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retrievablememories · 1 year ago

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cherry bomb | part 2 | jungkook (m)

pairing: jungkook x fem reader

summary: after your town goes into lockdown because of the cherry bomb massacre, you find out that the murderer's interest is on you. eventually, you’re left with no choice but to face him.

genre: horror/slasher, angst, smut, college!au

word count: 13.7k

warnings: major character deaths, gaslighting, hallucinations, anxiety/paranoia, grief, trauma, violence (including knife and gun use), torture, blood, gore, descriptions of dead bodies, a funeral scene, fuckboy!JK, oral (fem receiving), fingering, finger-sucking, handjob, cumplay(?), hair-pulling

a/n: this part is quite rougher than the first, so heed the warnings. same notes as the last part—not meant to be entirely realistic since this *is* a slasher. block/filter as needed. i didn’t mention this in part 1 but this fic is not set in present day; more like somewhere in the 2000s? i don’t think this fic would work as well with all this advanced technology/the prevalence of social media now

...also, i had this story all written out and then decided to completely change the plot at the last minute because i figured out a way to write the original plot i had wanted to do from the beginning. 💀 yeah…just leave your thoughts below

taglist is at the very bottom of the fic—for some reason i wasn't able to tag everyone who requested, so please reblog this fic so folks can see it

sources for the fic dividers: one | two

link to part 1

you’re standing in front of some stranger’s house in the early hours of the morning, your body heavy from exhaustion as your adrenaline has run out. this is not at all how you expected your night to end when you left your dorm hours ago. it must’ve taken at least 40 minutes to get to this house, and you’re less familiar with this part of town, which you try not to feel uneasy about. you suppose the farther away from the scene of the carnage, the better.

jungkook bangs on the door, calling out the name yoongi-hyung until the porch light comes on. though it’s illogical, you’re tense with apprehension that the murderer could somehow appear at any moment, and you hope whoever yoongi is lets the both of you in soon. so much for no longer looking over your shoulder.

a man with hair just as long as jungkook’s answers the door, looking disheveled and annoyed. “why the fuck are you banging down my door at nearly 2 am—"

yoongi stops speaking as he eyes the both of you up and down, his gaze going from the bite mark bruises you left on jungkook’s neck to the dried blood on your face to the bullet holes in jungkook’s car. his expression is between surprise and curiosity. “what the fuck is going on here?”

“can we talk inside?” jungkook says, though he doesn’t wait for an invitation before pushing his way past the other man and stepping inside.

“uh…hi. sorry.” you step inside too, glad to not be out in the open anymore.

yoongi takes another look outside the door at the state of jungkook’s car before closing and locking it. “mind explaining this shit? i thought you were going to that party you told me about?

“i did,” jungkook says, his voice full of frustration. “the fucking killer showed up at the party.”

“the fuck are you talking about?”

“you know what i’m talking about. that werewolf-masked freak? he came and just started stabbing people to death. we watched him shoot a fraternity member in front of us, dude. that’s why my car looks the way it does.”

“the campus is probably dangerous,” you add. “that’s why we came here. we just need somewhere safe to stay for the night.”

yoongi goes to the window and draws back the curtain. he peeks out the small holes in the side of the blinds rather than pushing the blinds down to look outside. “and you’re certain he didn’t follow you here? i thought he only killed virgins anyway. why the hell was he shooting at you?” then yoongi turns away from the window and looks at you. “oh. is this why?”

feeling put on the spot, you blurt out: “look, i don’t think that matters much anymore. he seemed to be killing anybody who was in his way.”

“and he was on foot the whole time, so there’s no way he could’ve followed us,” jungkook adds.

yoongi shakes his head and walks away from the window. “whole town is fucked, then. come on.”

you’re relieved to be able to scrub the blood off your face and change into fresh clothes. you initially thought it was peculiar that yoongi had spare clothes ready for you to wear until he alluded to keeping them on hand for any of jungkook’s hookups that he brings over.

“sure—of course.” you’d just nodded and tried not to look embarrassed as you accepted the clothes.

even after showering you don’t feel entirely clean, though. you think it might be impossible to return to feeling anything like your former self after tonight.

the couch has a pull-out bed, so it’s not as uncomfortable as it would be just sleeping on a regular sofa, which you are grateful for. you’re still arranging the pillow and blankets when jungkook walks into the room holding his own bedding.

“i think i should sleep here,” he says.

“there’s no room on the couch for the both of us,” you protest, thinking he means to take your spot.

“i mean on the floor. earlier, you didn’t seem like you wanted to be left alone in here.”

“oh.” you try to take the edge out of your voice; it’s hard to be polite when you’re still so overwhelmed with stress. “that’ll be uncomfortable though.”

jungkook just waves his hand and dumps his pillow and blanket on the floor before going to push the coffee table out of the way. “doesn’t really matter, i think we’ve been through worse tonight than sleeping on a hard floor…”

“thanks,” you say quietly, watching him spread his blanket out on the ground. you want to say something else, but you can’t think of anything.

“it’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

after a few more moments of staring at jungkook as he arranges his sleeping area, you finally ask, “i was wondering how’d you meet yoongi? he doesn’t seem like he’s a college student. i’ve never seen him around our campus, at least.”

“he isn’t. he works as a music producer, so he’s out of town a lot, but this is his homebase. as for how we met—it’s a long story. he and my brother actually used to know each other, so…” you think he’ll explain further, but he just shakes his head. “but he’s a good friend.”

“i see. a music producer…nice. how cool for a little town like this.”

after everything is to his liking, jungkook gets under the blanket. “tonight was a lot, so try to get some sleep.”

you nod and turn the lamp off, though you’re doubting you’ll get any peace tonight. “yeah…you too.”

SATURDAY MORNING, NOV 4

you wake up around 11 a.m. on a strange couch wearing strange clothes in a strange room. with your brain’s half-conscious state, your terror reawakens; you think maybe you’ve been kidnapped by the murderer and the car ride with jungkook last night was a dream—until yoongi pops into your mind.

you try to regulate your breathing and settle back beneath the blanket, though you know you won’t be going back to sleep.

you haven’t gotten more than an hour of sleep in total, broken up into 20-minute intervals across the hours. every time you’ve tried to close your eyes and drift off, you see the frat member’s skull bursting apart again, shocking your entire nervous system. you can think of nothing but the piles of bodies and the deaths you witnessed. perhaps it’s better that you don’t sleep; you figure your dreams wouldn’t be any more tolerable than your thoughts.

as you shift around on the couch, your whole body screams with soreness. your arms, your ribs, your sides, your legs, and—to a lesser extent—even between your thighs where jungkook was last night.

you glance over and see that he’s still sprawled on the floor, blanket halfway kicked off. he’s actually awake, his face turned away from you as he blinks slowly and stares at nothing, but he doesn’t say anything and so neither do you. with you spending most of your night awake, you saw that he was able to get more rest than you did. lucky him.

it hurts to move, but you reach for your phone and check for any signs of lorelai. none. there is one text from camille, sent 40 minutes ago.

➤ camille: I talked to Lorelai’s sister. She went to go see about a missing persons report. The police took her information but didn’t seem very concerned about it and said she might have just stayed the night with other friends after the party. Apparently a lot of others had the same idea as you. Campus is a ghost town. They’re still identifying all the bodies, so no word yet.

➤ y/n: so we just have to sit here and wait to see if she’ll turn up alive or dead? that’s useless.

➤ camille: As per fucking usual with the pigs.

➤ camille: She also told me there’s supposed to be a lockdown or something. It’s on the news.

➤ y/n: a lockdown???

looking around the room, you spot the TV remote sitting on yoongi’s coffee table a few feet away. you try to sit up, but it takes you a couple minutes longer than you anticipate because of the pain. jungkook notices the movement from the corner of his eye and turns to look at you. “what are you doing?”

“tryna get the remote.”

jungkook grabs it and hands it to you, and you turn the TV to one of the local news channels.

➤ camille: They’re telling people not to leave their homes for anything non-essential while they search for him. Not sure how long that’s supposed to last. I guess now they wanna get serious about this fucking killer? Too late for that.

you and jungkook watch as the newscaster gives a rundown of last night’s events; to your small relief, it looks like the killer didn’t try to go to the campus after the murders at the party house. the newscaster goes on to announce that the police are instating a citywide curfew, which they’ll discuss further at a press conference in the afternoon. in the meantime, they advise everyone to only travel in groups, shelter in place if possible, and keep all windows and doors locked.

you laugh humorlessly, and jungkook glances at you again. “in groups? we were all packed into one damn house at the party, and how much did that help?”

➤ y/n: are you sure you’re okay at the uni?

➤ camille: I’m fine. My roommate brought some of her friends into our room so no one’s left alone. Either way, my dad is coming to help me move some of my things out and come back home.

➤ y/n: okay, please just stay safe.

➤ camille: You too.

“what now?” jungkook says once the newscast goes off. “everybody just stays holed up for like a month while they hunt for that guy?”

you roll your eyes. “people won’t stay in their homes for that long. i don’t know how any of this is gonna work. we wouldn’t be in this mess now if they’d cared when this first started happening.”

“you think so? students would still be getting killed. the only difference is that a good chunk of people would just be sitting at home freaking the fuck out and too scared to go anywhere while the killer would still be on the loose.”

“…damn. it’s truly bleak to assume we’d still be in the same situation. you’re an optimistic one.”

“better than deluding yourself about it.”

“whatever. where’s your family to freak out over you? somebody should be concerned about your whereabouts by now. didn’t you say you have a brother? speaking of, i’m gonna have to call my sister soon…”

jungkook turns back to the TV, and you can tell he’s become more tense than he was seconds ago. “yeah, but i’m estranged from them. yoongi’s my family.”

wrong thing to ask. you wonder about the reason for it but decide it’s probably better not to pry. “ah…that sucks.”

jungkook looks back at you like he’s irked by that response, but he makes a noise resembling a chuckle. “tell me about it.”

later that afternoon, after you’ve reassured your sister veronica on her work break that you are fine and at a “friend’s” house (because you have no clue how to refer to either of these men), you and yoongi sit at the kitchen table with brunch while jungkook goes outside to examine the damage to his car more closely.

it’s difficult to eat, but you do so anyway; you don’t want to be rude by wasting the food yoongi made. the news station still plays loudly from the living room as you wait for the press conference to come on.

“so, about you and jungkook...” yoongi starts, looking at you from over the rim of his cup of coffee.

“what about me and jungkook?”

“we both know he didn’t get those bites on his neck from a wild animal attack.”

you sit up straighter in your seat, a sudden spike of irritation hitting you. “aren’t we all grown here? who cares?” you try to sound unbothered despite feeling very green about all of this. after all, you’d only had sex for the first time last night.

“look, i don’t care. fuck him all you want. i’m just trying to advise you not to get emotionally involved, because that’s not how jungkook operates. the amount of girls i’ve had somehow coming after my neck when their situationship with him doesn’t work out is starting to get really old. it’d be best if you didn’t do the same.”

you’re simultaneously annoyed at his assumption of you and flustered because you want to prove him wrong about acting the same as the other girls. you hate both feelings. “i don’t want anything like that with him. i just needed something done and i got it. it doesn’t matter anymore.”

yoongi shrugs, and you get the sense he’s heard that before and isn’t convinced, but you can’t be bothered going back and forth with him about this.

the press conference comes on TV a few minutes later. they announce that classes at your university are cancelled indefinitely; parents and relatives will need to come move their students out, and the school will be operating with a skeleton staff and increased security presence for any students who can’t leave the campus. the citywide curfew will be at 8 p.m. every night, by which time almost everyone will need to be in their homes, and it will end at 6 a.m each morning.

“fun,” you say sarcastically. “at least i won’t have to worry about finals and trying not to get murdered at the same time.”

when jungkook comes back inside, you let him know about what he missed from the press conference.

“we should just stay here for now.” when you raise your eyebrows, jungkook says, “i basically live here when i’m not on campus for classes. plus yoongi-hyung lets me bring girls here all the time, this is nothing new.”

“if both of you are gonna be hiding out in my place, we’ll need to go to the store,” yoongi says. “more mouths to feed.”

“…or i could just go home?” you propose, your mind reeling at them already making plans. you feel awkward about staying in a stranger’s house for who knows how long. “i think we only really needed to stay here for the night. it’s fine.”

“will you have people there with you?” jungkook asks. “it’s not safe to be alone.”

you’re surprised he seems to be this concerned, but you answer: “well, i mean…my sister works 12-hour shifts as a nurse and she’s the only one living there, so…” you’d chosen your university because your older sister lived in the area, and because it was a tradition for women in your family to attend that school, but there were no other relatives you could turn to. your parents lived a couple of towns away.

yoongi comes to the conclusion so you don’t have to. “in other words, you’ll be alone most of the day.”

“…i guess. but i’m really not tryna impose on you by staying here.”

yoongi tilts his head, a small smirk on his lips. you automatically dislike the look on his face. “why don’t you take jungkook with you, then?”

you and jungkook glance at each other. “but, hyung…”

yoongi shakes his head. “you already know i can take care of myself. seriously, don’t worry about it.” and then yoongi winks at you. you don’t know for sure, but you take that to mean he’s probably packing heat like camille’s dad.

“if you’re sure.” turning to you, jungkook says, “so, how about it?”

“it’s my sister’s house, so i’ll have to ask her,” you say tentatively. “yeah…uh. let me do that now, i guess.” you pull out your phone to text her about it, though you know it’ll be a while before she gets another work break and can answer. “in the meantime…i think we’ll need to go to the store either way. and then to campus to pick our things up.”

