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cdroloisms · 3 years

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so... the red banquet, huh?

im not going to lie, i was cheering on the eggpire the entire time (/lh) - what can i say, something abt the demon possessed resident evil crew just speaks to my heart. theyre FUN, ok?

anyway, a lot of people were theorizing abt what c!dream showing up at the banquet could look like - and, well, i thought i’d write my version of it. this takes place in the “guard dog au” developed primarily by a gc im in on twitter (@stabbysideblog being the main originator of it, do check sunny out !!) - the basic premise is post-getting the revive book from c!dream, c!quackity continues to get his, uh, “use” out of him by basically treating him as a bodyguard/guard dog as he goes around the server - which should probably give you a pretty good idea of how this is going to go :]

tws: death, grief, implied torture, starvation, abuse, blood, murder, unhealthy relationship, dehumanization, possession, trauma, mental illness, violence, dark content, dark imagery, emotional distress, mental instability, pandora’s vault/prison arc, c!quackity critical (not really, but a very dark portrayal of him)

A strangled sob claws its way up Puffy’s throat as she watches Foolish fall.

He drops in a spray of golden ichor in the crimson, brilliant green eyes trained on hers, jaw slack in horror, pain, dipping to the ground and whiting out before he’s even fully collapsed. The others’ screams hardly even meet her ears; all she can see is her son, falling, her son, dying, her son, that same sunlit kindness still held in the curve of his lips in this room that knows nothing but pain and betrayal, gone gone gone gone-

Because of her.

Ant’s still staring at her, pupils thinned to needles from the brightness of the lava at their backs, ears alert but stance entirely calm as he twirls his sword, still dripping gold. His mouth is moving but she cannot hear anything above the ring ring ringing in her ears, the world swirling and blurring dangerously from the tears gathering in her eyes and spilling over her cheeks, Ant’s eyes polished rubies where there had once been a cloudless sky. Bad gestures at the crowd, pushed back towards the lava’s fire in their fear, leaving her to stand in the middle of the room as one desperate dying scream, the egg, standing as a silent witness to it all-

“Bad-” a flash of blue, and there’s someone standing in front of her, shoulders pulled back, a diamond sword glittering their right hand, “Stop it.”

“Quackity.”’

Bad snarls, tail whipping back and forth; Puffy takes a step back, then another, shoulders still shaking in grief for her son, for her friends, for everyone who’s about to lose their lives in this twisted realm of crimson and hellfire. There is no fear on Quackity’s face though he stands unarmored, and for the first time in this awful day something like worry flashes over Bad’s face. There’s history here, she realizes - what did Bad say about Quackity attacking? - but none of this is making sense, not the self-assured way Quackity is carrying himself, wings relaxed and folded at his back, not the simmering unease making itself known in the foreign cadence of Bad’s voice.

“Oh my gosh, look at what you’ve done,” Quackity says, voice almost patronizing, like a parent stumbling in on the mess their child has made out of their bedroom, “this is impressive, I’m not going to lie, this is quite impressive.” Puffy swallows thickly, hears the shuddering gasp of someone behind her - Fundy, probably, or Sam - as Quackity’s voice drops. “You have to stop right now.”

“Stop?”

“This whole Egg thing is just getting out of control - you just killed a man,” Quackity stalks across the netherbrick floor like he has all the time in the world, ignoring the crossbows that the Eggpire has trained on his back, guarded only by the off-white shirt he’s wearing, an untied tie hanging limply around his neck. She sucks in a sharp breath through her teeth - my son, they killed my son, she means to say, but the words stick to the walls of her throat and only escape her lungs in another series of wracking sobs. “Is that what you wanted to do, Bad?”

He laughs - laughs, of all things, and there is something here that Puffy is missing, that isn’t clicking through the muddied fog of grief hanging grey and suffocating around her head, but Quackity is speaking again and she can’t think about it all, not now, “-and I’m not gonna have it anymore, Bad.”

He slips over by the crowd, eyes glancing all of them huddled in one fearful mob over the tables, eyes dark and daring and cold; the Eggpire keeps their eyes trained on him, Bad’s eyebrows furrowed, Ant’s muzzle twisted in a snarl. Puffy watches, their words passing over her like water skidding against the surface of a rock splitting a stream in two, heart thudding in her ears, marking out the heartsick beats in this poisoned melody - one-two, her-son, her-son, her-son-

He stops in front of her in the middle of monologuing, eyes trained on her own like he’s trying to tell her something. His eyes flick down and she follows their gaze to his other hand, the one not clasped around a sword handle, watches as he gestures vaguely in the direction of the Eggpire. She frowns, confusion cutting through the grief - what is he trying to say? - and Quackity sighs, index finger slashing in the air in the shape of what might be an A as he spins on his heel to walk back towards Bad and the others.

“So how about we just stop playing?”

Quackity smiles, teeth white and glittering from the lava’s glow even as the Eggpire surrounds him, pushes him back against the wall. Bad seems to hesitate, hand clasped around the trigger of a crossbow he keeps pointed at the other’s head; when he speaks, he almost sounds mournful.

“I can’t,” he mutters, quiet, stepping forwards as his shoulders straighten, pushing Quackity back in a motion that the others are quick to follow. Puffy watches, an awful sinking feeling falling through the hole left in her chest by the sight of her son, falling, her son, dead - watches as Quackity’s wings open, shine golden in the lava’s light - what is he planning?

“You know why I can’t stop.”

Quackity heaves a heavy sigh through his lungs, “Bad- you and all your buddies here, drop your weapons, and leave. Let all of these people go.”

“Or what?” Ant’s voice is sharp, but Quackity barely pays him a second thought, swinging a glare at his head and cutting him off.

“I’m not talking to you,” he laughs, dismissive, “I’m talking to Bad.”

“No-” Puffy watches as Bad’s hand tightens on his crossbow, punctuating the word with a step forward. “You put your weapon down. If you wanted to stop us?” He’s too close to Quackity for Puffy to make out either of their faces, crossbow bolt aimed and ready to send straight through his skull. She stiffens, sees from the corner of her eye as the ones beside her look away, and resigns herself to the inevitable spray of blood on brick - not again not again don’t make me watch again - “You should’ve brought more than just yourself.”

Quackity laughs.

“I did,” his voice is dangerous in its levity, making Bad, then the rest of the Eggpire step back as his wings spread open further, watching with bated breath and wide eyes as a swarm of white descends from a hidden hole in the wall, “Or, well, I did the next best thing. I brought my worst enemy.”

“What?”

“Alright Quackity, where’s this Egg thing?”

Technoblade jumps down into the room in a familiar purple-black blur of expertly enchanted netherite armor, form impeccable despite the seeming exhaustion in his voice. At his feet, a pack of wolves gather, pace, muscles coiled and clearly ready to strike; he rolls his shoulders back, signature fireworks loaded into his crossbow, and the crowd behind Puffy immediately breaks into shocked murmuring and soft cheers.

On Quackity’s other side, someone else flips into the room, wearing a suit of all things, crisp and well-pressed; Purpled grins, entirely too gleeful as the Eggpire presses back further, held off by the dogs swarming and growling at their feet.

“Purpled- we hired you!”

“To be frank with you, Bad, a sword appears in Purpled’s hand and he flips it casually, blade thin and gleaming, “Quackity just had the better price.”

“We- we still outnumber you!” Bad’s voice is a near-scream in its desperation, his tail lashing back and forth as he shifts his weight forward, “It’s four against three- we’ll still win-” Despite herself, Puffy’s mind spins; either way, they’re still at a disadvantage from sheer numbers alone, never mind Quackity’s lack of armor. Maybe if they all work together, they’ll be able to sufficiently stop them, but there’s no way she can see this ending in anything less than a bloodbath-

“I didn’t want for it to come to this, Bad,” Quackity’s voice drops low and sweet, the sincerity in his tone belied by his glittering eyes and jagged grin. The shift in tone sends a shiver down her back, has even his allies shifting uncomfortably in what seems to be confusion - Puffy catches something like a murmured no from Sam, behind her, before Quackity whistles, loud.

It all happens too fast for her to follow; one moment, the Eggpire is standing, weapons raised and ready to fight; the next, and there is a new netherite-clad figure in the middle of the room, signature sparks of purple from a pearl still glittering around them, axe buried into Antfrost’s chest. The room devolves into shrieks as his body dissolves, Bad gasping sharply and something dark bubbling in Puffy’s chest - good - as the newcomer in the room moves over to Ponk, bloodstained axe swinging in a downward arc, only barely stopped in time by a diamond sword catching on the crook of the blade.

“Go!” Quackity’s voice rings out above the chaos, and Techno and Purpled - seemingly shaken from their shock - fly into motion, fireworks bursting in flashes of red and black that send Puffy blinking out stars from her eyes, Purpled moving to match blows against Hannah and Techno’s army biting at the ankles of the Eggpire leader. Around her, people scream in relief, cheering as the Eggpire, clad in eggshell-blue, are pushed back one by one, hindered by a shifting wave of teeth and claws and clashing blades and netherite moving smoothly over the uneven floor - Bad screams, “RETREAT!”, and they disappear into the wall.

Purpled curses; “I’m going after them.” Puffy watches, still reeling, as he dives into the corridor that Bad had revealed, a flash of purple and blue melting into the shadows; the mystery figure - still hauling a heavy, bloodstained axe, nearly dragging against the floor - moves forward as to follow.

Quackity snaps his fingers, and the figure stops, turns, immediately moving to the winged man’s side. Behind her, Puffy can make out cheers, gasping, hysterical sounds of relief; she can’t join them, feels nothing but the shuddering weight of her grief pressing further on her lungs as the adrenaline fades, head dizzy with Foolish’ sharp gasp in pain, Ant’s yowl of agony. Her eyes flick to the side, catch on Sam pacing, muttering under his breath; when his eyes meet hers, they widen in something like - alarm?

She shakes her head; she can’t think about all of that, right now. Her hooves stumble over the vines and rot strewn over the floor, carrying her forward to the glitter of gold on red, to where her son had fallen and she could do no more but watch with a scream caught between her teeth.

A hand lands on her shoulder- “I’m sorry we couldn’t make it in time.”

She whirls around; Quackity’s looking down at her, face twisted in sympathy. Behind him, the armored stranger looms, hair long and tangled, helmet keeping their face in shadow and hiding their features from view. There’s something distantly familiar to them, in the way they shift from one foot to the other, something that makes her eyes narrow and throat tighten-

“Who are you?” The words tumble from her mouth, making Quackity freeze, jaw snapping shut, the figure behind him tensing almost imperceptibly under their armor. “Who-”

Quackity’s eyes are dark, piercing; she can’t read them, the flat line of his mouth as confusing as it is frustrating. His eyes flick up to somewhere over her shoulder before moving back to her own

“How rude of me,” He smiles, gold tooth glinting, “I didn’t even introduce our special guest.”

His right wing presses against their back, and they drop, immediately, to their knees, making her step back in shock. Quackity’s hand slips easily under the edge of their helmet, ripping it off with little care and letting their hair fall in a wave of dusty browns over their face; he pulls the strands back roughly, revealing the paleness to their skin, the hollows in their cheeks-

“Dream?”

Her breath shudders in her chest, eyes snapping up to Quackity, still smiling, hand still pressed against the back of his skull. Dream’s face is pale, thin, clawed with new scars that highlight the jut of his cheekbones and the dullness of his eyes. He looks up at her, eyes glassy, skin almost grey, and for a moment she’s looking at Foolish, eyes unseeing in death, the luster of his skin stolen like the air from his lungs, and she nearly screams.

“Puffy, Puffy,” Quackity murmurs, almost kind, “It’s alright, see? Everything’s fine now.”

“He- he’s supposed to be in prison,” she hisses, not missing how he flinches, not missing how even that is hindered by the hand braced against his head. He looks strangely small kneeling at Quackity’s side, dwarfed by the netherite he’s wearing; even with an axe strapped to his back, the blade still wet with crimson and reeking of iron and decay, he hardly looks like the villain that had terrorized the server, the son she could no longer recognize in the midst of the bridges he burned.

“Oh- don’t worry about him,” Quackity shrugs, wings fluttering, “It’s all being done with the Warden’s permission, Puffy, I know what I’m doing.” As if to prove his point, his hand tightens on the other’s hair, tugging his head back by the roots; Dream hardly even reacts, simply letting himself be manhandled, throat bare and exposed to the air, similarly criss-crossed by scars. “He’s perfectly well-behaved now, you see?”

Her throat closes, the pit in her gut torn open by the sight of her son with a blade skewered through his heart only growing wider, hungrier, by the dullness in the eyes of the other. Foolish’ death had happened too fast for her to react: one moment, he was staring at her, eyes mournful in goodbye; the next, he was a tumble of gold and green and blue against the floor, half of his name still not having left her lips. Dream’s head swivels to hers, face entirely blank; there is nothing quick written in the gauntness of his face, more scar tissue than skin, in the shadows under his eyes or how they seem to stare, unseeing, in the long, knotted strands of hair twisted over Quackity’s knuckles. He looks like he’s been dying, slowly, for months, and the screaming cry of YOU FAILED ringing in her head in Ant’s voice only grows louder.

“What did you-” the words scrape roughly against the inside of her mouth, “What did you do?”

Quackity shrugs, letting go, and Dream’s head tips forward to stare at the floor. “What had to be done.”

He clicks his fingers again, and Dream stands, falling behind Quackity with his shoulders pulled up to his ears. Quackity hands him back his helmet, keeping his hand stretched out, palm up, even after Dream takes the netherite and fastens it back over his head. Puffy watches, heart stuck in her throat, as Dream fiddles with something by his throat, pulls out a thick coil of iron chains, pressing the end to Quackity’s outstretched hand - the other side, she realizes, fastened around his neck.

Her breath stutters when he looks back at Quackity, gut roiling at the familiarity - it’s an imperfect copy of the way he used to look at her, a skittish shadow at her tail, all awkward smiles and fidgeting hands. Only now, his eyes don’t dance with the same light, his lungs shivering in fear instead of wheezing laughter; she watches as his head follows Quackity like he’s the only person in the room, a duckling imprinted on the nearest person and ready to follow to the ends of the world and further, and her heart shatters all over again.

“Anyway,” Quackity’s eyes soften, lips curled in sympathy, “My condolences, Puffy, for your son. It really is a tragedy.”

She watches him leave with tears in her eyes, a sob once again caught in her throat. The images overlap - Foolish, smiling under the sun’s glow, sitting on the roof of his summer home - Dream, grinning in the treetops, eyes as green as the leaves surrounding him - Foolish, falling in a spray of ichor and a gasp of pain, Dream, grey-eyed and silent, dead as the crimson rot surrounding his beaten body-

My condolences for your son, Quackity’s words echo in her skull, and not for the first time, she laughs miserably, tears falling from her eyes.

Which one?

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seita · 4 years

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— the lottery: redlove | eijirou kirishima (m.)

pairing: kirishima/reader

genre: fluff, smut, angst if u squint

wordcount: 𝟹,𝟶𝟺𝟸

cw: cam couple!au, pro hero!bakugou

tags: soft forehead kisses, lonely!bakugou, protective kiri, dom/sub dynamics, male masturbation, hair pulling, dirty talk, praise kink, pet names, cunnilingus, pain kink, light degradation/name calling, creampie, cum eating, soft aftercare kisses & praise

note: part 2 to the loved redlove fic. i really hope u guys enjoy this!

— redlove, bakugou's favorite camcouple, hold a lottery to decide who gets a private show with them.

blog navigation.

⇦ prev. live now: redlove

Bakugou was obsessed; something he found shameful. Here he was, one of the top heroes in Japan — the Ground Zero, infatuated with a couple he only knows because he jerks off to them every night.

He couldn’t imagine what people would think of him if they found out that he spent his nights with his first around his hard cock, imagining himself fucking the pretty cam couple.

But when he got a notification one afternoon, his phone buzzing obnoxiously on the wood of his desk, he knew he was fucked.

He had been lucky enough to discover the couple had a Twitter account and promptly followed from his private, personal account. Looking back, he was glad he had enough common sense to make sure he didn’t follow from his professional, hero account.

That would have been hard to explain to the media.

He unlocked his phone and opened the tweet, biting his lip as he pressed the like button.

“We are excited to announce that we’ll be holding a special lottery on our next stream. The winner gets a private show! Details will be explained.

— redlove <3.”

He was about to go see what they were talking about when there was a knock at the door. Bakugou jumped and locked his phone, slipping it into his pocket as he gruffly called for the person to enter.

He talked to his sidekick as if he wasn’t half hard in his hero costume the entire time.

The second he was back in his home, sitting comfortable in a soft t-shirt and some sweatpants, he took his phone out and finally took a look at who had been on his mind all day; the redlove lottery.

He checked the time, seeing he still had a few hours to go before you would start your stream. So to kill time, he made himself dinner and decided to watch TV.

Thankfully, it worked and before long he lost track of time. The only thing that reminded him was his phone buzzing.

He yawned, picking it up only to choke when he saw “redlove is now live!” plastered across the banner.

He fumbled with the device, not giving a shit about how desperate he was — it wasn’t like anyone was there to judge him. He unlocked it and clicked the notification, waiting with bated breath as the app opened.

The screen was black for a moment, the spinning circle in the middle showing that it was buffering. But after a minute, the screen was finally filled with your pretty face.

You were perched at the edge of the bed, wearing an oversized t-shirt that slipped off of your shoulder with some faded writing he couldn’t quite make out. He couldn’t see any bra strap so he could assume your breasts were bare beneath. You were sitting on your knees, making it hard for him to figure out if you wore short, panties, or nothing. He hoped it was the latter.

“Where’s Ei?” you asked, reading the comments.

“He’s grabbing some things from the living room I think,” you shrug with a smile, “We’ll talk to you guys about the lottery before we get started though, don’t worry!”

“Ah did you start?” Eijirou’s voice was a bit muffled due to his distance from the microphone.

You looked offscreen and smiled, “Yeah, didn’t wanna start too late. I figured you wouldn’t mind.”

Your boyfriend hummed and climbed onto the bed, pressing a kiss against your temple, making you beam. Bakugou’s heart ached at the sight — it was almost sickening how cute and in love the two of you obviously were. The domesticity between the two of you was heart wrenching.

“So about the lottery!” you clapped your hands together and shifted to the side so Eijirou was on the screen fully.

Bakugou’s mouth went dry at the sight. The redhead wasn’t wearing his usual spiked up hair, instead it was down, hanging in his eyes. He wore a pair of sweatpants and he was shirtless, as usual. The hero wondered if it was common for him to be shirtless even when you weren’t streaming. The redhead sat back on his palms legs crossed on the bed as he eyed the screen, reading comments as you spoke.

“So, as you may know the website recently implemented a private show function,” you explained, clearing your throat before continuing, “So Ei and I talked about it and came up with the idea to hold a lottery for it! Basically,” you paused to giggle, squirming in your seat. Bakugou smiled along with you, the sound of your laugh contagious as he watched the way Eijirou’s hand was obviously up the back of your shirt.

“Go on then,” your boyfriend teased, lips quirked up ever so slightly.

You rolled your eyes and elbowed him, still smiling, “Anyway, we’re doing it on a donation basis. The more you donate, the higher chance you’ll get at being chosen!”

The playful look on your boyfriend's face vanished immediately. He leaned forward, closer to the screen, shaking his head. Bakugou’s eyes drifted to the comments on the stream to see a bunch of complaints; saying that wasn’t fair, how you were just using the viewers for money, even a handful of name calling.

“Hey,” Eijirou barked, brows furrowed. The sight made Bakugou shiver and a quick glance at you, watching the way you thickly swallowed, watching your boyfriend, he could tell you had a similar reaction, “Don’t forget this is our job. Of course we’re going to do the most we can to make money.”

Bakugou watched as the redhead began to click around on the computer. Glancing down at the comment section, he saw that a few accounts were now banned “account name has been banned” placed where their comments once stood.

“Don’t insult _____,” Eijirou grumbled, sitting back in his seat, “Remember, getting to see her pretty little body is a privilege that can be revoked at any time. I’m the only one who can call her names,” his voice lost a bit of its seriousness at that last statement, giving way to his usual playfulness. But Bakugou could tell he was still a bit ticked, his body was tense. The blonde let out a soft, almost dreamy sigh; Eijirou was a man in protection mode.

You chuckled, nudging your boyfriend before turning your smile back to the camera, “As I was saying...it doesn’t mean if you have to donate 100,000 to get a chance. You never know how your luck may play out! Either way, we look forward to this. We’ll be taking donations for this stream as your lottery entry!”

Bakugou’s heart leapt out in his chest. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d donated to the two of you. He could still remember the first time he’d heard you say his name. He’d made a donation at the start of the stream and you’d beamed, muttering out a cute “thank you, katsuki!”

The way he felt himself swoon was almost embarrassing. No, it was embarrassing.

How was he whipped over a girl he’d only ever watched fuck her boyfriend through a screen?

He sighed, pressing the donate button, going through the automatic payment process with a few clicks on the screen to verify his identity.

In the background, he could see the two of you have met in a deep kiss. His hand cradling the back of your head, slowly fisting your hair until he wrenches your head back to begin mouthing at your throat.

The whimper you release encourages Bakugou to speed up before closing the window, his donation of $120 successful.

He relaxes back against the couch, pushing his hand up his shirt to thumb his nipples. He could feel his cock beginning to grow hard in his sweats, making him grind mindlessly in his seat against nothing.

You were on your back, shirt pushed up over your breasts as your boyfriend cupped your breasts. Bakugou sighed at the sight of your pretty tits, taking note of the cute, white panties you wore that were adorned with cute pink strawberries. The material was a bit sheer from what he could see from how wet you were getting. The mixture of the lewdness of your pussy no doubt clenching and dripping against the fabric that oozed innocence and softness made his cock throb.

Fuck, you were so sweet and cute.

For a long moment, Bakugou felt envy burning in his veins as he watched your boyfriend worship your body. He tongue your nipples, sucking until they popped out of his mouth before descending down your body, leaving kisses along your ribs, stomach and hip bones. He finally settled on his stomach between your thighs, running his fingers along your folds through the thin material.

“Aw, you’re this wet from some kissing?” Eijirou teases, leaning down to kiss your clothed pussy, “You’re my sweet little girl, aren’t you?”

“Ei…” you whispered, shifting beneath him in anticipation, biting your lip as you reached down to thread your fingers through his hair, “Love you…”

The redhead grinned, kissing your inner thigh so softly it made Bakugou’s heart flutter before whispering, “I know you do, pretty girl.”

He slipped your panties to the side, moaning at the sight of your flushed, wet cunt. Pushing your thighs apart, he used his thumbs to spread you open.

Bakugou slipped his hand beneath the band of his sweats, palming his bare cock that was throbbing under his own touch. He watched intently, not even blinking as he watched the way your boyfriend ate your cunt like he was his last meal.

He worshiped you, kissing your folds, tonguing your clenching hole, before wrapping his lips around your hard clit. Your thighs trembled and jumped, threatening to close as your boyfriend pulled back the hood of your clit, exposing the extra sensitive nerves to his tongue’s abuse. You squirmed, yanking at his hair, wanting to simultaneously push him away and pull him closer.

He made the decision for you by pulling away. Your hand lost its grip on his hair and flopped back down to the bed. His touch wasn’t gone for long before he was pulling your panties down your legs.

“Shit,” Bakugou whimpered as he caught sight of the strings of your slick clinging to your panties before sticking to your thighs.

Your boyfriend seemed to have noticed the same thing, running his fingers along your soaked cunt, gathering your juices on his fingers before showing the camera, pulling his fingers apart to show the audience how wet you were.

Bakugou gripped the base of his cock, feeling hot and almost painful in his hand.

“Gotta fill that little pussy, princess,” Eijirou breathed, finally stripping himself of his sweatpants.

The Pro-Hero squeezed his cock at the sight. You were a lucky girl that he was damn sure of.

Ei’s cock was as long as it was thick, veins running along the shaft with a pretty, pink tip that always seemed to be drooling precum. The sight of his hand wrapped around his own length made Bakugou lick his lips — long, lithe fingers with veins running on the tops of his hands before reappearing over his forearms.

There was no doubt in the blonde’s mind that the two of you were a beautiful, perfect couple.

You were so pretty with a brilliant smile and contagious laugh. But when you had your legs spread for your boyfriend, you were a cute, submissive little kitten who was never too proud to beg for praise.

Eijirou was a pillar, strong-willed and protective — really, a perfect Dom. The second he had you on your back, however, he turned almost mean. He took advantage of your submissiveness to use you like a cocksleeve, praising you for being a good girl while telling you it was pathetic how easily you came just from putting his cock inside you.

But afterwards, he would let you cling to him, press kisses to your lips and temple and caress your skin until the screen went black and Bakugou was reminded that he was alone. While the two of you were no doubt thriving in each other's embrace.

It was those moments that reminded the hero how alone he was.

He was ripped from his thoughts when you let out a squeal of pleasure. Focusing his gaze back on his phone screen properly once more, he gave his cock a few strokes to the sight.

You were laid on your side, one leg lifted and pinned towards your chest while you clung to a nearby pillow as your boyfriends fat cock stretched you open.

“A-Ah!” you cried, biting on the pillow.

Eijirou soothed his hand along the thigh he was holding, pressing a kiss to your knee, “Does it hurt, sweetheart?”

“Mhm…” you whined, making Bakugou realize you hadn’t been stretched before taking his length.

“Ah but…” the redhead grunted, sinking more of his cock into your dripping cunt, “You like it when it hurts, isn’t that right?”

“Yes!” you immediately gasped, eyes fluttering closed as he finally bottomed out.

“I know you do, my pretty pain slut,” Ei whispered, pulling out before quickly sinking back inside of you with an swift roll of his hips.

How easily he set a rhythm reminded Bakugou how much he knew your body. He got to fuck you on and off camera. Envy reared its ugly head once more, burning hot in his veins as he slowly stroked his cock to the sight of you getting stuffed full by your perfect boyfriend’s cock.

He felt pathetic. He felt envious. He felt...lonely.

His heart began to feel heavy but his cock remained hot and throbbing in his fist. Mindlessly, he surged his hips forward to fuck into his own fist, as if he wasn’t giving himself enough pleasure. His other hand dipped beneath the band of his sweats to cup his heavy balls.

On the screen, you were rolled back over, your knees locked around his hips as he fucked you. He panted, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead, meeting your gaze with a serene smile.

The sight was so soft, so sweet. You leaned up and pressed your lips against his, nipping at his lip before pulling away to moan as he hit your g-spot.

“Atta girl,” Ei whispered, letting you angle your hips up so he would continue to hit it, “Such a good girl, make me hit that spot. You wanna cum? Want me to make you cum?”

You nodded, mouth agape as you whined, “Yes, please!”

“So polite,” Ei grinned, but made no move to help you get off, “Tell me why you deserve to cum.”

“Ei…” you sob, clearly not pleased with his teasing.

“C’mon,” your boyfriend taunted, “I won’t know why I should let you cum unless you tell me. You know I’ll leave you high and fuckin’ dry, don’t test me, babygirl.”

At the sound of his once soft, sweet voice turning dark and demanding, you whimpered and began to babble out anything that came to mind, “I-I’ve been good! ‘M your good girl, Ei. Please, I’ll do anything...please let me cum. Make me cum, only you can make me cum good!”

“Such pretty words…” Ei groaned, licking the pad of his thumb before quickly pressing it against your clit. You keen immediately, the arch of your back pushing your breasts out provocatively as you clung to the pillow beneath your head, “Go ahead. You wanted to cum so fuckin’ bad. Cum on my cock, make a mess for me. Wanna see you cream on my cock like the good girl you are.”

His filthy words sent you over the edge and you came with a cry. Through your high, you babbled praises to your boyfriend; ‘you feel so good’, ‘you make me cum so hard’, ‘please don’t stop’, ‘please cum inside’.

Your boyfriend fell victim to your pleas, giving a few more valiant thrusts into your cunt, forcing you to ride it out completely as he poured his hot cum inside.

