn well you’re gonna’ have to partner up again someday,” O’Malley’s voice softens, but only slightly, as he continues. “Look. losing her was hard on the whole department, but I can’t have you runnin’ around without having some kinda’ backup---”

Loki shakes his head, the collar of his shirt feeling a bit too tight as he swallows, mind racing with memories he’d rather forget, as he turns to leave the office he hadn’t wanted to enter in the first place, “I don’t need a partner, Captain.”

Had it really been a year ago?

~

“I don’t need a partner, Captain,” David spoke behind a mouthful of one of the donuts that Sandy from dispatch had left in the break room. His desk was a crime scene in itself, files and folders scattered in the aggressive beginnings of a new investigation. He chases the bite of what had quickly become sugary mush with his coffee, bitter and hot as it slicks down his throat, rasping his voice when he adds, “Especially not some kid.”

“I’m sorry, did that sound like a fuckin’ request, Loki?” O’Malley rolls his eyes, “You’ve got a new partner, starting today, and I expect you to show her the ropes.”

“Don’t got much of a choice,” he shoots back, setting his coffee on one of the rare clean spaces of his desk, before O’Malley nods in authoritative satisfaction.

“You don’t,” his captain was smiling, annoying David, but they both knew there was nothing to be done about it. He had managed to get out of partnering up for this long solely due to the odd number of detectives and officers, and this was the remedying of that issue in the department.

David leans back in his chair as O’Malley abandons him, jaw clenched as he tries to focus on the photos that peeked from one of the folders. His jaw ticks. He can’t focus. Black dress pants come into his peripheral, but he pays it little attention until a soft clearing of the throat can be heard to his left.

“Detective Loki?”

When he lays eyes on you for the first time, he can’t help but notice how skittish you looked. Like you didn’t want to bother him. He takes a sip of his coffee, just to make you wait. Just to see how you reacted.

You shift on your feet, offering an awkward chuckle, before introducing yourself, “I believe we’re assigned to be partners.” You offered him your hand to shake, as he set his coffee back down. “It’s nice to meet you, Detective.”

You looked like a damn teenager, he thought.

“Loki,” he takes your small hand with his larger one, pleasantly surprised at the firmness of your grip, before releasing it.

“Huh?”

“Just, call me Loki.”

~

Your ice broke far sooner than his did. At the end of the first week, he had read you like an open book, but that hadn’t been too hard with how easily you opened up in the passenger seat of his car. You talked, while he mostly listened, and before he knew it, you had slipped under his skin.

You were bright eyed and bushy tailed and everything that he wasn’t. You freely told him about the house you grew up in and what you did on your time off. You invited him to drinks after work and dinners that he would refuse, but admittedly you were wearing him down.

Then, one day you look at him, mouth half-full of a bite of the burger you’d made him run through the drive-thru and get before you started this stake out, finger dancing briefly along the collar of his shirt, skin barely grazing his neck, “So, do you wear this up so tight because of the policy?”

David pulls from your touch, far more astonished by it than you seemed to be. You had touched him like it was the most natural thing to do, like you were close friends, not thinking a second thought about it before you reached over and did it. His hand landed on his collar, right where your fingers had once brushed, and he was pretty damn sure that he was fucking blushing just a little bit.

“What?” he asks, as you sip the large drink, clearly unaware of his shock.

“The collar,” you point, before taking another sip, “Do you button it all the way because of the dress policy regarding tattoos?” His hand pulls his collar up somewhat, right where his neck tattoo had peeked out, as he looks back to the house he was supposed to be watching. A frown etches onto his face as a grin blossoms on your own, “Because if it is, I think it’s pretty obvious you have tattoos already, Loki. I mean, you got ‘em on your knuckles, so you’d have to wear gloves, too---”

“I don’t care about the fuckin’ policy,” Loki huffs.