“you’re right. let’s go then,” jungkook says.

the store is full of people panic-buying food and necessities in preparation for the curfew and effective lockdown, which you expected. you and jungkook end up going your separate ways to find the things you need because it’s quicker that way, and because you want to get in and out of the store as soon as possible. the crowdedness is too much like the party, and despite yourself, anxiety begins rising in you due to the claustrophobic atmosphere. you try to maintain even breaths as you keep searching for items. just what you need—a shiny new trauma to make your life harder.

you pass by a man in one of the less-crowded aisles before realizing he’s standing in front of what you need to get, examining one of the food packages. you wait a few moments to see if he’ll finish up soon, and when your eyes begin to wander, you see that there’s a long gray hair clinging to the back of his leather jacket, standing out clearly against the black. you probably wouldn’t have noticed this at all on any other day, except your mind has been on high alert for hours now; you find it strange that this strand clearly doesn’t match the shade or length of the hair on his head, which is short and plain brown. the shade of the hair also weirdly reminds you of something, though you can’t quite recall what; it remains just out of your mind’s reach.

you shake your head. he could’ve come to the store with somebody who has long gray hair, or hugged them before he left home, and a strand stuck to his jacket. it’s the least of your issues right now.

the man must feel your presence behind him because he turns around to look at you. you’re a little taken aback by his gaze; his expression isn’t mean per se, but very intense, as if his entire focus is trained on you.

there’s a second’s pause, like he’s thinking about something before he speaks. “am i in your way?” he asks, never breaking eye contact. his voice doesn’t portray any particular emotion.

“i just have to get something really quick.” he steps aside and gestures to the rows of food without a word. you slip in beside him and grab what you need before moving away again. “thanks.” you think about telling him about the hair on his jacket but decide against it; your decision is solidified when you spot a wolf figurine keychain on his keys, faded from time but still distinguishable. it makes your breath catch.

there’s no way it could be him. it was kind of dark in the party house with nothing but string lights and lamps illuminating it, and everything happened so quickly…but you do remember the colors of that mask. red, yellow, black—and that dark gray for the fur.

but maybe it’s really all just a coincidence; how much sense would it make to turn every person with wolf paraphernalia and random stray hairs into a suspect?

you walk down the rest of the aisle and away from the man with growing unease. maybe it’s time to find jungkook so you can get out of here; you can hardly keep yourself together, and despite your best attempts at logic, you can’t stop yourself from getting more frantic about those two things.

speeding up your walk and weaving through people, you look down every aisle in search for jungkook before you find him, rushing over to him as you breathe heavily.

“whoa, what the hell is wrong? did somebody do something?”

“no, i…”

“what happened?”

“it’s the…well, the…i saw, uh…”

“y/n.”

“i saw—the mask. the fur from the mask. do you remember it?”

“…you mean that stupid ass werewolf mask?” you gesture for jungkook to lower his voice. “wait, you’re saying you saw it in here?”

“no, i saw a man who had a strand of hair on his jacket…” it starts sounding ridiculous to your own ears the more you speak, but you continue. “the strand—it was the same color as that fur. the same length! and he—he had some weird wolf keychain…”

jungkook stares at you for a long moment before sighing. “you’re not serious? a random strand of hair that could be from anybody or anything? that could be from someone’s fucking grandma for all we know. plus a keychain…maybe he just likes wolves, y/n.”

you already know that saying i just feel like something is off won’t be enough to convince him. you sigh with a deep sense of defeat, considering that he’s probably right. maybe your initial assumption was the more sensible answer. “…right. i think i’m just really fucked up right now after everything that happened. can we finish up here?”

“yeah, we will. because you definitely need to lay down soon or something. you haven’t had any sleep all night, right?” the way jungkook eyes you with concern as if you’ve lost your mind annoys you. you’re about to give a smart remark when you notice something in the carrying-basket he has.

“…a baseball bat?”

“if the killer comes after us again, duh. we’ll be prepared this time. or at least i will.”

“good luck with that if he happens to have another gun.” rolling your eyes, you brush past jungkook to go to one of the checkout counters.

in the parking lot, you see that the man from earlier has also come out and is putting the last of his grocery bags into his car trunk. there’s really nothing spectacular about his appearance that would make him stand out in a crowd, with his average height and average looks, let alone incriminate him as a serial killer. yet that familiar unease won’t leave.

he sees you and jungkook walking towards the car together, and his eyes dart to the bullet holes in jungkook’s car. then he makes eye contact with you. you give a half-hearted wave, unsure what else to do with his eyes stuck on you. for a moment, his lips turn up into the faintest smile before he shakes his head and gets into his own car.

MONDAY, NOV 6

you’ve spent half of saturday and all of sunday trying to get used to living in your sister’s house with jungkook. veronica had been surprisingly okay with having him stay over, though most of it was her being relieved you finally found “a potential boyfriend who’s actually cute.” you didn’t have the energy to argue with her.

you’ve also been constantly checking on camille (to her eventual annoyance) and seeing if there are any more updates on lorelai. still nothing. your dread grows the further away you get from that bloody friday, but you try to keep your thoughts from straying too darkly.

right now, you, veronica, and jungkook all sit on the couch together in a neat little row, a bowl of popcorn in front of you on the coffee table and some science-fiction B-movie playing on the TV. your sister proposed the idea to distract yourselves from everything going on, but so far, you feel like it isn’t very effective. at least not for you. your mind keeps wandering to other things every 5 minutes.

eventually, veronica yawns widely, stretching her arms and legs before rising off the couch. “okay, i’m getting tired as fuck. i need to go to sleep for work tomorrow anyway. you guys enjoy the rest of the movie, okay?” she pats your shoulder as she passes by you on her way out of the room.

jungkook waves. “oh, sure. goodnight.”

“night, sis.”

when jungkook’s attention goes back to the movie, your sister makes eye contact with you and points her finger at you menacingly. you give her a shocked look while she mouths you know what i mean and swirls her finger in jungkook’s direction. embarrassed at the implication, you roll your eyes and turn your head back to the TV screen. having sex with jungkook on your sister’s couch is not high on your list of priorities tonight.

after your sister is gone, jungkook spreads out on the couch like it’s his own living room, placing his legs right over your lap. you sigh, looking over at him—and hoping that your eyes don’t linger too obviously on the expanse of thigh muscle that’s now on display from his shorts riding up higher.

“…really? i don’t want your big ole legs in my lap.”

jungkook just grins. “you should lay down too, it’s more comfortable this way.” you stare at him, and he tries to egg you on by pulling the sleeve of your shirt. “come on.”

“i’m not laying down on top of you, if that’s what you’re after.”

you do end up lying down, but on the opposite side of the couch so that your legs are tangled together, which really just increases the amount of contact between you either way—but whatever.

this makes jungkook laugh more. “ha, it’s like we’re scissoring.”

“so damn corny.”

you two continue watching the rest of the movie, but by the end of it you don’t remember half of what happened. taking the remote, you flip through the channels and try to find something else to look at. there isn’t much interesting to watch on a random monday night—which would be a school night anyway, if not for the current context.

as you search for a channel, jungkook asks: “what would you do if you found out who the killer was?”

you squint your eyes at his odd question. maybe the obvious answer would be to alert the police. but after days of having your anger stoked like a fire, that’s not exactly the answer you’d choose. “maybe i’d kill him.” the words leave your lips easily, and you hardly think twice about them once they’re out.

neither of you speak for a few long moments.

“does that scare you?” you ask, after the silence starts annoying you. you want to laugh, but there’s nothing really funny about the situation.

“…not really. angry women are kinda sexy. so are dangerous ones.”

you scoff. “i’m not tryna be sexy, you fool. and how many dangerous women have you dealt with? seems to me you only have a thing for the innocents.”

“it’s not like i only fuck virgins. you don’t even know me like that.” he nudges your leg with his foot like he’s also annoyed, but his expression doesn’t show any actual irritation.

“…if you want to go back and forth about it, go outside and argue with the wall or something. i’m in no mood, jungkook.” you shove his foot off of you. “just, holy shit. i wish i could have just one hour where i don’t have to think about any of this shit. my mind can’t even breathe.”

he’s actually quiet for a couple minutes after. you think he’s moved on from the conversation until he finally says, “i can give you an hour.”

your body becomes alert at that. the insinuation in his tone is obvious. you glance backwards as if your sister could hear you from upstairs, though you know that’s illogical. “i got what i wanted from you already,” you whisper.

“so? what if i wanted to give you more? you know you’re allowed to have sex with a person more than once, yeah?” he chuckles.

here he is making you this offer, and once again you feel like you’ve been reduced to the state of a confused lamb in front of a hungry wolf. you realize that the idea of letting yourself get more physically entangled with jungkook scares you. he is not someone you can turn into a boyfriend, who wants to be a boyfriend, and you are only looking to save yourself from any potential hurt. “it would just be sex—right? you have to know i’m not looking for anything deeper from you.”

jungkook smirks. like with yoongi, you don’t know if he believes you. “i know.”

you want to undo almost everything from the past few days. you can’t forget, but for a while, you want to just exist outside of the timeline where there’s a killer on the loose and one of your friends is missing. it’s too much to handle; your body is approaching its limits for the amount of stress it can take. you need a balm to numb the pain and the fear, and you dislike that you are giving into your base instincts to do so. you feel guilty, somehow. but pleasure is easy. at least it has been whenever you sought it on your own—and now you have someone else to give it to you. someone who is in front of you now, proposing it with all the willingness in the world. maybe there’s really nothing wrong with saying yes.

“jungkook…”

“hm?”

“please just shut the fuck up and don’t say another word about the outside world right now. i don’t want to think about anything but your…” you falter, still trying to get used to expressing what you want sexually.

jungkook sits up, his hands sliding up your legs and to your hips. “but my what?”

“um, your…” your thoughts end when he leans down and pulls the hem of your sweater up, planting a kiss on your waist where your skin meets the waistband of your sweatpants. one kiss turns into a second, and a third. the fourth becomes an open-mouthed embrace of his lips on your skin, and you make a small noise of pleasure when his tongue gets involved.

“careful. don’t want veronica to come down here, remember?”

you huff. “that isn’t happening any time soon, believe me.”

his kisses continue as he begins to slide your sweatpants down, revealing the waistband of your panties. once they’re fully on display, he leans forward to nuzzle his face between your thighs, his mouth and nose pressing into the seat of your underwear. his actions take you off guard. you actually give a brief chuckle from surprise, though you are also somewhat embarrassed. “now what the hell are you doing?”

“let me savor my meal before i eat it.” his warm breaths tickle your inner thighs as he speaks.

“ugh, don’t turn me off.”

“that’s funny, because i seem to have an easy time getting you wet.” to prove it, his fingers press into the seat of your underwear to feel the wetness that’s seeped into them; you sigh from the brief pleasure his fingers’ movements afford you before he pulls them away.

jungkook drags your panties down next, his lips trailing down your lower abdomen and across the curls of hair covering your pubic mound. your body fills with anticipation at the gradual pace of his actions and the purposeful, wet caresses of his mouth.

when he uses his thumbs to press your lower lips apart and expose you more fully to him, you have half a mind to be self-conscious about it until he places his mouth on you in earnest.

jungkook eats like someone who hasn’t done so in a while and doesn’t know when he’ll get to do it again. his mouth sucks at your clit like he’s desperate for you to come, tongue rolling over the swollen nub in an unrelenting pattern that has your stomach tensing, and you quickly realize you do have to try to silence yourself even if you know it won’t wake veronica up. you twist your hands into the sleeves of your sweater and lean your head back on the couch’s armrest as you arch your hips up closer to jungkook’s face, uncaring about how vulnerable you feel completely offering yourself up to him like this; right now, all you want is to feel good.

“gonna come quick again? maybe we can set a new record?” jungkook pins your knee against the couch with his elbow to keep your legs open as he slides two fingers inside, diving straight in instead of working you up this time. your body breaks out in a sweat and you know you really won’t last long once he does this, the tips of his fingers aiming for that dreadful, wonderful, and overpowering place inside you. you don’t know how people do this—you feel like you’re going to die when he stimulates that spot, and all you want to do is scream even though you can’t.

“a r-record? fuck off…” you choke out, though you begin to rock your hips into the rhythm of his fingers, needing so badly for him to take you over the edge again.

he chuckles. “i don’t think you want me to fuck off right now.”

you have no words for a good comeback when he buries his head between your legs and slurps at your pussy again and crooks his fingers repeatedly to where your orgasm is unexpectedly rushing down upon you, causing your body to tense as you gasp and stifle any sounds that escape with your sweater sleeve.

jungkook doesn’t stop there and you don’t really expect him to, because you’re beginning to learn he isn’t a one-and-done type of man. he keeps sucking and stroking you right into another releasewhile you push the beanie off his head, fist your fingers into his strands, and tremble over the sight of his pitch-black mess of hair between your thighs. something about the visual is so appealing to you.

after he has made you come for the third time, you watch him sit up on his knees to reach into his shorts and pull his dick out, his darkened tip slick with precum. his long hair falls into his face as he glances downward, using the hand he’d been fingering you with to lube himself up with your cum.

“come here,” you tell him, your voice coming out sharper than you intended; but he doesn’t care, because he follows your request without a word and presses himself into your side. the couch is just big enough to accommodate both of you in this position, but it’s still a tight fit, and your bodies are once again tangled together.

“let me touch you,” you say, your palm pressed to his stomach, feeling the firmness of the muscle.

he raises his eyebrows, like you didn’t even need to ask. “of course.”

“no, i mean…” he realizes what you actually mean as you brush his hand away from his shaft and wrap your fingers around it instead.

“should i teach you how?” jungkook brings his hand to overlap yours, though his breath becomes a bit strained when you slide your hand to the base of his cock and back to the tip again, the pads of your fingers rubbing over the sensitive head. seeing your fingers around him turns him on more than he thought it could, and it’s just a simple fucking handjob.

you roll your eyes. “stroking a dickshouldn’t be that hard.”