Bakugou’s eyes rolled back, he quickly pulled his cock out of his sweats. He cupped his balls, rolling and squeezing them as he felt the tighten up with his impending orgasm. His cock throbbed violently, spitting cum across his chest, landing up to his cheeks. He opened his mouth without a second thought, making sure to stick his tongue out, only catching two jets of his cum on his tongue before it tapers off, drooling pathetically down his length.he swallowed the salty taste of his own load down with a whimper before slowing the strokes on his cock as he softened.

On screen, Ei slowed down, avoiding overstimulating the both of you before he fell over top of you with his hands on both sides of your head. He leaned down, meeting your lips in a happy kiss mixed with smiles.

“Did so good for me, pretty girl,” he whispered, pecking your nose before kissing your forehead, “Love you so much, you know that?”

You nodded, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He sat up, his arm around your waist as he shifted to look back at the camera. He cradled you in his lap, cupping the back of your head as he pressed a kiss to your temple.

“We’ll be doing the drawing for the lottery next week when all the donations you made will officially have gone through,” Ei explained, smiling as you buried your face in his neck, still floating through the pleasurable headspace, “Thanks for watching everyone!”

He leaned forward, jostling you slightly, making you whine. The last thing Bakugou heard was a soft, “sorry, babygirl” before the camera turned off and the stream ended.

The hero sat by himself, hand covered in drying cum that was on his stomach and shirt as well. As usually, the impending loneliness he felt compounded with the shame of having cum so hard from watching redlove made his heart ache.

Swallowing thickly, a thought occurred to him.

He had no idea how he would survive if he won that lottery.

Oh well, the odds of that happening were low.

Right?

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #kirishima x reader #bakugou x reader #kirishima smut #bakugou smut #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #eijirou kirishima x reader #kirishima eijirou x reader #afton.writes

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sellyoursoulforagoodfic · 3 years

Text

Monstrous Secrets Chapter 11

Eris Vanserra x reader

Word Count: 1072

Summary: Eris arrives a bit late

This was the fight that would decide the fate of Prythian, and you’d been grounded due to that little, slow-healing hole in your wing and the blinding pain that came with it when you tried to fly more than a few moments. Fortunately, there was nothing your friends or family could do to pull you out of the battle once it started since you’d successfully hidden the injury from them.

Every now and then you caught sight of the telltale red flashes of Cassian’s siphons, but that was the only sign that any of them were still alive. Otherwise, the world around you had narrowed to consist of only you and whoever was unlucky enough to be on the opposite end of your sword.

Dodge, block, strike.

Dodge, strike, duck.

Slice with a wing, spin, slash.

You dutifully ignored the cuts delivered to your flesh by the few enemy soldiers that managed to get through your armor. There were more important things to focus on, like not winding up in the dark cloud of fear that was the monster Feyre had managed to scrounge up.

But you couldn’t ignore the war horn that sounded over the cacophany of battle noises around you. Instinctively, your eyes darted towards the sound’s origins as if you’d be able to see it over the writhing mass of steel and bodies. It pulled your attention away from your opponent for only a moment.

And it cost you.

Eris felt his heart drop when he saw that white light rip through the Illyrian ranks. Static filled his ears as absolute terror gripped the rest of his senses. So many dead in one fell swoop. You would have been among those forces.

Frantically, he searched his mind for that oh-so coveted connection to you. You were fine, you had to be fine. Surely he would have felt if . . . But that was the power of the Cauldron that killed all those soldiers; it could have been different than regular death. What if--There.

His panicked breathing steadied when he felt you. You were scared and hurting, but you were still very much alive. He gave a sharp whistle, summoning his brothers and his war hounds--gigantic beasts bread for battle and fitted with armor and metal teeth. Eris doubted very much that your family would have tabs on your location other than ‘with that squadron’ and a vague gesture to the remaining Illyrians, so he'd have to locate you himself.

“What is it, Eris?” Jamie, the youngest if you didn’t count Lucien, asked. He’d always been the most loyal to Eris rather than their father.

“We’re going hunting,” he snarled, flames licking at his fingertips--and in his eyes, if he had to wager. “Distract Father,” he ordered Jamie specifically. “You two, with me.”

“Time to find your precious mate?” Evo, the older of the two remaining, mocked.

Neither was foolish enough to insult you while he was like this. On a good day, it was a bad idea to do such a thing, and they’d have ended up with a good punch to the gut for it. In times like these . . . doing something like calling his mate lowborn or something would be suicide.

“Do you care?” Eris countered. “You’ll get to shed blood either way.”

“Good point.” Virgil’s grin was only just this side of feral.

“Good.” Eris’s eyes slid down to his dogs. “Find her.”

And they were off, racing to locate their other master in the sea of writhing, bleeding bodies.

Your mistake earlier had given your opponent the opportunity so slice the claw clean off the top of your right wing, and the bleeding had shown no sign of slowing until you started using the limited magic you could muster through your siphons to improvise a field dressing on it to apply pressure. But doing that meant you were down two weapons, and that didn’t count how slow your reactions now were do to the fog of pain that had descended upon your mind.

Then your army was disintegrated in midair. You didn’t think about how many people had just been wiped out with a thought. You couldn’t afford to. Mourning could come later. Now, you just had to survive this nightmare.

If you could survive this.

A scream left you when a Hybern soldier’s dagger sliced its way down the side of your face. When you went to retaliate, you saw a flash of silver before the mail started shouting in agony as a dog’s teeth ripped into his flesh. Then a rush of fire torched the next soldier in line to fight you.

Your head whipped to where it’d come from and everything around you seemed to slow. Standing there in silver armor, blood red cape hanging from his shoulders, was Eris.

“How?” was all you managed to squeak out.

“I promised I’d be here,” came his simple response. “Evo and Virgil are nearby.” As if to punctuate the sentence, a wall of fire flashed briefly to the left. His eyes went to your damaged wing.

Wordlessly, you moved it closer to him.

“Are you sure?”

You delayed your answer long enough to shove away the next enemy in the onslaught. “This isn’t over yet, I’m needed here, and that claw won’t be growing back. Do it.”

His jaw was clenched as he nodded. “Brace yourself.”

Even though you did exactly that, you couldn’t help but scream when his burning hand replaced your red magic as he cauterized the wound. It was only Eris’s hands under your arms that kept you vertical through the black-out inducing agony.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered against your uninjured temple. “I’m so sorry.” In the back of your mind, you understood why he was so bothered by that action. For centuries, he’d been terrified of hurting your delicate wings, and now he had, even if it was necessary.

Your ears caught the sounds of the dogs snarling viciously as they protected the two of you. “I’m fine,” you gritted out, pulling away from him as your eyes flicked around looking for enemies that might be sneaking up on you. “They have a plan. We only have to hold out a little longer.”

He nodded once. “Watch my back?” he asked, turning to face away from you while readying his sword.

You turned so that the pair of you were back-to-back, sword clenched tightly in your grip and swore quietly, “With all I am.”

#eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra imagine #eris imagine #eris x reader #reader insert #acotar imagine #a court of thorns and roses imagine

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codylabs · 3 years

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The Bottomless Pit

New scifi-horror story! Well, not exactly new, I’ve had it finished for a year or so now, but never shared it on Tumblr. It’s an entirely original story, so don’t expect any familiar characters or places. But it does introduce one or two pieces of worldbuilding for my original universe, which will be important for some of my other upcoming stories, so I figured now would be a good time to share it.

Enjoy.

Part 1

Once upon a time, far from here, at the bottom of the deepest shaft of the deepest mine, two boys stood regarding a pit that led yet deeper.

“You sure about this?”

“Yeah! C’mon, it’s not like there’s anything dangerous down there!”

Louis nervously leaned out over the fissure as far as he dared. It was true, there didn’t rightly seem to be anything at all down there; just blackness. The walls of the fissure passed beyond the range of their headlamps after the first twenty meters, and after that, floors and walls became nothing but indistinct void. It must be fifty meters deep, at least.

“You just let me down,” Peter pointed to the towing winch built into the belt of Louis’s suit. “Until I touch the bottom. And then when you see me standing down there walking around, you’ll be brave enough to come down too.”

“…What if there is no bottom?”

"...What do you mean 'if there's no bottom'? What else would there be?"

"I...? Uh... You know? I dunno."

"Every hole on every single one of the hundred million brazillion planets and moons in the universe has a bottom. Because if it didn’t, it would go straight through the place, and there’d be magma everywhere right? Which would make it not dark. But it is dark. Which means it doesn’t go forever.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Louis’s helmet was rattling around on his head as he shifted his weight this way and that, trying to find a comfortable position where he wasn’t sweaty. Even through a thick pressure suit, the body language was apparent. “I mean, like… Like… Okay, never mind.”

“C’mon dude. This is basic simple science stuff. And since basic simple science proves that there is a bottom, we can therefore find that bottom!”

“Yeah…”

“We know space pirates once used this moon as a hideaway. Maybe they hid treasure down there!”

“That’s stupid.”

“It’s not, it’s true. And it makes sense for them to hide their treasure down in the deepest, darkest hole they could find. And what’s deeper and darker than here? Nothing, that’s what! Look, my GPS says we’re… What, a kilometer below the surface already? No mines go that deep! This must’ve been dug by the first colony! You know. Before they disappeared.”

“Yeah, well…” Louis glancing at the floor behind them. “...Well, I guess the footprints were pretty weird.”

With no wind and no water on this moon, dust and dirt and stone remain exactly as they are until something disturbs them, meaning that footprints last forever, with newer ones layering on top of old ones. In a long-abandoned mine like this, one would have expected the most recent, top layer of prints to have been left by the mining tractor; the one that dug the tunnel. In most of the other tunnels, that’s just how it was. After all, there was never any reason the miners themselves to bodily enter the tunnel.

Except here, the tread marks weren’t the last tracks.

Louis and Peter had followed a set of three tracks, tracks from adult human boots, all the way down here… Two sets had been leading up to this very hole… But only one set could be seen returning…

“It must be pirates.” Peter nodded, as he gazed down into the crevice. “It’s the only explanation… That or aliens.”

“Aliens don’t exist.”

“Yeah, and that just leaves pirates, which makes more sense anyway.” Peter explained. “See, the Captain must have needed help from his second-in command to carry the treasure chest, but when they threw it in the hole, the Captian shot his buddy and threw him in too! Because the Captain knew that all pirates are nothing but dirty thieving buccaneers, so to keep his greatest fortune safe, he made sure that nobody else knew…! I bet we’ll find an evaporated mummy with a busted faceplate down there… And riches… Riches worth killing over… Gold and crystals and ancient forms of currency that have all been forgotten for centuries…”

Louis’s body language said he was almost convinced. (Not convinced enough to believe it, but almost convinced enough to try exploring it.) “But…” He offered one last objection. “Maybe they were just explorers or something. You know, like us. Maybe his buddy just got hurt down there, so he just carried him out… I mean, it doesn’t necessarily mean one of them died down there…”

“But there’s no piton left behind.” Peter gestured to the tunnel floor around them. “And no place where one was driven in… And they weren’t using jetpacks either, because there’s no disturbance in the dust from the downdraft… Which means they had no way back out.”

That tipped Louis over the edge, and he reluctantly began to unpack his climbing gear. “Oh-kaaaay…” He sighed, as he aimed the power-driver at the tunnel floor. There was a burst of compressed air from the driver, and a piton appeared in front of the barrel, embedded securely in the rock. He unspooled a length of cable from the winch and passed it through the piton’s pulley, then handed the end to Peter. “But… Uh… If you find anything scary down there, could you bring it back up so I can see it please?”

“You’re a baby.” Peter locked the cable into his harness, and stepped up to the edge of the crevice. “How are you a boy scout if you’re such a baby?”

“I’m a boy scout because I know everything.” Louis frowned, as he braced his feet against the side of the tunnel to balance out the winch. “I know how to maintenance all the types of engines that we use. I know how to build an airtight shelter out of nothing but rocks and resin. I know how to recycle urine without ever taking off my suit. I can signal for help in 23 languages. If we were crashlanded, then I would be the hero, and you would be the bumbling sidekick.”

“You also know how to be a baby.”

“I also know there was never any pirates on this moon.” Louis added. “Those are just rumors that sprung up around the old military depot in the Eastern hemisphere.”

“Which was destroyed by pirates!” Peter reminded him as he leaned into the cable. He bounced slightly, just to convince his mind that the thin material could actually hold his weight.

“Destroyed by themselves via routine self-destruction. That was standard scorched-earth policy back during the war.”

Louis leaned out over the blackness, at an angle where the cable was supporting the majority of his weight. And he prepared to step out into darkness. “Being a baby must be standard policy too, huh?”

"In certain circumstances yes, maybe being a baby is standard policy.”

“Your mom is standard policy.”

“Negative.”

“Line down.”

Naturally, Louis’s winch made no sound in the airless environment. All Peter could hear were his own boots scuffling and sliding down the first section of the crevice sides, and the faint rhythm of the winch vibrating down through the taught cable. And, of course, there were all the familiar background sounds: the hissing of the life support in his pack, the whirring of the water pump warming his extremities. And above all, his helmet echoed his own breathing back toward him, muffled and close and incredibly loud. That omnipresent, overbearing sound of breathing used to scare him when he’d first worn a space suit; made him feel either profoundly claustrophobic and alone, or feel like Darth Vader was standing behind him.

But now he was a boy scout. And boy scouts are many things. They aren’t babies, first of all. Second of all, they’re responsible, and dutiful, and they know their equipment. Third, they can survive outdoors. So in this day and age, when most doors opened into hard vacuum, you can know for darn sure that a good boy scout isn’t afraid to be out on his own in it, locking his life behind nothing but a little fabric and glass.

This fabric and glass was rugged, and tough, and meticulously well-maintained. It was his armor. And inside it, he was as safe. Safe as he was in his own home.

Peter found that the crevice was widening as he descended. The tunnel wall dropped sideways from beneath his feet, and he soon found himself hovering on his back, suspended from his harness like a sack of freight as the walls continued to recede above him. “Louis be advised.” Peter said. “Tunnel is widening significantly. I have lost physical contact with the wall. Over.”

“How is visual contact? Over.” Louis’s voice came through Peter’s radio, as it always had.

Peter looked left, and right. The ‘hole’ they’d descended seemed to actually be some sort of chasm or fissure, running through the moon’s crust like a cut or a tectonic crack. It stretched off into blackness to either end, far further than his beam could search, must be more than a hundred meters. As for the walls to either side of him, they were widening, dropping off into the distance steadily, like the incredibly steep, jagged walls of an upside-down canyon. He could still see them, but his light could only reach so far; if they became dim enough, he wouldn’t be able to focus on them past the slight glare reflecting off the scratches in his helmet.

And no, he could not yet see the bottom.

“Mediocre, and getting worse. Over.” Peter answered.

“Do you wish to abort? Over.” Louis asked.

“No!” Peter let himself hang flat on his back again, so he was looking straight up the cable at the opening above him. The glow from Louis’s light was brightly illuminating the inside of the mineshaft, forming a jagged splotch of bright brown surrounding the cable’s end. “No…” He repeated, talking to the light. “Just a bigger hole than I thought, that’s all. Don’t blame the Captain for throwing his treasure down here; it’s a good hiding spot. Over.”

Louis ignored that.

The winch continued to spin, the cable continued to unwind, the light continued to shrink above, the walls continued to recede.

“Peter be advised…” Louis’s voice was slow and careful, not quite nervous. “Tension in cable seems slightly uneven. Over.”

“Uneven?” Peter frowned up at his friend. “Louis, please elaborate. Over.”

“It’s decreasing… Like you’re getting lighter… Are you dropping rocks out of your pockets or anything? Over.”

“No… Is your winch speeding up?”

“No…”

There was a brief moment of silence while they both pondered all this.

“Maybe your legs are going numb.” Peter suggested. “Uh, over.”

“Maybe… Yeah, I dunno, I don’t think so… Seriously, if you’re messing with me-”

“I’m not messing with you…” That gave Peter an idea: mess with him. He began to flail his arms and legs to make the line bounce. “I… I think I feel it too!”

“You feel the tension decreasing?”

“No, it’s just kind of… Bumpy… Like somebody’s shaking it…! Are you moving around up there?”

“N-no, I’m not moving an inch!” Louis said. “Uh… Oh, wow, actually yeah, I can feel it bouncing too now!”

“I think something’s on the cable!” Peter cried out. “I think something grabbed it! Oh no, I can see it! OH MY GEEZ! It’s coming toward me!”

“WHATISWHATIS WHAT’S COMING TOWARD YOU?!?” Louis was getting hysterical.

The bumping in the line stopped. All was silent on the radio. Peter held his breath in gleeful anticipation.

“Oh.” Louis said after a few seconds. “Ha ha. Very funny. Over.”

“PFFWA HA HA!” Peter burst out in a spasm of laughter. “You should have heard you! Over.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay, you’ve had your laugh, now no more thrashing around, alright? Like seriously, you’ll freak me out… And if you were just planning on making a fool of me, you shouldn’t have invited me on the mission… Over.”

“It’s not a ‘mission’, and I didn’t ‘invite’ you. I said I was gonna go look for pirate treasure, and then you begged to come along. Over.”

“I didn’t beg.”

“Did too.”

“You’re stupid. Over.”

“You’re a baby. Now keep lining down; I never said stop. Over.”

Louis sighed and flipped the switch again.

The winch started spinning again.

Peter continued to drop.

Five minutes later, Louis finally spoke. “Peter come in; please tell me you’re getting near the bottom…! Over!”

Peter looked over his shoulder. “No, still can’t see a thing down there, over.”

Five minutes further, Louis’s voice had a sharpness to it. “WHEN should we abort, over?”

“Would you quit it with the abort talk?” Peter snapped, and shook his fist up at the fading light. “Just keep spooling down until I tell you to stop, okay? You’ve got, like, a barjillion meters of line in your winch, and it’s rated for, what, two tons?”

“Four.”

“Four! Four tons! That’s about 100 of me! In Earth gravity! This is, like, less than half Earth gravity, so that thing should be able to hold 200 of me, easy! I’m literally in no danger at all! Over.”

“But…!”

“Just keep spooling down until I tell you to stop. Okay? Over.”

“…Okay. Over.”

“Great. Over.”

“Yeah… Yeah, great. I will. Over.”

“Over.”

“Over yourself.”

“Over times two.”

“Over infinity. Over.”

The walls were getting wider and wider still, and Peter’s light was getting no brighter. Soon, the passing rock began to fade. Nothing mysterious about it, the walls just receded further and further until they merged with the black background, leaving nothing but blurs and shadows. And as Peter waited, it seemed that even those blurs were inching their way upward, to disappear into the ever-growing darkness he’d already passed.

Only the speck of light from the distant mineshaft remained clearly visible directly above; that and whatever length of cable was near enough to be seen. A pinpoint of light piercing down at him, and the cable pointing toward it like a finger, as if to remind him that he was not some lonely spider suspended on a web, but that there was light, and company, and good solid ground awaiting him above, whenever he should choose to return.

The last glimpses of rocks passed out of sight. There may as well be no more walls. He looked over his shoulder again, hoping, if not expecting, the floor to be coming up to meet him soon. Surely the bottom must be approaching soon, right…? But it was not.

His light had become utterly useless now, with nothing else around to illuminate. And when that realization struck him, it sowed the seed of doubt. Maybe Louis’s right. Maybe I shouldn’t do this. I should abort, let him reel me back topside, come back later with the scout leader and a big crane and some huge ol’ searchlights… Yeah… Yeah, this hole, this CHASM, was bigger than I ever would have imagined, and one kid with a headlamp isn’t enough to conquer it…

No…

No, keep going, Peter.

It’s got to end sometime.

He looked up at Louis’s dot of light above him. It’s got to end sometime. It’s not bottomless.

Unease built.

It festered in the back of his mind, surged forward every once in a while to try to bring him to panic, to get him to give up, but each time he forced it back. More and more he found himself staring upwards at the spot of light. Strangely enough, it seemed to be getting reddish. As if blood were throbbing forward into his eyesockets, or as if he was gradually being engulfed in some fog, or filter. Perhaps this pit was flooded with trace amounts of some heavy, reddish gas, and as he descended the depths of it clouded over.

However it was happening, he had become utterly fixated on that spot of light, measuring how it faded and shrunk and reddened, trying to estimate when that final singular anchor would fade away.

Five more minutes passed.

You know, it was bizarre. He hadn’t noticed it quite as fast as Louis had, since he’d been hanging comfortably by his harness instead of bracing against the walls with the winch, but Louis was right: the tension in the line was decreasing.

How was it decreasing? How did that make any sense? No, he wasn’t dropping rocks from his pockets, no, the winch couldn’t be gradually accelerating, as the motor only went one speed… It didn’t make any sense.

Ten minutes.

The light… Was the light getting fainter up above? It seems that now, Peter could barely make out the pinprick of red light that was the opening of the mineshaft. There was only the cable, and himself, hanging in the black.

Nineteen minutes.

Nineteen and a half minutes.

Peter found himself staring at the timer in his helmet, waiting for the seconds to finally add up to the big two-oh, and he’d finally have a good round number to affix to his boredom, and his boredom was the excuse he would affix to his request that they finally abort this pointless plunge.

“H-hey!” He radioed up to Louis. “Y-you know dude, th-th-this is a drag. It’s been twenty minutes. Let’s just reverse it now, eh? This is getting silly! Bring me back up! Over.” It felt really good to finally say it actually; to admit that his friend was right; to give up. It felt good, in a way, to never have to discover what lay at the bottom of this hole.

But horror beyond all horrors, there was no answer!

“Louis? LOUIS! Louis, come in! Louis, do you read?!? Over!”

He was still going down!

“LOUIS COME IN!”

His friend didn’t respond, but the line kept descending, and the tension kept lowering, and the light was very, very red and kept fading, and Peter found himself in tears, crying and trembling.

He looked back over his shoulder again, but he still couldn’t see the bottom!

What’s going on?!? Why can’t Louis hear me?!? How far down does it go?!?

In a sudden flash of inspiration, he remembered; he remembered what he should have done in the first place, before ever starting into the pit. How could I forget? In all the movies, whenever anybody descends into the dark, they always throw a flare or a flashlight or a torch first! They always drop a light so they can get a gauge of how far it goes! It’s only smart! Heck, forget movies, I’m a boy scout! I should have instantly known to do that, how could I forget?!?

I still can!

With shaking hands he fumbled the emergency flare gun out of his belt, and loaded a brightly-colored canister into the barrel. Then he twisted around in the harness, pointed the gun straight downwards into the exact center of that gaping black void, and pulled the trigger.

The flare burst from the gun, and flew straight down. Gravity continuously accelerated it, and without air resistance, it kept going faster and faster, a brilliant yellow missile glowing with incredible brightness, speeding ever faster.

And continued.

It slowly faded from yellow to white to blue, growing steadily more distant and small and faint with the distance. Finally, after craning his neck to watch it for what felt like minutes, he found he could no longer even see it.

Good grief! Up on the surface, those flares are normally visible from kilometers out! Kilometers!

Louis was right all along! It’s bottomless! IT’S A BOTTOMLESS PIT!!

He looked back upwards. His panic, which was already skyrocketing, was suddenly compounded when he realized that he couldn’t see the light of the mineshaft anymore. He hurriedly turned off the light in his own helmet, in hopes that he could see better without the slight glare. Yes, that was it; if he killed all his own lights, he could just barely make out the mineshaft, shining like a red star high above. “Louis!” He screamed into his radio. “Louis, bring me up! It’s bottomless! You were right, it goes on forever! You gotta bring me up! Abort! LINE UP!!”

No answer.

He fumbled a second flare out of his pocket, and reloaded. Taking careful aim, the very most meticulous and steady aim, he pointed the missile directly at the patch of light. Perhaps if he could be a totally bona-fide sniper with this little flare pistol, perhaps if the flare traveled dead-center, then perhaps it would get near enough to the shaft for Louis to glimpse its glow, and realize that their radios had been somehow compromised, and reverse the line.

He fired.

The second yellow missile streaked from the gun, this time in exactly the opposite direction of the first.

It went straight up, growing redder and redder as it did.

A minute later, it returned to its yellow color as it came straight back down. It passed by Peter again not 10 meters to his left.

And it disappeared into the dark below with the other flare, once again fading to white and then blue. Now that Peter had his lights off, he thought he could still see the first flare glowing in the incredible distance. It hadn’t hit the floor yet.

Bottomless, bottomless…

He squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to look at anything anymore. Wanting to exchange the hungry, malicious blackness around him for the close, comfy blackness of the backside of his eyelids. Anything to pretend he wasn’t where he was. But the silence was heavy on his ears. Louis wasn’t there any more, only the hissing of his suit’s life support, the whirring of its heater, and his own breathing. And of course he couldn’t ignore the tension in his harness; The tension is still dropping! Now it’s about half what it should be; like for some physically impossible reason the cable is just stretching and I’m falling faster and faster forever and ever and I can’t feel it! Except I can feel it! I feel like I weigh half of what I ought, like I’m halfway to the moon’s center. But that’s impossible! How could he lower me so deep? And if I’m so deep, where’s the magma?!? Oh God, how can it not have a bottom?!?

God…

That’s right, God!

Without any hesitation, Peter curled into a ball, folded the gloves of his spacesuit against his helmet, and began to pray.

“Dear God…! Dear God, come in God! God come in, I’m scared! Please help! Please help it not be bottomless!” He wondered if there was some kind of enormous monster instead of a bottom, or if the moon was hollow and infested with Aliens, or if this pit led straight to hell. “Please make Louis reverse the line!” He pleaded. “Please make it be alright again…! And…! Andandand if you don’t do any of those other things God, then please, please, please make me brave…!”

He continued down.

“Please make me brave.”

He never stopped.

“A-a-amen… Over.” He stuttered. And as his prayer finished, he knew that even through a kilometer of stone, even across the vast reaches of space, even from out of the depths of this unbelievable void, God had heard him. That’s right… God is in control… God knows where this pit leads, heck, he probably created this pit! That means he knows when I’ll reach the bottom. He knows if I’m gonna get back out or if I’m gonna die… In fact, he knew all this before I ever got up this morning. He knows what I’ll find down here, and he still loves me… God loves me. He’s still looking out for me.

Even down here.

And God answered Peter’s prayer; God made him brave.

Peter opened his eyes.

And then he turned his lights back on, and found that the empty pit wasn’t quite so empty anymore. Way off in the distance to his left and right, his lights seemed to be illuminating something… Not a bottom, but something along the walls; yes, the walls seemed to be narrowing again, at least partially… That was a good sign.

The walls got nearer.

And now that they were back in range of his light, he could see something really quite strange: they were no longer made of rock. He could scarcely believe his eyes at first, but the walls were made of metal now, shinier and more uniform. On his left side, he was currently moving past some kind of enormous, curved surface, like the flank of an incredible water tank. A line of rivets bordering a seam confirmed its artificial nature.

On his other side, there was what appeared to be some kind of weight-bearing truss, like you’d see holding up the archways of an old bridge. There was another tank beside the truss too, and what looked like a ganglion of pipes, just on the edge of the range of his light.

As he continued downward, there were other structures. There were round, rivetted tanks similar to the first one, most of them smaller and miscellaneous, but a few quite a bit larger. In between the tanks and the trusses, great cuboid somethings were bolted to trusses, and the housings and shafts of unfamiliar machinery poked out and interconnected here and there. All through the labyrinthian industrial complex, pipes of every imaginable shape and size stretched and curled.

He sure was glad that God had made him brave. With that bravery, he hazarded another communication. “Louis, be advised.” He said, just in case his friend was still able to hear him. “The tunnel walls now appear populated with mechanical structures. Looks like it could be a factory or a refining installation of some kind. Maybe something else. Not seeing any movement or people, so I think it’s abandoned. And there are no lights, so I’m assuming it’s powerless. I’m also not seeing any words or language on any of the pipes, so your guess is good as mine as to who made it… Yeah. Anyway, it’s weird. Over.”