“Oh, so it’s for fashion, then?” you tease, catching the side of a glance that sends you giggling in the seat beside him. The way you lean over, to nudge his bicep slightly, has him cracking a smile, “You a fashionista, Loki?”

“Yeah, that’s it. It’s for the fashion,” he throws back, sarcasm lacing his tone, but you only grin wider at him, spotting the curve of his lips as he tugs his beanie down snugly on his head.

“Nah, see, I don’t think you are. Don’t you wanna’ know how I deduced that you’re not a fashionista, Loki?” you wiggle your brows at him, and he rolls his eyes hard.

“I don’t.”

“Don’t you want to hear my stunning detective work?”

“Really, no.”

“Here it is,” you breathe deeply, catching his attention as you lean towards him, like you were about to share a secret that only he could hear. He catches himself leaning forward slightly, only to get poked in the chest as you grin wickedly, “You don’t own a single tie, do ya’, Loki?” Leaning back in your seat, you shrug as if you had solved it, “Case. Closed.”

He groans, while you snort, but his smile lingers, “I own a fucking tie.”

~

His ice melted, slowly, but with the inevitability of an iceberg in the ocean. About four months in, he finally agreed to dinner after a rough shift that had nearly ended in you getting a black eye, and him getting stabbed in a strip club parking lot.

The Waffle House was like a yellow beacon of hope in the hazy fog of what was technically the early morning, and Loki collapsed into the hard booth much like you did.

“It’s fuckin’ cold,” you grumble across from him, sniffing harshly. The beginning of an oncoming cold, if the Mucinex that rested in his backseat was anything to go by.

His eye ticks as he grabs a menu, despite already knowing what he wanted to eat, “You should know by now to bring a jacket with you.”

“What are you, my mom?” you quip, and he shoots you a look. You stick your tongue out at him, and he frowns to hide how endearing he found you.

“I can’t believe I’m partners with a fuckin’ child,” he teases you right back, and you make a point of ignoring him when the waitress comes to take your order.

“Ya’ know,” you grin, eyes sliding to peer back at him when he tucks his menu back where it came from, “if you were a gentleman, you’d give me your parka.”

He chuckles, making a show of zipping his parka as you frown at him, “What makes you think I’m a gentleman, kid?” The waitress sits down your coffee. You take yours with too much sugar and creme, he’s come to memorize, as he sips at his own.

“Right,” you scoff, but there’s a joke behind the faux edge to your tone, “what was I thinking? Your coffee’s as black as your soul, Loki.”

“Why do you even order coffee?” he hides his smirk behind another sip, “It’s all just milk.”

The night goes on like that, as you pour over your waffle while he takes his eggs and bacon. Banter back and forth that almost makes him forget the ordeal of the shift before. He laughs more than he used to, he realizes, when you have him nearly in stitches at around two in the morning, half your meals gone and the diner nearly all to yourselves.

“Nuh-uh,” he snatches up the ticket, right as the waitress sets it down and he spots your hand reach for it, “I got it.” He’s fishing out his wallet as you protest, calling him all sorts of things that are laced with giggles.

“Yeah, well, I’m gettin’ the next one!” you challenge, downing the rest of the coffee you had the horror of realizing was cold by now, when he stands to pay the check at the front. You come up behind him, tugging up at your belt and teasing by his ear as he gets rung up, “What was that you said about not bein’ a gentleman, Loki?”

By the time he glances back at you, cheeks flushed and brows furrowed, you’re halfway out the door and on the way back to his car

When he drives you home, he doesn’t let himself admit it’s as close to a date as he’s had in months.

~

“There’s just one thing I can’t figure out,” David starts, and you look back at him from the investigation board with wide, curious eyes.

“Just one?” you point your thumb towards the board, “I gotta’ couple things I can’t figure out about this one. Like, why cut out the eyes? Is it just because the sick fuck doesn’t wan’t them to look at him, or is it like a kinky thing---”

“Not about that,” he stops you with a wave of his hand, before leaning forward in his chair and pointing at you, squeezing the bright pink stress ball you had given him as a joke gift at Christmas--- it was surprisingly one of his favorite things he owned.