“everyone likes it differently, though. fast, slow, soft, or rough…just the tip, or the whole shaft.” you can’t deny that—or the way you find yourself throbbing at his words, his voice husky from the pleasure. which is why you let jungkook close his hand more fully around yours and guide your movements.

it’s captivating to observe his reactions from your hand on his skin—the heavy breaths he lets out and the soft moans and even softer whimpers that come in between the exhales. whenever you squeeze his shaft more firmly or rub your thumb against his leaking tip, you find yourself grinning at the rise and fall of his chest and the tongue that darts out of his mouth to lick at his lips. but mostly, your eyes are drawn back to the sight of your hand working him over, his thighs and stomach tensing sporadically.

eventually, you both look away from your joined hands and at each other’s faces. your eyes dart to his lips and back to his gaze again, and you shift your face forward to signal your desire for a kiss. he meets you there by pressing his lips to yours, and it isn’t hard for him to get lost in the meeting of your mouths and the heat from your palm on his shaft.

your free hand returns to his soft hair to tug on it as your tongues slide against each other. he grunts at the burn of his roots being pulled but doesn’t stop you; on the contrary, his body responds favorably as more precum swells from his tip and his nipples poke against the material of his shirt.

“do you like that, jungkook?” you mumble against his mouth.

“you know i do.” at some point, his hand falls away and he lets you stroke him on your own.

jungkook gives a shuddering moan into your mouth when he climaxes minutes later, thick streams of his cum shooting onto his shirt and dripping down your hand. he tries to keep quiet and doesn’t entirely succeed, but it doesn’t much matter.

you squeeze the few remaining drops of cum from his cockhead, trying to make sure you don’t grip hard enough to actually hurt him. you pull your sticky hand away from jungkook when you think he’s finally emptied, but he grabs your wrist and you look at him questioningly. you watch with shocked eyes as jungkook brings your hand up and takes your messy fingers into his mouth, sucking his cum from them. you know instinctively it isn’t the first time he’s done this—not with the look of pure satisfaction on his features as he licks his own seed off your fingers.

his enthusiastic pleasure is part of the reason why you accept when jungkook gives you a crushing kiss, passing his cum from his tongue to yours. you don’t know what you expected it to taste like, but it isn’t gross like you’ve heard others complain about when sharing their sex tales; despite being salty, the overall taste is neutral. still, it takes some getting used to.

when you pull away from each other, noses brushing and lips wet from each other’s spit, you look into his dark brown eyes and get the sudden desire to say something that’s been buried in the back of your mind for days now.

“why did you come straight to me that night?” you whisper. “like you already knew who you were there for.”

jungkook stares back, his lips curving up slightly. “i just wanted to. or i wanted you, more specifically.”

“that’s not an answer.”

“well, it’s my answer.”

“was i another one to knock off your list?”

“you think i have a list?”

“i’m not stupid. it’s not unusual for guys to have a list. plus, plenty of rumors go around.”

jungkook taps his fingers underneath your chin and kisses you on the lips again, though it is brief. “stop believing everything you hear.”

you clearly won’t be getting a straight answer from him tonight. with the moment broken, you sigh and begin pulling your bottoms back on. “…whatever you say, dude.” once you’re dressed, you climb over his body to get off the couch. you poke him in the chest as your eyes roam over him in his disheveled state, his shorts pulled down and his cum staining his black shirt. “might wanna clean yourself up, huh? i’m going to sleep. and, yeah…thanks for the distraction.”

TUESDAY, NOV 7

with the weather being as cold as it is and heading toward winter in another month or so, lorelai is surprised by how quickly the bodies began to smell.

she doesn’t know much of anything about bodily decomposition—because, to her parents’ disappointment, she wasn’t about to be a biology major and have to be around cadavers in a dissection lab—but if this were a movie or something, she would’ve thought it would take longer than just one day. the smell started to hit her the saturday after the party.

but ultimately, this isn’t a movie, and the fact that she’s trapped in a decrepit house in some remote part of town is her present reality.

she doesn’t remember anything about how she got to this house; she thinks she must have been concussed before she was brought here. her head has been hurting badly for days, and not even the simple relief of a painkiller is available.

what she does know is that she’s being kept in a dirty living room on an equally dirty mattress, her hands and legs tied by rope and zip-ties. if there were any miniscule chance of her escaping, it would be impossible to go anywhere considering both her ankles are broken, only adding to the amount of physical pain she’s been in for days.

the living room is mostly empty except for the bodies of some other students from the party, which have been scattered around the room. lorelai tries not to look at them—especially not at the ones she knows—but it’s difficult. they become even more terrifying to her when night falls, turning into dark, rotting shadows in the corners of the room. there has been nothing but the company of these corpses for days, and a couple of visits from the killer.

he's never once taken off his wolf mask or his gloves, and every other part of his body stays covered in all black. she doesn’t have the first idea of what he looks like underneath it all. he has spoken to her a few times, but the voice isn’t one she recognizes. his words when she first awoke inside this house still knock around in her mind, filling her with dread.

he’d crouched in front of her, watching her move around on the mattress and try to orient herself. he had the casual air of someone observing a flipped-up bug struggle on the sidewalk before crushing it underfoot. “you aren’t y/n, but you’ll do for now. we’ll have some real fun later on. you’ll help me give her a good scare.”

“how the fuck do you know y/n?” lorelai had struggled against her restraints, but this only made her newly broken ankles hurt worse. tears began to fall from her eyes from the pain and fear.

the killer had said nothing to that—only tilted his head curiously and stared at her, which was unnerving even if she couldn’t see his eyes.

“you have no fucking reason to go after her, she’s not even a virgin anymore you dumb fuck—” with those words, the killer had backhanded her, sending her already injured head into a fresh wave of agony.

“things would’ve been different if not for that fucking party. you students think you’re so fucking clever, yeah? and look how you paid for it.” it was impossible to see any facial expression, but his body language spoke of anger. “no matter, though. virgin or not, i’ll see this through to the end.”

now it’s yet another morning, and he has returned. he has a lot of debris in his hands—stuff like sticks and dry moss and foliage. he’s also carrying a small bag, the contents of it a mystery. everything he does causes alarm for lorelai, but now confusion joins in.

“ready to have some fun?” he asks. with duct tape over her mouth, she can’t answer back. she watches as he arranges the debris on the ground in front of her, her anxiety mounting as he takes a lighter out of his pocket and sets fire to the foliage.

leaning forward, he rips part of the duct tape away from her mouth with his gloved hand, causing her face to sting. “got anything to say?”

“wh-what the fuck are you doing?”

“i’m gonna stoke a nice fire here…get this knife hot enough to hurt.” he brings out his knife then, and lorelai shrinks away from the blade as he drags the flat of it across her throat—but there’s nowhere else to go, as she’s sitting up against the wall. “then i’ll just cut this pretty little body up a bit. the finishing touch…i think i’ll slice your throat open. how does that sound?” he takes the knife away from her neck to hold the blade over the flames.

lorelai’s breath hitches, and her stomach begins to physically hurt from the outpouring of anxiety flowing through her. she starts to sob, trying to speak through the tears and snot and drool. the only question she can muster up is, “wh-why?”

“this is for y/n—remember? i hope that concussion hasn’t fucked with your memory.” the killer watches the reflection of the flames on the blade as it grows hotter. “and…i’m doing someone a favor.” he doesn’t wait for her to speak again before putting the duct tape back in place over her mouth, leaving her to cry to herself and face her rising distress as he heats the knife until it’s burning hot. internally, she wishes there was any way in the world to get out of this situation.

it isn’t much longer before he’s finished. lorelai screams as he approaches her with the knife, and then at the feeling of the red-hot blade scorching her skin, though the sounds are stifled by the duct tape.

“now, be still while i fix you up.”

WEDNESDAY, NOV 8

you go outside that afternoon to check the mail and have an excuse to get out of the house; it doesn’t matter if it’s only for a few moments. you’re not used to staying cooped up in one place for so long with absolutely nothing to do, and you feel like you’re not too far off from going mad with cabin fever. it hasn’t even been a week since everything happened.

you open the mailbox, and there are the usual bills along with something strange: a blank envelope with no return address. even your sister’s address isn’t written on it. flipping it over, you see that the envelope was never sealed. someone must’ve just come up and put it inside the mailbox. but who the hell would do that, and for what reason? whenever any of your neighbors have something to give you or your sister, they come straight up to the house to do it.

inside the envelope is a set of polaroids. their content makes you drop the rest of the mail. your legs grow weak, and you end up sitting down hard on the end of the driveway, some of the polaroids slipping from your hands. the pictures show the bodies of some of the students from your university, their corpses posed in odd positions and some bare of clothing—all dead.

you struggle to breathe as you frantically flip through the rest of the pictures. in the center of all the group photos is lorelai, her neck torn open and her wrists and ankles tied. she’s still dressed the way she was the night of the party, though her dress is stained with dark brown blood. there are open cuts all over her bare skin, their appearance rough-looking and uneven as if they’ve been cauterized.

there are several group polaroids, several of lorelai alone, and several angles of the outside of a house, which must be the same one the bodies are being kept in. one photo of lorelai slips out of your shaking hands, and you see there’s barely legible handwriting on the back of it, which reads, “this is just the teaser, y/n.”

you scream and don’t stop screaming until jungkook comes running out of the house holding the baseball bat, as if the killer might’ve gotten bold enough to attack in daylight. a couple of your neighbors peek out of their houses and make their way over with concern on their faces once they see you sitting on the ground, your exclamations ringing through the street.

there’s a disarrayed group of people around you grabbing at your shoulders and asking what’s wrong, what happened, and then gasps and exclamations of shock when they see the polaroids. you feel yourself being pulled to your feet and then lifted up—maybe it’s jungkook, because it smells like him—but you’re too disoriented to make proper sense of anything right now. you can only think of how much time has been wasted, and how little time lorelai actually had left.

SUNDAY, NOV 12

in the main lobby of the funeral home, you sit in a chair next to camille, staring into empty space while the other girl tries to cry as quietly as she can. she cries as if she’s ashamed of it, and you wish you could comfort her, but you don’t know what to say or do. for the past few days, you’ve mostly just felt numb.

you’re waiting for veronica to come back out so you can leave, as she’d stayed behind after the service to talk to lorelai’s family for a little longer.

lorelai’s family had opted to have her cremated after seeing the state of her body. a lot of other families did the same after the events of cherry bomb, not even wanting to entertain the idea of a closed-casket funeral. you can understand their feelings about it if you push through the haze in your mind to consider it for long enough. though the morticians have done the best they can over the past week, sometimes knowing that your loved one has multiple stab wounds and eviscerated organs beneath all the makeup and fancy clothing is too much to handle.

when veronica finally comes out, the three of you walk outside to join the rest of the people who’ve started getting in their cars. some still linger in small huddles, shaking their heads and wiping their faces.

jungkook, who’d driven you and veronica to the memorial, waits outside for you all, leaning on the side of the building. you both thought it was probably better for him not to attend the service considering lorelai was never fond of him and he didn’t know her that well.

“is it finished?” he asks.

“it is.” veronica sighs. “god, funerals are so damn…bleak.”

you notice a man waving at your group from the other side of the parking lot and realize it’s camille’s dad. her posture straightens when she catches sight of him, and she hurriedly tries to wipe the rest of her tears before shoving her tissue into her pocket. “i-i think my dad is waiting for me. i…i’ll see you guys later, alright?”

“okay, camille.” the strange absence of emotion that you’ve been trapped in for the past few days suddenly cracks open when you notice camille’s anxious demeanor as she speed-walks away from the rest of you. intense sorrow overtakes you; you don’t want her to leave, but she has to go.

you are crying before you fully understand what’s happening. veronica puts her arms around you and squeezes you against the side of her body. jungkook reaches a thumb up to wipe away your tears, though you don’t let him get very far before turning your head away and into veronica’s shoulder.

“y/n…”

“how am i supposed to go on?” you exclaim, catching the attention of a few people nearby. “the police said maybe she’s just staying with friends. and now look. plus, the killer knows where me and my sister live now…maybe he always knew.”

“we don’t even have a clue who the killer is…” jungkook mumbles. “there’s no one you know of who might have a grudge against you?”

“no, jungkook. the police already gave me all that questioning. and it doesn’t help me feel any better to think maybe all these deaths are somehow my fault.” you scoff.

“y/n, nothing’s your fault because some freak decided to go around killing people; that was his decision.” jungkook argues.

you nod slightly to his words but say nothing else, not wanting to go further into that topic. you don’t know if you can believe him about that.

the parking lot is emptying out now, so you try to pull yourself together so the three of you can leave. “well…you don’t need to keep staying with us if you don’t want to. we have those assigned bodyguards now, so…” you glance in the direction of one other car sitting beside jungkook’s—inside it are two men the police force appointed after the polaroids of the bodies were planted in your sister’s mailbox.

jungkook looks at you as if he’s trying to gauge your expression; he himself looks surprised, though he attempts to play it off. veronica glances between you both, recognizing the awkward shift in the air.

“you don’t want me there anymore? i mean it is your house—” he glances at veronica “—so that’s fine with me if—"

“what? i didn’t say i don’t want you there, neither did veronica, it’s just if you don’t want to be there—"

“i never said i didn’t want to be there, though?”

you both become quiet, jungkook looking at you and you returning his gaze for a few seconds before looking off to the side. veronica is still standing between you both like she’d rather be anywhere else on earth.