Louis evidently didn’t hear him.

“Louis, be advised.” He continued a few minutes later. “Looks like the machinery is ending. The last of it is passing out of sight, and I’m in blackness again. It was all just on the walls, and the pit itself is still bottomless… Over.”

The tension in the line was as low as it ever had been, perhaps a quarter of his own weight. He thought back for a moment to his science classes: Newton said that if he wasn’t changing speed at all, then that means the total amount of force on him balanced out to zero. Meaning the tension in the line must be equal to his weight, which meant that he must be getting lighter. But he wasn’t losing any mass, so that means the gravity must be decreasing. Somehow.

He imagined that if it continued, he would eventually be weightless entirely. It didn’t make any sense to him how that was happening, but he understood how the affect was progressing, and it was consistent and logical in its own queer way.

It was logical. It didn’t necessarily make sense, but it made a sense.

The logic and predictability of it made him feel a little better, and he allowed himself to relax. In fact, as he rested on the end of the tether under ever-decreasing stress, the inside of his suit began to seem very comfy. Indeed, he even began to feel sleepy…

Well… I can’t keep going down forever. Louis doesn’t have infinite cable in his winch, and his winch doesn’t have infinite batteries. He’s smart enough to know when enough is enough, and he’ll bring me back up eventually.

…

Thank you, God, for making me brave.

He turned off his light to save battery power in the suit, and settled back to wait.

#scifi #horror #original story #The Bottomless Pit #natives of the void

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harry-hook-me · 4 years

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I love your writing so much so could you do #18 “How long has it been since you’ve slept” from prompt list 2? harry hook x reader where harry is in auradon and is struggling with classes and is staying up late for studying cuz if he fails he'll have to go back to isle and he doesnt want to be separated from (y/n), the nothing like Audrey, daughter of sleeping beauty. and he's constantly drinking coffee and energy drinks and (y/n) notices, and he just blacks out in front of her from stress/tired?

The sleepless pirate

Writer - @harry-hook-me (myself)

Request – @descendantofthesparrow

Prompt - #18 “How long has it been since you’ve slept” List 2

Summary – Harry has been struggling with classes and has been losing on a lot of sleep to try and study, y/n, daughter of sleeping beauty, helps Harry with his studying and makes sure he gets some sleep.

Disclaimer - I do not own any of the Descendants characters or scenes from the movies, all credits goes to the creators and producers of Disneys descendants.

Warnings – Some swearing and sleep deprivation

AN- second post in a week, look at me go! I, going to try and write all requested I have at the moment during lock down. Requests will only open again once their all done so please don’t send in requests at the moment! – Lou xo

Word count – 1722

I'm y/n, the second daughter of Aurora, also known as sleeping beauty. Unlike my sister Audrey, I’m a lot less ‘princessey’. I don’t consider myself selfish, unlike her, I’d care more for others happiness and health than my own.

Harry has been in Auradon now for six month, since he’s been here, him and I have become extremely close. The son of the infamous Captain Hook came to Auradon with his two crew mates, Uma, daughter of Ursula the sea witch and Gil the son of Gaston. The first time I met the pirate, I was in my English literature class, he sat next to me and from that day we became a lot closer and very quickly after meeting became friends.

“So have you ever told him how you feel?” Jaydan asks, the son of princess Jasmin. “I’ve not, and I don’t plan on it” I reply standing up from my seat and rolling my eyes at my best friends question. “Why not! Y/n I’m sure he feels the same way, he act so different around you, he looks at you different to everyone else. I honestly thinks he like you y/n” Esmay adds, daughter of Esméralda. I chuckle and shake my head at her statement, “you my friend are obsessed with the idea of love” I reply to her. “What can I say, I’m a hopeless romantic” she says back, holing her hand out and leaning back I her seat. I sigh and place my hands onto my hips.

I stroll down the hallways of Auradon prep, cradling a stack of books in my arms and heading too my English Literature class. Upon my arrival into the classroom, I take my usual seat and get my books ready. Harry enters the room shortly after myself, he takes his seat next to me; he looks awful, dark circles around his eyes, messy hair, like he’d not slept for weeks. “Harry? Are you okay?” I asked concerned for the pirate. He looks up at me and smiles lightly, “mhum” he replies, looking half asleep. I place a hand on his forearm, “how long has it been since you’ve slept?” I asked, worry probably clear on my face. “Two days ago” harry replies with a yawn. I look at him wide eyed. Class began and I turned to face the front. What was happening with harry, I kept going over it in my head, not giving my full attention to what the teacher was talking about.

As the lessons ended, I gathered my books and tossed my bag over my shoulder and headed out the door. I jogged up to harry and grabbed his arm, “hey, why haven’t you been sleeping? Do you want to go for a chat?” I asked him, the dark haired boy nodded in response, I nodded back and began making my way outside to the courtyard.

I take a seat on a picnic bench near a tall willow tree in the courtyard, harry sits in front of me. “Right, why haven’t you been sleeping, is there something on you mind?” I ask him, looking deeply into his beautiful blue eyes, he’s so intriguing, and I feel like I just want to know everything about him. The pirate sighs deeply, shaking his head slightly and placing a ring covered hand on top of mine which is placed on the table. “I’m failing” he begins, “I’m failing every single fucking one of my classed” he adds clearly frustrated and exhausted. “Y/n, they’ve told me that if I don’t pick up my grades soon their going to send me back to the isle” he continues, his voice slightly braking as he reaches the end of the sentence. “That’s why I’m not sleeping, I’ve been studying nonstop, but I just don’t get it. I don’t understand any of it! And I’m fucking scared y/n” he looks up at me, his eyes glazing over, “I-I can’t go back there” he looks down into his lap again shaking his head. I’m shocked, I place my other hand on top of the hand he has placed on mine. “hey, hey, look at me” I start, he looks up, eyes red, sweet boy, he looks exhausted, drained, the usual cheekiness and life to him is nowhere to be seen. “I’m going to help you okay, I’m going to help you study, help you to understand. I won’t let you go back okay, I won’t let you.” I began feeling emotional myself. “I’m going to come over to your dorm tonight at six, I’ll bring all my books and notes and we can study, and I’m going to make sure you sleep. And I’m dam well going to make sure that your staying here.” He nods in return. “Thank you” he whispers, smiling at me.

I arrive at Harry’s dorm at bang on six, carrying a large stack of books in my arms and notes filled my backpack. I gently kicked the door rather than nocking as I had no hands free to do so. The door opens to reveal a still tired looking harry. “Hey” he said to me, “let me help you with these” he added taking the large stack of books off of be effortlessly. “Thank you” I replied and walked into the dorm as harry stepped out of the way of the door, closing it behind me. I look around the room, empty cans of energy drinks and empty coffee cups littered the place, I gasped lightly at the sight, my poor harry. “Gil’s staying with Carlos and Jay tonight so we’ve got the room to ourselves” he snapped me out of my thoughts, I nodded in return. “So where shall we start?” he asked, taking a seat by the window, “physics?” I suggested, harry responded with a nod, I pulled out all my physics notes and joined harry at his seat by the window.

I was awoken by the bright light of the sun shining through the window, but I wasn’t in my usual bed in my room, instead I was lay on the same seat me and harry had been studying last night. The pair of us must have fallen asleep together, the still peacefully sleeping pirate was underneath me, my head lay on his chest, one of his arms wrapped around my body, I hear is heart beat and his steady breathing. I smile, breathing in and taking in his scent. The boy stirs, one eye and then the other opens, squinting due to the light. Harry looks down at me and smiles, the boy chuckles slightly and I feel his chest move up and down, I smile in return. “Well, good morning” harry says. I sit up and giggle, “sorry, I-I didn’t mean to, stay over” I chuckle. Standing up and stretching. “It’s okay, to be honest, that was the best night sleep I’ve had in a long time.” Harry admits, blushing slightly. I smile and look to the ground. Harry stands and walks towards me “thank you” he adds.

I’d been helping harry with studying for two weeks now, and he’s been getting on very well. It’s the week of exams and Harry was starting to stress. “but-but, y/n, what if I get it all wrong, what of I go in there and my mind goes blank, w-what if…” harry panics as we stand outside of out English literature class before the test “hey, harry, it okay, it’s okay” I cut off harry and place my hands on his panicked cheeks. “You’ve worked so hard, we’ve gone over everything. You’ve been sleeping so much better. I promise you, you’re going to be absolutely fine” I look the pirate right in his ocean eyes and smile, trying to calm his nerves. He places and hand on one of my arms, closes his eyes and sighed, I stroked his cheek with my thumb and the pirate smiles the most precious smile. He pulls me into a warm, tight hug. “You’ll be okay” I whispered to him.

The day had come to find out what grades we’d got in our tests. I was sat on my bed reading when a loud and continues knock came from my door and pulled me from my concentration, I walked over to the door and opened it, a very smiley and very fidgety Harry Hook. “Hi!” I giggle with a smile. He waves an envelope around, and hops into my room. Harry hands me the white, half ripped open envelope and I take out letter inside, reading it. “You’ve passed every single class!” I cheer jumping in excitement and pride. I practically jump into Harrys arms and he picks me up and spins me “Harry! I’m proud of you, I knew you’d do it! I knew it!” I cheer. He puts me down and I smile brightly at him. “I couldn’t have done any of this without you, y/n” he returned the bright smile back to me, placing a soft hand gently on my cheek. “If I didn’t have you, I’d be back on the isle by now!” he adds, “thank you!”. I hold on to the arm connected to the hand he has places on my cheek. “You had it all in you harry, you don’t realise how smart you are! It was all you” I looked up at the handsome pirate, eyes locking in a deep gaze.

Harry slowly brings himself closer towards me, I feel his breath on my face, taking in all his facial features; his crystal blue eyes, chiselled cheek bones and jaw line, his lips. Before I knew it, harry pressed his lips against mine, I swiftly wrapped my arms around his neck as he wrapped his around my waist, slightly pulling me up to stand on my tip toes. His lips feel warm, comforting. He pulls away, resting his forehead on mine, looking deep into my eyes once again. “I-I like you, a lot, y/n” he stuttered. I smile “I like you too harry, a lot” I giggle in return. The widest smile appears on his face, two deep dimples emerging on his cheeks. He closes his eyes and sighs what seems to be a sigh of relief. “Be mine?” he asks, so calmly. “I already was” I giggle in return before he connects out lips, once again.

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thoughts-of-a-bibleophile · 3 years

Text

family

not me jumping onto the shusumi week train when there’s only a few days left

i apparently used all my braincells to make this fic and saved none for the title

i...was very much possessed by a writing ghost when doing this. i was just reading some fics and suddenly had the idea for this and then an hour later, i had this fic. i was actually going for seasons when i first wrote this, but it very much turned more into a family piece, so here we are.

i’ve been a persona fan since about 2018, but this is my first work and, honestly, i’m really surprised it’s not shuake/akeshu since they’re usually my main ship. but the beauty of multi-shipping is that i can also love shusumi! i just think they’re really neat.

also, gonna be honest, i... think? this counts as shusumi? even though the focus is a lot more on family than anything else. i wanted to do a more internal piece about sumire and her thoughts after the events of royal, which i think i more or less got across here. there is definitely some shusumi in the end, though!

anyway, without further ado, i hope you enjoy!

if you’re in this tag, you probably don’t need this, but just in case: ***persona 5 royal third semester spoliers ahead!***

word count: 1.6k summary: sumire visits kasumi a year after the accident and reflects on everything that’s changed in the last year.

no beta, we die like men (i’m sorry in advance if there are mistakes, though!)

“I can’t believe it’s been a year.”

It was spring. The trees were green and blooming with flowers, the air perfumed with their sweet scent. Below them, rows upon rows of stones lined the grass, gray and somber, though some holding a pop of color from leftover flowers. A lone girl stood at one, clutching her own bouquet in hand, sakura petals clinging to her red hair.

She should be with her friends right now, celebrating their graduations and having their going away parties. But she couldn’t. Not after everything that had happened. Not without telling Kasumi first.

Of course you’d be the stick in the mud who had to ruin their days, a far too familiar voice seethed in her mind. She did her best to ignore it.

She bit her lip, wondering where to begin. How to begin. So much had happened that it seemed almost like a dream.

“I don’t even know where to start, but I guess the beginning is better than nothing, right?” Sumire sighed. “Honestly, you were always better at this than I was, but I’m going to do my best.”

And so she began. From living life as Kasumi for so many months to cope, to her short time as a Phantom Thief and battling monsters they had only heard of in storybooks, to her days of being lost as Sumire and denying the truth, to finally accepting herself with the help of her friends and-

“Akira...” she trailed off and felt herself smiling just at his name. “You would have loved Akira. He’s the one who was there through it all. He met me as, well, you, but he still likes me as Sumire and-“ She felt her cheeks warm, thinking of his ridiculous, yet romantic antics since she had blurted out that confession. And the fact that he had reciprocated-

Sumire shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts and her blush. That was a story for another time, another visit.

“Anyway, he’s actually the leader of the Phantom Thieves, but he also goes to Shujin. Things didn’t start out that well for him there, but he faced it all head on and did some incredible things. And he met so many people and has so many great friends.”

She paused. “Well, I guess they’re kind of my friends, too, now.” She shrugged to herself. “I wish you could meet them, Kasumi. You would fit right in, as usual. They’re all so kind and caring and funny and- I never thought I would meet people like them. Like I know you always had amazing friends, but for so long, I didn’t think I would ever meet people like that.”

I didn’t think I deserved friends like that, the thought rose in the back of her mind.

The stone in front of her said nothing. Not that she expected it to, but it felt nice talking to it anyway. She played with the edges of her bangs, lost in thought for a moment.

“But...that’s in the past.” She gripped the flowers in her hand tighter, her voice rising as her resolve hardened. “I made a lot of mistakes before, Kasumi, but I’m not going to make them again. I’m going to live my own life and make our dreams come true as Sumire Yoshizawa!”

Again, the stone said nothing. Her words hung in the air for a moment, only to be blown away by the breeze. She fiddled with the violets in her hand.

“I thought you’d like these. I know they’re your favorite.” She tried to smile, only for it to fall moments later. She tried to swallow the lump quickly forming in her throat.

“I know I didn’t tell you this when you were here, but I miss you. I miss you so much it hurts.” Her throat felt tight, her chest hollow, like something had carved a hole into it, never to be filled again. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as her head dropped, the old familiar feelings of guilt and despair slipping through the walls she had carefully built back up the last few months.

“I feel like I’m messing this up; I was never good with speeches like this.” She sniffled, pulling off her glasses to swipe at her eyes. “I just wish you could be here somehow.”

She closed her eyes, wishing just for a moment, for a sign that her sister was listening. The spring breeze picked up again, rustling the leaves of the trees around her. She opened her eyes to see the petals spinning in a circle, almost like they were dancing in a swirl of pink. It reminded her of the pink ribbons she and her sister had first practiced with, of dancing with her friends and of gymnastics and everything that she loved.

Perhaps it had been simply a coincidence or perhaps she was making something out of nothing, but it was enough. It was a reminder to live. To live their dream, to live her life.

Sumire smiled and sighed when the petals fell back to the ground as the breeze lessened.

“I’ll be back soon, Kasumi. I’m going to a graduation party for two of my friends! Makoto and Haru, I’ll tell you more about them next time.” She placed the flowers carefully into their designated spot. “And I’ll make sure to bring new flowers next time, too! And... maybe I’ll bring Akira next time. So you can meet him.”

With nothing in her hands, she fiddled with the hem of her coat, feeling like there was something left to say still, despite knowing that she likely didn’t have much time left.

“I don’t know what’s coming next, but I know you’ll be there with me, Kasumi.” Pink flowers fell on the gray stone and for a moment she could imagine them caught in brown hair instead. “I’m sorry it took me so long to realize that, but I’m glad I know now. I really am going to do my best to make our dreams come true, Kasumi. And I’m going to keep on going and live my own life! I promise.”

With a firm nod to herself, Sumire cast one last look at her sister’s headstone before returning to the walking path. Sakura blossoms covered the top, with purple violets at the bottom. Small sprouts of white flowers had begun to bloom at its base, leaving little gray showing through. Colorful and full of life, just like Kasumi.

Sumire turned back to the pathway and made her way back down to the entrance, full of hope for the future to come.

At the entrance, a boy with black hair and glasses stood, lost in thought, his hair covered in sakura petals as well.

Whether it was from leftover abilities from the Metaverse or he was just that perceptive - she was betting on the latter - he turned toward her as she descended the last few steps down to meet him.

Akira said nothing, just opened his arms to pull her close and rest his chin on the top of her head. She sank into the embrace, feeling the heaviness in her heart lighten just a bit. His hugs were great, but they weren’t magic, even if he liked to say they were. They had a long road ahead, especially her, but she knew they could get through it together.

“Thank you for waiting,” she said, more into his coat than to him. “I’m sorry it took so long.”

“It’s fine. I knew it was important.”

Sumire tightened her arms around him, nestling further into his chest, wishing they could just stay like that forever. But she knew that wasn’t possible, so instead, she looked up.

She had seen a lot of his smiles in the time she’d known him, but she’d only seen this one once before. It was on Valentine’s Day, when his usual smirks and grins had softened into the one he wore now, a quiet little thing that held such care and love that it made her heart clench.

“I’m proud of you, you know that?”

She blinked at him. “Why?”

“I know how hard it was to handle everything, let alone talk to your sister about it. But you did it. That takes a lot of guts, Sumire.”

She felt her face redden and that soft smile edged slightly into his familiar grin.

“I-It wasn’t that big of a deal,” she stammered out. “I mean, I wouldn’t have had the guts to even come here if you weren’t with me, senpai, and even then I didn’t do anything that special!”

Akira laughed, probably at how easy it was to still make her blush around him. He was so annoying sometimes and he knew it.

But then he was serious again and searched her eyes for a moment.

“Are you going to be okay? We can always just stay at LeBlanc and watch movies if you don’t feel up to the party later.”

Sumire shook her head, feeling more okay than she had in a long time. “I want to go and be with our friends. I’ll be okay.”

He smiled and kissed her, a simple, short thing that had done a dozen times at this point, but it never failed to make her head spin and her heart sing.

“If you’re sure,” he said as they separated, only to link their hands as they walked to the station. She squeezed it and felt herself smile, more of the heaviness in her heart lifting at the thought of seeing her friends soon.

“Time to celebrate!” she cheered into the early April sky, the sun seeming to shine brighter in agreement. Hand in hand, they ran toward the station, to meet their friends and celebrate the start of something new.

so that was sure something. i hope you enjoyed it?

sorry, it’s not on ao3 - i just...have not set my account up, so all of my fics are very much just vibing on tumblr. one day i’ll finish setting up my ao3.... one day...

anyway, let me know if you like this! i honestly have no idea if i’m going to be doing any of the other days, but we’ll see.

#shusumiweek #shusumiweek2021 #akira kurusu #sumire yoshizawa #persona 5 royal spoilers #shusumi #my writing #i cannot believe i churned out a fic like this after months of writers block #will this inspiration stick around? doubtful

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skiller0dani · 4 years

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Briefly Lovers | Timothee Chalamet

M A S T E R L I S T

smut | vampire au part 1 requested requests info wanna be on my Timmy taglist? click here sorry if it takes me a hot second to write your request, I’m kinda being flooded with them rn xx thanks for all the love and support guys!

It was harder than he was expecting, almost ten times harder than the last time he’d had to do this. Timothee had settled into his new life easily enough, it was always easy for him to assimilate, he’d sure done it enough times. This time he’d picked a house on the countryside of a small city he’d forgotten the name of. It reminded him of his own childhood home, though he could barely remember anymore. Those memories were locked somewhere deep in his mind, stored away in a lifetime from over 250 years ago. He was no longer that carefree child, throwing seed to the chickens. It doesn’t feel like him anymore, now he spent every waking hour resisting his blood lust and now trying to push you from his mind. His chest constricted just at the mere thought of you, and his heart seized if he heard your name fall off a strangers lips. Why did you have to have a name so commonly used? He heard it everywhere. On mens lips that didn’t deserve to say it. You awakened something from deep within his heart he had not yet mustered up the courage to face. It was raw, it was wild, it was passion, it was so painfully human. Something he had not been for longer than he could remember.

He thought about returning to the man he used to be, to the prowling monster clinging to the darkness that loomed as the sun set. There certainly wasn’t a compelling reason to try to reclaim the man he used to be. Timothee never asked for this, he never asked to be turned. He would have rather been left to die in that hospital bed. Timothee knew she thought she was helping him, but dear Susanna was subjecting him to a lifetime of loneliness. All of that melted away when he was in your embrace, and he hated that he could still feel your nails dragging down his back. Your lips against his neck, your arms around him, the warmth you helped blossom in his chest. This sort of emotion was dangerous, it means that Timothee could start to care. The more he cared, the more he lost. Better to have nothing to lose, leaving your enemies with nothing to take away. So Timothee stayed holed up in his new home, far from other people. Far from you.

If Timothee thought you’d let him go without a fight then he was sorely mistaken. While it was true that you didn’t know exactly how to find him, you were certain you could find a way to bring him to you. Now the plan you were beginning to concoct in your head was 7 flavors of crazy, but you’d fallen in love with a vampire. A vampire. You thought crazy was exactly you needed right now. If keeping you safe is what drove him away, then keeping you safe would also bring him back to you. Right? You chose not to question yourself or talk yourself out of what you were about to do. You couldn’t go another second without him, every time you close your eyes you see him. His messy chocolate curls that he managed to tame, those eyes that shined like emeralds, his smooth voice he could use to coax you to orgasm. A shudder ran down your spin upon remembering that wild night you shared, no barriers between your bodies. No hesitation, no sadness, just you and him. Your body craved for that again, and what scared you more was that your heart craved it too.

This was crazy, it was beyond crazy. Mainly because of the fact that since Timothee up and left, your Dad has been borderline unhinged in his desperate search for him. He hadn’t even attempted to hide the truth of the situation from you or your sister, practically saying it plain. You had no idea how he was going to react to what you were about to say as you descended the stairs. All you knew was that you needed to draw Timothee out, you needed him. When you rounded the corner into the kitchen you saw your Dad where he usually was. Hunched over the counter, with maps and books sprawled out in front of him. “Still looking for the runaway neighbor?” You ask as you move to stand next to him. He groaned, his eyes looking tired but his expression tight and he could do nothing more but nod curtly. You nibbled on your lower lip, the anxiety in your gut beginning to take over as your blood practically curdled in your veins at the level your anxiety had risen to. You straightened your back and reached for the sleeve of your shirt, you’d been practicing this for quite sometime. You wanted it to look perfect, and more than that you wanted it to look convincing.

“Dad I have something to tell you.” You began, effectively drawing his attention as you rolled up your sleeve. You had sculpted a convincing enough bite on your forearm, using the powers of horror movie makeup and a bottle of fake blood. Your Dad immediately grabbed your arm and yanked it over towards him, a rekindled flame of rage in his eyes. “Was it him?” He asks and your body trembles from the sheer intensity of his voice. You nod, your palms beginning to shake- this might not have been a very good idea. “He bit you?” Your Dad asks for further clarification, and by now it was unspoken between the two of you that you were aware of vampires. And that you were also aware that your neighbor is one. “Yes he bit me, he said he wanted me to be his forever...” You lied, turning your eyes to the tiles of your kitchen floor. Your Dad releases you before turning to a kitchen drawer, yanking it open and searching for something inside it. When he turns around, he’s jamming a needle into your neck.

“Sorry sweetheart but when the blood lust takes over I won’t be able to trust you. Don’t worry- I’ll fix this.” He whispers as the world around you begins to blur. You reach out to grab him, but your movements are sluggish. His arms wrap around you to prevent you from falling as blackness spots at the corners of your eyes. He holds you to his chest when your body has slumped fully against him, and he lifts you into his arms before swiftly carrying you out to his van. He knew leaving the monster across the street unattended to would bite him in the ass, and it did. Except it bit his daughter, in the goddamn arm. Thankfully, as long as you haven’t drank human blood- there was still a way to fix this. The bite on your arm looked pretty fresh, and your eyes hadn’t turned quite yet so he knows you haven’t had your first drink yet. As long as he can get a hold of Timothee, this can still be fixed. He just needs the blood of the vampire who bit you, and then this will all be over. If he couldn’t cure you, then he’ll do what needs to be done. By then, you won’t be his daughter anymore. Just another monster walking the Earth wearing his daughters face.

The contacts your Dad knew spread their ivy vines, probing for information regarding the young handsome vampire who’d bitten his daughter. The drive to the warehouse just outside town was a longer drive then he’d anticipated but you couldn’t be around people. He should have driven a stake through Timothee’s chest when he first had the chance, it’s time to end this once and for all. Why did you never listen to him? He told you to stay away from Timothee and you disobeyed him, and now this is the position you’re in. His eyes flashed to you through the rear view mirror. Your arms are strapped to the wall of the van, and your ankles are held to the floor. Your head is slumped low and he can only hope you won’t wake before you arrive. When you arrived at the warehouse, you were still- thankfully, asleep. Your Dad lifted you into his arms and brought you to the warehouse, strapping you up inside it and placing a leather strap over your mouth. “We found him.” A man says approaching your Dad’s right side. Your Dad pulls out a Polaroid camera and snaps a photo of you, handing it to the man. “Give him this, and the address.” He instructs and the other man nods before taking the photo and heading for the exit of the warehouse.

Timothee sat near his fireplace, his stubborn mind once again drifting to you. For the first few weeks his thoughts were purely animalistic, thinking of bending you over the back of his couch. Or on your knees in front of him, dick in your mouth and tears down your cheeks. But now, he thinks of nothing but your smile, how radiant and full of life it is. He thinks of the way you say his name, so soft, so intense, it runs shivers down his back. He thinks of your fingertips trailing down his arms, holding him so tenderly that you almost convinced him that he deserves a happiness like that. Timothee understands a truth that you do not, he understands that monsters like him don’t deserve happiness like that. He didn’t want to sully your pure heart with the darkness looming in his soul. He leans back in his chair, beginning to be consumed by his thoughts when a pounding on his door draws his attention. Timothee is on his feet, slowly making his way towards his front door but when he swings it open there’s no one standing there. Out of the corner of his eye, something nailed to his door catches his attention. When he pulls the photo free, his entire world stops. It’s you, tied up and gagged but it’s what’s on your arm that constricts his heart the most. You were bit. At the bottom of the photo is an address written in sharpie, and he’s out the door.

Your vision is bleary as you slowly open your eyes, flood lights pointed straight at you. The lights blind you, hurting your eyes as you struggle to adjust to it. Behind the lights you see a figure sitting in a chair and when you feel the leather binds holding you to the wall, and the one placed around your mouth you know you made a mistake. Your vision clear enough to see your Dad sitting and observing you carefully, a dangerously detached look in his eyes. “Soon this whole mess will be behind us sweetheart. Timothee is on his way, and as soon as he arrives I’m going to drive a stake through his heart and drain his body of every drop of blood in his veins.” He says smoothly and tears build in your eyes as panic rises in your chest. You begin to cry out against the leather strap, tears in your eyes as your desperate words come out muffled. You pull and yank your limbs against the restraints, your desperate cries ripping through your throat. Your Dad nods to someone to his left and soon the leather strap is removed from your mouth. You gasp for breath as you continue struggling against the straps. “Dad, please don’t hurt him! You don’t have to hurt him!” You beg, tears staining your cheeks.