“What about then?”

“You--- what’s a girl like you doin’ in the police?” you frown at him, while he justifies his question, “Just saying, you’re an optimist. You think the best in people; even after all the fucked up shit you’ve seen with me on our beat, you still do, I can tell. I can’t get it.”

“Aw, Loki, don’t tell me you’re sayin’ I’m a ray of sunshine in your dull, pessimist life?”

He leans back in his seat with a roll of his eyes, squeezing the stress ball until his knuckles went white, “Forget I asked---”

~

You don’t tell him the answer until seven months as his partner. It was a bad night, and another cop had been shot in a shootout with a suspect. You’d been pressing at the crimson of his chest, feeling the disgustingly sticky feeling of his blood covering your fingers even through the jacket you’d pushed to the wound. He had died on the street, like a dog, and Loki had to pull you off of him to get you to stop your frenzied compressions when the paramedics came.

He had driven you home in stunned silence, and when he walked you into your apartment, that was the first time he saw it.

A cat meowed at his feet, as you walked past it numbly, like you’d seen a ghost. His hand reached for your shoulder, and you turned easily to face him.

“Hey, kid,” he begins, low, as it didn’t feel quite right to speak louder than the soft murmur between you, “where’s your bathroom?”

You point him in the direction, and he takes you by the hand, dried blood sticking to it despite how many times you wiped it on your pants. You let him lead you there, and follow his instruction to sit on your sink’s counter, while he rummages through your things to retrieve a couple towels. The sound of running water accompanies his rummaging, and before you know it, he’s pressing the soft baby blue into your hands, water dripping down your fingertips as his own scrub you clean of the blood there with your rag.

“They’ll stain,” you manage to whisper, and he frowns in concentration at a particularly stubborn bit of crusted blood at your nail.

“I’ll get you new ones,” he smiles, forced and solely for your benefit, “You won’t mind if they’re hot pink, right?”

That gets a soft laugh from you, just a huff of one, really, but it was there, “I think white would be a better choice. Could bleach those fuckers when I gotta’ wipe blood off my hands.”

“I don’t know, the hot pink has character,” he tries to sound light, but it doesn’t. He wets the rag again, blood flowing with the water down the sink. Wringing it out, he drags it along your jaw, and your eyes meet his.

His hand stills at the turmoil there, and your voice cracks as you murmur, “He was aiming at me. The bastard, was aiming at me--- Donahue has kids, Loki--- It shoulda’ been---”

When your voice chokes, Loki finds himself grasping you at the nape of your parka, pulling you into his chest as his hand smooths between your shoulder blades, “Hey, don’t you fuckin’ dare, you hear me? Don’t you dare say it shoulda’ been you.” He hears the shudder of a breath that escapes along his shoulder, feels the heat of your breath along his collar, and knows that he’s breaking so many policies by doing this right now, but he can’t bring himself to fucking care. He already knows he’s in too deep.

“It woulda’ been, if Donahue hadn’t got in front of me,” you whisper, soft and broken, and Loki knows you’re crying, but he’s not going to acknowledge it, for either of your sakes.

“It wasn’t, though. It wasn’t,” his voice sounds, for the life of him, far more stable than he feels right now, as he feels himself twitch, smoothing his hand along your hair in a way far gentler than was necessary. He lets your fingertips grip into his shirt as the sound of your soft, shuddering breaths and the running water fills the room, until you let him go and pull back, wiping at your eyes like you were embarrassed to have him see you cry.

“Damn, now you’re all bloody. Why’d ya’ let me mess your nice shirt up,” you shoot at him through a sniffle and a forced smile, which he returns as best he can.