“i just figured that maybe…” why are you being so concerned about me? isn’t this the part where we go our separate ways? is what you really want to ask. you have seen and learned enough from your friends’ and even your acquaintances’ experiences to realize that any other one night stand would not have cared so much. that’s how these things go, right? but he isn’t really a one night stand anymore, either.

you don’t even know if you’re considered friends with benefits, but what would that change? you’d still seen others tossed aside without much thought by their FWBs while in times of need. considering his history, you don’t understand why jungkook isn’t following the same template now, and you don’t think you should ask why for fear of breaking the illusion.

fed up with your own confusion, you decide now isn’t the time to lament on your lack of knowledge about these things. “nevermind. that’s fine. so you’ll stay?”

the corner of his mouth lifts in a brief smile. “i’ll stay as long as you won’t try to kick me out.”

you aren’t in the mood to attempt to smile back, but he seems to understand that. “right, well...good.”

“…now that you two have figured that shit out, can we leave?”

FRIDAY, NOV 17

jungkook thought that getting outside a bit more would help you feel better and prevent you from developing a complete fear of leaving the house, which is why you’re sitting in this claustrophobic little diner now with him, yoongi, and camille—and of course, your ever-present bodyguards in the booth behind you all. but this outing isn’t doing anything to mitigate your fears.

nearly 10 minutes in, you have to ask jungkook to switch seats with you so you’re not on the outside of the booth, as you’re afraid that it’s too easy-access if anyone—say, the killer, though you’ve been trying not to think so obsessively about him—were to come in and start stabbing you to death right where you sit. being on the inside calms you for a little while until you become anxious about the window beside you; what if he has a gun again and simply shoots through the glass? all he’d have to do is stand on the sidewalk and aim, his werewolf mask laughing at you with its eternally frozen growling expression, and your brains would be all over the table just like that frat guy’s.

your meal sits half-eaten as you get increasingly lost in your anxieties. the others are talking about something, but you can’t hear what. it’s like some of your senses have shut down or begun working incorrectly. the strawberry sauce in camille’s sundae looks too much like blood and even smells like it from the occasional whiffs you get, and you find yourself staring at the sundae dish and wanting to throw it across the restaurant.

jungkook’s hand touches you on the back, and the tension in your body increases. he feels it and draws away, though he keeps trying to meet your eyes. “are you okay?” he whispers.

“why ask that? she obviously isn’t,” yoongi says, like he’s annoyed with the obviousness of jungkook’s question.

“hyung, i’m just trying to help.”

“it was your great idea to come out here when she didn’t want to, though.”

“y/n—” camille starts.

“can’t you throw that out? it smells like blood.” your mouth feels useless and hard to maneuver, but you manage to say those words.

“what?”

“the…that. that thing.” everyone looks at camille’s melting sundae. yoongi raises his eyebrows.

“blood?”

“do you mean it—looks like blood?” jungkook suggests.

you raise your voice in irritation, not understanding how everyone else is unable to perceive the same scent that you do. “no, i-it does, but it smells like blood too! just get rid of it!”

one of the waitresses comes over to the table. “is everything okay over here?”

“um, we’re fine! i’m finished with this though.” camille hurriedly hands the sundae off to her, trying to keep the situation calm.

“oh, well—the rest of you too? that’ll be it, then?” she gathers everyone’s plates and leaves with a smile that attempts to be cordial but is still colored with unease.

her departure leaves a stiff silence in which you all spare glances at each other but try to avoid directly meeting eyes. camille is the first to break it.

“i’ll ask my dad if i can stay over with you,” she suggests. she suddenly sounds much more tired. jungkook’s eyebrows furrow slightly at her words; yoongi silently glances at the younger man. “just, you know…maybe the extra company would help? he’s been treating me like a kid again, but we should be safe with the bodyguards there, so…”

“you don’t have to do that,” you say, though you’re too exhausted to truly argue.

“you’re in shambles, y/n. and it’s not just for your benefit. i’m feeling pretty fucking alone right now, and it’s hard for my dad to understand the emotional side of it, so…” camille plays with her fingers and doesn’t look at anyone as she speaks; you know talking about her father can be a sore spot for her sometimes. “uh, anyway. not to trauma-dump or anything. just let me do this.”

you sigh. “fine…okay. do whatever you have to. can we just leave?”

as you’re all walking outside, jungkook pulls you aside.

“i still worry about you after that incident at the store, you know?” he admits.

you shrug his hand off your arm and glare at him. “you think i’m crazy.”

“i don’t. i just want you to be able to relax and not feel like you’re being hunted 24/7. i don’t think the killer is constantly waiting around the nearest corner for you, y/n.”

“you don’t know how close the killer could be. he knows where i go to sleep at night. so stop the bullshit, jungkook.”

“you’ll be okay. you have me, remember? i protected you that night…i can do it again.”

you examine his face for a long moment and find that you are too overwhelmed with stress and fear to be moved by his words. “i’d like to trust you…but the killer might just murder you too. then who’ll save me?” you don’t wait for his response before walking away to catch up with the other two.

LYING IN WAIT...

it’s strange to see the police bodyguards in veronica’s driveway and backyard everyday. it’s not the same two all day—they switch off so that there are two doing a day shift and two doing a night shift.

the security team at the hospital where your sister works is aware of the situation, so you try not to get too worried about her safety when she’s away from the house—but it’s difficult.

there have been no more kills connected to your university since lorelai. it seems like half the town has forgotten their fears and tried to go back to some sense of normalcy while the other half still hides away and lives in perpetual panic, including you. the former group of people has started muddying the waters for the police, with some teenagers getting brave enough to sneak around in wolf masks and vandalize buildings with red-lettered virgin graffiti just to fuck with the cops. there have even been a few people who turned themselves in claiming to be the killer—only their supposed confessions never matched the details of the case.

reporters have tried to hound lorelai’s family and your family several times for any speculations or answers on the killer’s identity, but none of you are willing to spread misinformation just to give them something to write about. however, that hasn’t stopped other residents of your town from sharing their speculations and even implicating their own relatives or neighbors—whether as a fucked-up joke or as genuine revenge just depends on whoever’s speaking. with all of these false leads, the police are still no closer to finding the killer than they’d initially been.

everyday feels like you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, though the chances of any more kills are starting to seem improbable; the university is practically empty. but it doesn’t matter to you if the school is nearly deserted, because the killer has his aims set on you now, and you only wish you knew why.

up in your room, you and camille sit on your bed gazing out the window—the window that must always remain locked now, for fear of unwanted ingress. you’ve never been uncomfortable in your sister’s house, but lately you’ve been feeling like you’re boxed in with every wall pressing towards you.

sitting up from your lying-down position, you have to find the appropriate words for a moment before speaking. “camille—i can’t stop feeling like maybe we aren’t entirely safe,” you murmur.

camille raises her eyebrows. “why not? those guys stay outside all day, and we keep everything locked up day and night. literally, the only time the front door opens is for veronica to leave and come back from work everyday.”

“i don’t know. there’s no particular reason for it…it just seems like we’re waiting for something.”

“…yeah? for the killer to be caught.”

“but he’s made no moves recently. you remember the policeman’s daughter, right? i even texted her and she hasn’t heard anything new that we don’t already know. seems like things have slowed down at the police station. it’s not like that abandoned house was in the killer’s name or anything, so what leads would they have?”

camille frowns and rubs her eyes like something’s in them, but when she looks at you directly, you see her eyes are red from unshed tears. “…i want things to be okay, though. i’m tired of living like this. you know how i had to beg just to get my dad to let me leave the house. he’s constantly on edge.” you feel even more unsettled to see camille so distressed lately, as she’s always been the only one able to pull something funny out of a terrible situation—something enough to distract you from the horrors. “all i know is they’ll have to dig his ass out of some hole in the ground at some point. he can’t hide in this town forever.”

“yeah…i guess you’re right.” you still don’t feel reassured, but you don’t voice your doubts.

WEDNESDAY, NOV 22

“i think i might go mad,” camille says from her position on the armchair, her limbs splayed haphazardly across it and one hand stuck in a bag of chips.

you sigh. “you’re the one who wanted to watch this thanksgiving movie marathon.”

“the most mid holiday of the season,” jungkook adds.

“no one cares what either of you think, thanks.” it isn’t long before the program is over and the ending credits are rolling. with an exaggerated exhale, camille gets up from the chair and crunches the bag of chips in her hand. “i’m going to your room, y/n. you two just do whatever it is you do down here, since you hate my movie choices so much!”

“means we can finally turn the channel.” jungkook snatches the remote off the coffee table and does just that.

camille goes into the kitchen to throw out the chip bag and wash her hands. your focus returns to the TV. a few seconds later, you hear the upstairs flooring creak above the noise of the water pouring from the tap.

“what’s up, sis? i thought you were sleeping.” veronica is known to be a deep sleeper, so it’s not common for her to be getting up in the middle of the night. there’s no answer to your question. you glance upstairs, but your sister isn’t standing there; she isn’t standing at all, instead being carried by someone wearing an all-too familiar mask.

you scream as the killer tosses your sister over the stair railing. her torso has been sliced open from collarbone to navel, her body leaving a large splatter of blood on the floor where she lands. jungkook jumps to his feet but is momentarily immobilized as he gazes at your sister’s body crumpled on the floor. you slide off the couch and crawl over to her, still crying out, but there’s no life left to try and salvage.

the screaming brings camille rushing to the kitchen doorway. she can barely vocalize what’s wrong? before spotting veronica’s body and stopping in her tracks. in a moment that feels like it takes forever to pass, the killer pulls a gun from his waistband—you recognize it as one of the guns the policemen carry and realize he must’ve killed the bodyguard posted in the backyard—and shoots her in the chest twice.

“camille!” when you go over to where she’s lying on the ground, she is still alive but bleeding intensely and struggling to breathe. your knees slip in the blood that begins pooling around her. “shit, camille…p-please don’t die…” you press your hand against the wounds, but they’re bleeding so much that your efforts don’t help, and the pressure of your hand causes her more pain.

there’s the sound of a gunshot at the front door as the lock is blown off, and the door is banged open a few seconds later by the remaining bodyguard. he has virtually no time to fire off another shot before the killer is shooting him in the head first.

the killer throws the gun aside, taking his knife in his other hand and making his way down the stairs. “your sister left her window cracked open. i waited for days for a slip-up like that. see how much harm can come from a simple mistake? well, she was collateral damage anyway.”

even in your panic, it’s as if all your bodily functions freeze when you recognize the familiarity of the killer’s voice. camille reacts with a rattling gasp, but her body is becoming too weak for her to utter anything; all she can do is watch as the man stops at the bottom of the stairs and pulls his mask off.

“yoongi…” your voice breaks as you try to speak again, but nothing coherent comes out.

he drops the mask on the floor and brushes a hand through his hair. “i guess you weren’t expecting that. good. we kept it up ‘til the end.”

your lips form around the word we, but your vocal cords won’t cooperate. you twist around to look at jungkook, who is still standing by the couch.

the man who you’d gotten too close to for your own good and done so many firsts with, who’d promised you that he’d protect you and was even there for you on the day of lorelai’s memorial, looks at you now with eyes glowing from the thrill as his mouth twitches into a smile—small at first but growing into a full grin. “i almost can’t believe we staged all that shit and it actually worked. you really believed it all, y/n.

not all of those kills were hyung’s, of course...there’s no way i’d miss out on the best parts. you don’t know what it’s like until you kill a person for the first time. crashing cherry bomb was his idea, though. and lorelai was mine. that bitch would’ve kept you away from me, and i needed her gone for this kill to work.”

through tears, you finally muster up the strength to ask, “wh-why have you done this? that night…y-you mean to tell me none of that was real? being shot at—why would you—” your voice rises until you’re shouting. “you-you’ve killed so many people. what was the purpose?!”

jungkook’s smile fades somewhat as he pretends to think about it, acting like he’s reminiscing on wistful memories. “i realized that killing and fucking aren’t that different, y/n. the real ecstasy of it is in taking someone pure…and doing something to them that has never been done before, and can never be done again. there’s a certain eroticism in killing someone, stabbing them, entering them…it’s like sex in the most profane sense.”

“you’re disgusting,” you mutter, glaring at him through your tears. you can’t help but feel shame to think of the times you’d had sex with him. had he simply been imagining murdering you during those moments? it makes you want to throw up.

yoongi steps closer until he’s right in front of you and camille. “and as for me…i just enjoy it. practice really does make perfect. you wouldn’t believe how entertaining it can be to see someone beg for their life.” his lips turn upwards in a dark smile resembling jungkook’s. “but instead of raging at us, i think you have bigger matters to be concerned with.” yoongi gestures his knife hand to camille, and when you look down at her body, you realize she’s no longer moving.

you lift camille’s head up with your hands as if that could make her return your gaze, though you can find no sign of breathing or pulse. “god, no…” you scream in frustration, your hands slipping in her blood. you check once more and again for any signs of life, because there is just no possible way this could’ve happened, but there are none present. “please—i’m sorry…”

“time’s up.” yoongi grabs your arm and yanks you away from camille, jostling you to try to get you on your feet. you flail around in his grip, fruitlessly scratching at his arms that are covered by his thick jacket, before managing to elbow him in the groin with your frantic movements. “shit!” this causes him to loosen his grip, which is enough for you to scramble away from him, slipping in the blood as you go.

you make it to the other side of the room where the officer lies facedown—though there isn’t much left of his face from yoongi’s shot. you snatch the gun from the dead officer’s hand and point it in the direction of both men. the safety is already off; all you’d have to do is pull the trigger and kill either one of them right now. before you can act, yoongi uses his free hand to pull another gun from his waistband—his own.