“I know he’s infected your heart, you think you care for him but it’s not real Y/N. He’s bitten you, all you feel is loyalty because his blood runs through your veins.” Your Dad explains in an even voice and you pull harder, the straps cutting into your wrists. “I love him! I’ve loved him since the first second I saw him. Please don’t hurt him please!” You plead, your eyes begging him as he stands and takes a few careful steps towards you. Your Dad kneels in front of you and brushes tears off your cheeks, “I’ll never see him again I promise. I’ll do whatever you ask but please don’t hurt him.” You cry, your voice hoarse as you look up at your Dad. He smiles, but the emotion doesn’t reach his eyes as he looks down at you. “This is not love, this is infatuation. Forced blood loyalty. That’s all it is, and once he’s dead you will be cured of the weakness in your heart.” He says softly, pressing a kiss to your head before securing the strap around your mouth again. You scream and try to bite at the leather strap as he turns and walks away. A flash of lights flood the room and a smile slides onto your Dad’s face as he reaches for a wooden stake. “He’s here.” Another man says and your panic sky rockets. You sob, pulling as hard as you can even though you know you’re breaking skin.

Everything moves in slow motion as the door to the warehouse open and you’re trying to cry warnings to him through your muffled gag. When Timothee walks in, his eyes are on you before you see a stake driving through the middle of his chest. You scream, your eyes locked on him as you slump against your restrains- sobbing. Blood runs down the stake and wets his shirt as he looks at your father, and you can see the life leaving his eyes. Your Dad walks over to him, grabbing him by the neck before cutting his neck open and draining his blood into a bucket. You feel hollow as your eyes stay fixed on the cement floors of the warehouse, and you just feel numb. You close your eyes to will the tears to stop but they just keep coming. This isn’t real, this isn’t happening. Your Dad didn’t just kill Timothee right in front of you because you pretended to be bit. Oh God this whole thing is your fault, and you choke through your sobs. Suddenly you feel your arm and leg restrains being torn and when you look over, your heart stops.

Timothee is crouched beside you, his eyes glancing towards your Father and the other men surrounding what you thought was him. When he pulls your mouth restraint off his palm is over your mouth, “shh.” He says and helps you silently stand. Your eyes stay trained on him, tears steadily flowing down your cheeks as you follow him through the building. You stay in the shadows, following his every step as his hand stays securely wrapped around yours. His eyes flicker to the bite on your arm and his heart breaks in his chest, he didn’t want this life for you. Your other hand holds his arm, still not fully believing that this is real, that he’s stood in front of you. Eventually you make it to a side door and slip out into the night where you can breathe as you take a step away from him. “I- I just watched my Dad kill you, how are you..?” Your voice trails off, your heart hammering against your chest as you reach for him. Your hands smooth down his chest and his arms are around your waist. “It’s called astral projection. Something Vampires can do. Not very often, but it’s a useful distraction.” He says, his voice hurried as he grabs your arm- observing the bite.

“Who was it? Baby who bit you?” Timothee asks, his hands cradling your face as he looks into your eyes. There is panic in his eyes, and an immeasurable amount of fear behind them as he studies your face. “Nobody Tim-” You start but he shakes his head as his hands gently wipe away the drying tears. “I will find whoever did this and I will kill them. Have you drank from anybody yet? I promise baby, I’ll fix this.” He stammers, holding you tightly. You reach your hand towards your arm and begin lifting the makeup, effectively pulling the ‘bite’ off your arm. Timothee falters, his eyes studying your arm- no bite anywhere to be seen. “It’s make up Timothee. I just- I needed to see you badly and I didn’t know how else to draw you out...” You trail off and he releases you, taking a few steps away from you. There is an unreadable expression on his face as he looks at you, “are you insane? You could have gotten yourself killed! Jesus you could have gotten yourself killed Y/N.” Timothee gasps, running a hand through his curls. Your throat closes in embarrassment as you avoid his gaze. “What the hell were you thinking? Have you ever considered that maybe it’s better for you, if I’m not around? Look at what’s happened to your life since you met me!” Timothee says, his voice strained as he watches you.

“I don’t care! I love you.” You exclaim, catching both him and you by surprise. Tears are pushing at the corners of your eyes again as you look up to meet his gaze. “I love you Timothee, I don’t care about how dangerous it is I just want to be with you. Please take me with you,” You plead as you take a slow step towards him. He looks up at you, his hands coming up to gently cradle your face again as he presses his forehead to yours. “You’d choose a life on the run, a life like this...for me?” Timothee asks as your arms come up to wrap around his shoulders. You nod immediately, “yes. I want to be with you.” You whisper, your hands holding him tightly. Timothee pressed his lips against yours, salty tears mixing in as tears rush down both of your cheeks. “I love you, are you sure this is what you want?” Timothee asks, his eyes searching yours as he looks at you. You smile as your fingers tangle in his hair, “I want this- I want you.” You breathe and his hand wraps around yours before pulling you away from the warehouse.

When you arrive at his house, your back is immediately pressed against the wall as soon as the door closes. He grinds his hardening cock against you and you gasp. “Baby, if we do this there’s one condition.” He whispers in your ear, and you nod desperately wanting him to just keep kissing and touching you. “I’ll let you come with me, but I will never bite you. Ever.” Timothee says, his voice tight as he looks down at you. Your heart drops, the thought of spending forever with him is far too tempting to pass up. If he won’t bite you, you’ll just have to find another Vampire who will. “Fine.” You huff, your lips moving to find his again. Timothee hums, satisfied by your answer as his lips press to yours again. Your mouths move together, languid and slow as his hands reach up to pull your lips for firmly against his. You grind your hips against him, needing to soothe the throbbing between your legs. Timothee takes the hint and slides his hand down your front, under your jeans. His fingers find your slick lips and he smiles against you, “soaked already baby? You’re so ready for me aren’t you?” He asks, his voice low and you nod frantically. His fingers gently toy with your clit, moving too slowly for your liking as he lazily rolls circles over your bundle of nerves. Your hips roll with his movements as you whine against his lips.

“Please Timmy, more.” You plead and you hear him groan under his breath as he takes his hand from your jeans. Before you can protest he’s lifting your legs and wrapping them around his waist as his hands hold you up by your ass. Timothee walks you through the house before gently laying you back against his bed. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you baby,” Timothee whispers as his fingers hook into the waistband of your jeans. He pulls your jeans down your legs, “couldn’t stop thinking about your perfect little pussy.” He whispers, pressing a kiss to the inside of your knee. Timothee slides his hands up your bare legs, another groan escaping his mouth when he sees the black thong you’re wearing. “Couldn’t stop thinking about how it felt to be inside you, so warm and so goddamn wet.” He breathes, his voice husky as his pupils dilate as he looks at you. Timothee continues pressing kisses up your thigh, pressing one light kiss to your clit over the fabric of your thong before moving to kiss down your other leg. “Fuck,” You whine, your hips beginning to wriggle as the heat builds in your stomach. “But mostly, I couldn’t stop thinking about your smile, your laugh. Your beautiful eyes, and I couldn’t stop thinking about how fucking much I missed you.” Timothee admits, his eyes looking vulnerable as he looks up at you.

Finally his fingers pull your thong down and he groans loudly seeing your pussy glistening for him. “God, I missed you so much baby.” He whispers, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. He presses his tongue into you then, his fingers rubbing at your clit. Your back arches off the bed as a strangled moan falls from your lips. “Fuck baby,” You moan loudly, your fingers winding into his hair to pull him against you more firmly. Timothee continues to push his tongue into you, moaning softly at your taste. Your cries come out more strangled as he continues to wind that coil tighter in your stomach. His cock is pressed against his pants so hard it’s beginning to hurt. No matter how much he jerked himself off, he could never cum. Only you can make him cum. He replaces his fingers with his mouth over your clit as he slides 2 fingers into you. Timothee changes the frantic desperate pace he just had for a much slower one. He very gently and sensually pushes his fingers into you and draws them out slowly, causing you to whine as the pressure in your pelvis builds. “Please don’t stop, please please,” You plead, your voice almost coming out as a cry. Timothee doesn’t stop, he keeps his slow languid pace as he gently builds you up until you’re squeezing around his fingers. You cry out as you throw your head to the side, feeling your cum gush around his fingers.

Your heart races and your eyes are closed when you feel Timothee slide up your body, his nose brushing against yours. You open your eyes and your arms wrap around his shoulders, “please baby. Make love to me.” You whisper against his lips and you feel him smile. His hands reach down to push his pants down his legs and off his ankles before he’s lining himself up at your entrance. You spread your thighs wider for him as he presses the head of his cock into you. Your face buries in his neck as Timothee gently slides into you, the warmth and tightness of your pussy overwhelming him as he releases a shaky breath. One of his hands cups your cheek and the other slides under your back as he slowly pulls out of you so that only the tip was inside you before pushing back in. The pace was slow, long deep strokes that reached places inside you that you didn’t know existed. Your legs open further for him as he continues so slowly thrust into you, and you feel the heat spreading through your veins like fire. “I love you.” You whisper into his neck and you feel goosebumps spread over his skin as a shiver runs down his back. “Say it again baby,” Timothee groans, his pace increasing a little as your orgasms approach. You look into his eyes, “I love you Timothee,” You say again and he drops his head to your chest- taking a nipple in his mouth. In an instant that coil snaps and you cry out, squeezing around him and effectively sending him over the edge. He cums into you as you cum around his cock.

Both of your hearts are racing as he pulls out of you and lays beside you. Your breaths are heaving as he reaches over and pulls you into his chest. “I love you too baby.” Timothee says, his eyes closed as he squeezes you against him. You nuzzle against him, peppering soft kisses across his chest. “You’re not gonna leave again are you?” You ask as your eyes begin to droop and he presses a kiss to your forehead. “Baby I promise I’ll still be right here when you wake up.” He promises and you relax completely against him, all anxiety leaving your body. You feel sleep beginning to take you as you cuddle into his side more. “I know you don’t want me to be turned, but I want to spend forever with you.” You breathe into the silence and you feel his body tense. Fear courses through him as he presses another soft kiss into your hair, “sleep my love. We can talk about this in the morning.” He says and you nod, finally letting sleep take you.

***taglist*** @sflowervol6 @90sthemedsunsets @newletas

#timothee chalamet smut #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet #timmy chalamet #timothée chalamet imagine #timmy chalamet imagine #lil timmy tim #au #vampire #vampire au #vampire smut #vampire timothee chalamet #timmy chalamet vampire

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xxbyimm · 3 years

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25 oc questions: 🌟🌙❄️🔥🌻💎👀 and I know who you wanna talk about 😆

Lol, you do???? I have no idea...

Thank you so much for asking me these questions, my dear sister from another mister! <3 I really enjoyed answering these. 🔥

🌟 When your OC loses all hope, who do they turn to first? What helps make them feel better? What calms them down and reassures them? Why?

Enya Blueheart always turns to her husband Thorin first. If something or someone is letting her down, she will needs his reassurance and support. Since a large part of their love language is physical touch, they’re often found hugging, kissing (among others things.. LOL). Within his arms, she feels safe and at home. Snuggling up with him in front of the fireplace is one of her favorite things in the world.

Secondly, Enya’s tiny pet dragon Dracarys never fails to make her laugh, because of he’s too stupid to be even alive to be honest. His cuteness has saved his tiny ass more than once!

When Thorin or Dracarys aren’t available, I can see Enya seeking comfort with Dís. Because Enya is about the same age as her sister-in-law’s sons, Dís is very protective of her.

🌙 If your OC could have one wish come true what would it be and why? Would there be consequences to this wish or would they regret it once they get what they want? What would they give in return for this wish to come true?

Hmmm… Quest Enya has one wish in mind, but that one will get granted fairly easily and she has no regrets. At all… ;D

I think Queen Enya desperately longs for some private time with her king. And with this I don’t mean quality time in their private quarters, but more like an equivalent of a holiday we humans have. She wants to go on an adventure with him, explore Middle Earth and have long, passioned make out sessions without having to worry which member of the court is playing peeping Tom. The consequence of this wish would be that the kingdom has to survive without its’ king and queen for a few weeks, but I think they’ll survive…

❄️ What makes your OC sad, so sad that they can’t help but cry all day? How do they cheer themself up? Does their sadness upset any of their loved ones too?

Losing Thorin. As we’ll see in the upcoming chapters of Enya’s journey, losing Thorin will devastate her. There’s no cheering up from that. At that point, En just wants to crawl into a hole and die.

🔥 If your OC known for having temper tantrums? If not, what gets them really angry? What makes their blood BOIL? Is there anyway to calm them down or are they unstoppable? What are they like when they’re angry? Do they take it out on their loved ones?

UM, YES! We’re talking about a bloody fire-witch here! Enya is notorious for her temper tantrums, in which she sometimes loses control over her powers (a.k.a. setting the bed on fire). She despises arrogant people, females who dare to even look at her husband (Dolvira and Elmilynn are honorable mentions) and gender inequality.

Calming this sassy lady down isn’t easy, especially when she has turned into a literal fireball. But somehow (I’m not sure how he does it), Thorin manages. He listens to what she has to say or simply distracts her from the topic that’s enraging her.

🌼 Write a short drabble from your OCs POV meeting their LI (or if they don’t have a love interest, their best friend. If you don’t want to do a drabble, describe their first meeting instead!)

Oh yass!! If you don’t mind, I took a snippet from the remastered Enya’s Unexpected Journey series I’m currently writing!

‘Ouch!’

She landed on something hard and unrelenting. Next thing she knew, the world was literally spinning on its axis and she was lying under a gruffy, very angry man with long, dark manes and a beard. The fight was over before it even had begun and Enya found herself being pinned firmly on the ground, a sharp blade pushing against her throat. She hissed in pain as her assailant’s deep blue eyes flashed over her, scanning the level of danger from his current foe.

Even to someone as inexperienced in combat as she was, it was clear that the man was overpowering her in both strength as deadliness. Resistance was futile. Enya stopped writhing under his tight grip and the can containing her only way to defend herself, rolled onto the ground.

‘Honestly, my dear.’ Her mind huffed. ‘Are you even trying to escape or what?’

For a moment, they were taking each other in and emerald eyes burned into their pale blue counterparts. Aside from those gorgeous eyes that looked straight into the depths of her soul, the man possessed a characteristic nose and a carefully kept -though no less majestic- beard. His mouth was set in a grim line. A strand of his unruly, dark hair brushed over her face. His scent, a mix between tobacco, musk and worn leather, was both soothing and intoxicating.

Good gracious. He was hot…

💎 Does your OC collect anything? Is there a reason? When did they start and is it beginning to turn into a little bit of a hoarding issue? What do they do with their collection?

I don’t think that other than pets, Enya doesn’t really collects anything. She loves animals and once Dracarys bonded with her there was no going back. Thorin often jokes that Erebor is a kingdom, not a farmhouse… xD

👀 Describe your OC through the eyes of another person! (bonus + specify who)

This is a snippet from a chapter I have yet to write!! Lady Dís meets Enya!

A slender female clad in black appeared behind her trusted informant Daniel. Dís, who wasn’t used to Dan bringing companions with him- especially not ones covering their face with a hood-, arched a brow. Dan caught her gaze and grunted something incomprehensible, making the princess of Durin smile. The poor ranger just couldn’t help himself, could he? He always had to play the hero.

‘I don’t remember asking you to bring me anything other than information, Dan.’ She spoke. ‘Who’s this?’

The female lowered her hood and a wave of chestnut brown locks fell over her shoulders. She had pretty, delicate features and though the lack of any apparent facial hair (not even a slight sideburn) was a bit disappointing, the fiery, determined gaze in her pale blue eyes made up for it. But there was something else. A small flicker in her gaze betrayed there was much recent hurt and heartbreak lurking beyond the surface. Whoever the girl was, she had been through much.

‘I’m sorry for intruding your home like this, lady Dís.’ The girl said, her light and melodic voice sounding polite but yet quite certain. ‘I didn’t mean to offend you.’

‘None taken.’ Dís replied. ‘What’s your name?’

‘My name is Enya Blueheart and I’m the last royal descendant of the firebeard clan.’

Ah, a dwarrowdam. Of royal ancestry no less! Dís neared her new acquaintance with curiosity. ‘You’re most welcome here, miss Blueheart.’ She said. ‘May I offer you something to drink and a place to rest? You look rather tired.’

‘Yes, thank you.’ Enya murmured as she let the princess of Durin guide her towards the long dining table near the fire.

‘My my.’ Dís muttered as her fingers accidently dug into Enya’s ribcage. ‘You are too thin for my liking. If I may inquire… Who broke you?’

@criminaly-supernatural, do you approve of this Dís and Enya scene? ;D

#enya blueheart #thorin oakenshield #thorin x enya #thorin x oc #25 OC questions #sister from another mister #i love enya more than life #ugh

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dreamyjoons · 5 years

Text

heartbreak trials // jjk

⇢ it all started with a bet: the one with the highest body count would get the most illustrious prize - Namjoon’s bedroom. For you and Jungkook, the race was on.

Genre/warnings: angst, smut! roommate!au, sex talks, best friend & fwb!Jimin, very background Namjin, swearing, alcohol use & drunkenness, creepy/pushy guy at a bar, oral (m & f recieving), fingering, unprotected sex, a creampie thing (lmao sorry), overstimulation, snarking constantly I can’t stop it

Words: 13.8k

A/N: In celebration for Jungkook’s birthday, enjoy this baby. I hope you all like it. Thank you to the incredible underthejinfluence for the support, suggestions and letting me complain regularly lmao.

“I swear, one of these days I'm gonna kill him.”

You throw yourself over the arm of the couch, letting your head flop on Namjoon’s knee. You sigh and pout up at him, waiting for him to pay you attention.

He casually ignores you, thumbing through the book in his hand. Another louder sigh passes your lips. Namjoon rolls his eyes, hastily dropping the bookmark in his hand between the pages. Once the closed book sits neatly in his lap, he turns his unimpressed gaze on you.

“What’s he done now?”

“He brought someone else home last night. Which is fine” -noting Namjoon’s raised eyebrow- “but Jungkook always seems to pick the loud ones.”

“I see. But do you not think he’s getting back at you?”

You sit bolt upright and spin, fully focused on Namjoon. Sure, you and Jungkook had some weird… thing going on when it came to having hookups in the house. Sometimes it felt a little premeditated. But you didn’t hate each other enough to have that kind of rivalry. Not that you thought so, anyway.

“For what?”

“When you brought home that guy from work who yelled the whole time you both fu-”

“Yes, your point?” You rush, ignoring the heat creeping across your face.

“Kook had an exam the next day.” Namjoon shrugged, his fingers idly teasing the edge of his book.

“That? That was last year Joonie! he’s graduated already!” You yelp, throwing up your arms for good measure.

“Yeah, but you never apologised.” You splutter at his quiet words, a Jungkook-shaped rage beginning to simmer inside you.

“Did he apologise when that devil ex of his put her thong in my bedroom? Or when that other crazy bitch tried to punch a hole through our connected wall-“

“Oh Sana? I thought you’d like her.” Jungkook smirks, strolling into the living area.

You jolt as he swaggers into the room, messy hair falling into his eyes. Wearing yet another all black ensemble, he casually strides to the sofa and sits himself between you and Namjoon, shimmying in the spot for good measure.

“What do you think?” You snap, scooting as far away from the demon as possible.

“Oh, I'm not interrupting, am I?” He smirks at you, brown eyes glittering with mischief.

“Always-“

“You’re fine, Jungkook. Actually I’ve been meaning to talk to you both.” Namjoon says gently, leaning forward to place his book on the table before turning to face you both. You and Jungkook both forcibly break your tense glare at each other to turn to Namjoon.

“I finally have a date for when I move in with Seokjin.” He smiles, his little dimple flashing on his face.

“Congrats, man!” Jungkook grins, slapping a hand on Namjoon’s shoulder.

“That’s amazing, Joonie. I bet you’re both so excited.” You smile, warmth spreading through you. It had been a long time coming - two bean poles who annoy each other constantly but found each other made your heart swell.

“We can’t wait, but that leads me to something about here. Obviously this was originally my flat, so I’m gonna pass it to you both. But it’s listed under my master bedroom.” He stops, taking a second to collect his thoughts. “So you both need to decide between you who’s going to have my room.”

An uneasy glance passes between you and Jungkook, a chill descends upon the room.

Namjoon’s room was not only nearly the size of yours and Jungkook’s room combined, but it also had an ensuite bathroom. It was prime real estate, and there was no way you were going to pass that up.

“I’ll have it-”

“Me!”

You both shout before another deadly glare passes between you. His eyebrows knit as he stares at you, but you’re not intimidated. You never are by Jungkook. He was a bunny! And apparently he banged like one-

“No way Jungkook, I deserve it! I’ve had to listen to you one-stroke wonder for nearly two years now-“

“Not a chance, Y/N! If I have to listen to you fake another orgasm I swear-”

“Fake? Fake?!” You splutter, heat surging to your face as you gawp at the floppy-haired idiot.

“Oh please, I’ve had to listen to you enough to know when you’re putting it on, which sounds like it happens regularly.” He shrugs, flicking his hair out of his eyes before smirking over at you.

“What makes you an orgasm expert?” You scoff.

“Oh baby, I know how to give an orgasm or three.”

You splutter and try to play it off as a cough, but Jungkook grins triumphantly. Namjoon loudly clears his throat, shuffling to the edge of the couch to give you both a meaningful stare.

“I’ll be out of here by the end of next week, but the contract will be changed in just under a month.” Namjoon gets to his feet, tucking his book under his arm. “You both have until then to decide.”

You stare at each other, sizing the other one up.

“I don’t care who takes the room as long as nothing gets broken in the inevitable fight you both are gonna have. Now, goodnight.” He smiles, before ducking out of the room. You and Jungkook both sit in silence until you hear his door shut.

You’d known each other for a year or two - you’d moved in with Namjoon after graduating after seeing an ad for a room. Jungkook had moved in three months after, having needed a place for his final year of college. That had been almost a year ago, and things were a lot different.

It wasn’t that you didn’t get on - you did. Most of the time. But there had been this strange atmosphere between you which had resulted in a weird competition; namely who can have the most sexual partners. Or in Jungkook’s case, the loudest.

“Obviously we both want the room.” He states, and you force yourself not to roll your eyes so hard your retinas detach.

“Yeah.”

“So how about we come up with a fair way to battle it out?” He asks, his full attention on you.

“Like what?” You ask, but he merely shrugs, hiding behind his hair slightly.

“I dunno. But we need a fair competition, because neither of us are gonna with over an argument.”

“I mean, I probably would-”

“No. Let's do this somewhat fairly.” He asserts, raising an eyebrow at you. You huff, but finally nod.

“Fine, but I can veto it if it’s a stupid idea.” You counter, holding out a hand.

He reaches out and takes your hand in his, gripping it as you shake hands, finalizing your agreement. You both break apart, sinking into separate ends of the couch.

“It’s gonna be weird without Joon being here.” Jungkook says quietly, and you nod at his words.

“Who’s gonna burn all our food and break up our fights now?” You smile, a genuine ache seeping its way into your chest.

Jungkook lets out a small chuckle, running a hand through his hair as he looks around the room. So much of Namjoon’s personality was in that place. The book titles with too many words strewn about the pace, the huge, earthy blankets laid over nearly every surface. The one bonsai he trusts you and Jungkook not to kill sitting proudly in the window. It was cosy, and completely Namjoon.

A silence settles over you, the air palpably thick.

You drag your eyes back to Jungkook, and find his eyes on you. They’re gentle but probing, like he’s trying to read your deepest thoughts. You nervously drag your lip between your teeth, heat flashes across your face as his eyes follow the motion.

And there it was. The deep ache in your stomach whenever you’re alone together, or when he creeps into your thoughts every day. You could never dwell on it, because you and Jungkook in any other context but roommates wasn’t something you could see. The risk of a broken heart is something you couldn’t handle, so you avoided it at all costs.

You push yourself to your feet, needing fresher air to fill your lungs. His bright eyes widen at your movements, following your every move.

You stare back at him, hair pushed back out of his face, mouth parted as he watches you, hands resting on his muscled thighs.

“Got work tomorrow, gonna get an early night rightokaybye-” you rush, darting around the couch and heading to your bedroom.

You shut the door and lean against it, tipping your head back against the wood. You take a deep breath and slip into autopilot, changing and climbing into bed, trying to clear your mind of Jungkook and his smile. And those thighs.

— —

Staggering through the front door, you kick your shoes off and slam your keys onto the little key rack Namjoon excitedly hung a month ago. You push the thought aside, not wanting to deal with the sadness of Joon moving out today.

Dragging your feet, you moan as you stumble into the kitchen and throw yourself on one of the island chairs, slumping into the counter.

“Fucking managers… ‘we need you to file these before you clock out’... yeah well file my fist into your face, asshats…” you mumble into the counter, the cool granite seeping into your forehead.

“Rough day?” A tinkling voice greets you, and you lift your heavy head to stare at Jungkook, half in the fridge with a banana milk in his hand, wiping some escaped liquid around his mouth with the back of his sleeve.

“... have you been there the whole time?”

“Yeah. Work sucked, then?” He asks, closing the fridge and leaning on the counter, head in his hands as he looked at you. You blink stupidly at him, his big eyes sucking you in.

“Uh… yeah. Yeah, it was crappy.” You rush, before slamming your head back down on the counter, letting the cool seep into your burning face.

This is why you prefered arguing with Jungkook. Fighting him was easy. Because when you’re not being snarky and insulting each other, he has the stars in his eyes when he talks to you and you become a stuttering mess.

“You need to blow off some steam.” You can hear the smile in his voice, and you pick your head up to look at him.

“Yeah, by taking the bubbliest bath ever and sleeping until next January.”

“Nope, you know what I mean.” He winks, and you roll your eyes at him.

“Thanks, but no. I’m not in the mood.”

“Awh, don’t think you could get it?”

“Please. I can pull way more people than you, Jungkook.”

“I doubt that, Y/N. I mean, look at me.” He gestures to himself, and you focus on keeping your eyes fixed firmly in his face. You weren’t going to follow those gorgeous hands-

“Whatever. Keep dreaming.”

“Wanna bet on it?”

“Bet?”

“Yeah, say, one the one with the highest body count gets Namjoon’s bedroom?”

“I dunno Jungkook, that sounds like a lot of work. And shaving.”

“You haven’t got to shave. Or are you just looking for an excuse?” He smirks at you, eyebrows wagging.

“... how long would it have to be for?”

“Until we have to sign the contract for the room, right? Namjoon said less than a month, so let’s say… three weeks.”

You flick your eyes over him, weighing him up.

It would be a lie if you weren’t tempted. Both you and Jungkook had a … colourful sexual history, which seems especially ramped up with your unspoken competition over the last year. There was a chance you could win, but no one could resist Jungkook - you often wonder how you’ve lasted so long.

But then again, Namjoon’s room did have a shower with amazing water pressure.

“You’re on.” You grin, holding out your hands.

Jungkook reaches across the counter and takes your hand in his, shaking excitedly. He pulls back over the counter and gives you a bunny smile, eyes practically sparkling.

“Don’t we need some rules or something?” You ask, and his smile drops as he groans.

“No? It’s sex, there’s no rules.”

“Oh come on, stuff like using dating apps, and, I dunno, lying about our number.” You frown, waiting for his reaction.

“Why would I lie?” He asks, genuine concern crossing his face. A twinge of guilt settles in you, and you have to admit: Jungkook may be a lot of things, but he’s never been a liar.

“Fine, fine, I know you won’t. But we need to talk some things through.”

A fierce discussion and a lot of colourful words later, you both agree to some tentative terms for your competition.

“Okay, so. One, no dating or hook-up apps, we have to do this the old fashioned way. Two, we can’t interfere with each other when we’re trying to get laid-“

“Ugh, can you not say it like that?” You groan, sinking back into your chair.

“Okay - when we’re trying to bump uglies-“

“No-“

“Three, we can sleep with the same people, but more than once doesn’t count. Failing to do any of this will mean we forfeit.”

“Right. And once we’re done we note it down on…” you pause, getting to your feet and walk to the fridge.

You take off the magnetic white board and scrub it clean. You draw a line down the middle, and put your and Jungkook’s name on either side of the line.

“Namjoon’s gonna be pissed that you got rid of his cleaning rota.”

“Shut up. We tally it here.” You tap the board for emphasis.

“Done. So are we starting now?” He asks, but you shake your head. It wasn’t enough that work had worn you out, but now the exhaustion from the conversation and the task ahead of you was threatening to totally wipe you out.