“Eh, I never liked this one much, anyway,” he tugs at the collar, lying through his teeth. “Collar’s too tight, can barely breathe sometimes in it.”

“Maybe if you didn’t button it all the way like a Catholic priest, you could fucking breathe,” your laugh is airy, the tease on your lips relaxing his shoulders and giving him the time to focus his attention on the rag in the sink instead of the feeling it sends rushing through him that really shouldn’t be there for his partner, or a girl as young as you.

“I don’t think the rags are gonna’ cut it, kid,” he sighs, admitting defeat at the messy sight of your stained clothing, but the blood no longer clings to your hands or jaw.

“Yeah,” you sigh sadly, looking down at yourself and splaying your fingers, picking at your nails where he hadn’t been able to completely get beneath. “I need a full shower, and I’m pretty sure this shirt’s history.”

“Well,” he nods, drawing out the word as he tucks his hands into his pockets, “I ought to leave you to it, then.”

Before he can leave, though, you call out to him softly, “Hey, Loki?”

“Yeah,” he dares to look back at you, despite his better judgement.

Your fingers grip the edge of the counter, on either side of your thighs, as you tilt your head at him, “You wanted to know why I became a cop, right?”

He nods, fingers stopping on the door frame, as he leans against it.

“My dad,” you swallow, clearly choked up by the thought. “He was a cop. Damn good one, too.” You take a deep breath, steadying yourself, “Til one day, he didn’t come home, y’know? His partner came by the house, and of course my mom knew straight away what had happened, but I was so young. Just standing at the door, I keep asking him, ‘Where’s Daddy? When’s he coming home? Is he hurt?’ And my mom’s so tore up, crying already, she can’t catch her breath long enough to tell me.”

David was quiet, listening as you look to the ceiling to dry the tears welling up in your eyes, before you level yourself and continue, “Well, his partner pulls me aside, and gets on my level. Tells me everything--- how my dad’s not coming home, how a bad man killed him, and, you know, I think I knew right then that I wanted to try and stop that from happening to anyone else.” Your smile is bittersweet, as guilt reflects in your eyes, as easy a read as ever, “Guess I can’t even do that, though.”

He stands there for a beat, hesitation in his posture before he moves across the bathroom tile, guiding your eyes from it as his head dips. Consequences be damned.

His lips find your own, and you fit to each other like two pieces of the same broken puzzle. That’s the night he lets you find out what his tattoos really look like, and he finds out that you’re probably the thing he’s most scared of losing.

~

It’s when you’re laying on the couch with him, nine months into being his partner and about two months after becoming something more than that, that you ask him about them. He knew it was coming, but he hadn’t expected it to be when he was right on the verge of sleep, as an extremely boring rendition of Howard’s End played on the television--- you had a thing for shit like that, he found out. Your hand traced the star at his neck, slipping down to the hand he had resting on his chest, alongside your chin.

Your fingers brush along his knuckles, and the symbols adorning his knuckles, “What do they mean?” For a moment, he thinks he had dreamt the question, somewhere between consciousness and sleep, but then you repeat the question, tacking on his name, which had become reserved for private moments like this, “David?”

When your lips brush his knuckles, he cracks open an eye, squinting down at you in the soft glow from the television, as you raise a brow at him, “Hm?”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” you give him your out, and he knows he can take it, but then you look at him with that soft, curious look you had easily realized could get just about anything out of him. “Just wondering.”

His knuckles curl against your lips, before he admits with a sigh, “They mean, I did some stupid shit when I was a kid.”

“Like what?” you give him a lopsided, playful grin, “Was it something scandalous? Ooh! Did you knock someone up?”

“No, thank God,” he groans, running his hand over his eyes to wake himself more before he continues. “I spent six years in Huntington Boys Home; ran with the wrong crowd back then. Landed me a couple of stints in juvie, before I got some sense and joined the force. Figured I was sick of wasting my life away.”