“as i said before, i know how to take care of myself,” he says, flicking the safety off and aiming for you, though his stance shows he’s still in pain. “please don’t assume it’ll be that easy. do you even know how to shoot a gun?”

you and yoongi are at an impasse as you both point your guns at each other, jungkook looking on with casual amusement coloring his face. “fuck you,” you spit out. you remain hesitant to fire on him, knowing that even if you succeed, he could fatally shoot you at the same time.

“let’s not do it this way,” yoongi says, his voice low and soft in an attempt to be persuasive, though you just find it disturbing. “you were supposed to be a clean kill. a few stabs and it’d all be over. i’ll even let jungkook do it, since you seem to like each other so much. do you really want to be shot down like a dog like camille over there?”

“you and him can both fry in hell!” you shout.

yoongi glances over at jungkook. they both nod before yoongi hands the knife to him, and the younger man takes a few steps in your direction. you don’t know whether to point the gun at him or keep it trained on yoongi; your head is pounding with a headache that you’ve only just realized you have. “don’t come over here. stay away from me!”

you press your back to the wall as jungkook comes closer, inching towards your right side with his knife at the ready. you slide away from him as you keep your back against the wall. “hand it over, y/n. it doesn’t have to be like this.”

“hand it over and let you kill me? are you insane? you lied to me this whole time, you fucking piece of shit.”

jungkook scoffs and looks at yoongi as if to say can you believe this? “why wouldn’t i lie to you? you were always meant to die.”

he won’t stop coming towards you, and you’re running out of room to slide away from him. you grasp for anything to try to reason with him, though you know it’s futile. “you realize that if you kill me now and you conveniently survive, everyone will know it’s you? you’ve been living here for weeks, you jackass!”

“hyung and i have that covered. it’s not for you to worry about, considering you won’t be worrying about anything soon.”

jungkook lunges for you with the knife, thinking he can catch you off guard and overpower you. you scream and pull the trigger in your frenzied state of mind, shooting yoongi. the next few things seem to happen almost simultaneously:

you hear the crash of yoongi’s body hitting the TV stand and the TV falling to the floor.

you feel jungkook’s knife piercing your shoulder, causing you to fire a stray round into the wall from the unexpected burst of pain.

you hear another gunshot that’s not from you; you see and feel jungkook stumble into you, the knife sliding from his fingers and to the floor.

you realize that he’s been shot when his hand flies to the bullet wound on his lower back; he’d been standing in front of you, and yoongi meant to hit you, not him.

“jungkook!” yoongi’s shout is furious and regretful as he steadies himself on the TV stand.

trying to push the pain into the back of your mind, you clumsily grasp jungkook’s fallen knife and run for the stairs. more shots follow you and most of them miss but one, which strikes you in the thigh. while you cling to the stair railing and try to regain your footing, you are suddenly staring mortality in the face and understanding with a freezing-cold clarity that you will die right now if you don’t do something.

your nervous system vibrates with fear and adrenaline as you tighten your grip on the police officer’s gun and shoot yoongi with it twice—in the same area he’d shot camille.

these last two bullets finish him off immediately. you don’t think it’s fair, with how camille suffered and bled and died in your arms. for a moment, you’re so outraged that you wish he’d come back to life so that you could kill him again. you’re torn from these thoughts by jungkook.

“you bitch…he was my only family after everyone else threw me away. do you understand? i’ll fucking kill you!” jungkook is nearly writhing in the ground from his upset and from the hurt of his injury; it frightens you that this same man is someone you once thought you could grow fond of.

you aim the gun for jungkook next, but the chamber is empty. either way, he currently has no weapon, which leaves you with a small chance to get away before he re-arms himself. throwing the gun away, you stagger up the rest of the steps while his screams continue echoing up to you.

you give no thought to the blood trail you’re leaving behind as you rush to veronica’s room and to the window yoongi had entered through. you begin squeezing yourself through, keeping your grip on your knife all the while, but your injuries make it difficult to move. a few more tears slip out as you try to balance your injured leg on the tree branch beneath the window, and the desperation of wanting to give up clings to you.

you hear jungkook’s heavy and limping footsteps coming up the stairs, and you attempt to hurry, but you’re only halfway out of the window. when he crashes into the room, it’s unnervingly easy for him to grab your arm and yank your body back through the window, uncaring of how you get scraped up in the process.

he jams you up against the nightstand with one of the kitchen knives to your neck to stop your movements; his harsh maneuver causes the objects on the nightstand to rattle. the nightstand’s edge digs into the backs of your thighs, the pressure causing your wounded thigh to hurt more.

“you want to know why i picked you?” jungkook hisses, the knife’s blade stinging your throat as it begins to break skin. “you were just another choice out of many, but i decided you’d be the first one that i’d fuck and kill.”

it’s painful to hear, but it angers you at the same time. “fuck you!” in your rage, you spit in his eyes. jungkook jerks back and the knife shifts from its previous position at your neck; you take those few seconds to grasp the alarm clock off the nightstand and crash it against his head.

“shit—!” he cries out, stumbling and grasping the side of his head. he tries to grab for you again, but you jump onto the bed and crawl away from him, your stomach lurching at all of veronica’s blood soaked into the sheets. you spot a small decorative glass bowl on the dresser—the one filled with little candies that you’d always teased veronica for, saying she was so much like a grandma handing out treats to her grandchildren. when your feet touch the ground again, you clasp your hand around it like it’s a lifeline and fling it at jungkook’s head as hard as you can, just as he makes it around the bed to your side. the shards cut his face when it breaks, slowing him down further as he grabs his slashed and bleeding face. one of his eyes is blinded from the blood and glass.

this will probably be your only chance while he’s struggling to gather himself. you rush towards him with the knife handle tight in both of your hands and drive the blade into the middle of his chest, putting all your strength into that movement—just as his own knife impales your abdomen.

you are both simultaneously struck from the shock of being stabbed, and it takes you a few long moments to piece your mind back together as the pain radiates throughout your body. jungkook groans when you shift the knife around in his wound as you pull it out, letting his blood flow out freely. his breaths become wet and rattling as he chokes on his own blood, the red fluid staining his mouth and dripping down to his neck. he jams his knife further into your wound in retaliation so that the handle is flush against your body, causing your head to spin.

“i-if i die, i’m taking you w-with me.” jungkook gasps with his remaining effort. his body starts to sag from its standing position as he weakens, his hand slipping from the knife handle. he loosely grasps the comforter with one hand as he collapses to his knees, his torso becoming soaked with blood and his head bleeding from your earlier hits.

you drop your knife and lean against the bed too, shifting your body to find a position that could lessen the pain, but it’s impossible with a knife lodged in your abdomen. you know enough to understand that you’ll bleed out faster if you remove it, though, so you resist the urge. “you can rot in hell alone, jungkook.” you watch him struggle for what feels like minutes before his breaths stop altogether and his body slumps to the floor. he is just a blur of clothes and blood through your tears. you’ve never felt so lonely in your life.

you have a thought to call 911, but you’re becoming more and more lightheaded from the blood loss, and you can already hear sirens approaching on your street. you figure one of your neighbors must’ve called after hearing the gunshots; perhaps the bodyguard sent for backup before he was shot. your rescue has come much later than you would’ve preferred—or maybe everything just happened much faster than it seemed. you can’t tell anymore.

you can’t tell anymore, and you no longer want to look at the carnage around you, and nothing makes any sense. so, you close your eyes to it all; and when you feel someone lifting you in their arms—this sensation is so familiar—and maneuvering you onto a stretcher, you allow yourself to relent to it and empty your mind of everything.

@ihatemen55 @cottoncandyclouds-stuff @yunhofingers @heybabesposts @twilight-loveer @whipwhoops @mrsminho @junecat18 @hoshi-is-ult-bbg @okayiamkassandra @witchbitxhxx @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @thaiika @goldentea10 @iloverubberduckiez-blog @katie-tibo @ohsweetmimosa @dream-cvtcher @hoseokteardrop @lpgirl2324 @vanillacupcakefrosting @gukiemochi @jkslaugh97 @ahgasegotarmy116 @jeonjklibs @bangtans-momma @screamertannie @kenzietaetae @han-nah-banana @00frenchfries00 @taiwan0618 @laurynne5 @monvante @ynisthatyou @thiccthighs19 @jeonwiixard

#jungkook smut #jungkook fic #jungkook imagines #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts fic #bts smut #bts x you #bts x reader #black reader #x black reader #x black fem reader #black fem reader #fem reader #female reader

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candyopals · 11 months ago

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[Discord Curse AU]

This is not an infection au per se, but, it follows similar guidelines so I'm going to tag it as such. Differences are; minimized gore, existing-story relevancy, & the end result is not death.

Enantiodromia

Unable to resolve their missing Elements problem, the Mane 6 went home from the Discord Labyrinth to figure out how to continue life in Ponyville - which was fully intact, albeit still a little strange. It still rained chocolate now & then. There were extra laws to physics that broke themselves daily.

Discord's true curse, at first, was unnoticeable.

Cagey guarding of one special item from Rarity ['She gets tense at work, it's understandable.'], forgotten plans from Rainbow Dash ['She's so active, everyone forgets things, right?']. Occasionally, a fib would slip out of Applejack, but she'd shake her head, correct herself, & say it was a mistake.

Even the physical changes went mostly unnoticed ; to ponies who saw each other every day, they weren't significant enough in their gradual takeover to raise suspicion.

Nobody thought much of it until Pinkie Pie missed a pony's birthday ['She's been hiding herself away a lot lately, I wonder why?'] & one of Twilight's teleport spells failed. Not to mention the . . . unicorn horn? growing from Applejack.

Fluttershy was the first to go missing.

['I hope she's safe.' - The Lost Spark]

#enantiodromia #my art #mlp #my little pony #mlp infection au #applejack #mlp applejack #tw body horror #everyone's monster forms #take an animal that embodies their opposite trait #there won't be a ton of blood #or gore #for shock value #i dont like that much #just cool monsters

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blaire-apricity · 2 months ago

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Hi! So I would like to request the LaDs boys or just Sylus honestly lol. What they would do if mc got kidnapped, possibly kidnapped for their aether core and experimented on. I imagine it would be quite interesting to read. Thank you for your writings!

Blood-bound Retribution

sʏʟᴜs x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᯓ❅ ┆ synopsis┆ : They had dared to touch what was his, he'd make sure they pay for that mistake—

ᯓ❅ ┆ tags┆ : short fiction, slight gore & possible OOC

──────────────── ˗ˏˋ ❅｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽ ˎˊ˗ ────────────────

Normally, missing Sylus' calls would mean you were ignoring him out of some petty reason or spite. But when his third call went unanswered and your phone showed as out of service, he knew instantly something had gone wrong.

Without a moment's hesitation, Sylus barked orders to his loyal henchmen, Kieran and Luke, commanding them to scour every CCTV feed and dig through records to find your last known location. Sylus had connections everywhere—an underworld network of people ready to act at his whim—and he wasn’t shy about using it, especially when it came to you. He would burn the city down if that’s what it took to keep you safe.

It didn’t matter if his own life was on the line—there was no hesitation in his mind when it came to saving you. No second thoughts, no doubts.

It took him less than five minutes to locate you, he almost admired the audacity of your kidnappers. Whether they were stupid or simply suicidal didn’t matter. Regardless of what fueled their recklessness, they would soon regret kidnapping someone who belonged to him.

He didn’t need backup for this—no, he wanted to personally deal with these fools. He relished the thought of their faces when they realized the depths of their mistake.

Kicking down the warehouse door, Sylus shattered the warehouse door, splinters flying as his imposing figure stepped into the dimly lit space. His crimson eyes swept the space, taking in the twisted array of scientific equipment, confirming what he suspected—they knew about the aether core within you.

The dozen or so people in the room—some in lab coats, others armed to the teeth—stopped their work, all turning to face him as he strode inside. “Who are you? Leave now, this area is restricted!” one barked, the group tightening around him, guns pointed directly at his chest.

Sylus chuckled darkly, tilting his head as he adjusted his gloves with a practiced calmness. “You really don’t know who you’re dealing with, do you?” His voice was low, amused.

“I’ve got to say… the sheer audacity it takes to try something like this is almost impressive.” He shook his head, still unfazed by the guns trained on him, his eyes glowing more intensely.

In the corner of the room, you stirred. Your vision blurred from the blow to your head, but the sight of that familiar silver hair pierced through the fog. “Sylus…?” you croaked, barely able to form the words.

You hadn’t been harmed—yet. Had they gone further… well, death would’ve been a mercy compared to what he had planned for them.

In the blink of an eye, Sylus was at your side, effortlessly tearing the restraints from your wrists. You collapsed into him, your trembling arms wrapping around his back, and he returned the embrace—briefly, but firmly.

The kidnappers, clearly on edge, turned their guns toward you both, and you braced yourself for the sound of gunfire.

Sylus leaned in, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “Close your eyes for me, sweetie.”

The next few moments were a whirlwind of screams, then deafening silence. The metallic tang of blood filled the air, warm splatters dotting the floor. You didn't dare to open your eyes knowing the gruesome scene he left.

Limbs were strewn across the floor, blood pooling beneath the mutilated bodies—there wasn’t a single one left whole. He had torn them apart as if they were nothing but paper.

Sylus held you tightly, unbothered by the carnage around him. Gently, he lifted you into his arms and carried you out of the blood-soaked room as if it were just another day. Opening your eyes, you saw Kieran and Luke waiting outside, as if nothing had happened, completely unfazed by the massacre that had just unfolded inside.

"Investigate the warehouse," He ordered, his tone icy. "I want to know who was behind this." Without a word, the two men moved into the now deathly quiet space, ready to uncover whatever secrets the kidnappers had left behind.