“Nope, too tired. You’re not gonna have an advantage over me like that Jungkook. Tomorrow.” You assert, getting to your feet.

He stares at you for a moment, assessing. A soft look passes his face - a glimmer of something. But it vanishes instantly.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” He says gently, his eyes fixed on you.

“I want to, Kook. I’m gonna win that bedroom and sing in my shower all the time. I’ve got this.” You grin. He watches you for a moment before his demeanour changes, slipping back to the bubbly Jungkook you’re so used to and grinning at you.

“Keep dreaming, Y/N.” He smiles, before picking up what’s left of his banana milk and chugging it. You roll your eyes and walk away, your bed calling your name.

“Good luck getting someone to sleep with you when you have banana breath. Night Jungkook.” You call over your shoulder.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

You walk through your door and shut it behind you, finally letting yourself sag on your bed. You stare at the ceiling, the bet ticking through your brain.

It was probably dumb, but competition with Jungkook was always interesting, and it had been a while since you’d had some action. At least you could find someone to distract you, and get a nice bedroom out of it.

You wearily get to your feet, changing out of your work clothes and into pajamas. Then, after a second’s thought, you tidy your room just a little. If you’re gonna have company, you may as well be presentable.

Finally you drop into your bed, bone weary but mildly excited. Time to get up on the saddle, and show Jungkook who’s the real cowboy.

— —

Your blissful sleep is interrupted by a dull thudding, one that seemed to get louder and louder. You vaguely register it coming from the wall you share with Jungkook, but you were desperately trying to cling to the remaining tendrils of sleep. A grunt meets your ears, and you realise something wasn’t right. Groggily you open your eyes, the rude awakening souring your mood already.

“Jungkook! Fuck…” you hear a faint whine and you freeze.

You hear a few more thumps until reality hits you. Throwing yourself from your bed, you grab your phone and storm out to the kitchen. Namjoon sits at the kitchen counter, sipping his coffee calmly. Thankfully you couldn’t hear the smut from here, so you sink into the seat next to him, planting your forehead onto his shoulder.

“Take me with you to live with Jin, I beg of you.”

“You started this, Y/N. Never make a bet with Jungkook on anything! The boy will stop at nothing to win.” He sighs, placing his coffee down.

You sit bolt upright and glare at him suspiciously. He blushes a little, but he meets your gaze.

“How do you know about the bet?” You ask, forehead creased.

“I’m very smart, I tend to know things.”

“... Jungkook told you.”

“Yeah Jungkook told me.” He laughs. “He waited for me to get home and told me.”

“Why would he do that?” You frown.

“Oh, uh…” he flusters. “He- he just wanted to give me a heads up.”

“Okay… well whatever, I’m not gonna be beaten.” You mumble, picking up your phone and scroll through your recent messages.

“That doesn’t sound good.” Namjoon says under his breath, but you decidedly ignore him.

You find the number you’re looking for and shoot a quick text before locking your phone. You grin at Namjoon as you stand up, grabbing a glass of water and chugging it.

“Gotta go prep, have fun at wo-”

You're cut off by the door of Jungkook’s room opening, and you and Namjoon spin in unison. Out totters a relatively familiar girl, and you recognise her as one of Jungkook’s usual hookups. He walks her past you both to the door, his hand hovering in the small of her back as he leads her out. You move your gaze to Namjoon who looks between the both of you, frowning.

After a brief murmur, the front door shuts and Jungkook saunters back into the room, a small grin on his face. You flick your eyes up to him and see that he’s only wearing a pair of gym shorts, his hair messy and wild. Perspiration still clung to his bare chest, his hair slightly sticking to his forehead. You swallow hard, forcing your eyes away from him.

“Looks like I’m taking an early lead.” He shrugs, bunny teeth on show as he smiles. Your phone buzzes on the counter and you look over at it, a smirk lighting up your face as you look back to a curious Jungkook.

“Well, I think we'll be even before you’ve even got dressed, so don’t get too cocky.”

A groan cuts off his answer, and you both dart your gaze to Namjoon who has his head tilted back, eyes screwed shut.

“Please just… can you both make sure no one gets hurt if you’re actually going through with this?” He sighs, bringing his head back to glare at you both.

“Get hurt? Who’s gonna get hurt?” You ask, but your gut screams that you know. Deep down where you try to ignore, you know.

Jungkook flusters, settling to stare at Namjoon with wide eyes. Sighing again, Namjoon gets to his feet and dumps his cup into the sink before turning to stare at you both one last time.

“You know what I mean. Now, I’m going to work. Please don’t get your bodily fluids all over my apartment.” He tells you both sternly before walking away.

You and Jungkook look at each other for a moment before you buckle under his gaze, grabbing your phone and heading to the bathroom.

“We’re not gonna get hurt, are we?” Jungkook asks quietly, and you spin to face him.

“No- no, why would we? We’ve got no reason to.” You say awkwardly, fiddling with the hem of your pajama shorts. “As long as neither of us do anything stupid, we’ll be fine.” You finish with a forced smile, ignoring the voice in the back of your mind telling you that this was dangerously stupid already.

“You’re right. Yeah.” He nods, stepping back. He bumps into the stool behind him and flounders before regaining himself, giving you a small salute before he vanishes to his room.

You stare after him for a moment before you shake your head and walk to the shower.

Taking your time to shave and moisturise so that you were feeling yourself, you finally step out, wrap yourself in a towel and head back to your room. A quick check of your phone tells you he’s almost there, so you slip on a top and some shorts - it’s not like you’ll be wearing them long, anyway.

You faintly hear a knock at the door and you speed out to answer it.

Swinging open the door to see Jimin smiling at you, you can’t help but grin back.

“Hey Y/N.” He smiles, his eyes scrunched as he beams at you.

“Hey, thanks for coming so quickly.” You laugh, grabbing his hand and dragging him through the house and towards your bedroom.

“Well, you know I’m always keen to help you beat Jungkook at something.” He laughs as you shut your door behind him.

“That’s why I can always count on you.” You smirk, pressing him back so that he falls onto the bed. You straddle him, hands pressed gently to his chest. “And please, be as loud as possible.”

— —

“I’m gonna go pee. Then we can talk about your battle plan to defeat Jungkook.” Jimin says gently, smiling at you before he gets out of the bed and pulls on his boxers and jeans.

You wave at him and stretch out on the bed, smug at closing the gap already - and you’d only been awake for three hours.

You sit waiting for Jimin, keen to talk to him about the whole bet with Jungkook. But you waited and waited, until finally you got impatient and got up, throwing on a tee and shorts.

You walk out of your room to find Jimin in the kitchen, head thrown back with laughter as he talks to Jungkook. Both were shirtless, but you felt your face heat up when you tried to avoid staring at Jungkook. You approach them, eyebrows drawn together and an uneasy smile on your lips.

“Hey guys…”

“Oh, Y/N! You didn’t say Jimin was coming over.” Jungkook smiles, fixing you with a bubbly giggle as he watches you approach.

You shrug as you walk to the fridge and pick up the pen, putting your first tally on your scoreboard. You spin back to smile at Jungkook, a surge of excitement rushing through you. He swallows as he looks between you and Jimin, his bubbliness dulling a little.

“So, neck and neck, huh? Don’t expect it to last long.” You wink at him, before flicking your eyes to Jimin.

“Wanna go out tomorrow?” You wiggle your eyebrows at him, ignoring Jungkook’s noise of exasperation.

“If you’re going out, I’m coming too!” He yelps.

“No way, not happening! I’m not having you cramp my style.”

“Cramp your style? What are you, sixty?” Jungkook snarks, causing Jimin to stifle a giggle into his hands.

“You’re gonna mess me up! No way.”

“Oh come on, if I do ‘mess you up’ then I’ll void the bet and that’s not gonna happen. So buckle up baby, we’re going out.” Jungkook leans against the counter and crosses his arms across his toned chest, challenging you to try and deny him again.

You look to Jimin and see that he’s set his puppy dog eyes on you. You huff, throwing your hands in the air, and Jungkook grins.

“This is gonna be fun.”

“Whatever nerd, we’ll see who’s gonna be having fun.” You snap, grabbing Jimin by the shoulders and pushing him back to your room before slamming your door shut.

“Chill out Y/N, I’m not gonna take your man.” Jimin giggles, stretching himself out on your bed.

“He’s not my man, you ass.” You hiss, picking his shirt off the floor and launching it at him.

“Well either way, I can’t wait to watch the train wreck happen tomorrow night.”

— —

Night and day passed too quickly.

Namjoon or Jin couldn’t be persuaded to go out with you, citing that they weren’t going to be around ‘childish games of romance’. You elected to ignore what they were trying to say, and simply took your frustrations out by stress texting Jimin all day.

But it couldn’t be held off any longer, and soon you found yourself pressed between sweaty bodies making jerky movements to loud music.

Jungkook had been relatively silent for the whole of your journey, only replying in solemn nods and prolonged staring.

Jimin -who was sick of both of you- ignored the pair of you, practically skipping his way through the club to the bar. He orders a round of shots, passes one to both of you and chucks his down his neck. You blow out your cheeks, forcing yourself to relax.

Jungkook being there wasn’t going to cost you Namjoon’s room. Keeping that in mind, you tip the liquid into your mouth, the burn rippling down your throat as you swallow.

Your eyes flick to Jungkook as he does the same, eyes fluttering shut and lips pulling tight as he forces down the shot.

You forcefully drag your eyes away from a spot of alcohol that escapes his mouth and creeps down his exposed throat, and focus on the crowd.

There were a lot of people in the small club, and your hopes at finding someone were high. Jungkook walks off, mumbling something about the bathroom, and you watch him leave. You turn to look at Jimin, a smile finally slipping onto your face.

“Feeling lucky?” He asks, noting your grin. You shrug your shoulders at him, a twinkle in your eye.

“As long as Jungkook stays out of my way, I’ll be fine.” Your voice is low, and you fiddle with the shot glass in your hand before gently placing it on the bartop.

“Why would he be an issue?” He winks, eyebrow raised.

“He just… gets in my view and I can’t concentrate because his stupid face is in my vision.”

“Sure, and it’s not because you -“

“Shut up, Jimin. I don’t know what you think but you’re wrong.” You snap, eyes narrowing. He simply laughs, holding up his hands in a surrender motion, before his eyes flick over your shoulder.

“Well whatever, I think you’re gonna have company in a minute.” He nods, and you follow his eyes to find a man down the bar looking in your direction.

He’s cute, kinda tall, a little beardy. You give him a shy smile, before turning back to Jimin and winking. He shakes his head, a small giggle passing his lips.

“Give me a signal if you need any help.” He whispers, watching the man walk towards you. You squeeze his arm gently, before turning back to rest on the bar.

After a mere moment, you feel a figure slide next to you, a faint air of expensive cologne filling your senses. You hide your smirk, electing to run a smoothing hand over your hair. The loud music thumps along with your heartbeat, the thrill of the chase lighting your veins on fire.

“Hey.” His deep voice filters in from beside you, and you turn your slightly head to face the man.

“Hi.”

“Would you like a drink?” He asks, bringing his mouth low by your ear.

“Depends if you’re buying or not.” You smirk, meeting his hazel eyes.

“If it means I get your company for the evening, it’s on me.” He tilts his head as he smirks at you, pulling a light laugh from your lips.

“Does that work on all the girls you try it on?”

“I don’t know - will it work on you?” He whispers, his cool breath brushing over the hair by your ear and down your neck.

You lick your lips, letting a hand rest on his arm as you bring you gaze level with his, mere inches away. You were already mentally checking off another mark on the scoreboard, causing a smirk to slip on your face.

Leaning into him and letting your eyes flutter shut, your lips are on the verge of grazing when he’s suddenly ripped out of your space. Your eyes fly open as you search around you, only to find Jungkook pushing the guy through the crowd and out of sight. Shock etches across your face, eyebrows rocketing up as you jaw hangs.

Jungkook stalks back to take the guy’s empty place, fury written across his face as he looks at you. His side is pressed against you in the busy bar but you take a dizzying step back, trying to uncloud your mind. Your stunned stillness fades, replaced by blind rage.

“Jeon Jungkook, what the fuck-“

“I know him, Y/N. He’s a complete asshole.” He fully faces you, bright eyes holding yours in a deadly stare.

“He doesn’t have to be a Nobel Peace Prize winner for me to sleep with him! You’re way out of line!” You shout and he winces at your tone, but he doesn’t falter.

“Trust me, it’s better if he’s not around. I’m trying to help-”

“Are you? It doesn’t look like that from here.” You snap, holding his gaze.

“Believe me, Y/N.” His voice is quiet, and for a moment the storm in your mind clears. But you can’t let him into your head like that, you won’t.

The crowd jostles around you, knocking into you and Jungkook as they try to get to the bar. You’re both pressed together, held in place by unaware figures. But you don’t bend, intent on letting him know how you feel.

His dark eyes examine your face, drawing his lip between his teeth as he lets your words sink under his skin. Your eyes dart about his face, unable to focus. The small freckle that sits just under his mouth, the flare of his nostrils, the way his teeth sink into his lip. It was all him - impossibly Jungkook, and hard to stay angry at. But you wanted to, you needed to.

There’s something electric about him when he looks at you like that. Breathing your air, painted in red and blue lights, surrounded by darkness. It’s heavenly - and too much.

“Stay out of my way, Kook.” Your voice is low, but he hears you loud and clear. With one last withering look, you step away from him and go to find Jimin, his eyes hot against your back.

You deliberate leaving the club completely, Jungkook fully ruining your mood. You can feel him working his way under your skin, and it alarms you that you don’t mind him being there. You shake your head, expelling those thoughts. You’ve got a bet to win, you tell yourself. It shouldn’t be that deep.

Finally, you find Jimin surrounded by a crowd as he dances. They’re cheering over the music, strobe lights illuminating the graceful moves the makes. He laughs as he moves, catching your eyes across the sea of bodies. You smile at him, but his head cocks and he ceases all movement, making a b-line for you. Some of the crowd complain, but he ignores them, stopping before you and placing his hands on your upper arms.

“Are you okay?” He asks, eyebrows creased and plush lips pulled into a thin line.

“Yeah, I’m fi-“

“Do I need to beat that guy up? Where’s Jungkook, we’ll grab him and-“

“No, it’s not the guy that was the problem, it’s Jungkook.” You murmur, eyes shooting away from Jimin.

You find yourself scanning the crowd for him, but not finding him anywhere. You ignore the small pang that hits your chest and instead turning your attention back to Jimin. He has a soft look on his face, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles in your arms.

“So you finally admit it?” He asks softly, barely audible over the music.

“Admit what?”

“... nothing. Come on, let’s get another drink and you can tell me about it.”

With a soft embrace, Jimin steers you to the bar. Pressing through the crowd, you let yourself lean against the wooden bartop, watching but not seeing.

Jimin’s served, and he slides two shots of something clear towards you. You look at him and raise an eyebrow, but he shrugs at you before throwing back his own. You drink one, then two. Wiping your mouth in the back of your hand, you look at him and smile weakly.

“Thanks.”

“So what happened?” He asks, and you take a steadying breath before relaying what went on with Jungkook.

Jimin is silent as you speak, weighing the value of each word. He’s quiet after you’ve finished talking, and you wonder for a minute if he even heard you. But he looks back at you with a sad smile, and suddenly you don’t feel so brave any more.

“You two don’t learn, do you?” He sighs, shaking his head. Your eyebrows cross as you stare at him, waiting for him to elaborate. But he doesn't, letting the words hang in the air.

And you know. You know what he means, you know how you feel. But thinking any more of Jungkook will never be reciprocated, and ignoring your heart is better than having it broken.

But heartbreak follows you.

You cast your eyes back around the room again. You see someone flick their hair, and you know it’s him, you know it. But moving your eyes around him stops your heart.

Jungkook stands just off the end of the bar, whispering in the ear of a petite brunette. There no playful air about him like there usually was, no thrill of the chase. Determination ripples around him, no sense of ease. In a way, it felt personal.

You blink back a sting in your eyes, turning back to the bar and suck in a deep breath. Jimin looks over his shoulder, spotting what you had been fixated on. He looks back and lays a light hand on your shoulder, but it’s too much.

“Y/N-”

“Excuse me Jimin, I’ve got a bet to win.” You say in a low, dangerous voice, before slipping away from his grip and moving quickly towards the dancefloor.

You let yourself be distracted for a mere moment, letting nothing but music, people and darkness fill your senses. A coldness creeps through your system, your protection. You let your eyes flutter shut, forcing everything but that second away from you.

You’re bumped forwards, and you begin to trip over your feet when a small hand grips your arm and steadies you. You right yourself and turn, only to come face to face with a beautiful, tall blond woman. She looks at you gently, letting her eyes linger on your body.

“Sorry about that.” She smiles, letting her hand linger on your arm.

“Oh, no worries.” You smile at her. She steps away after a prolonged glance, and you bite your lip.

You take a quick look around, eyes immediately darting to where you knew Jungkook was. The girl's hands were pressed to his chest, giggling something excitably in his ear. His expression doesn’t change, but you watch as his hand slides over to her hips.

For once halting moment, his eyes find you in the crowd. It’s fleeting, but you share something that you can’t pin down. He looks pained, guilty.

But he doesn’t push her hands away, and his hand stays rooted to her hips.

You drag your eyes away, your decision for the evening settling in your chest. You briefly make eye contact with Jimin, an unending pity deep in his soulful eyes. You swallow thickly before turning back to the retreating woman, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Wanna dance?” You ask, fake smile slipping onto your lips.

“I’ve been dancing all night, I was gonna head home.” She smirks, and you school your face, another rejection threatening to slice through you.

“Oh-”

“But I could do with some company.” She winks, threading her fingers through yours.

You smile at her and let her lead you towards the bar exit. You look to Jimin, a sad expression on his features. You offer him a blank stare and a small wave, ignoring the flicker of concern in his face.

With an ache in your chest, you flick your eyes to Jungkook - only to meet his. He watches you get pulled by, examining the woman before looking at you. His mouth is parted, his normally sparkling eyes glazed over. The girl he’s with paws at his face, but he doesn't look away from you.

You’re the one to drag your eyes away, trying to erase how her hands looked over him in your mind.

The girl looks back at you and smiles, and you return it, your heart heavy. But you follow her, out of the bar, into a taxi and into her arms.

— —

The next week and a half was painless - purely through the power of ignorance.

You barely saw Jungkook. You spent an entire day with him at one point - but fortunately Namjoon had too many books and lots of furniture to move, so you were barely in each other's presence for long.

But Namjoon was gone, and the two of you were left to haunt the apartment like lonely spectres in his wake.

It wasn’t a total bust though - you’d managed to take the lead in your bet. You were two ahead of Jungkook with eight. Namjoon’s room was in your grasp, and you had planned to go out with Jimin again tonight.

You quietly eyed the whiteboard - Namjoon left it behind saying it had been ‘tainted’. You pull out a carton of juice and pour yourself a glass, trying to delay going into your room.

You knew Jungkook had someone over. You didn’t want to go to your room and hear them, and you wanted them to walk out and see you much less.

Instead you drain your glass and make a grab for your keys - but you had to go to your room and get them from your bag.

Steeling yourself, you make a break for it. You’re almost at your room when his door swings open, and you’re blindsided, your gut wrenching.

“Jeni?” You splutter.

She turns, dressed only in one of Jungkook’s oversized shirts. Her perfect blond hair fell into her precise bob, beautiful features pulled into a look of confusion and disdain.

She places a perfectly manicured hand on her hip whilst the other pulled Jungkook’s door shut. You glare at Jungkook’s ex, your head beating so hard you thought it would burst from your chest.

“What are you doing here?” You growl, letting malice seep into every word.

“Isn’t it obvious?” A spiteful laugh falls from her lips, eyes sizing you up.

“Come back to break his heart again? Or did you get lost on your way back to the swamp?” You snap. She laughs mirthlessly at you.

“Well, Kookie said you weren’t any different. Glad to see nothing’s changed.” You cringe at her nickname for him - it always sounded so cold and calculated when it came from her lips.

“He said that?” You ask, eyebrows creased.

Why was he talking about you - to the ex who tore his heart to shreds? You could remember nights where you’d stay up until 5AM to distract him from the pain he felt - as if you could absorb it for him. In some way, you did-

“Oh Y/N, dense as ever, and hopelessly in l-”

“Shut up Jeni. I know it uses up a lot of brain cells for you to form words, so you can just stop.”

You brush past her, making sure to knock her as you walk by. She squeaks at the impact, but you don’t feel anything but empty.

“It was good to see you. You’ll be seeing more of me soon enough.” You can hear the smile in her voice but you ignore her, bursting into your room and slamming the door behind you.

Pacing the room, your mind reels and your stomach churns.

Jeni being here had changed things. Jungkook was left shattered by her, why would he bring her back into his life? Even to win a bet, that was dumb.

But her being here was bringing to a head something you hadn’t wanted to admit to yourself - how you truly felt about Jungkook.

Because you realised if she is here, you can’t be. Him sleeping with people was one thing, but a relationship, emotions and love with someone else? That wasn’t something you could watch again - it broke your heart enough the first time around.

Your plans to leave the house abandoned, you sit on your bed and pull out your headphones, placing them tightly in your ear before blasting the first song you could find.

When the roar of your headphones was the only thing to fill your senses, you lay back on your bed and curl on your side, letting the music take you some place that wasn’t here, and that didn’t hurt.

Only an hour or so later, you were rudely woken by someone shaking your shoulders.

Groggily you snapped the earbuds out of your ears, and rolled on your back to see a blurry Jimin standing above you.

“Hey.” He says gently, hand resting on your arm.

“Hey.” You whisper back, sleepily rubbing your eyes.

“You doing alright?” He asks softly, big doe eyes examining your face. You nod and sit up, letting the sleep work its way out of your system.

“Come on, get dressed. We’re getting out of this damn apartment.” He orders, taking your hand and pulling you to your feet. You didn’t argue - you didn’t want to.

“You’ve seen Jeni, then?” You ask, walking to your wardrobe and finding anything to pull on.

“Yeah. Stupid boy…” he sighs, the last part quiet but you hear it all the same.

You finish getting dressed on autopilot, throwing on a quick layer of light make-up before you're ready. Grabbing your purse and phone and slipping on your shoes, you nod at Jimin.

He offers you a small smile before taking your hand in his and leading you both out of your bedroom. He squeezes your hand lightly, and your heart swells at the support from your friend. He was a lighthouse through the fog of all the bullshit you felt.

You hear her voice in the kitchen and tense, but Jimin runs a soothing thumb across your knuckles, and you shudder in a breath.

Both of you walk past the kitchen and see Jungkook making coffee, a pained expression on his face as he half listens to Jeni speak. At the sound of you and Jimin walking by his head snaps up, bright eyes fixed on you.

You feel your face heat up as you make eye contact, but Jimin continues to pull you away. Jungkook’s eyes snap to your locked hands, before back to you, his lips parting.

“Where are you going?” Jeni asks, obviously annoyed at Jungkook’s distraction.

“Out.” Jimin snaps, pushing you to the door.

You open it and step out, heaving a heavy breath of air. Jimin shuts the door behind you and throws an easy arm around your shoulder.

“We haven’t got to go out if you don’t want. We can go for a walk or something.”

“No, no it’s okay. I need something loud. And alcohol. Definitely alcohol.” You sigh, wrapping an arm around his waist, grateful for the support.

An hour later, you find yourself gulping down your sixth - seventh? - shot of the night, and your third glass of a bright blue liquid that was definitely strong but tasted too sweet for you to care.

The bar wasn’t too busy, it being a weeknight, but there was enough people there to keep it interesting.

Loud pop music filled the room, bouncing off the dark walls. You bopped along to the beat, the haze of drunkenness clouding your vision. You were numb, comfortably so.

Jimin had disappeared a little while ago, phone pressed to his ear - he said he was going to the bathroom, and for you to stay put. He’d been trying to tamper down your behaviour all evening, holding back too many shots and chasing off anyone who approached. But still you had managed to get a drink or two bought for you and gulped it down without him catching you in time. However you had gotten bored waiting and being babied, and drunkenly wandered off.

The bet still rattled around in your head, which caused you to flirt with everyone you came across. The still rational part of you screamed - your heart wasn’t in it, not any more. But your clouded brain wouldn’t see past it, and instead you let yourself be pressed against strangers, their hot breath rolling across your face as you tried your luck.

With your most recent attempt telling you that he’ll come find you later in the night, you gave him a sloppy wink before staggering away.

You press yourself against the bar, sloppily propping your head on your hand. The bartender places a small glass of water in front of you and you smile your thanks at him, pulling it to your lips and lightly sipping.

The look in his eye catches you off guard - pity. Your smile falters, your drunken haze shattering around you. You gulp down the rest of the water and in a moment of clarity, realise you should find Jimin. You shouldn’t be here any more.

Your turn from the bar a little too fast, causing yourself to stumble. A pair of hands catch you, and prop you back up against the bar.

You look up at the man and thank him, and he smirks down at you. His brown choppy hair frames his face sharply, his lips drawn tightly into a smile.

“You heading somewhere in a hurry?” He asks, and you offer a polite smile.

“I’m- I’m” you pause to hiccup, “gonna find my friend. ‘Scuse me.”

“Woah, what’s the rush? I’m sure your friend will be here in a minute.” He takes hold of your wrist, pinning you in place. You try and snap your hand out of his hold, but his fingers are an iron grip.

“Let me g-go.”

“Don’t you wanna stay and chat? You’ve been hitting on everyone here, why not me babe?” He laughs, but his voice has an edge to it, an underlying bite.

“I’m going home… asshole. Getoffme-”

“Listen, slut-”

“Let go of me or I’ll scream.” You grind out, rage and fear bubbling in your chest. The man simply laughs, and you see red.

You dig your nails into his hand around your wrist, and he releases your hand with a grunt. You snap your hand away and begin to scramble from him, but he grabs your upper arm and slams you back against him.

“Isn’t this nice? Now-”

Just as suddenly as you’re pulled against the guy, you’re pulled away into someone’s chest.

“Jimin, I’ve got her!” The shout rumbles from the chest you’re against. You flick your eyes up to the owner of it, only to have the air sucked out of your lungs.

“Kook?” You whisper, his wide eyes meeting yours, a softness touching each corner of his face.

“Bro what the fu-” the man starts, snapping Jungkook gaze from you.

Jungkook wraps a protective arm around your waist, holding you to his side. Rage fills his face, his teeth gritted as he stares at the man.

“I’m not your ‘bro’. You’re disgusting.” Jungkook spits, steering you away from the guy.

You let out a breath, fingers gripping tightly into the material of his shirt. Jimin finally finds you, rushing to you and cupping your face in his hands. Jungkook tenses a little under you, but you don’t let him go.

Jungkook explains what just happened, and Jimin looks between the two of you and towards the man you were just with.

“Get her home, Jungkook. I’m going to have a little chat with our friend.” Jimin almost growls, letting his hands drop from your face.

“Be careful Jimin.” Jungkook offers quietly, but Jimin shakes his head.

“Just get her home.”

With a final nod, you’re walked out through the door of the bar and out into the darkened street. The wall of fresh air makes your head spin, and you cling to Jungkook for support.

You let him lead you down the street as he waits for an uber, his arms still snugly around your middle.

“Why are you here, Kook?” You slur, lifting your lidded eyes to his face. His eyes stay firmly glued to his phone.

“Jimin called. Said you needed me, so here I am.”

“Yeah, but why are you here?”

His eyes flicker to you just for a second, a glimmer of something flashing across his wide eyes.

“Because… I care about you. Even if you think I don't. And if I left you to fend for yourself, Namjoon would castrate me.”

“I-I can handle myself. I don’t need you… stepping in like some knight in shining armour-”

“I know.” He murmurs, interrupting your rambling tirade. “But I want to.”

Your words die in your throat as you look at him. He’s aggressively avoiding your eyes, instead searching the roads.