“Were you a gang leader?” you breathe against his lips lowly, still a bit of a tease in your tone. “Were you dangerous, David?”

“Oh, I was the kind of boy your mama woulda’ cried over if you brought home,” he growls against you, and tickles at your sides, forcing giggles to erupt from your chest as he tucks your body between his and the couch with a simple turn to his side.

“Too bad I didn’t meet you during my rebellious phase, I guess,” he hears you gasp as his lips trail down your neck.

“Mhm, too bad.”

~

He wants to take you on a proper date, he decides. Got the idea stuck in his head until it was all he could think about.

When he finally pitches it to you, you look back at him from where you were letting him push you on the grocery cart, your feet planted on the rail beneath as the weight of your groceries and his arms around you kept it from flipping. He already knows he’s in for it when you grin at him, that glint of mischief in his eyes something that he’d grown to know could only be followed by a tease.

“What? Like we’re boyfriend and girlfriend, now?”

His heart stammers in his chest, and he reaches for the packaged cheese, tossing it into the buggie while keeping his outward cool, “If that’s what you wanna’ be.”

When his blue eyes slip from the dairy to find your face again, he finds you peering at him in a sort of shocked stupor, before you bite your bottom lip, a smile beaming from beneath your overbite, “For real? You want to be?” He swallows, and knows that he should not feel so nervous after all the things you’ve done together. You were doing this all out of order, but he can’t bring himself to regret a single minute of it. He can only bring himself to nod, waiting as his heart hammers embarrassingly loud in his ears--- feeling like that stupid kid he once had been, way before he ever met you.

“Well, David,” you raise your nose in the air haughtily, “I’ll have you know that I’m not the kind of girl who puts out on the first date, if that’s what you’re thinking.” He cracks, grinning over at the meats as he finds he’d absentmindedly wheeled you towards them, absentminded tick causing his face to twitch slightly.

“What, you a three-date kinda’ girl?” he shoots back, reaching for the sliced turkey, before you point to a different brand.

You grin at him as he places it in your hand, “I guess you’ll just have to find out, won’t you, boyfriend?” He’s sure you can’t see how enamored with you he is, as you toss the turkey into your cart.

The thought flies through his head, before he can even stop it, but he doesn’t dare let it fall from his tongue.

I love you.

~

The cat’s out of the bag when you both get called into O’Malley’s office. He’s frowning at the two of you, which is nothing new, but the way he shuts the door behind the two of you is.

“Now, I’m not the sort of man to reprimand two good detectives over rumors,” he begins, circling around the two of you to sit in his office chair, “but, I just want to make sure for myself.”

You glance at David, but his eyes remain trained on your captain. He looked bored, if anything else, poker face far too good to let anything else go, which is why the captain looks to you, with a frown that was all authority and reprimand.

“Is there something going on here that I need to be made aware about?” he stares solely at you, and David can tell you were starting to crack.

“Like what? What are you trying to say, Captain? Just come right out and fuckin’ say it,” he begins, drawing O’Malley’s attention and his glare as his twitch acts up again.

“I’m tryin’ to say, are you two screwing around?”

“I’m offended you would even---!”

“No---!” you squeak, but O’Malley doesn’t seem convinced.

O’Malley leans forward, folding his hands on his desk and silencing the two of you with the intensity of his stare, “Loki, you’re with Carter from now on.”

“What? No, Chief,” David snaps, poker face breaking, his jaw clenched in anger. “You don’t have any proof, and you’re just going to switch us up for a fuckin’ rumor?”

“If it’s just a fuckin’ rumor, why are you so mad about it, Loki?” O’Malley bites back. “Be glad I’m not writing you both up for fraternization!” He sighs, “Be glad I’m doing this, the both of you. It won’t be a problem if you’re not partners anymore, anyway.”

“You can’t just, change us up after all this time,” you try, but your voice is more like a plea than anything else, and O’Malley just looks at you with something akin to an apology.