As Sylus carried you away, his hands tenderly soothing your wrists, his mind was already racing ahead. Whoever orchestrated this would pay, no matter where they hid. They had dared to lay hands on you—his, and his alone. They would learn the true meaning of suffering.

──────────────── ˗ˏˋ ❅｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽ ˎˊ˗ ────────────────

To anyone that's interested, I've actually started a mentioning list. ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

╰｡ Author's Note: I actually meant to post this way earlier but I messed up the queue so I had to manually post it. (╥ ω ╥) I apologize for taking long to fulfill this request-

Thank you for requesting this prompt! I actually enjoyed writing it, I hope it's up to your liking!

╰｡ Tagging: . ݁˖ . ݁ slitheringwaves

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is-the-fire-real · 11 months ago

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When I was last on tumblr, it was ten years ago and one of the biggest faux pas you could commit was incorrect tagging.

It was Literally Colonialism to use a tag that was For Certain Oppressed Groups. The actually-autistic tag was created because allistics "took over" the autism tag, and this/other tags became heavily policed by users to make sure they remained a "safe space".

I remember seeing countless posts about how autistics would never be safe if we didn't have a bubble to protect us from interacting with allistics. The same went for tags about transliness and queerness. The going approach used militarized and hyperbolic language to characterize and other folks who weren't in the community: autistics (the group I had the most direct experience with) were attacked by allistic invaders who violated and conquered autistic tagging systems.

The "Literally Colonialism" isn't a joke. I saw plenty of suggestions that to even use a tag which was perceived as being "not yours" was colonization of ideas and thoughts. To be allistic, have an opinion on autism, and tag it as "autism" was held up as being exactly the same as the behavior of empires and nation-states.

Obviously, I don't entirely agree, and don't think this particular hyperbolization is helpful for advocacy or for dialogue. But I do find it interesting how, in the decade since I was last here, it seems to (mostly) still be true that you should only use certain tags if you have a particular identity...

... unless you're not Jewish, in which case feel free to use any and all Judaism-related tags and break the system's meager functionality for Jewish people.

As someone who is using Tumblr to connect to online Judaism, it's daunting to see how many posts under "judaism" are by non-Jews screeching about Israel. Seeing non-Jews openly talk about they tag their posts with gore, rape denial, Holocaust denial, October 7 denial, and other deliberately-triggering material with Jewish-themed tags specifically to make Jewish users of Tumblr feel unsafe. Reading them telling each other about how this is advocacy, this will absolutely win the war for Gazans, and how anybody who blocks them (in order to make sure the tags can actually work as intended) is a genocidal coward. Using that self-same militaristic language to describe their activities, only instead of criticizing, they're bragging.

It's, uh, kind of fucked up.

Imagine going to the actually-autistic tag and finding nothing but a wall of allistics claiming that they've victoriously conquered the tag from those inhuman monsters pretending to have problems when other Real People are the ones who are suffering. I think we would all intuitively understand that this would be Wrong. Even if there was some supposed outward justification for being mad at certain autistics, we would understand that holding all autistics everywhere responsible for it is wrong. That breaking a community's ability to talk to each other is wrong. That trying to trigger people and then telling them to commit suicide is wrong.

And we'd also understand, or come to, that the very action of going "This community I'm not part of doesn't deserve to have this tag, I'mma take it back, or at least ruin it so no one else can have it" is an expression of privilege. It is wrong, and it is immature, and it is cowardice.

These smug, self-involved, active attempts at causing harm make no sense at all if seen as advocacy; they help no one, advance no cause, stop no Zionists (whatever that means) from expressing themselves online.

They only make sense when seen as Jew-hate.

#judaism #jumblr #antisemitism #jew hatred #leftist antisemitism #antisemitism on tumblr #guess i'm ready for the anon hate to come rolling in #is-the-fire-real original #jew by choice

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httpscomexe · 3 months ago

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Runaway

Summary: You’re a mutant, a hybrid actually, and hybrids are big in the market. So when the x-men find you, you’re considered a priority.

(Find What I’m currently writing by checking my pinned post)

Parings: Logan Howlett x Hybrid!Reader

Warnings: Mutant trafficking, violence, descriptions of gore, kidnapping, death, blood, language, alcohol, some drug mention. (Individual warnings per chapter)

Word Count: 4125 (Find all chapters here) CH2

P.S. If you’d like to be tagged, ask in the comments, you also have permission to send an ask, but make sure it is NOT anonymous, so I know your username, don’t worry, I’m scared of confrontation too. But this is a SAFE SPACE where I will not judge. Thank you again.

“Hey. Come on out.”

You’ll never understand why everyone hated mutants. Everyone found them disgusting, revolting, a descendant of satan. It was bad, the way the world was turning out. They wanted mutants either murdered or locked up, as if you didn’t all have emotions just like every other being. You had them stronger, but we’ll get to that later.

You were scared to go into public, your trust for humankind growing thinner as every day passed by. You really thought they were all horrible. That was until you met the best human on the planet.

Matthew.

He was into the whole “you’re created the way you are for a reason,” and “All lives matter, even the mutants.” He even had a whole hippie van, a Volkswagen to be specific. Painted a sky blue with a little rainbow design on the front bumper to show he meant peace.

You occasionally go out with your friends, and they’d smoke week and drink whiskey while you stared into the fire. Only joining them when they “meditate to lift their spirits and become one with God.” Whatever that meant. But he didn’t want you to let them know you were a mutant. Apparently he didn’t want to cause a scene or make a big deal out of it. You found it sweet at first, but after a few months of it happening, you wanted it to stop. You wanted his friends to just accept you for the way you were. A mutant.

You weren’t a vicious mutant. You’d never hurt anybody in your life. Well. You have. On accident.

But he didn’t know about that. He knew you were an introverted mutant that wanted nothing to do with the world. Sometimes you’d want to just end your pain and misery, but that would only boost every human's ego, and kill the mutants.

You’ve thought about leaving without a word also, maybe even going to the ‘X Mansion’ at some point, but you weren’t sure that they would accept you.

You were more than a mutant, you’ve been told that enough times before.

You’re a freak.

You were born wrong.

Your parents knew you were going to be born a mutant. The tail and large ears on your scan showed that, but they still had you, even knowing you would be tortured the rest of your life.

You’ve been in and out of rings, forced to fight other mutants, but you’re always immediately bought by another rich fuck. Apparently your cute little deer tail and big ears were sexually arousing for them.

But you’ve gotten lucky, always being bought out by another rich old white dude who offered more money to the last.

You also got lucky when the last guy had a heart attack, old age got to him. So you got away, and you met Matthew.

Matthew.

He spoiled you. Buying everything you loved, and everything you showed him. He loved you. Adored you for who you are. You were happy. You really believed that not every human was bad, that maybe there were some good people in the world.

Money was more important to him in the end though.

When you told him you weren’t ready to have sex with him, he was more than just angry…

“You fucking bitch!” You scream as his hand collided with your cheek, the force sending you to the floor, landing hard on your ass, bending your little tuff of a tail. “After everything I’ve fucking done for you, you can’t even just fuck me once!?” He shouts down at you before grabbing your fluffy ear, pulling you back up to your feet. “Fuck it, you little fucking freak, I’m calling mutant control.” Tears were already streaming down your face, and you didn’t have it in you to bother crying for him not to call them, the line was already ringing on his phone, the sound was distant but yet it felt so loud in your ears as he explained that a mutant with a tail and large ears was in his apartment. Then you heard it.

“Oh good, someone finally found my doe…”

You’d recognise the voice from anywhere.

“I’ll offer you 32 million.”

Of course, he never got the money. Instead, he received a bullet to the head, and he got to be meat for some dogs. Part of you felt bad, but whatever.

That brought you to now though. Curled up in the back of a dog kennel, a red collar around your neck with a little taser on it if you didn’t behave.

“Hey, come on out.” The voice tells you. The man dressed in black had a large gun on him, the same one every other guy was wearing. “I said come out!” He raises his voice, and it startles you, making you basically lunge out of the cage and he quickly pulls you to your feet and shoves you forward.

It was feeding time. And of course, they made fun of you by throwing a large bowl of freshly picked greens in front of you on the table. AKA, grass from the front yard.

How funny.

So no, you haven’t eaten since you got there, about 5 days ago. But you weren’t the only mutant who was in the warehouse. There were about 15 others, each of them with unique abilities or as the humans would call them, “Deformations.”

There was a guy you got along with, his name was Peter. Or that was the name you gave him. His skin was scaly like a lizard, and his tongue was naturally split, his pupils horizontal. He was an animal mutant, just like you.

Alongside him were a few other mutants, one that spat fire, his tongue always taped shut. A girl that could see into people's minds, a blindfold on her eyes.

Everything that you were all born to do was restricted, your powers all held back.

“Eat you fucking animal.” The man nudges you with his gun, but you continue to slouch over, ignoring him. “I said fucking eat!” He smacks the side of your head, and tears threaten to fall. “Fuck it.” He mumbles, grabbing a handful of the grass, little pebbles of dirt still attached to it before attempting to shove it into your face, trying to force you to eat the fucking earth.

“Let, GO!” You shout, pushing him as hard as you could, then picking up the bowl and slamming it over his head. But just before he could knee you in the stomach…

“You fucking-“

“Hey, don’t hurt that one.” The Russian voice comes to the fucking rescue. Again.

He’s wearing the same robe, basically a KKK onesie with a red line down the middle, along with his stupid fucking hat that made him look like a pedophilic blinged out pastor. You were sure he wasn’t allowed near schools.

“This one is my prized possession.” He stops in front of you, and you swear he’s gained a few inches in height. You wouldn’t doubt he wore heels. “Isn’t she just adorable, so feisty for a little deer.” He chuckles, and you want to punch him, but you instead clench your fists at your sides. His hand reaches up to stroke your ear, something you’ve grown to hate. And after a moment, he tugs it, forcing you to your knees, ignoring your pained cry as he continues to hold your fluff tight in his fist. “Okay little girl, I’ve had just about enough of you… if you want to starve, then fucking starve…!” He growls, throwing you to the side, and not a moment passes before two large hands from different men are gripping your arms and taking you back to your room, quickly tossing you in your cage.

“What’s in here?” The voice sounded young, a woman. Not a voice you’ve ever heard before. But it startles you awake. “I don’t see anything.”

“Wait what’s that?” You sit up, pressing your back against the metal of the cage.

“Take the cover off.” Some footsteps approach your confinement, and your ears pin to the back of your head. If you were a dog, your tail would surely be tucked between your legs as a hang grips the plastic sheet covering your cage, and they move the cover away from the front of the kennel, slowly so as not to scare whatever was inside.

“Is there anything?” You scoot further to the back of the cage, not wanting anything to do with whoever it was, you couldn’t see any of their faces. The bright light behind them was only casting a silhouette in front of you. The one who opened the cage, a man, was huge. He was at least 6 feet, and his hair seemed to peek in two places like kitty ears.

“Yea, a hybrid.”

“A vicious kind?”

“I have no idea, you look.” He steps aside, and another person steps forward, a woman with red hair. “Hey there, we're not gonna hurt you.” She tells you, using a key to unlock your cage. But you still don’t trust it, moving further against the back of the cage, you were sure there would be lines on your back from the pattern of the cold metal. “Hey, hey, hey…” She speaks softly, trying to calm you, but you weren’t going to give in. Not again. “We’re here to help you…” She opens the cage door slowly, and gets onto her knees to appear smaller. But you don’t move, you only seem to compress yourself further against the grate, and you see her sigh. “Hey can you dim the lights so she can see us better Ororo?” She turns around, asking another woman about the lights, which she swiftly moves to adjust the lights. Now you could see all four of them clearly.

The girl in front of you had red hair, she was pretty, and she was wearing a blue and green suit. Ororo had white hair, along with a matching white suit. Then there was a man standing near her, also wearing some tight spandex looking suit, but he also had goggles on his eyes, it stood out at his other features. But then there was the larger man. His little cat ears were just his hair, combed to sit like ears.

“We’re mutants too…” She tells you, staring into your eyes. Your ears are still pinned to the back of your head, you didn’t care that they were mutants, you’ve been betrayed enough. “Sweetie, we need you to come out…” She holds her hand out, and you flinch, making her flinch also. She was scared of you too. “Logan, we’re gonna have to grab her.” What? You look around frantically, but of course, you didn’t have anything to use as a weapon.

The man you assume named Logan walks up to the cage as the orange haired girl backs away, then the other man with the goggles speaks.

“Wait.” Logan stops, turning around to look at him.

“What?”

“Maybe just back away from the cage, she might feel more comfortable that way.” He tells Logan, and you all watch as he slowly backs away, all of them creating some distance between the cage and their bodies, Ororo blocking the door in case you try running.

You hesitate at first, but you slowly move to all four, cautiously crawling out and your ears twitch slightly, listening for any sound of movement as your eyes dart back and forth between the group. As soon as you’re out of the cage, you begin to stand to your feet. You were smaller than them. Much smaller. But you’re smaller than everyone, you were an animal hybrid after all.

And you weren’t just a deer, you’re a fawn.

You look between them, and they can tell you’re still scared. Your ears weren’t as low as before, but your body still stood stiff.

“So you’re a deer hybrid?” The voice comes from your right, Ororo. She crosses her arms to appear less threatening before she takes two steps towards you. But you don’t back away, you only tilt your head curiously. “Are you able to speak? Can you understand us?” She stops about a foot from you, and you nod your head slightly, still not sure about them, but your trust was growing for Ororo. “What’s your name?”

“Who are you guys?” You finally whisper, your throat sore from not talking for too long.

“We’re X-men. We’re here to save you, and the other mutants in this warehouse. Have you heard of the X-Mansion?” You nod, and cross your arms over your chest. You’ve never bothered with the X-Mansion, always figured it was some sort of trap for mutants. Hell, the four people standing around you didn’t look like mutants.