It’s overwhelming, the need to tell him the depth of your feelings. You know it’s the alcohol coursing through your veins, but it’s deeper than that. And sober you would hate the drunken delivery, but you need to lighten your heart, your soul.

“Kook-“

You’re stopped by a car pulling up beside you. Jungkook confirms with the driver through the window about his pick up before reaches for the door, helping you in.

You reluctantly disentangle from him and climb clumsily into the car. Jungkook shuts the door behind you, and appears a moment later getting into the other side. As soon as the door shuts the car moves away, your mind spinning.

The ride’s quiet, but your eyes never leave him. You can't tell if it's the alcohol or not, but you can't stop. After a moment, he turns his gaze on to you, his lip between his teeth.

“Why don’t you call me that more often?”

“... what?”

“Kook.” He says softly, and you feel your heart begin to thump wildly in your chest.

“I dunno, it just happens.” You shrug, but the weight of his question sits on your chest. He was your Kook, you wanted to scream. Not just Jungkook. Kook.

The rest of the ride is quiet. And despite all your anger and hurt, you slide against him and rest your head on his shoulder, lacing your fingers with his. You couldn’t stop yourself, but it felt right through your haze.

Too soon, the car pulls in front of your apartment block. Jungkook throws open the door and slides out, but keeps his hand clasped with yours. You follow him out on wobbly feet and close the door behind you.

You fight to keep your mind blank as he leads you back up to your apartment, only pausing to unlock your front door.

“Is, uh… is that devil bitch still here?” You whisper, pressing to Jungkook’s side. He nearly drops his keys as he looks at you, eyes wide.

“Jeni? No, no. She finally left when Jimin called.” He sighed, at last getting the door open.

You stumble in, momentarily forgetting your hands were linked and dragging Jungkook with you.

He says nothing, simply kicking the door shut behind him as you head straight for the sofa, pulling him down beside you.

The only light came from the windows, dewy street lights strobing the room. Shadows fall across his face, soft, and so close.

His lips part as he watches you, eyes wide. You don’t know how long you sit there for, but it felt like an eternity - and it was perfect. You could spend a lifetime looking at him, seeing him.

He forces his mouth shut and swallows before disentangling your hands. You make a noise of protest, but he holds a finger up.

He hurries to his feet and disappears, only to emerge a moment later, a glass of water in his hands. He offers it to you and you accept gratefully, gulping the cool liquid down.

You place the glass carefully back on the table before settling back onto the chair, head falling to his shoulder.

It couldn’t be helped - the neediness that was trying to claw its way from your chest. You wanted nothing more than for him to consume you, to hold you, to kiss you. It felt so amplified in the moment.

But you couldn’t - how could you? You had to live together, you shared the same friends. Would he ever feel the same? You weren’t like his exes, you weren’t like anything he knew.

You feel his weight shift, and your heart thuds as he leans his head on yours, fingers lacing once again.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” He asks, his voice so soft you barely hear it above the roaring in your head.

“I… yeah. Tired.” You mentally kick yourself, chickening out of your true feeling and leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

“You should go to bed-“

“No! I mean… just a minute longer. S’nice.” You murmur, tracing your thumb across his pink knuckles. He lets out a soft sigh, and you feel him relax beneath you.

You realise as you drift off that you can’t do it - the bet, Jeni, any of it. It was heading to something you didn’t want, a trial you weren't prepared to face.

“Stupid.” You mumble aloud. Jungkook hums at you but you don’t hear as you quickly drift off, the heat radiating from him to you being the only thing that matters.

— —

There was only four days of the bet left.

When you had woken the morning after your night out, you were on the couch alone. You were in the apartment alone. You shifted, only to find a blanket draped over you and the blinds pulled to block out any unwanted light in your fragile state. A fresh glass of water sat on the small coffee table in front of you, and you swallow thickly.

You remembered the night in gory detail, but the essence remained true enough - the bet was over for you. You couldn’t do it anymore, no bedroom was worth it.

And so the next few days had passed uneventfully, slowly and totally alone. You hadn’t seen Jungkook at all since that night, but a glance at the board on the fridge told you that he hadn’t stopped the bet - in fact he’d overtaken you. The wonky lines under his name sliced through you, a chill settling in your chest.

It had begun to feel claustrophobic in the apartment, a constant pressing on your mind and heart. Even though you hadn’t seen Jungkook, knowing he was around was enough. You barely left your room, conscious about running into him.

You waited until he had left for work before you emerged from your room, keen on devouring anything in your path. You’re midway through rummaging in the fridge when a knock raps quickly at your door.

You hesitate for a moment, waiting to see if they would leave. When the knocking continues, however, you decide to answer. Scraping your hair back neatly as you approach the door, you swing it open-

Only to be met with Jeni.

“What?”

“Charming. Is Kookie here? He’s not replying to my texts or calls.”

“Work.” You sigh, ignoring the way she waves her expensive phone inches from your face.

“Hm. Well, maybe I’ll wait for him to come back- we’re talking again, you know.” She smirks at you, smugness radiating off of her as her eyes scan your face for the slightest hint of weakness.

You let nothing slip despite the punch you feel in your gut. You swallow, trying to wet your drying throat.

“Oh really? I didn’t know gargoyles were able to converse. Congrats for your species.” You say, the fakest smile you could mister plastered on your face.

“You’re just jealous, Y/N. It’s obvious.”

“Are you done? I’m bored of this conversation.” You snap, leaning awkwardly against the door.

“You know what, I will wait for Koo-“

“Yeah, I’m gonna be late, I left my keycard at home- oh.” Comes a voice from down the corridor, and you lean out to see Jungkook stopped in his tracks, his eyes rapidly flicking between you and Jeni. He had his phone pressed to his ear, dressed impeccably in his suit and tie, perfectly pressed trousers tailored to his figure. You’d seen him in what he wears for work many times, but it never failed to knock the breath from your lungs.

“Kookie!” Jeni squeaks, fixing him with a wide smile.

“I’ll be in when I can. Bye.” He deadpans into his phone, not waiting for a reply before he ends the call and pockets the device. “What are you doing here?”

“You weren’t answering my calls-”

“Because I told you I wasn’t going to.” Jungkook’s voice is low, dangerously low, but his eyes are deadlier.

“Jungkook, what are you talking about?”

“I’m sorry you’ve misunderstood me again Jeni, but I told you from the start that nothing would happen between us again. I won’t let you hurt me a second time around.”

The stunned expression on her face is almost laughable, but you do feel a slight tinge of pity for her. It doesn’t last long though. She pulls her expression into a scowl, sneering at him. She casts a sharp glance at you before glaring back at him.

“Whatever Kookie. You’ll come crawling back to me, they always do. Let me know how this all works out.” a spiteful laugh pulls from her lips, flicking a finger between you and Jungkook.

Your eyebrows shoot up as she walks away, letting her hand trace across his bicep as she walks by. You watch the strain on his face as he suppresses a shiver, refusing to move until she was finally gone.

“You okay?” he asks, voice softened as he looks at you. You nod, unable to find your voice.

Panic flushes through you as you step back, ducking back through the door and into the apartment. The gentleness that had crept into his face when he looked at you was too much, it was what you were trying to hide from. You were nearly at your room when his voice hits you, deep, and pained.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

You breathe in deeply, steeling yourself. You’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this. Jungkook had never liked confrontation, so you were banking on him ignoring the tensions that hangs in the air. You just wanted enough time to forget. To get over him.

“No, I haven-”

“Yes you have, Y/N. What have I done?”

You didn’t want to look back at him. You couldn’t bear to see the galaxy in his eyes. But he deserved a reason. And maybe, finally, once he knew you could breathe a little. There was no glimmer of hope that he’d return the feelings, but at least you could get some space. But getting that would hurt too.

What a fucking mess.

Slowly, you turn on your heels and walk back to the kitchen to meet him. He stands in the doorway, eyes fixed on you. You take a steadying breath, stamping down the fear that begins to rise in your throat.

“You haven’t done anything.”

“There must be something. I don’t want to upset you, Y/N. Talk to me.” He takes a step towards you but you take a step back.

“It’s me, Kook.”

“What? Y/N I’m confu-”

“I like you. Okay? I really like you. Fuck, I don’t want to say the ‘L’ word but...I can’t do it any more.” Your voice shakes and your eyes sting, but you hold strong. His eyes widen as he drags his eyes away from you, and appealing to the dark irony within you, his eyes fix on your scoreboard sitting glaringly on the fridge.

There were your words, your heart, head and hopes all laid out for him.

But he just stares at you. Silently, suffocatingly. Time stretched, and the longer it went on, the blacker your heart felt.

“Jungkook?”

Nothing.

“Please?” You croak, your voice thick.

“Y/N. I don’t know what to say.”

“Spare my feelings, Kook. Just say something.”

His eyes finally meet yours. They’re wide, tainted with a softness that made your chest hurt.

“The ‘L’ word?” He asks, eyebrows pulled together, fingers nervously twitching by his side.

“Love, Jungkook. I love…” But you can’t finish the sentence - not with the way he’s looking at you.

“Why do you love me?” he takes another step forward, eyes desperately searching for an answer in your face.

“I-I don’t know. It just crept up on me. I can’t stop. Believe me, I would if I could.”

“But- but why would you want to?” You frown at him. His words come from a much more innocent place than you imagined, but it stirred up so many feelings inside of you. You chose to focus on anger.

“Because I can’t watch you love other people that aren’t me, Kook. I can’t have my heart broken any more. I don’t want to hurt.”

He steps forward, hand reaching out to hold yours. He fills your senses, and you can’t think straight. Everything becomes him, and as much as you don’t want him to leave, he’s too much.

You step back from him, letting your hand slip from his. His mouth parts as he watches you, the lost expression you’re so used to creeping back onto his face.

“I- I can’t. You’re everything, Jungkook. I can’t let you break my heart again, watching you fall for people who I can’t be.” You walk back slowly, eyes flicking everywhere but him. “I’m gonna go stay with Joon and Jin, and find somewhere else to live-”

“Y/N-”

“It’ll be better for both of us-”

“Y/N!”

“Kook?!”

“I don’t want you to leave me.”

His eyes are wide, but determination seeps through him, his unending need to see things through permeating his very being.

“I- what?” You blurt.

He strides the distance between you in a few easy steps, his hands finding your face before he crashes his lips onto yours, desperate for you to understand just how he feels.

You tense under him, your heart thudding so loudly in your chest you’re sure he could hear it.

But your body lets him in, finally, totally and completely. Your hands knot around his neck, yout eyes fluttering shut as you finally give in to your heart.

His hands gently caress your cheeks as he kisses you, fiercely parallelled by how hard he pressed his lips on yours, small sighs escaping him.

You’re the first to pull back, your arms still pressed against his neck as you explored his face, freely and unashamed. His thumbs drag across your cheek, the universe swimming around you both.

“I… may ‘L’ word you too.” He whispers, a goofy bunny smile sliding onto his face. He tucks his face into his chest, almost as if he was trying to hide.

All the pain and confusion seemed to melt at his words. The weeks, the months, you spent aching for something you didn’t know.

“You do? But what about Jeni?” You ask, and his smile turns sheepish as he looks up at you.

“Oh..uh, yeah. I kinda, was a little, maybe bitter. Jealous. Possibly.” A blush creeps along his face, and it unfurls something hot in the pit of your stomach.

“Bitter about what?” You raise an eyebrow, and his next words are barely above a rushed whisper.

“ParkJimin-”

“What?

“Park Jimin!” He yelps, before hiding his face in your arms.

“Jimin? What’s he got- oh. You were jealous of me and Jimin? Why?”

“Look, I know it’s dumb-”

“It is, yeah.”

“-but I couldn’t help it. You two had some… thing, and you hang out all the time. I just… got caught up in it and the bet. Knowing you’d been with him first and had slept with more than me… it just got to my head.”

“But Jeni…”

“Yeah I know, I wasn’t thinking straight. But she was here, and all I could think about was you.”

The admission stunned you, your jaw dropping.

“So why didn’t you say anything to me?”

Why didn’t you?” He asks quickly, and you feet heat creep across your face.

“Okay, touché. We’re both stupid.”

“Yeah. But not any more.” A smile slides on to his lips, and you mirror him.

“I doubt that.”

He chuckles as he looks at you, bright eyes meeting yours. He brings you forward once again, pressing his lips to yours. It’s softer this time, slower. Something that had been worth waiting for.

You pull back from him, placing your hands on his chest and push him back before you fall in too deep.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” You ask, your voice croaking.

His eyebrows knit as he looks at you, kiss-reddened lips pulled into a pout. But then an easy smile slips onto his face. It shines so bright it felt like you’d been living in shadows your whole life.

“I’ve waited long enough for this. They can have a day without me.”

You smirk, the fire inside you burning as you finally, finally have Jungkook where you wanted him. And you weren’t going to pass this up, not for anything ever again.

You back him against the wall to kiss along his angular jaw and down his throat, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows thickly at your ministrations.

You slide the jacket from his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor before you start to undo the buttons on his shirt.

You remove your lips from his neck to watch the shirt slip from his body, the fine fabric rippling off his supple skin. You let your finger drag across his bare chest, excitement bubbling in your chest at finally being able to touch him.

Meeting his eyes you let one hand slip to his belt, slowly unbuckling it. You let your other hand slip into his pocket, pulling out his phone and handing it to him.

“Call your office.”

He takes the phone tentatively from you, confusion crossing his face. But he does as he’s told, scrolling through his call history, eyes fixed on you.

You wait patiently for his call to go through, your fingers subtly undoing the button on his trousers. Finally his call gets picked up, and you prepare to spring into action.

“Oh hey, it’s Jungkook.”

At his words you rip his trousers and boxers down to his ankles, take his girthy cock in your hand stroke him quickly to his full hardness. Jungkook’s eyes bug out of his head, jaw hanging open as he watches you.

Y-yea I’m not, oh go-“ he slams his mouth shut, taking a steadying breath as your hand twists around his tip.

“I’m not gonna make it in!” He rushes, heaving a relieved breath.

You can hear them ask why, and hiding your smirk, you wait for him to start replying.

“Oh, uh, my apartment, it’s-“

You take him in your mouth as far as you can, lips wrapping around his cock and pressing your tongue against his underside, dragging off slowly with a pop before taking him again.

“Fuc- f - flooded! It’s flooded. Shit.” He pants, his free hand weaving into your hair as he stares down at you, bunny teeth sunk into his lip.

You twist your hand around his base and you bob up and down on his cock, heady at the precum that oozes into your mouth.

“Oh, I’m f-f-fine. Gotta go!” He yells down the phone before ending the call and throwing it at the kitchen counter.

He lets out a juddering moan, letting both his hands knot into your hair.

“You’re the fucking worst.” He pants, hips rolling off the wall.

You hum onto his cock, swirling your tongue around him. With each swipe, his hands on your hair pull tighter, the tingling in your scalp that sets you on fire.

You feel him throb in your mouth, and despite the tears that spring to your eyes each time his hips stutter him further down your throat, you can’t take your eyes off him. Breathless, wide eyes watching you take him in, bare chest rapidly rising and falling.

He cries out, quickly but carefully sliding you off his length, the tip oozy and red.

“Not yet. Not yet.” He croaks, before pulling you to your feet.

He walks you backwards into your kitchen counter, before turning you and pinning you against the cool granite.

He leans over you, lips pressed to the shell of your ear as he slides his hands down your body.

“I’ve wanted this for a long time.” He breathes in your ear, and you shiver beneath him.

“You better get on with it.” You murmur, circling your ass into his crotch.

He groans, and furiously yanks down your track pants and panties. He stands back from you to examine you as you sit there, totally exposed to him.

“Kook…” you groan, the cool air meeting your soaking slit.

He says nothing, and you can’t feel him around you. Confusion creeping in, you move to turn around when you feel his tongue lick from your clit all the way along your dripping core.

“Jungkook!”

“Sorry - was admiring the view.”

You squeal as your fingers clench on the counter, his hands moving to grab your ass cheeks. His fingers knead in as he works his tongue, catching just the edge of your clit before he swipes up. He’s perched behind you, on his knees with his face buried in your pussy. The reality of it all makes your face heat, so you lay it back on the counter to cool off.

He only kitten licks, never enough pressure to make your eyes roll back but too good to stop. A light suck on your clit, a fast flick all the way up to you asshole, never anything with substance. Every time you try to roll your hips back for more friction his hands would hold you down, pinned and bent over the counter.

“That feel good baby?” There was a hint of genuineness in his voice, vulnerability that made your heart quiver. And your-

“Jungkook…” you moan, toes curling as he blows cool air across your dripping slit. You were too turned on for his games.

“Not’ Jungkook’.” He whispers, his hand sliding down to run a feather light touch over your throbbing core.

“Wh… what?” It’s more of a moan than a question, but he delivers a light slap across your pussy and you yelp in surprise.

“Call me the other name. The one I like.”

Another quick kitten lick has your hips rolling, the teasing pushing you too far.

“Brat.” Another slap, this time a little harder.

“What was that, Y/N? I didn’t hear you properly.” You can hear the smirk in his voice, and as much as you want to turn around and fight him, you want his mouth on you so much more.

“Kook, just eat my fucking pussy already.” You growl. He gives you a small giggle before he obeys.

He begins to eat you out like a man starved, licking fat strips up your length and rolling his tongue across your clit. He groans as he works, fingers kneading into your ass cheeks as he tastes you.

You were practically dripping, Jungkook’s tongue expertly hitting your clit in every way to make you moan.

He ghosts a finger across your ass, bringing it to your clit to replace his mouth. His mouth moves higher, moving to press just inside your walls. A cry leaves your lips, his finger coating with your wetness they swipe quicker and quicker over your clit.

The tip of his tongue impales you, his moans vibrating you and sending your mind reeling. Your clit throbs beneath his touch, sending you hurtling to your orgasm.

“Jungkook, fuck…”

“Hmm?” He hums, and you groan at his petulance.

“Sorry… brat.” You smirk, only to have him fully pull away at you just as you were at your peak. The absence makes you ache with need, whiney and desperate.

“Jungkook!”

Another slap lands on your pussy and you squeal, the heat of his hand leaving you dripping as the cool air rushed in to replace it.

“Who’s the brat now?” You can hear the smirk in his voice.

“Kook, please!” you shout.

With an incredibly unsubtle laugh, his fingers fly back to your clit, circling faster than before. His tongue seeks you out, pushing inside and letting your wetness coat him.

A cry escapes you as you begin to cum, twitching and bent over the countertop. Jungkook coaxes you through it, whimpers erupting from his throat. He pulls away from you once your gyrating stops, hand gently tracing along your sensitive slit.

On shaky legs he turns you, smiling at your flushed expression and blown out eyes. His eyes scrunch as he pulls you in for a kiss, quick and sloppy, the taste of you fresh in his tongue.

With gentle hands, he hoists you from your ass, settling you on the counter. He comes back to kiss you again, body pressed against you. And despite how tender he was being and how it made your heart clench in your chest, you needed him.

Sliding your hand between your bodies, you take a hold of his cock and begin to rub him up and down your wet slit. His face scrunches, the feeling of you coating him rocking him to his core.

He grabs hold of your hip and places a hand over yours so that you begin to guide him inside of you together. He pushes in slow, the drag of his girthy length inside you sends your head flying back. He frowns as she concentrates, finally bottoming out inside you.

He pulls slowly back out before driving home, the sensation making you both moan.

Pure euphoria is written across his face, an infectious happiness that you find yourself wanting to bask in forever.

You move to meet him, the cool surface beneath you biting into your hot skin. His fingers knit into the bottom of your shirt before tugging at it, pulling it up and off you, His eyes shoot to your bare chest, a groan leaving his lips.

He surges forward, lips latching to your nipple, but his hips never missing a beat as he thrusts deeply into you. A guttural moan of his name leaves your lips.

His tongue swirls over your stiff nipple, the bud aching under his touch. You lean back against the counter, toes curling as you wrap your legs around him.

He’s pushed up on his toes, trying other angles to be able to reach inside you properly without leaving your chest, but he struggles. A whine leaves him as he slides off your breast with a pop, his fingers pressed against your back.

“What’s the matter Kook,” you moan, blurry eyes focusing on him as he drags back out of you. “Can’t reach me?”

A shadow passes his face, a challenge he can’t refuse. Gripping you around the waist, he slides you off the counter, still fully seated inside you.

With your legs wrapped around him, he carries you to the sofa, a smirk on his face. Lowering you both down, his eyes fix back on yours, pressing you into the couch beneath him. With a quick peck, he’s pulling back out of you again and pushing back in, his hips picking back up speed as he pounds you into the sofa.

You wrap your legs around him for support, his forehead coming to rest on yours. You wind your fingers in his hair, holding onto the strands for stability as Jungkook rocks into you. His brow creases in concentration, small gasps and murmurs falling from his lips.

He hits your soft spot inside of you with the drag of his cock and your vision goes blurry. Your fingers tighten in his hair, the pressure making him hiss.

In the blink of an eye he takes hold of your wrists and pins them above your head and you whine, a smirk clear on his face.

“What’s the matter, Y/N, can’t handle it?”

You gasp, rolling your hips particularly viciously at him and clenching as hard as you can. His hips stutter for a moment as he lets his head fall into the crook of your neck, catching his breath.

“Do that again and this is gonna be over very quick.” he pants, and a wave of pride fills you.

“What, this?” You whisper into his ear, rolling your hips and clenching down again on his cock that sat deep inside you.

He picks his head up and kisses your roughly, fingers digging into your wrists. Your hips still, Jungkook sat inside while you enjoy the moment for what it is. He finally releases you and smiles, sparkling eyes and bunny teeth. And all yours.

His hips begin to move again, working you both back towards the fast pace he drilled into you before. You hook your legs tighter around him, pulling him closer to you with every thrust.

He collects both of your wrists in one hand above his head and brings his hand down your arm, fingertips tracing along your skin to your face. He thumbs over your jaw before bringing his hand down to your throat, fingertips ghosting on the delicate skin there.

You suck in a deep breath, eyes latching on his above you, perspiration sticking his hair to his forehead as he smirks down at you.

His hand slides off your throat, and trails down your body to reach between your legs - but not before stopping for a light flick of your nipple on the way down. His finger drag across your clit drawing a moan from you. Your hands twitched in his grip, desperate to feel him. Your hips begin to roll, The pressure inside you mounting.

“Kook, close…”

“Let go for me baby.” He whispers, before pressing his lips against yours.

You manage to snap one of your wrists from his grip, and bring your hand down to twist your fingers in his hair, kissing him back deeply.

A few more circles of your clit and you come undone, Your body juddering beneath Jungkook’s strokes as you see stars. You clench uncontrollably on him, the motion tipping Jungkook over the edge with you.

He cries out against your lips, hips stuttering as he comes inside you. You both ride the sensation out until he lets himself collapse on you, head tucked into the crook of your neck.

He takes a moment for his hips to stop their ministrations, his hot breath fanning against your chest. Finally he lifts his head up and smiles down at you, his nose scrunching at the motion. You smile back at him, totally lost in his eyes.

Sitting back, he pulls himself out of you, stopping to watch his cum drip out of your pussy. Entranced, he runs his fingers along your sensitive clit, your body twitching under his touch.

Gathering up some of the spill, Jungkook slides a finger inside you, pushing it back in.

You immediately clench down on his fingers, your core oversensitive but still completely responsive to him. His fingers build up speed, jackhammering his come back inside of you, his fingers crooked so that they brushed your g- spot with each move.

“Kook, my god!” you yelp, hands curling into the cushions beneath you. Your hips gyrate at the pressure. Despite the sensitivity and the sting, the waves of pleasure that washed through you couldn’t be stopped.

“What was that?” He snarks, before flicking his finger over your clit at lightning speed.

Your orgasm breaks over you, your hips thrusting off the chair as his fingers work, a strangled cry escaping your throat. He only stops when your tired body begins to slow, sliding his fingers out with a smirk on his face.

Once your unfocused eyes finally zero in on his he smiles at you before sticking his finger in his mouth, sucking them clean. A low moan emits from your throat.

“Wow.”

“Wow yourself.” He mumbles, taking your hand and pulling you up. He gently wraps an arm around your waist and flops back on the couch, settling you on his chest.

You sit in silence for just a moment, letting the reality settle into your skin. Finally you rest your chin on his chest, and stare up at him with a smile on your face.

“I told you I could give you an orgasm or three.” He smirks and your sigh, planting your face into his skin. He laughs, the light rumble from his chest shaking you, squeezing your heart tighter.

“You’re the worst. I don’t know why I like you.”

“Well I know why I like you.” He whispers, and you pick your head back up to look at him, teeth sunk into his bottom lip.

A small smile slips onto your face, your heart thudding wildly in your chest as you stare up at him. You bring your hand to brush over his jaw, before stretching up and pressing your lips softly against his own.

You release him and open your eyes, his bright eyes fixed on yours. His hand moves to rest in your hair, the strands woven around his fingers.

“So, do I get Namjoon’s room?”

“Kook! No way-”

“Come on, baby. I kinda did win!”

“You can’t ‘baby’ me! I was in the lead and gave up. If I kept on pace then I definitely would have won.”

“Not fair.” He huffs, but a small smirk turns the corner of his mouth. “How about another bet? First to cum wins.”

You laugh and shake your head, letting your hand smooth down from his jaw to trace across his chest.

“Screw it, be prepared to lose..”

He smiles, leaning forward and pressing his smiling lips against yours. He pulls back to press his forehead against yours, nose scrunched.

“If I’m still yours after, then this is one competition I don’t mind losing.” His whispered words clench in your chest and you giggle, despite yourself.

“You will be, Kook. But I’m still gonna win.”

#btswriterscollective #btssmutclub #btsbookclub #smutcentralnet #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #bts smut #bts reader insert #bts x you #bts x reader #bts fic #heartbreak trials #my writing

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animeniacss · 4 years

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Stuck at the Door - Yoonmin One-shot

Synopsis: Yoongi works at night, Jimin works during the day. Yoongi's first contact too Jimin is an angry post-it note telling him not to slam his door, however, now they have begun using this as some form of communication. However, will either one of them find themselves able to meet the other in person, or will they remain stuck at the door unable to find the courage?

*This fic was a gift done for a Frosty fic fest on ao3. The prompt was given by user @/kisslater and this story came of it! Enjoy and show her love too!

Genre: Romance, One-shot, Mutual Pining

Length: approx. 7k words

Stuck at the Door - Yoonmin One-Shot

Close your god damn door a little quieter next time, will you? – M. YG, Apt # 13

That was the first sticky note that Park Jimin had ever gotten on his front door. At first, he didn’t notice it, staggering towards his door just as the sun was starting to set over his apartment complex. However, after setting down his bag and scrambling to get his keys, a yawn escaping from his tired mouth, the note finally catches his attention as it slipped from its place on the door, floating delicately towards his feet. When he bent down to pick it up, scanning the message, he pouted.

“Was I that loud?” He mumbled to himself. He glanced in the direction of Apartment 13, which was right next to his. He had never once seen the guy, Min Yoongi, who lived in Apartment 13 because they were alive and functioning at different times of the day. By the time Jimin got home in the evenings, Yoongi seemingly was long gone, off to work at whatever job he had. Jimin sighed, sticking the note into his pocket before slipping himself into the apartment and closing the door behind him. He made his way deeper into his apartment, towards his desk where all of his university supplies and other stationery needs waited for him every day. “Well, guess I should apologize.” Quickly, Jimin grabbed hold of a yellow sticky note, scribbling down the words I’m sorry! I’ll try to be quieter in the future. “There.” Jimin got up, heading back outside and opening the door. He looked around, trying to see if he could hear any noises that could be Yoongi still in the area. When he heard nothing, he walked to Apartment 13’s door, pressing the sticky note onto the door. He grinned. “Perfect.” With that out of the way, Jimin headed back inside, locking himself in his apartment so that he could get his work done.

After that note, Jimin was sure that the issue had resolved itself. He was making sure that he would close his door quietly both when he left and when he returned home, just in case Yoongi was ever in his apartment resting before his night shifts. That seemed to be the end of it for a while, and Jimin was already moving on.