“I can, and I am. You’re going to be partnered with Wedge. There isn’t a discussion to be had about this, and I think you both know that.”

Loki turns on his heel, ripping the door open with his annoyance, and making a straight line right for the stairs. His knuckles connect with the cement of the stairwell wall, anger radiating from him before he manages to compose himself.

How was Wedge going to watch your back like he could?

~

The call comes in when he’s sitting in a Taco Bell parking lot, Carter in his passenger seat and blasting an annoyingly loud rendition of Beat It by Michael Jackson, only it wasn’t Michael Jackson singing it. David almost sighs in relief at the excuse to turn down the fucking god-awful cover, but any relief is short lived as he hears the voice on the other end of the dispatch.

“All units, all units, respond. Unit twelve-fifty currently engaged in a code eight. Repeat, code eight. Suspect armed and dangerous at residence. Ten-twenty-one Maple Street. All units, respond.”

Carter sits up straight, an, “oh, shit,” huffing from his lips as other units respond to Sandy’s call.

David nearly rips the receiver from the radio, quickly responding, “Thirteen-forty, en route. E. T. A. ten minutes.” The wheels screech as his grip on the steering wheel tightens, Carter flipping the lights and siren on as he peels from the parking lot.

“Twelve-fifty, that’s---” Carter begins, and David nearly feels his heart jump to his throat as he confirms.

“Wedge’s cruiser.”

By the time he gets there, there are other cruisers, and S.W.A.T., as a suspect shoots from the windows of a house at the oncoming cars. David screeches to a stop, ducking his head and exiting the vehicle alongside the other cars for cover, weapon drawn.

“What the fuck happened?” he shouts as he makes it behind the S.W.A.T. car, finding O’Malley in a vest as he looks around for any sign of Wedge or you.

“Wedge called for backup, after shots were fired,” the look O’Malley levels him with has him weak in the knees, gripping onto his weapon as he leans on the truck. “S.W.A.T. just went around back, to engage and try to save the hostage.”

“Hostage,” David repeats, and O’Malley clenches his jaw.

“It’s (Y/N), Loki.”

~

Loki blinks up at the fluorescent lighting of the ceiling, feeling his eye tick as he hopes that maybe he’ll go blind if he stares there long enough. The soft meow of the cat, jumping up onto the table, breaks him from his intense stare, as he shovels another spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

His hand runs along the fur of the cat’s back, and he decides he’s had enough for dinner tonight, after what the Captain had said about getting a new partner. His feet nudge the can of cat food as he passes it, suggesting that the cat grab a bite. It hops from the table and goes to sniff the food, before apparently deciding it didn’t have much of an appetite either.

He empties his cereal in the sink, washing the bowl, and abandoning it on the rack in his sink. His hands grip at the side of it, as he breathes slowly through his nose, shutting his eyes and trying his damned hardest not to cry again.

It wasn’t supposed to hurt so much, after all this time, but he had learned first hand that the pain never really did go away. You just learned to live with it.

“Come on,” he sighs down at the cat, as it rubs along his calves, before bending to scoop it up and scratch softly behind its ears, “let’s go to bed.”

He deposits it onto the bed as he pads into his bedroom. Lying down, he takes a deep breath, as the cat--- your cat--- settles against his thigh. The sheets had stopped smelling of you about four weeks after the funeral, but the cat--- it never stopped smelling like you.

His hand dips to the nightstand, opening the drawer, if only to torture himself further, and pulled out the small film canister that you had teased him about still having, with all the digital cameras he could use, without knowing what was inside of it. He pops it open, dumping its contents into the palm of his hand, and feeling the cool metal of the band with the pad of his thumb.

He holds it up to his face, watching the small diamond catch in the light, before he tucks it back into the canister and shuts the drawer once again.

The hardest part, had been telling your mother that he never got to pop the question.

No, David thinks, turning out the light, I don’t need another partner.