You look around the room again, your eyes only stopping when they land on Logan. You recognize him now. He’s the Wolverine. And you weren’t sure why, but you seemed to be… attracted to him. Not romantically, but just attracted. You suddenly felt safe as you looked up at him, not even realising it when you took a few steps closer to him, your tail wagging just once, a natural indication that you were at ease, something of course that only deer do.

Apparently, you made it obvious that you felt safer around him. It wasn’t the tag wag, the ears coming up, or the way your pupils filled the entire shape of your eye when you were excited. It was clinging onto him suddenly. Throwing your arms around his waist and holding onto him like your life depended on it. Which honestly, I probably did.

He wasn’t excited for the mission, he wasn’t nervous for the mission. He just wanted to get the mission over with. Obviously, he cares about the people he saves, the mutants. He’s gone on hundreds of missions before, considering his age. So another rescue mission, only 15 mutants, was nothing big to him.

He got into his suit, pulling the yellow costume over his body until it settled nicely before working on his boots, lacing and tying them tight.

“Are you excited for the mission? I heard these mutants are a bit more unique.” Ororo asked him, crossing her arms and staring at him from the doorway as she leaned against the wall, watching as a puff of smoke leaves Logan's lips, the thick cig in his mouth about halfway done.

“You’re saying that like we're opening a pack of pokemon cards, Ororo.” His voice is gruffy. He had just woken up, being told he was replacing another person who wasn’t feeling well. He wasn’t up for it, but he didn’t have much of a choice.

“We basically are.” She shrugs, taking a step into his room, putting the pad of her index finger on one of the knife's Logan had displayed on his desk. “I mean we don’t know what kind of mutants were getting, but if we get one powerful enough, we use them in battle. One smart enough we use them in the mansion, one special enough…” She pauses, sighing slightly. “We don’t let them go.” She finishes with a smile, pulling her finger back, a spot of dust now lying on her dark skin. “So yea, we’re basically opening a card pack.”

“Well, hopefully the enemy doesn’t have a Mewtwo wrapped around their fingers.” He groans as he picks up a bag on his ground, tossing it into his bed before zipping it open and looking for his favourite dagger.

“You know Pokemon characters?”

“I’ve been alive for 200 years, of course I know a few.” He tells her, it felt like more of an admission though as he finds his favourite dagger. A silver one, adorned with yellow diamonds, an engraving of a Wolverine on one side of the blade, on the other side was a girl's name next to his, right after it the word ‘forever’ was carved into the silver. The sight made him sick, not out of disgust or anger, but out of sadness as he remembered the girl.

The love of his life.

She was gone. Another person he loved, that he let down that day…

“Hey, are you still there?” Ororo knocks on his skull like a door. “Where’d you- oh-” He shoves past her, not bothering to engage in conversation with her just yet.

The jet lands with a jolt, everyones body rocking slightly with the impact on the ground.

“We’re here!” Scotts voice announces from the front, shortly after, Jane is walking ahead of him and to the door of the jet where she puts in a code on the wall's keypad, unlocking the door which hums as it opens.

The smell wasn’t exactly what Logan had expected when the door opened to vast woods, some night animals scurrying away at the sight of the four mutants. He expected the smell of wood, leaves, maybe even some animal scat or death. But that’s not what he picks up at all, he finds something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

He can tell none of the others could smell it.

Animals. And not just any animals. There were lizards, birds and a few others. Most hybrids were reptiles or birds, the normal. Then there was something different. Some sort of… mammal. He’s never met another mammal.

They find the warehouse door, two men with large weapons standing at the entrance, cameras at every angle. He knew some of the cameras were props, only set up to scare people. Only one of the outside cameras actually worked, which made sneaking into the front entrance incredibly easy, the only obstacle being the two men.

Once they were in, the four of them searched the building.

“Hey! You’re not supposed to be in here!” A group of the men, all dressed in tactical gear we’re lined up with their guns pointed at the four of them.

“Give us the mutants, and we won’t have to kill you all.” Jean steps forward, Logan's claws extracted slightly, Scott begins reaching up, and Ororos fingers twitch. The mens guns lift slightly.

“This is your last warning, leave the building, or we will be forced to shoot!” He puts his hand up, fingers out and flat, telling his men not to shoot yet.

“Okay, you asked for this.” Was the only warning they receive before Jean throws all of them against the walls, some of the dropping their guns.

Scott lasers a few of them, taking his time as a few of them get punches to the throat, and Ororo creates a fog that blankets the entire room, hiding the real weapon.

Logan moves through the fog, slitting throats and cutting legs to make men fall to the ground. One of the men, a little harder to kill, manages to block one of Logan's punches, his claws becoming lodged inside of the man's forearms, emitting a loud scream from his throat as Logan attempts to pry his claws out of the man's arms, he keeps moving, also trying to pull away, which only made his pain worse. As the flesh in his arms turns to a thick jelly continues to move back and forth with the six claws, the metal begins sawing through the man's arms, the sound could only be described as a dull knife cutting through an orange with bones, blood splattering everywhere everytime the man would move, his vitality soaking the worn tactical jacket like a wet sponge, dripping down onto the floor and covering Logans white shirt with a crimson pulp, and it soaks into the concrete below them like rain. Then the man's limbs seem to disconnect, only held on by the thin of his skin and some severed flesh. The man screams with tormented pain, the fog seeming to move to his breath leaving his mouth as it swirls to the sound, to Logan's annoyance, he ends the man's screams with another claw to the throat, his body falling to the ground with a loud thump before Logans moves onto the next man, killing them all off until there was no one left.

“Are they all dead?” Ororo shouts as she dissipates the fog, leaving a humid scent to the air.

“I think so?” Logan answers, checking his shirt and grunting when he realises its soaked in blood, making the rotten liquid stick to his skin.

“Fuck Logan, think you over did it a little?” Scott motions his hands toward the floor, another man is sitting on his knees, seemingly attempting to scoop up his organs, intestines spilling out of his stomach like an overfilled spaghetti bowl.

“He’s fine.”

“He’s not gonna be fine.” The man continues to try holding in his organs and intestines, eventually falling onto his side, curling up and hugging his large intestine into his belly, as if it would help.

“Well now he’s not fine.” Logan growls, motioning his hand towards the man as his mouth drops open, allowing more blood to pool onto the floor, reddening the cold stone under him.

“Scott, you come with me, Ororo you search under those covers, Logan, you get the rooms.” Jean orders, even though Logan was in charge, but they all listen.

Logan goes from room to room, but has no luck in finding anything other than some classified papers that he puts his lighter to and some porno magazines in one office which he flips through a little before burning that too, watching as a models tits turn black before completely burning away, and he sighs heavily, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a thick cigar.

“Not in here Logan.” Ororo whispers, but speaks normally when she turns on the light in the room, and then she points to the back of the room where a large cage was placed in a corner. “What’s in here?” She asks him, wondering about the room a little.

“I don’t see anything.” He grunts as he stretches slightly, then the other two enter the room.

“Wait what’s that?” Ororo points to the corner of the room, and some movement could be heard from under the covers.

“Take the cover off.” Jean nods towards the cage. Logan walks towards it, his heavy boots thumping on the floor. His hand reaches for the cover, and he takes a big portion of it into his fist before slowly tearing it away, careful as not to scare whatever might be inside.

“Is there anything?” Scott takes a few steps towards him, Logan's eyes are trained on you. Just a girl, sitting in the cage, back pressed against the cold metal confinement. There’s more conversation, but you don’t listen to it. You were more focused on watching them, ready to fight if any of them lunged forward.

“Yea, a hybrid.” Logan speaks, looking down at the creature.

“A vicious kind?”

“I have no idea, you look.” He steps aside, letting Jean step in front of him to get a good look at it.

“Hey, hey, hey…” She reaches into her pocket, taking out a blood covered key that he assumes she found on a body. “We’re here to help you…” She tells the hybrid, her voice soft so she doesn’t startle it. “Hey can you dim the lights so she can see us better Ororo?” Ororo listens immediately, dimming the lights in the room, and Logan notices the way you squish yourself against the back of the cage. “Were mutants too sweetie, we need you to come out.” She held her hand out, hoping you would grab it, and as you flinched, Logan’s claws extract just slightly. “Logan, we’re gonna have to grab her.”

“Wait…” Scott warns.

“What?”

"Maybe just back away from the cage, she might feel more comfortable that way." They all exchange looks, but they listen, Logan backing away, but he’s ready to run if the girl starting running.

He watches as you crawl out, your large ears pinned back, your little tail tucked. A deer hybrid. He realises, his head tilting slightly.

He doesn’t listen to the rest of the conversation, only staring at you, scared, small. But he does notice the way you seem to only grow against him, occasionally taking a step back towards him, he could tell you were only comfortable because you recognized him.

And he loved it.

“Let’s get her out of here.” He tells the team, stopping whatever conversation they were having. “Before the enemy backup comes.” He huffs, then his arm gently wraps around you, but he leads you, letting the rest of the team walk ahead of the two of you while he holds onto you.

“You’ll be alright…”

#marvel #fanfic #marvel fanfiction #x reader #smut #marvel smut #wolverine #logan howlett #logan x reader

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kpeanuts · 3 months ago

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@tadc-funfair-au's Pomctober/Pomni Inktober Day 5 - @sm-baby's Carnival AU

WALL OF TEXT INCOMING

Hands down, no competition, my favorite AU to read and learn about as it unfolds. On the other hand, this might be the one that I am least proud of after drawing. I know I said that I'd come out swinging for Day 5, but I legitimately couldn't find the vision. I feel like I made so, so many mistakes just on this one alone. Ignoring the practical mistakes for a second, for some reason, I had such a hard time thinking on what I wanted to have as the setting. I thought of using Pomni's tent with her on the dive-board or on a pedestal you see the ringmaster standing on, then I thought in the bedroom hallway, and even after sleeping on it I still couldn't get it right. Eventually I just decided to draw sentient Pomni outside of Kinger's throne room (at least I'm pretty sure Kinger would have an ornate entryway to his room, idk). I'm absolutely terrible at drawing environments, interior or otherwise, only reason why I thought Day 3's background looked remotely good was because I was able to use the horror aspect of it to cover it up, but Carnival doesn't have the same attributes to use as a veil. But it's whatever, I can't bring myself to touch the file further since I know that it's just going to get worse.

I'm going to skip over Day 6 completely for two reasons: One, refresh my mind in terms of drawing TADC and do research for Day 7. Two, I don't feel like logging into Instagram (or twitter, which means that I'm going to skip over Day 10 as well).

Now, while I am going to stop drawing TADC and Pomctober for tomorrow, I've found another Inktober prompt list, Goretober. So I'm going to just do a few drawings for that one and warning people in advance that do not wish to see that kind of stuff: PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE IF YOU HAVEN'T ALREADY, GO SET YOUR FILTERED TAGS TO INCLUDE "cw: guro", "cw: blood", "cw: death" AND/OR "cw: gore"! I'll be including the Violence content label but this is just for good measure.

With that, finally, I'm done with the usual ranting. Again, I'm going to be posting a few very violent and bloody sketches for Goretober later on, so go filter out the tags I listed above by going to "Settings" > "Account" > "Content you see" > "Filtered Tags". Those posts won't be showing up often, and I might make an entirely separate blog in the future just to make sure that my usual content isn't mixed in with the mature. I shall leave you with that warning, and safe travels!

#tadc #the amazing digital circus #tadc fanart #pomni #inktober #the amazing digital carnival #carnival au #pomctober #pomtober #tadc au #tadc pomni #pomni au

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thelargefrye · 1 year ago

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GODS … mature one - shot | pt. one

pairing : emperor!san x princess!f!reader

genre : slight historical fiction, mature, dark, arranged marriage, second chance, slow burn, eventually smut

word count : 3.5k

warnings : language, blood / body gore, death / murder, hints of dismemberment, san is evil, name calling (stupid girl)

special birthday suffering tag : @sanjoongie please accept this as an early birthday present from your braincell

note : inspired by san's performance video that literally wrecked all of us. none of are safe from his power and this proved it. also this was getting a little too long so i decided to split it up into at least two parts

after your life is unrightfully taken from you, you take this second chance as a way to finally survive and make a difference for yourself. you were tired of being a prisoner and feeling unwanted.

the dining hall was empty except for you and a few guards and servants. not another soul sitting at the long dining table despite it being able to sit twenty people easily, if not more.

it bothered you that you ate alone. every meal, breakfast, lunch, and dinner was by yourself. honestly, a lot of things bother you, but you were never allowed to say what was on your mind. it bothers you that you eat alone, that you have no one to talk to, that your family willingly gave you up to some demon emperor. what bothered you the most is that your "husband" never even gave you the time of day and that you were forced to listen to the maids whisper and gossip about you.

you saw the look of pity in their eyes.

you don't want their pity. you've never wanted anything but freedom for the last three years you've been trapped in this palace.

you were supposed to marry someone who loved you. have a big ceremony and live happily ever after. instead... instead you were taken away from your family by emperor san and forced to marry him. you were a pawn to him in order to gain control over your kingdom.

a prisoner forced to spend the rest of her life trapped in a loveless marriage and life.

you do your best to push down the negative thoughts as you eat. not wanting to get choked up on tears and cry. you didn't want anyone to see you cry.

especially not these gossiping maids.

"i heard the emperor went to the brothel last night."

"again! does him and the princess not spend nights together?"

"of course not. his highness isn't interested in the princess. their quarters are on completely different sides of the palace. i'm surprised he hasn't killed her, yet."