Yoongi, however, felt the exact opposite. Yoongi worked the night shift at a local convenience store that ran for 24 hours a day. By the time the sun was rising in the morning, Yoongi wanted to crawl into a hole and die every single time. He wasn’t a fan of his job, but he did it because with just barely scraping through high school and having no intention of going to college, Yoongi needed some way to pay the bills. So, this was his ticket to do so while he pursued his real passion: rapping. Yoongi was a phenomenal rapper, and his home was the underground rap scene. That’s where he spent his weeknights, and his days where he wasn’t at home passed out on the couch, he was there preparing for his next performance.

So, when Yoongi was home, the last thing he needed was to be woken up by Jimin slamming the door as he exited his apartment. The first time was fine, and the apology note was cute. However, the next time it happened, Yoongi flung himself out of bed and frowned. His eyes flew to the alarm clock, where he saw the time flashing. It was 7 a.m., meaning Yoongi had only been home and asleep for 3 hours after a long night at the rap club.

“The little punk.” He scoffed, before heading out of his room and towards the door of his apartment. When he flung the door open, he poked his head out. “Oi! Park Jimin!” He shouted. However, there was nobody in the hallway of the apartment level, and Jimin was gone as if he were the kiss of an angel. “Damn…” Yoongi stepped outside, crossing his arms. As he turned his head, a note caught his attention. Another yellow sticky note was resting on his door, and he quickly pulled it off.

I slammed the door on accident I’m so sorry!:(((((( - P. JM Apt. 12

“…What the hell? Does he carry sticky notes outside with him now?” Yoongi asked. He looked over at Jimin’s door again, before storming inside and grabbing his blue sticky note. Lifting a pen out of the cup it sat in on his desk, Yoongi scribbled that exact question down onto the paper. He walked back out and pressed it against Yoongi’s door. “Idiot.” The man huffed before heading back into his apartment and closing the door.

The sun began to set later in the day, and Yoongi was preparing for a night at the underground rapping scene. He had good connections, knowing the man who ran the scene pretty well, and he had been preparing for another night like this for the past few days. Nights like these were the best, dawning casual black clothes rather than a convenient store polo and slacks. Yoongi looked himself over in the mirror, running a hand through his hair as he nodded. He looked good and felt ready. Grabbing his overnight bag, phone, wallet, and keys, Yoongi headed out the door. As he made his way to the end of the hallway, descending the steps to the bottom floor of the apartment complex, he heard a voice coming closer and closer.

“No, I barely even opened up that assignment yet…Yeah, I read the directions like fifteen times, but I have no clue what Professor Choi wants!” Yoongi rolled his eyes, quickly slipping his hands into his pockets as he quickened his pace down the steps. The other man he passed did not once look in his direction, so immersed in his conversation with whoever was on the phone. Yoongi didn’t even bother offering a nonverbal greeting, as he made it to the bottom of the steps and headed straight out the door and in the direction of the train station.

Jimin heard the front door of the apartment building slam shut, but didn’t turn back to look at it. “Yeah, if you want to come over, we should work on it together, Tae.”

“Sure. I’ll take Yeontan for a walk and then I’ll-.”

Jimin’s eyes finally fell onto his front door as he went to unlock it, and he blinked. “Oh my goodness.”

“Hm? What is it?” Taehyung asked from the other side of the phone.

“My neighbor being a bit of a hardass because I slam my door when I leave the house and I guess it wakes him up. I have never once seen the guy, so I can’t even go and have a real conversation with him.”

“Ew. Guess you should slam the door on purpose and see if he busts your door down.” Jimin chuckled a bit as he stepped into his house.

“Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind.” He hummed. “I’ll get dinner ready, so just lemme know when you’re here.” As the duo said their goodbyes, Jimin hung up and set his phone down onto his coffee table. His eyes wandered down to the sticky note in his hand again.

Do you keep sticky notes on you at all times now just to talk to me? – M. YG, Apt. 13

Hmm…Jimin’s eyebrow raised a bit, his eyes scanning the sentence over and over as he stood in his living room in silence. I might be able to have some fun with this. Jimin walked towards his desk, grabbing a colored pencil and his set of sticky notes. Quickly, Jimin scribbled down a reply and hurried out the door to stick it on the neighbor’s door. He took a moment to stare at his handy work, laughing a bit to himself. “This is fun.” He said to himself, heading inside.

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

Despite the lights and the blaring music that were erupting the underground rap scene in a sea of constant energy, Yoongi was currently sitting backstage, arms crossed as his head rested against the wall. His eyes were closed, but he wasn’t sleeping. The only reason was that he heard a familiar voice coming his way that alerted his attention, making him lookup. He saw fellow underground rapper, Kim Namjoon, better known as his stage name RM. RM was drinking some water, and as he got closer, Yoongi could see the sweat dripping down his forehead and covering the collar of his shirt. Being under the blaring lights amongst a sea of screaming fans, belting out raps so fast it can make your head spin was enough to send someone backstage with a little drip or two on their forehead and frantically searching for a glass of water.

“I rarely see you sitting and resting before a performance. Everything okay, Hyung?” RM asked curiously. Yoongi nodded.

“Yeah. My neighbor just loves to slam his door, so I end up waking up in a panic almost every other day and I find it hard to go back to sleep afterward.” RM offered an amused chuckle. “So, I thought I could rest here before I go on, but-.”

As if scripted, the current performer provided a loud and aggressive yell as he finished his final verse, sending the crowd into a fit of hysterical cheering and howling over him. “Well, yeah. That…” Once again, RM chuckled, and this time Yoongi followed.

“I’m sure you’ll wake up once you get on stage, Hyung,” RM assured. The duo offered one another a wave, and RM headed deeper backstage to find something to eat. Yoongi slowly rose from his spot on the floor, and headed towards the back of the stage, waiting for his performance. As he watched the current performer finish up, he took a deep breath. He had no time to worry about his obnoxious neighbor, he had more important things to worry about.

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

He had finished yet another phenomenal performance, the crowd cheering and shouting for him as he belted out every word, every syllable slipping through his lips at the fast and intense pace that Yoongi had become known for. After his performance, RM and he, like they always did, went out to a local 24-hour restaurant to eat, celebrating their hard work by stuffing their faces. Namjoon would mostly do the talking, about school life or his love life. Love life? Yoongi thought to himself. Do people have those? Despite his sarcastic comment to himself, Yoongi continued to listen as Namjoon gushed over the date he had taken her on just recently.

“Anyway, we went for a walk in a local park and got some lunch. It was something special, Hyung.”

“I’m glad.” Yoongi smiled a bit. Anyone who met this version of Namjoon, someone who is wise beyond his years and talks as if everything he says is being graded by a college philosophy professor but god damn it if you don’t want to take in every last work anyway, would never imagine that he’s also the same guy that shouts swears and throws his head back as he spits straight fire with a deep voice almost every night for the underground rap scene. They were two different people, almost, and Yoongi knew them both well.

“You should find yourself, someone, too.” Namjoon pointed out. “I think it would do you some good.” Yoongi rolled his eyes, popping a fry into his mouth as Namjoon continued. “I mean, when the time comes, of course. You can’t rush this kind of stuff.”

“I guess not.” Yoongi hummed. Namjoon, sensing Yoongi was already bored by the subject, moved on by asking him if he wanted dessert. Yoongi scoffed playfully. Of course, he did.

Yoongi was entering his apartment building just as the rays of the sun were rising over the buildings of Seoul. He was full, and being full made him dirt tired. The idea of sprawling out in bed, Holly snuggling up beside him, just filled him with such content that he could barely contain it. The sight of his door at the end of the hallway made his hand slipped into his back pocket, and pull out his house key. When he approached his door, however, the bright, yellow square pressed right on top of his little peephole. He pulled it off and skimmed it.

Do you like that I always have you on my mind? – P.JM

A crudely scribbled wink was placed beside it and Yoongi felt the back of his ears heat up just slightly. What on earth was this punk trying to pull? He looked at Jimin’s door, assuming the boy was still asleep, preparing to wake up any moment to get ready for work. Yoongi walked into his house, closing the door behind him. Grabbing his sticky note, he scribbled down a response and walked back outside.

I hate you. But I think it is kind of funny how seriously you’re taking this. – M.YG

Upon walking back outside, Yoongi walked to Jimin’s door. As he pressed the sticky note to the door, he heard a bit of commotion coming from inside the apartment. After further examination, Yoongi could hear the faint sound of an alarm clock, until it was interrupted by someone seemingly putting it on snooze. Yoongi blinked, stepping back from the door. Jimin was awake this early? Could he finally have an opportunity to meet this little brat once and for all, and put this dumb game of cat and mouse to rest?

When the time comes, of course. Namjoon’s deep voice played through his mind. Yoongi once again looked at the sticky note that was resting on his door, and he crossed his arms. He could very easily wait for Jimin, or even initiate and knock on the door. But for some reason, his body wouldn’t let him go any closer to the door. It didn’t make any sense to him. However, before he could try to rationalize with himself, he walked back into his room.

“…I’ll wait and see if he replies to the note,” Yoongi said softly, locking his door and heading into his bedroom to get some much-needed shut-eye.

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

Jimin did reply to that note. This unique method of communication made them excited to come home, even more so than before. Every second that passed ascending the steps of their apartment made their heart beat a little faster, until before they knew it, they were practically sprinting past other tenants and up the steps to get to their apartments faster. Reaching the door was like some sort of euphoria each time, their minds racing with what the response of the other could possibly be. It became a daily dose of serotonin, something they looked forward to. With every day that passed, every note that found itself on one of their doors made them feel a little closer with one another. They studied each other’s handwriting, their phrasing, Yoongi smiled at every silly face Jimin drew, and Jimin giggled at each sarcastic remark Yoongi provided him with. They felt close to each other without actually having to see each other.

The duo found themselves constantly sharing messages for the next week and a half. They had long since dropped the inclusion of their apartment number but instead began to include a lot of variated conversation starters. The messages were ranging from so many different comments, no longer were they only focused on the loud slams of Jimin’s door. Instead, they were question-based. What’s your favorite color? Were you born and raised in Seoul? What job do you have that keeps you from ever actually meeting me?

That last and most recent one stunned Jimin when he saw it pressed against his door one evening. He had just gotten home from work, ready to prepare for his friend Taehyung’s arrival for their planned study session when he saw this question. He walked back inside, grinning a bit. So far, Jimin had been the one to insinuate the flirtatious messages, but to see Yoongi ask one this time, just made him feel something in his stomach. Stomach nostalgic and exciting.

Taehyung did not seem as invested in this.

“So, you still haven’t talked to the guy?” He asked curiously.

“Well, no,” Jimin said, not even bothering to look up from his homework. “I work when he sleeps, and he works when I sleep, so we don’t get the chance.”

“It can’t always be perfectly lined up that way.”

“…Has been so far.”

“Okay then, have you sent him a reply to his message?” Jimin nodded.

“I told him I go to school and work at a restaurant during my off days.” Taehyung nodded as he listened to his friend continue to talk about the story, he thought he had only heard in dramas and television shows. As he looked up at Jimin from his notes, he could see Jimin’s eyes sparkling a bit.

“It’s charming, and I think he’s just too nervous to talk to me in person right now. Which is fine, I don’t know if I’d want to talk to him yet either. I like things the way they-.” Before Jimin could finish, Taehyung stood up, catching his friend’s attention. “What are you doing?”

“You might not be ready to talk yet, but that doesn’t stop me from trying.” Jimin felt his heart sink as he watched Taehyung head to the door.

“What? Tae, no please!” Jimin quickly followed after him. “He’s probably already at work. Or at least getting ready to go.”

“So? He can spare a minute to say hi to his neighbor.” Taehyung said simply. Jimin followed his friend outside, continuing to try and turn him back around. No luck. Taehyung saw the note Jimin said he posted on Yoongi’s door but wasted on time knocking.

“Tae-.” Jimin covered his face. His heart was racing, and he felt like he wanted to cry, but he wasn’t sure why. His eyes were burning and the idea that this could be the moment Yoongi steps out of his apartment and into his view…well, he just wasn’t ready.

“…Okay, guess he did go to work,” Tae said, turning back to Jimin. When Jimin looked up, Taehyung could see his red eyes and slightly trembling lips. “Are you that nervous to meet this guy?”

“Of course, I am! We never started talking until I slammed the door and woke him up. Sure, he seems to be over it now but what if he doesn’t like me when we meet? I didn’t think this would last so long…I can be flirty and fun on the notes, I think I’ll get too nervous if I were to meet him right now.” Taehyung said, tossing his arm around Jimin and leading him back inside.

“Then he’s a bigger idiot than I thought…” Taehyung said simply.

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

“So, he works at a restaurant hm?” Yoongi muttered to himself, setting his note in his pocket. He, much like Jimin had been doing for a while, pulled out his little sticky notes from his pocket and scribbled down a comment, pressing it to Jimin’s door. He had just arrived home from a night soft at the store.

Once I find out which restaurant, just know I’ll make it my regular spot. -M.YG

Jimin almost collapsed on the floor when he read that comment after his shift that afternoon. He was tempted to share the restaurant he worked at, but still, he didn’t feel ready yet. The idea that he could run into Yoongi at any moment when he wasn’t ready, freaked him out something fierce. However, Yoongi didn’t have to know that. His next note read the following:

You must be into the kinky serving fetishes, aren’t you? Well, don’t expect me to give in that easily! – P.JM

“Oh my God…” Yoongi snickered, scratching his cheek a bit. That next morning, Yoongi made sure to only give an adequate reply to Jimin’s comment:

Listen here, punk. I just want to see you working and now I’m being needlessly kink shamed. I’ll never forgive you. -M.YG

As Jimin rested on his couch, a smile formed, and he couldn’t stop staring at the note that was clutched so tightly in his hands that he almost crumpled it up. He glanced over at his little pile of post-it notes on his dresser. He didn’t know what Yoongi looked like, but he couldn’t help imagine what his face looked like, all scrunched up in embarrassment at the idea of sexual kinks. Jimin couldn’t wait for the idea of seeing him in person, and he sat up, hurrying over and grabbing hold of his pen and paper, scribbling down his response.

That evening, as Yoongi’s performance high, was wearing off, he stood just under the awning of the venue, watching as the rain fell in buckets around him. He had watched the weather and had even brought his jacket to the short shift he had to cover at the convenience store. However, after rushing out of there, his mind elsewhere, he realized his jacket was still hanging on the rack in the back of the staff room. He kicked himself just thinking about it. Running a hand through his hair, he watched as Namjoon stepped beside him, crossing his arms.

“My girlfriend is gonna be here in a few minutes.” He stated. “I’m sure she’ll drive you home.” Yoongi smiled.

“Tell her to thank you, but I’m not far from here. If I run then take a hot shower, I’ll be okay.” Namjoon sighed, crossing his arms.

“Hyung, you’ll get sick.” He pointed out. Yoongi nodded.

“Remember the time I told you I got into that nasty motorcycle accident as a teen and messed up my shoulder?” he asked. Namjoon nodded. “Yeah, no cold I’ve had since has compared to that. I’ll be okay. Night.” Just like that, with a wave of his hand, Yoongi rushed out of Namjoon’s sight, in the direction of his apartment. When he arrived, he was soaked to the bone, not truly underestimating the power of the rain at the moment. He honestly just wanted to get home. As he headed to his door, he saw a sticky note on his door and grinned as he took it.

You probably look so cute right now, when you’re embarrassed! – P.JM

“Cute, hm?” A curious tongue pressed on the inside of Yoongi’s mouth, a grin forming on his lips as he saw a droplet of a waterfall off the tip of his lips and onto the floor. Heading inside, he set the note down on the table and went to shower.

Jimin did not think too much of it when Yoongi did not respond the next morning. It rained, and that must have blown it away, no big deal. Jimin was in a rush anyway and hurried to his morning classes without thinking too much of it. He’ll probably notice before he goes to work, and he’ll put a new one up. The hopeful student thought to himself. His stomach bubbled with a childlike giddiness of how he would mock the older man for it in future messages, and he practically skipped to school. However, upon returning that afternoon, Jimin came home in the evening to see…well…he didn’t see anything on his door. No sticky note, no remnant of a sticky note, no nothing. It made Jimin’s little lips turn into a sour pout as he entered his apartment. Maybe it blew away. It’s still windy after the rainstorm…Jimin thought to himself, locking the door. Despite having this thought run through his mind, Jimin still felt a sense of uneasiness course throughout his body. Jimin walked to his desk, setting his bag down and slipping into his chair. Maybe he’s running late so I got home before he could do it…Jimin lowered his head down on the table. “I shouldn’t let something so silly get to me. I’ll just write one to him and see what happens tomorrow…” Jimin quickly got up. After scribbling something down, Jimin headed out the door and pressed the new sticky note to his door. Letting out a soft sigh, Jimin headed inside, planning to distract himself with homework until he figured out the true meaning of what was going on with his next-door neighbor.

Much to Jimin’s utter disappointment, no message was left for him the next morning when he got up. When he looked towards Yoongi’s door, he saw that the original post-it he had left the evening prior was still there. Walking over, Jimin pulled it from the door and frowned as he stared at the hours-old message. He pouted. Well, this changed things completely. Jimin took one step closer to the door, temporarily courageous enough to knock. Did he not go to work today? There had to be a reason for Yoongi to just…stop, right? Jimin pressed the note back onto the door and quickly headed back inside. Grabbing a sticky note, Jimin scribbled down: Oh, so now we’re ignoring me? >3< - P.JM, placing that onto the door beside the previous note. Jimin knew he could always…you know…knock. But he just didn’t want to…so he headed inside his apartment to see what tomorrow would bring.

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

“It’s been almost five days, Taehyung.” Jimin whimpered over the phone. “And he still hasn’t replied. My post-it notes are piling up. I think he’s over it…” Legs pulled to his chest, Jimin rested a puffed-out cheek onto his knees, while his hand cradled his phone against his ear.

“Well…” Taehyung began. “You can always go talk to him for once. Maybe this is his way of telling you that he wants to meet you in person.” Jimin huffed.

“But I…Taehyung I told you already, I’m too nervous to meet him in person. What if it doesn’t work out?”

“But what if it does and you’re just stalling?” Taehyung asked simply. He could hear his best friend whine over the phone, and it made him smile. Although he found the whole ordeal a bit dramatic on Jimin’s end, Taehyung didn’t want his friend to be upset. “How about this.” He began. “Jungkook invited me to see his friend perform at some underground rap thing this Friday. Do you want to come? Get your mind off of everything?” Jimin hummed in response. “If you don’t hear from your mysterious ink prince by then, consider it a sign and go talk to him in person.” Jimin was silent for a moment, and Taehyung rested his head against the back of his spinning office chair. “Well?”

“…Fine. I’ll go.” He said simply. “But the last part of your deal is a maybe, at best.” Taehyung cheered on the other end of the line before Jimin said his goodbyes and hung up. He sighed, resting back on his bed. “I should probably finally talk to him…” Jimin mumbled to himself, holding up the most recent sticky note he had yet to put on the door. “But if I put too many more then he might start thinking I’m annoying. I’ll just have to wait….”

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A deep cough ripped through Apartment 13 the next morning, and Yoongi groaned. He was bundled in several blankets, too cold to be uncovered, yet also sweating from the absolute fiery inferno raging within him. “I really should have taken that ride the other day, damn it…” Yoongi grumbled to himself, feeling another cough shake his body. As he was resting, the sound of jingling keys alerted his attention, and his head lolled in the direction of his door. His name was called, and the sound of Holly padding the floor towards the door made him sit up. He had to drag himself out of bed, wrapping one of his many blankets around himself as he did so. Upon entering the kitchen, his coworker Hoseok was standing there. When he caught sight of his friend, he grinned.

“Hyung! You’re finally up and out of bed! Is my soup working just like I said it would?” Yoongi only groaned as he shuffled to the couch, plopping down onto it and allowing for the coolness of the new location to envelop him. He heard footsteps approach him, and when he looked over, Hoseok leaned down and felt his forward. “Your fever seems to be breaking too. If you keep this up, you’ll be ready to perform again Friday night.” Yoongi nodded.

“I hate to be a burden on you, Hoseok…” Yoongi sighed. “But thank you.” Hoseok smiled.

“It’s the least I could do. If you didn’t have to cover my shift last minute, you could have brought your jacket straight to the venue and avoided this whole event.” He said simply. As Hoseok continued to stock Yoongi’s fridge, he hummed. “Oh yeah. I saw that there were a bunch of sticky notes taped to your door when I walked in. All of them said ‘P.JM’ on them, too.” Yoongi sat up once again as Hoseok continued. “Is it…a secret lover? Hmmm, let’s see…P.JM…Park Jimyul…Park Jung-.” As Hoseok began rattling off different names, Yoongi stood fully up off the couch. He had to steady himself for a moment, and the immediate action stopped Hoseok’s daydreaming and alerting him back to his friend. “W-what are you doing?” he asked as he watched Yoongi walk towards him. He stuck out his hand, and Hoseok pouted, handing his friend the sticky notes. Yoongi looked down at them.

You probably look so cute right now when you’re embarrassed! – P.JM

Oh, so you’re going to ignore me now? >3< -P.JM

Okay, maybe you are…. -P.JM

The last one had Yoongi’s heart tighten. He sighed, heading over to the door despite Hoseok’s pleas to sit back down. After forcing down another cough, Yoongi stepped outside. The bright lights made him flinch, but he still stepped right outside and looked at Jimin’s house. He was too sick to get out of bed, much less reply to the messages he was receiving from Jimin. Based on how many days he’s been sick, and the number of replies he had taped to his door, Yoongi realized Jimin had stopped replying for at least two days. Running a hand through his hair, Yoongi sniffled and walked closer to the door. He could hear a faint noise coming from behind Jimin’s door and assumed that he had yet to leave for work or class. Yoongi was tempted to knock, however, he was currently not feeling well enough to maintain a long conversation with this kid. Also, he was in no way looking his best for a first meeting. He simply headed back into his apartment, earning himself a scolding from Hoseok about going outside barefoot when he was sick. Yoongi drowned it out as he crawled back onto the couch.

It had seemingly been two days since he had gotten any other messages. Jimin was probably over it.

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

“Guys, this is going to be so fun.” Jungkook beamed, turning to his friends. Taehyung smiled, throwing a supportive arm around Jimin. The trio stood inside of the venue late that Friday night, the music already blasting and people nearby already being sure to try their hand at the bar. A few people had already performed, and they were currently taking a small break while they prepared for the next group. That was when the trio had arrived, mid-shift. Jungkook looked at Jimin, who was simply watching the stage despite nothing of interest currently happening. “You recognize any names, Jimin-Hyung?” he asked, and Jimin looked over at the other boy.

“Hm? Oh, uh no…this music isn’t my thing.” Taehyung offered Jimin a tight hug around the shoulders, grinning.

“No need to pout, Jiminie~. Tonight’s the night you may confront your sticky-note admirer. You should be happy.” This had been the topic of conversation for the trio, mainly Jungkook and Taehyung, since they met up, so Jungkook was already well aware of the whole event. Jimin sighed, pouting even more despite his friend’s high energy.

“I told you, I’m already not looking forward to it.”

“He needs a drink.” Jungkook nodded. “I’ll grab us all something.” He said, hurrying over to the nearby bar as he excused himself past some people. Jimin crossed his arms, shuffling in his spot as Taehyung tried to talk his ear off. He had still gotten no replies from Yoongi, and the thought only brought him down more. All he wanted was for Jungkook’s friend to perform so he could go home and sleep.

When Jungkook was grabbing a few drinks, his attention was alerted by a deep voice calling his name. When he looked over, he saw Namjoon approaching him with his usual kind smile gracing his lips. “Glad you made it in time. Are your friends here?”

“They’re somewhere in the crowd.” Jungkook beamed, smiling. “Are you going on soon? I’m excited to see you perform again.” Namjoon grinned, nodding.

“They’ll probably be ready in a couple of minutes. My friend is performing before me, so I should go get ready, I just wanted to come to say hi before I did.” He said happily. “But I’ll come to find you after the show, okay?”

“Okay, see you later, Hyung.” Jungkook chimed. He watched as Namjoon waved him off, before disappearing into the crowds of bustling teenagers and young adults, all of whom were continuing to chat and converse long after Namjoon squeezed through their groups of people. Jungkook, pleased to have seen his friend, grabbed the drinks and headed back into the crowd as well.

Jimin rested idly beside Taehyung, who was happily sipping his drink and chatting with those around him. Normally, Jimin would be right in there as well, eagerly chatting up individuals and learning their backstories over a drink while simultaneously sharing his own. However, he didn’t feel like it tonight. He couldn’t stop thinking about Yoongi, he couldn’t stop thinking about the entire ordeal. He wanted to at least know the reason for Yoongi’s sudden pause in responses. Though his mind told him to be sensible, his heart was doing anything but.

“Hyung, don’t look so down.” Jungkook smiled at him. “Everything with that neighbor of yours will work out. I think you should take a deep breath and have fun for now. Standing around like a sad sack won’t do any good for anyone.” Jimin smiled a bit, taking another sip of his drink.

“I guess you’re right.” He said simply.

“Besides, if it turns out he really did get bored and just stopped writing altogether, then it’s his loss and he deserves to be alone.” Both men chuckled at Jungkook’s statement. “My friend goes on soon so please just let loose and have some fun.” He grinned. Jimin nodded. As if on cue, the lights dimmed again and an announcer, a man in his mid-20s with glasses on and lots of excessive jewelry, got on stage with a microphone in hand. He grinned.

“I hope everyone’s ready to introduce the next performer of the night.” He said, and a sea of eager shouts filled the room. Taehyung and Jungkook cheered happily beside Jimin, who raised his half-filled glass with a grin. “Let’s give a big welcome to the next performer, SUGA!” Almost immediately, the crowd began shouting and the group watched as a male hurried on the stage. Jimin watched the man grab his microphone, brushing the hair out of his cat-like eyes and offering a grin to the crowd. He quickly turned his head, coughing into his hands silently, before turning back around. Jimin blinked, watching as the music began to beat through the room. Almost immediately, this man known as SUGA began belting out intense rap verses, so quickly that it took an untrained ear a lot more time to process the words being shouted. Despite that, Jimin was in awe, entranced by the flow and the beat of the man giving his everything on stage. He could hear hints of a raspy voice on certain notes, and it made Jimin tilt his head as he listened, wanting to know if he could hear anymore. Watching this man perform, it was almost as if any of Jimin’s problems were blown away simply by the power of this man’s verses. He couldn’t turn away as he watched. Jungkook must have noticed Jimin’s heavily focused gaze because he held his arm tightly.

“Isn’t he amazing? Everyone that performs here is crazy good. My friend is probably up next, so get ready!” Jimin now offered the younger boy an even wider, more genuine smile, as the duo turned back to the man performing on the stage. He watched a SUGA’s attention scanned the crowd, eventually landing on the area where Jimin stood. Jimin stared up at him, arms crossed with an amused smile on his face. From his spot, he could see an amused grin form on the performer’s face as he continued to go up and down the stage, the microphone pressed to close to his lips you’d think he was trying to eat it.

As SUGA’s performance drew to a close, Jimin smiled and clapped, even cheering along with the rest of the crowd. SUGA lifted his hand to wave out to the crowd, before offering a bow of his head in appreciation. As he scurried off stage, Jimin could have sworn he saw SUGA’s intense gaze turn to him once more. Jimin only would have noticed because his eyes were practically glued to the man as he exited the stage.

“Wasn’t that amazing?” Taehyung beamed. “Holy crap!” Jimin nodded.

“Yeah, it was.” He chimed. His friend offered him a boxy grin, and they raised their drinks in a toast before tossing them back.

Backstage, Min Yoongi offered a cough into his arm as he descended backstage. Almost immediately, Namjoon patted him on the back.

“Yet another stellar performance, hm?” He grinned. “You did awesome, Hyung.” SUGA nodded.