"i am too."

you try your best to ignore them.

when you've finished eating, you get up from the lonely dining table and exit the room. the maids have their eyes casted downward as you walk past them, acting as if they hadn't just been talking about you. your personal guard, mingi, follows you down the hall.

you remember when you first arrived at the palace, san introduced you to mingi and explained how he will be your personal guard.

"don't try anything stupid, mingi has orders to kill you on sight if you do," san's words still haunt you. mingi wasn't here to protect you, but to watch over you and make sure you never tried anything stupid.

when you return to your quarters, you take your usual seat by your window. the window that overlooks most of palace's entrance and the palace wall that keeps you trapped. too high to climb and too far to even try to attempt to make a run for it. like san purposely chose this room for you as a way to mock you. to let you know that you will always be a prisoner.

still, you can't help but wonder if one day you'll be able to be free and live happily.

however, that will only remain a dream until san crushes it as well like he done to all your other dreams.

"ow," you hiss out, finger immediately coming to your lips to try and stop the small prick of blood. you guess that's what you get for getting lost in your thoughts while attempting to work on your embroider.

you look down at the small cloth with the flower design slowly being sewn into it. embroidering was the only thing that kept you sane in this prison. you're waiting for the day san takes this away from you as well.

"princess, are you alright?" a voice snaps you out of your thoughts and you look up to see one of the other guards, yeosang, coming into your room.

"i'm fine. just pricked my finger," you say and he nodded his head.

"the emperor is here to see you," he says before stepping aside to let your husband enter your room. he walks in exuding so much power and authority and you hate it. you hate him for how much control he has. you're forbidden from entering the west wing – his quarters – of the palace, yet he's allowed to come in the east wing and even your room without having to ask. you hate it.

"girl," he begins, never has he addressed you by your name. always just 'girl' or 'stupid girl' when it comes to you, like you weren't of your name let alone your title. "pack your bag, i'm sending you back to your home kingdom for a week. you'll be leaving tomorrow morning."

his words take you by surprise. you'll be... returning home? after three years of being away from your family, you'll finally get to see them?

"r-really?" you ask, standing up and completely forgetting about your pricked finger.

"what are you deaf, girl. i'm not going to repeat myself," he says with an annoyed huff and turns to leave.

"wait!" he stops in his tracks at your voice, but he doesn't turn around to look at you. "why am i going? is everything alright?"

"when did you ask so many fucking questions? be grateful i'm sending you there in the first place," he doesn't say anything else before he takes his leave. the door to your bedroom slamming shut behind him and you immediately flinch at the sound.

"are you ready, princess?" yeosang's voice catches you off guard as you look up at the palace you had been trapped inside for three years. being in the front courtyard gives you a completely different set of emotions knowing that you will be away from this place. even if it is for a week.

you asked yeosang if san was going to come, but the guard completely avoided your question. you're not surprised he's not showing up, but it still hurts nonetheless.

then something else hits you.

"where's mingi?"

"he's had some last minute orders from the emperor," yeosang says, keeping his answer vague like always. "come, princess, we have a long trip ahead of us."

you don't say anything but instead silently climb into the carriage. once you're settled inside, the carriage begins to move and you can't help but look out the window watching as you leave the palace.

you couldn't help the smile that painted your lips knowing that you were finally getting to return to your family. you knew nothing could ruin this moment, not even your ruthless husband.

yeosang let out an exhausted breath as he ran towards the palace. the guards standing at their post immediately recognized their fellow soldier, even with his beaten and bruised body.

"yeosang!" the handsome guard recognizes the deep voice from anywhere and he immediately falls into mingi's arms. collapsing from his injuries, no longer able to stand. then mingi realized something as he and some other guards helped his friend. "where's the princess?"

yeosang looked at mingi with tearful eyes before he shook his head and mingi felt something in stomach twist.

"where's the princess, yeosang?"

"i couldn't... i couldn't– bandits ambushed us... i tried, mingi, i really did, but they–

yeosang couldn't finish his words due to how choked up he was getting, but mingi understood what his friend was trying to say.

"where is she?"

"she's in the forest," yeosang answered and mingi immediately set out on his horse with his best friend and fellow guard, yunho. the two were deep into the forest before they finally came across the carriage you had left in.

the entire carriage was destroyed, the wheels broken off and the main part crashed into a large oak tree. bodies of the driver and some others were laying, scattered around and blood was everywhere.

"mingi..." yunho is attempting to be strong as he watches his friend make his way towards the carriage door. it too had been broken and destroyed and the two guards noted how all of your luggage was gone. "those bandits took everything."

mingi ignored his friend in favor of opening the carriage door. however, instead of being met with an empty carriage, he was greeted with something worse.

"fuck!" mingi has to pull himself away from the carriage. tripping over the tree roots as he bends over and vomits. the sight in the carriage burned into his eyes even as he blinks. yunho watches his friend with concern before he's watching him breakdown and sob. tears running down his cheeks and snot running down his nose and over his chin from how hard his was sobbing. mingi's throat burned from when he threw up.

yunho looked between mingi and the carriage before taking several steps towards the carriage. mingi's voice repeating "oh god, oh god, i'm so sorry. please forgive me" is like a broken record in the background. and then yunho reaches over and opens the door and the sight within makes his whole being shake in terror.

when they arrived back to the palace, mingi carried a bag with him as they reached the throne room. san was sitting on his throne with his usually bored expression; however, mingi and yunho entering caught his attention.

"what's wrong with you two?"

"your highness," yunho begins, voice shaking as he starts to talk. however, yunho doesn't know what to say. he's at a loss for words.

"well? what the fuck is wrong you both?" san asks again, standing up and walking towards the two guards. mingi doesn't say anything except hand the bag over to him. "what is this?"

"your highness, the princess's carriage was attacked by bandits. yeosang managed to make it back, but..." yunho says, finally finding his words. he continues after a moment and at the same time san opens the bag. "the princess did not make it. we brought back... what was left of her."

the image of your body laying in the carriage burns in yunho's mind. he had never seen something as horrific before during his time as a soldier and especially done to an innocent woman like you. you did nothing wrong, just someone trapped in a situation you had no control over.

san says nothing as he looks inside the bag, letting the contents settle into his mind before he's carelessly dropping the bag onto the ground in front of his feet.

"oh well."

you can't help the scream that rips through your throat as you thrash around your bed. your covers flying everywhere before settling either back onto your bed or in the floor. your heart is beating rapidly in your ears and your eyes scan the room around you.

you couldn't help but let out another scream as your door is thrown open and in comes mingi with a concerned look.

"what's wrong, princess?" in any other moment you would have found his voice a comfort. but in this moment, you couldn't even find the proper words. the only thing leaving your lips were sobs as tears ran down your face.

it had felt so real, you thought as you curled yourself into a ball. you felt like you had actually died. alone in that forest as those bandits... no. you don't really want to think about it anymore.

"princess y/n?" mingi speaks again earning your attention as you look at him with tear-stained cheeks and glassy eyes.

"i... i had a nightmare," you said as you wiped away your tears. you hated yourself for crying in front of someone, mingi especially. "sorry."

"ah, its alright, princess. just gave me a scare is all," he says before he's bowing his head towards you and leaving.

when the door closed behind him, you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. your hands instinctively come up to your neck, feeling a slight ache course through your body. you try to push back the feeling as your stood you and made your way to your ensuite bathroom to get ready.

you remember when you first arrived how you had at least three handmaids to help you get ready, only helping you because they were afraid of san. however, once they realized san didn't care about you, they stopped doing their duty and showing up. only one continued to be loyal to you, yeri.

but then three months ago you found out that yeri only remained by your side because she wanted to try and get close to san. she knew she was a pretty woman and san went after any pretty woman. after she got what she wanted she too–

"princess y/n, what are you doing running your own bath?" the familiar feminine voice snaps you out of your thoughts. standing up from the the edge of the tub, you're surprised to see yeri standing at you bathroom door.

"what are you doing here?" you asked, a little surprised to suddenly see her in your room.

"hm? what are you talking about princess? i'm your handmaiden, i'm suppose to be here," she answers and something feels unease as seeing her settles in your stomach. something wasn't right.

you vividly remember the night you found san pinning her to the wall and her words that were meant to bring you down. "wouldn't you rather someone who could properly please you, your highness? someone much prettier than your ugly and boring wife?" you remember who she tilted her head to the side in a flirting manner, even twirling her hair as the word left her mouth a stabbed your heart.

you remember how san only smirked at her before continuing to have his way with her. right there in hallway and in the east wing – "your" wing.

you had thought she was a friend, but when you heard those words you immediately knew she wasn't. you trusted her and she betrayed that trust. she didn't care. she was like everyone else.

"here, princess, let me finish–

"stop talking," you cut her off, voice as cold as you could make it. you couldn't stand looking at her. "is this some sick and twisted joke to you?" you ask, glaring at her. yeri's face is immediately covered in confusion and she opens her mouth to say something. "get out. i don't need you to do anything for me."

"but princes–

"i said get out!" you've never raised your voice, but the longer you looked at her the more you realized that she was able to easily get what you could never have. san's attention.

you could have sworn you seen yeri's fake persona fall for a split second from your new attitude before she's turning on her feet and rushing out of the room.

you let your anger subdue before you're turning back to the tub and quickly turning off the water before it begins to overflow into the floor. because honestly that was the last thing you need right now after just waking up.

you allow the warm water engulf you and you let out a sigh as you sink into the water. your hair placed carefully on top of your head as a way to keep it dry, knowing it was going to be a pain to do if you got it wet. the ache and soreness in your body was still there all around you. your neck, wrist, arms, stomach, and legs all had a type of ache to them that you never experienced before.

maybe you should visit the palace doctor later, you think before you let your eyes close. however, once you close your eyes you are immediately brought back to your nightmare. the screams of the driver and other servants ringing in your ears, the carriage door ripping open and those bandits standing there and their swords shining despite the darkness of the night.

you suddenly open your eyes again in order to make sure you were still in your bathroom. eyes darting around the room as if those bandits would also be here. its only after several minutes does your heart rate calm down before you can even will yourself to get out the tub.

the water had grown cold.

"princess, are you alright? do you need to see the doctor?" one the maids ask when she notice you keep repeatedly rubbing your wrists and neck.

"i... i think i just slept wrong," you say in an attempt to brush her concern off.

"alright, princess, but if it gets worse please let someone know," she says and you nod and thank her before she's going back to her place with the other maids in the dining room.

"i heard she dismissed yeri this morning, yelled at her and told her to get out," one of the maid's said in a hushed whisper.

"really? that's surprising considering how much the princess liked her."

"i say yeri deserved it because of how she has been trying to sleep with the emperor."

trying? as if she hadn't done it yet? how is that possible when she did sleep with san three months ago?

the unsettling feeling reappears as you continue to think about yeri and the nightmare. something just wasn't clicking.

"excuse me," you say and one of the maids immediately come over to you.

"yes, your highness? what's wrong?"

"what... what month is it?"

"august, your highness."

"a-august?" your shocked by her answer. it was august? that was three months ago. how is this possible?

"p-princess are you alright? you look ill," her voice sounds far away as you begin to lose focus on the things around you. everything becomes blurry and you're quick to stand up. chair scraping along the floor before tipping over and falling to the floor.

you begin to walk away, ignoring the maids calling after you and even some of the guards, but you ignore them all. this was just some sick joke from all of them. from yeri, to mingi, to the maids, to san. you were supposed to be in october and spending a week with your family. not in fucking august with people who hated you.

you don't have time to comprehend anything else before your falling to your knees and passing out in the middle of the hallway.

after you had passed out, you had woke up in your bedroom with mingi, yeosang, and the palace doctor surrounding your bed along with a young maid.

the maid was the first to notice you awake and she immediately collapsed at your bedside with tears welling up in her eyes.

"oh, princess, i'm so glad that you're awake! we were all worried sick about you!" she said and your eyes moved from between her to the two guards and then the doctor.

"how do you feel, your highness?" the doctor asked and it took you a moment before you actually answered him.

"i'm fine," you answer despite how your body still aches, you force yourself to sit up. the young maid is quick to adjust your pillows for you as you do.

"you all can leave," you add on looking at the guards and doctor. mingi and yeosang as hesitant to follow your orders, but the doctor does so before giving you instructions to take it easy for the rest of the day. he also said that he would make sure your meals are delivered to your room and that he'll come back later.

when the three males leave, you are left alone with the maid. her doe eyes looking at you with concern as she keeps a watchful eye on you. that's when her name finally comes to you.

"yunjin..." you say trailing off as you remember that she was with you in the carriage. you remember watching as the bandits grabbed her by the hair and dragged her out of the carriage because she tried to protect you.

"yes, ma'am? do you need anything?" she asks, voice hopeful and waiting to help you. you remember she began working for you when hongjoong – san's advisor, had found out that you had no one helping you. you know he only assigned yunjin because he took pity on you like everyone else here.

however, yunjin followed you around and listened to every order you gave her. at first you were worried that she would be like yeri, only using you to see the emperor. as if you see him on the daily. but then you learned that yunjin was a devoted servant to you.

"is it... really august?" you asked her, still not able to wrap your head around everything.

"yes, princess."

what if... oh god, what if you did actually die that night? does this mean you are given a second chance? a second chance to survive and to make sure that you and yunjin and the other servants don't die.

but how were you going to do this?

and then you hear loud cheers and noises coming from outside and you have to force your body to crawl out of bed and over to the window. then you see him.

san walking through the gates and into the courtyard, a small army of followers around him. following him around like he was some god. then it clicked inside your brain.

if you were going to survive then you would have to gain his favor. deep down you know san was probably the one behind the "bandit" attack. so getting on his good side would get him to call off the bandit attack.

you were going to win over your ruthless husband.

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