“Thanks.” He hummed. “But I think all of that messed with my throat. I might head out early and get some rest.” Namjoon nodded, watching as Yoongi suppressed another small cough. “Good luck out there, my guy.” He waved off his friend, before stopping backstage and grabbing all of his belongings. He walked out towards the door, and the sound of people cheering and chatting filled his ears. As he headed to the door, he looked over into the crowd. His mind was wandering back to that gentleman in the crowd. The one with wide eyes and plump, adorable lips stared at him in awe as he performed. He wondered if that guy was still here, he wondered if he was still around if he wanted to talk. However, no luck for him, and with a shrug, and cough into his arm, he headed home.

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Jimin got home around 1 a.m. the next morning, exhausted and with a sore throat from hours of shouting. Though he had thought he would go home and sleep right after Jungkook’s friend performed, he ended up staying for several performances after, SUGA’s performance hitting him with some sort of second wind. A breathless chuckle escaped his lips as he headed down towards his apartment door. When he arrived, he opened his door and realized that, once again, no note was waiting outside his door. He sighed. “Guess I’ll keep my end of the deal, Kim Taehyung…” he scoffed to himself. “I’ll talk to him tomorrow…” with that decided, he headed inside.

The next morning, Jimin woke up feeling refreshed. He had the day off, allowing him to sleep in just slightly after his late night at the venue. When he woke up, a sinking feeling hit his stomach. His greatest fear came to fruition today, and he knew he had to at least knock on the door next store…he had to try and talk to Min Yoongi. As he got out of bed, Jimin threw on a set of casual clothes, thinking of what he was going to say. As he continued to think about it, that little knot in his stomach got tighter and tighter, and his mind began racing. He had been running a few sentence starters in his mind. Like a teenager preparing for his first date, Jimin had no idea what was going to become of this. Stepping into his living room, Jimin’s eyes fell onto his sticky notes on his desk. As he walked over, lifting the sticky notes, Jimin blinked.

“Maybe I’ll write a note first,” Jimin said simply. Grabbing hold of a pen, he jotted down a note and then headed towards the door. As he stepped out onto the hallway, he turned towards Apartment 13. The apartment whose tenant had somehow managed to get him feeling like a giddy schoolgirl for almost a month. As he walked up to the door, he pressed the note to the door, making extra sure that this thumb pressed against it. After a moment, he stepped back. He stood there for a moment, staring at it. For a moment, he asked himself if it would do something remarkable, hence why he hadn’t moved yet. Eventually, he decided it was time to head off. Since he was up, he might as well get breakfast. Turning on his heel, he began walking down the hallway towards the stairs that waited at the end.

However, just as he took the first few steps, the sound of a door clicking behind him made him stop dead in his tracks. When he turned around, he saw the door to Apartment 13 open, and out step its tenant. When he turned around, the door closed and a pair of cat-like eyes stared in Jimin’s direction. He felt his heart sink into his chest, and he put his hands in his pockets. Yoongi was standing right there, only a few feet away. This idea, though completely possible in the world of reality, never felt like it would be something Jimin experienced.

Yoongi stared at Jimin as well for a moment, then blinked. “Oh…” he said. “You were the kid I saw at the performance last night.” Jimin immediately nodded, the images of SUGA spitting fire last night flashing through his mind.

“Yes…” he said. “I…wow, what a small world that you-.”

“-And I happen to be neighbors, I know.” Yoongi also chuckled. He stepped closer. Almost immediately, he coughed a little, covering his hand with his arm. Jimin blinked. “Never thought I would get to see you.”]

“I know,” Jimin said softly. “I’ve wanted to come and talk to you but…I guess I’ve gotten nervous each time.”

Yoongi smiled. “Me too…” he said. “But no better time like the present, right?” He turned over to the door again, tugging off the sticky note. He skimmed it over and smiled. “This says ‘I want to talk to you but I’m too nervous. So, let me know if you want to do that’. Huh…” Yoongi set the note into his pocket. “Crazy how fate works, huh?” he grinned.

“Yeah.” Jimin smiled, walking closer. “Well, you stopped replying for a while, so I thought you were kind of over everything. I didn’t want to seem annoying.”

“Yeah, about that.” Yoongi sighed. “I was sick for the past few days. Getting over a cold.” As if on cue, he suppressed another cough into his chest. “See? I’m better now, but still…”

“Oh…” Jimin said. See, you dramatic idiot. It was sensible.

“By the time I got better, you had stopped. I figured you were kind of over it too. Funny hm?” Yoongi offered a smile.

“Well, I thought it was fun.” Jimin laughed a bit. “It made me look forward to coming home more so than I already did.” Yoongi nodded.

“Me too…” He agreed. A moment of silence fell over them, and Jimin looked up at Yoongi. Yoongi scratched the back of his head, also seemingly trying to find the right words to say. Then, Jimin got an idea.

“Do you uhm…want to join me for breakfast?” Jimin asked curiously. Yoongi blinked. “Maybe we can get to know each other without writing it all down, you know?” Yoongi smiled a bit. “If you want, of course. I don’t know why you came out here, after all, so I-.”

“I stepped out here because I heard someone outside my door.” He smiled. “Kinda glad I did.” Jimin turned a bit pink and chuckled. “Let me throw on some…” he motioned to his sweatpants and old white shirt. “Decent clothes?” Jimin nodded. “…Here, come in.” Yoongi motioned to his door, leading the almost hesitant Jimin inside. Jimin grinned, quickly following the older man into the house. As he closed the door, he struck up a conversation. “So…what had you at my show last night?” he hummed.

As the conversation moved the duo from Yoongi’s home to the streets of Seoul and eventually to a nearby breakfast place, the both of them only thought of one thing coursing through their mind:

It’s about time.

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tommysparker · 4 years

Text

Black & White: Prologue [QOH!Reader x Angel!Tom Holland]

Ayyy guess who’s back a few days later with a whole new series in tow :) This au is gonna be a little different to the other ones on this site, so read the disclaimer down below.

Disclaimer: I am not religious so I have no real idea how any of this works, I just like the concept. Also I was raised Hindu, so I’ve decided to do a mix of Hinduism and the standard Christianity concept for this fic. I really hope you enjoy this!

Warnings: None? (yet) incorrect representation of religion (like I said, I’m not religious I just like the concept.)

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“Well well, aren’t you a pretty thing?” a sultry voice whispered in his ear.

Tom involuntarily shivered, not wanting to show any weakness but failing miserably. In truth, he was terrified. Being sent by the Lord to talk to the devil was not on his bucket list, but he knew he was the only angel fit for the job. He spent his whole life on earth praising the heavens, and entering the afterlife and being welcomed with open wings was a true blessing he had earned.

He would not disappoint.

He will not give in.

Lord have mercy on my soul…

“He can’t hear you y’know,” the same voice echoed in his mind. “Down here, you’re all mine. Not even Brahma can help you now. So, tell me angel wings, what sins have you committed for God to send his most loyal devotee to my land?”

“Y-Your words speak of nonsense,” Tom faltered, hating himself for stuttering. “I’ve come by the Lord’s orders to suggest you stop tormenting Earth’s inhabitants at once.”

A small eerie chuckle bounced off the castle walls and reflected into his ears. He didn’t risk raising his head, not yet. For to look into her eyes, those dark black eyes he’s heard and read many stories of, is thought to be a sin alone worth being banished from the Heavens.

Some say the moment you look into her eyes, you’re a slave to her will. Others gossip over how you’ll be cursed for all eternity, though they sound both the same.

“Well then, suggest away.” She was amused by this, the tone was evident.

Tom didn’t know how to respond, searching his brain for words but coming up short. How could this...this thing have such an affect on him? Dear God--

“I told you, dear, you’re in my world now, not your world. I am the one in control here. I’m the almighty. Your dearest God can’t help you now, and he was well aware of that when he sent you here.” Her words were strong, bold-spoken, with meaning and intention. She wanted to make sure this white snowflake knew exactly what he signed up for when he agreed to pay her a little visit.

“God hears all!” Tom shouted, a small part of him praying his raised vocals would attract the attention of someone, anyone up above. He never should have agreed to do this alone.

“You’re right, you shouldn’t have,” the smile could be heard in her voice. “Now, I don’t have all night. I’m a busy woman as you know. Say what you must before I dismiss you to my demons.”

Tom dared to look up, eyes focusing on anything but those black-hole pupils. His gaze fell upon the broad, stretched out red and black wings, whose tips fluttered ever so slightly creating the small draft that made the hair on his arms rise. The sharp scales that glistened from the fire's reflection ran all the way behind her back, connecting to her figure. The shape resembled that of a dragon, and for a brief second he wondered if the she-devil could be a descendant of such a creature.

Curled horns sprouting from the crown of their head, wings with power to blow houses over with a single flap, and the fiery look in her eyes when he gazed into them-- wait what?!

In a single blink, she stood towering over him, black eyes with a small hint of white stared back at him, barging into his soul. He fought, did everything in his power to look away but his attempts proved useless. All he could do was stare into the abyss, feeling his grip on reality slowly fall as he got lost in her eyes. There was only black, and endless dark void- until it wasn’t.

Another blink, Tom was thrown backwards. He fell on his back, gasping for air as if he had nearly been drowned. He rubbed at his eyes harshly, reciting every prayer he’d learned in a desperate attempt to rid whatever evil spell she had placed on him. It was only when he heard a small whimper that he froze.

He slowly pried his hands away from his eyes, gaze darting in the direction the sound came from. Everything happened so fast his head was spinning, but he managed to make out a black figure, curled up with their wings wrapped around them protectively.

Tom stood and took a wobbly step towards the person before he suddenly remembered where he was, and exactly who was sitting in front of him.

Despite that, a small voice in the back of his head told him to make sure she was okay. Demon or not, as an angel he had a duty to take care of people, may God forgive him if he had done wrong by helping a lost soul.

“Are you alright?” He asked quietly, taking another step, despite his mind telling him to stay as far away as possible.

The figure rose, gracefully, wings unraveling like a blooming flower. She stood tall, a slight jerk in her hip as her hands gripped her waist. Her hair lit into a blend of red, yet maintained its natural shape. The flames danced along her back, falling over her shoulders, illuminating the structure of her face. Jaw clenched, tongue in cheek, and those eyes, those damned eyes…

Had he known his fate was sealed the moment he looked up.

“Are you just going to stand there and look pretty?” She quipped, dark written all over her facial expression. “You, my sweet angel, just made the biggest mistake of your afterlife coming here. Now, you will never see the light of your grace again. You’re mine now, and I don’t share.”

All traces of the figure he saw moments ago were gone, replaced by an evil presence that knew nothing of mercy.

Before he could react, two hands gripped his arms, pulling them back while a rope wrapped around his white feathered wings. Tom cried out, trying to fight but fell to no avail. The material trapping his wings felt as if they were burning him with sins, causing a silent scream to be ripped from his throat.

“What should we do with him, your majesty?”

“Take him to the chambers. I want no harm to come to this one, got it? If you pluck a hair on his head, if I find a single feather missing from his wings I will personally throw you into the river of lost souls. Do you understand?”

No response.

“DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!”

“Y-Yes, Rani.”

Little late for that, Tom wanted to say. Unfortunately, he never got the chance.

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And there you are! If you liked this please let me know so I’ll actually have the motivation to write more.

Feedback is always welcome!

B&W Taglist: @rebekkah4766 @greenorangevioletgrass @allegra-writes @soraitmnt @worldoftom @farfromparker @averyfosterthoughts @parkerpeter24 @angel-spidey @naztheapprentice

#tom holland #tom holland fanfic #tom holland angst #angel!tom holland #queen of hell!reader #qoh!reader #angel!tom holland x qoh!reader #tom holland x reader #tom x reader #angel!tom x reader #angel!tom x qoh!reader #tom holland x y/n #angel!tom #my writing

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neocity-sarai · 4 years

Text

The Last of Us

✧ main concept: divergent au! (inspired by the divergent novel by Veronica Roth)

✧ pairing: lee jeno x reader

✧ alerts: mentions of death, blood, violence, suggestive, sexual implications, cursing, mentions of other nct members, longer than I anticipated

✧ song reference: “hurricane” by fleurie

Society is a complex concept. It’s this mind-twisting thing to question who gets to live where, who gains freedom- who gets a choice. Categories. Categories of people: they get to choose where you belong like they’ve already wrapped your entire existence in chain links. In Chicago, we’re deemed by another word for categories, something called the faction system. The first is Abnegation- the selfless souls and the ones who actually care about what goes on around them. On the total opposite end is Erudite. Erudite’s full of big-brained people or so they claim, I have yet to interact with many Erudite-ties. Amity is my favorite one if I had to pick, they’re like the neutralizing acid to the fire and ice of the factions. All they do is farm the food and give each other extra cookies when a new neighbor moves to their section- no harm done. Candor seems like the most intimidating because of their snappy mouths and their inabilities to lie if your dress looks ugly. My dad tells me they’re difficult to negotiate with. The last but not least is Dauntless. The faction with the scary- absolutely mental kids who jump off moving trains and through knives around like they’re frisbees. Yet, there’s something so exhilarating, so free about them. On the day of my choosing ceremony, my nerves raced like a million circuits sparking through my veins. Dad gave me a knowing look, his eyes are hardened and stiff while he clutches mom’s sweaty palm. I have always been Abnegation born. My blood pumps to the beat of my family’s simple, slow-paced life. Our clothes have always been a shade of faded grey: the color of the clouds before they tease a rainstorm. The minimalism of our plain walls, my mother’s sleek bun, and my bedroom have always kept me comfortable all this time. Why do I find myself yearning for more?- I'm greedy for the taste of adventurous anticipation. Shouldn’t I just stick to what I know? What I’m used to?

My heart practically stops when I see my brother slit his calloused palm open as crimson blood drips to the stillness of the water, the drop rippling the serenity of it. To my right, I hear my mom choke on her breath while she continuously flicks her head back from my brother to my father. The creases on his face deepen, his mouth folding into a dipped frown. “Erudite.” Reflective tears begin to roll down mom’s face, her other hand covering her mouth in efforts to suppress her sobs.

“Y/N. L/N.”

The emotionless woman’s voice catches me off guard. I feel my muscles locking together. My hands getting progressively clammy that even my mother’s fingers can’t calm the bump of my knee. I huff out a shaky breath. I don’t even realize that my knees are carrying me down towards the stage as the tall woman guides me to the table at the center of it. The room feels like it’s spinning out of control, how have I not thrown up yet? Like a puppet master entwining the strings, my split hand hovers over the bowl of silver flintstones. I watch the shiny, scarlet liquid trickle down in slow motion- each second ticking in a time bomb. The thought of jolting my hand towards the bowl of sizzling, asphalt coals makes me shudder. The woman eyes me with utter impatience. I squeeze my eyes shut while I mentally count down from three, as if that would urge me to make a last-minute decision. It works. “Dauntless.”

The cheers that vibrate behind me of deafening, the auditorium shakes from the constant tremble of the stomps. The classic, recognizable, dauntless hoot is like a call of a wolf pack, a mantra that beckons the beauty of danger. I feel several hands slap the fabric of my dress on my back, I don’t even want to glance up to see my parents’ faces. Instead, I shuffle with the rest of the people dressed in black outfits as I accidentally catch my mother’s desperate eyes from the side aisle.

I can’t believe I just did that. I went against everything I’ve been taught, everything I’ve ever really stood for. Why does it feel so good? Unfamiliar faces grin at me as they launch themselves up tall, rust-covered beams, climbing the heights like excited monkeys. When they reach the top, they run forward like a line of stallions, waiting to seize that perfect moment. A bullet train whooshes past my nose by a hair as it’s rickety cars trail behind it. “Let’s go!” screams a boy. Freezing in my spot, the wind threatens to knock me off my feet and onto the ground below the railings. A girl next to me motions at me with her finger, “What the hell are you waiting for?”I digest her words before I take off behind her- gaining on the speeding train. I was never built for this. I wasn’t ever built to run this hard, to run this fast. Everything blurs past me in a tornado of city buildings, tiny people, and ribbons of sunset lighting. Looking ahead of me, the railing is about to end and I don’t have much time left. The same girl sticks her head out the train opening, “Hurry the hell up! Hurry!”

I scream with a burn in my lungs, my legs launching my body into the narrow space. I land on a funny part of my shoulder as my body rolls and rolls- someone’s leg halting my tumble. My dress is wrapped around my thighs, my hair sticks my lips in a mess. “Whoa, going somewhere?” I whip my hair out of my face, a boy removing his foot from the side of my shoulder while all the other dauntless members chuckle by his comment. He’s not at all what I’d expect to see when I sit up. He’s a taller-framed boy who’s dressed in a navy-black outfit and a carved face that could be sculpted from a roman statue. His hair is a pure obsidian shade, one that’s darker than the finest ink in my brother’s fountain-pen collection. His jaw juts out in an aesthetic manner, his bangs curling on one side of his forehead while he pushes his tongue against the side of his cheek, “I don’t remember the last time the leaders cleaned the floor of this train, you might want to stand.” I stutter before standing up way too fast as vertigo washes over my brain in interval waves. I dust myself off, feeling the grime on the tips of my fingers. I nod at him, “Uh, thanks for stopping me?”

He laughs as his midnight eyes crinkle into slim crescents, his white teeth gleaming brighter than the gold ball that hangs on the edge of the streaky sky. He runs a gloved hand through his damp, dark locks, “You’re going to deal with a lot more than getting yourself soiled on a sooty train.” Nodding, I look around to see the other initiates glaring back at our conversation, their eyes unfazed when I catch them. I awkwardly shift towards the tall boy, his height towering over me. His eyes, framed by thick, dark lashes side-eye me, “You’ll get a hang of it though. Welcome to Dauntless.”

Right. I’m dauntless now. When the train bangs into some obstacle with a ear-shattering boom, I have to grab the frames of the windows for support so I don’t accidentally pummel the boy to the ground. He breezes past me as he steps off the platform as if our conversation had all been in my imagination. “Everyone, gather around!” All the initiates follow suit, gathering around a boy dressed in a thicker, leather jacket and matching pants. He’s a bit shorter than the raven-haired boy yet his build seems almost similar. Glittering gold rings litter the edges of his ear cartilage, his lips red like his hair, and eyes that could swallow your soul. He claps his hands in the air, “My name is Taeyong. I will be your head instructor responsible for your training. My vice is this idiot here- Jeno.” Jeno headlocks Taeyong hastily, scraping his fingernails against the top of Taeyong’s flaming hairs, “Hyung, you’re just as much of an idiot as I am.” Taeyong pushes the younger back with immense force- enough force for Jeno to step back, hands raised in mock surrender. Once Taeyong clears his throat, he stiffens, “Okay, first order of business. Let’s get to where we need to be.” Taeyong shuffles backwards, lifting himself until he stands on a short ledge. The other initiates gasp, their jaws dropped in shock. Taeyong smirks, “See you on the other side. Jeno, don’t be late.”

Taeyong falls back in a t-position, his eyes closing with relief as he plummets down into the shadowy void beneath him. “Wait!” a girl screams, lurching over the ledge to watch Taeyong disappear as his laugh echoes from the chasm. Jeno shakes his head, a small smile gracing his thin lips, “That sucker.” His eyes snap into realization, irises gleaming with amusement, “So, who wants to go first?” I subconsciously find myself backing away from the spot where Jeno is standing, my skin feels cold from the sudden wind that whips around us all. He points at me with a determined finger, his black glove hugging his knuckles, “You. Armadillo on the train, you’re up.”The blonde girl next to me cackles at the name, her snorts come out in an irritating sound. His joke wasn’t that hilarious. I slowly slip through the people, Jeno taking my hand to help me up on the ledge. I jolt at his sudden contact, “Relax. You’re wearing heels, just making sure you don’t land on your arms.” I swish his hand away, spreading my legs apart for grasping balance. This is absolutely insanity. Squinting into the void, it looks like I’m about to descend into a black hole never to be seen again. An extremely short boy shouts impatiently, “We don’t have all day! It’ll be my 50th birthday in 2 seconds!”

Shaking off their laughs, I concentrate on the syncopation of my heart. I can do this. I just need to breathe. I suck in the air that’s tinted with a smoky note, heaving it into the body of my lungs. Let go. I’m falling. I scream when my dress flies up uncontrollably, my hands fumbling to keep it down. My hairs whip my cheek painfully as the stinging sensation covers my skin. Unh. My back hits the rubber of a puffed inflatable. I feel the dips in water-proof latex beneath me. I’m rolling again, my hands reaching out for purchase. Like a flash, my body is submerged in ice cold water that flows into the heat pockets of my clothing. When I swim up for air, I notice a large, circular pool bed that’s floating on azure-tinted water. It’s a cave. The walls are thick with granite. Some rocky spikes stick out on the rims of the hole, water dripping from the tips. I hear a shout, “Incoming!!” Jeno lands on his back, his figure scrambling into the blanket of water as he grabs hold of my waist. He splashes around, waves colliding with my face, “Jeno, stop flailing!”

He pauses, staring back at me, “Wait a minute, you’re not drowning?”

I raise my eyebrow, “Does it look like I am?”

He purses his lips, hair matted over his eyes slightly, “Well. I can say no now. It seems. I heard a scream and thought you were..”

I shake my head, “No, I just fell in, that’s all.”

“Oh.”

We pause for a moment before Jeno guides me to the concrete floor that extends a few feet away from the inflatable platform before extending his hand to me. I take it, my dress dragging in a wet, soggy mess. Before looking up, Jeno exclaims, covering his eyes, “Shoot!”

“What?! What?!” I scream.

Jeno motions at me with his finger, “You- you’re- your dress..”

I look down at my dress, “What’s wrong with my dre-”

Not only has the fabric of my dress soaked through, my chest was obviously transparent. My cheeks heat up in embarrassment, trying my best to cover up with the folds of soggy fabric, “Jeno, don’t look!”

Jeno’s eyes are squinted so hard, “I won’t! I’m not!”

Taeyong’s voice booms in the cave, “What’s going on here?”

I wave a cautious arm in the air, swiveling around out of Taeyong’s view. He screams beside Jeno, “What’s taking so long? Why are you down here?”

Jeno’s words come out in an undecipherable line, “I--well you see, I heard a yell and I thought she was drowning and well, I saw her scream and well- other initiatives are still up top..”

Without having to turn around, I mentally see Taeyong rolling his eyes, socking Jeno with a punch, “Must I do everything myself?”

I hear him advance closer to me, “Why are you turned around?”

I flail my limbs as hard as I can, “I’m indecent! Don’t come any closer!”

Taeyong pauses his footsteps before he cooly says, “Jeno, get her changed while I get the rest of the initiates. We start orientation soon, we’re already behind schedule. I’m not about to be lectured by Yuta.”

Taeyong walks off to the side of the cave, opening a plain metal door in the process. Jeno huffs, “Okay, you’re going to have to follow me. I promise I won’t turn around.”

I scurry to him, my back still facing him, “You’re sure?”

“You can count on it.”

When I finally swish around, I notice the undercut line of Jeno’s hair and a thin, black swirl that extends around the back of his ear to his back. Tattoos are also a signature dauntless thing. I shouldn’t be surprised. Jeno marches quickly ahead of me, “You know, your tumbling is getting you into trouble. You really are an armadillo at heart.”

I scoff, holding myself back from knocking him in the shoulder blade, “Can you stop calling me that? I have a name, genius.”

Jeno smirks, “Oh really? What might that be?”

“Y/N. Don’t wear it out.”

Jeno coughs lowly, “I think I like armadillo better. But, I guess I could alternate.”

“Don’t call me that period.”

“Geez, don’t let the cold water turn your heart to ice.”

Finally, Jeno pulls out a ring of spiky keys. He turns one into a locked closet that houses multiple shelves of black uniforms: black sweatshirts, jogging pants, and black combat boots in every size. “What’s your size?”

“Medium and shoe size is 7.”

Jeno nods, perusing through the racks, “Coming right up, Y/N.”

Once he’s done, he sets a pile of clothes and a pair of boots on a short table, “You can change here. Come out of the closet when you’re done.”

I do as he says, slipping off the soggy mess of my dress off my ankles. Once I put the whole outfit on, I realize that I don’t look like myself in the mirror. So different from back home. So different from just yesterday. I tie my sticky hair into a thick braid, my mother’s hair-tie holding it together. “I’m ready.”

When I step out, I get a once-over from Jeno, “Black suits you better than that drab grey. How’d you wear that every day?”

“I didn’t mind much because all of abnegation is like that.”

He tsks his tongue, “Well, you won’t have to anymore.”

The walk back to the rest of the initiates is silent as Jeno guides me through a series of hallways and cave corridors before reaching a spacious room, “Hyung, we’re good to go.”

All the other kids are already dressed in uniform, the girls glaring at from where they stand- their eyes filled with envy. Is it because I came in with Jeno?

Taeyong shakes his head disappointingly, “We’ve managed to catch up. Let’s start the basics.”

As Taeyong paces back and forth on a small platform, he teaches us all about Dauntless rules. He discusses dauntless values like they’re his sworn religion since birth. He beats his curled fist onto his chest with determination, enunciating all the pillars that uphold the faction itself. He lists the leaders: Yuta, Johnny, him, Jaehyun, Mark, and someone named Jaegger. Once he’s done, Jeno rises from the chair he was sitting in, “How about we get started with some action?”

Taeyong holds a palm at him, “Hold on. I have to call Jaegger. He wants to supervise.”

Jeno groans, “That guy again?”

Taeyong nods sternly, “You know the rules.”

Taeyong hadn’t explained who Jaegger was yet. Within several seconds, a burly man busts through the metal door, his entire bald head detailed with inked markings. He’s got spikes sticking out of his ears and by the rims of his eyebrows- he looks like a villain straight out of a street gang. His icy, blue eyes dart with hysteria, “Let’s get it done.”

Taeyong nods, “I need two volunteers.”

Among the group, the blonde girl who had stood next to me before shoots her arm up instantly as she flips her hair onto one side. Besides her, no one else volunteers. They stare around each other or look down to the ground, avoiding all forms of eye contact. I accidentally look up because I don’t expect Taeyong to be in my line of sight. He flicks his fingers at me, “You. The one who messed up during the first jump. Try it out.”

Jeno intervenes, “Hyung, she just got into warm clothes- I don’t think she should-”

Taeyong glares back at the taller boy, “Hush, Jeno. I’ve made my decision.”

Jeno closes his mouth, shaking his head in refusal. Everyone in the group parts away from me like a drop of oil in a puddle of water, this singling-out thing is not doing good for me. The blonde girl follows me on to the platform ring that Taeyong and Jeno step off of. I look at her. She looks at me. We glance at Taeyong but instead, Jaegger speaks. He rubs a hand across his polished, bald head, “Rules are simple. This is a combat exercise. Go at it until one of you can’t stand.”

I stare back at him wide-eyed only to see Taeyong crossing his arms beside Jaegger and Jeno looking like he wants to say something. He doesn’t though. Jaegger raises an eyebrow with a scar slashed on it, “Well?”

I look back at the blonde girl and she’s got a sinister grin smashed on her face, “Well, this should be fun.”

Thinking back on the conditions, blondie is built thicker than me, she’s got more muscle, and she’s got huge hands. In this situation, how can I win? Defensively, she raises her fists in front of her as she toes around me. Occasionally, she’ll flip hair out of her face before she skips forward to swing at me. I miss it by a little bit of room, her eyes angry with frustration. Jaegger coughs dramatically, “Stop being idiots and commence already. I don’t have time for bullshit.”

I’m too focused on Jaegger’s words to realize that blondie’s already coming at me in one swift motion- her first hitting square on the high point of my nose. I taste rusty iron like I’ve licked a bucket of old nails. Blood seeps from my nose on to my lip, I swipe the red stream with my sleeve. My best bet is to catch her by surprise when she’s not expecting it. Lunging for her torso, I try tackling her the hardest I can muster only for her to jab her elbow into my spine. Feeling myself hit the hard platform not only feels like excruciating pain but also feels like sheer disappointment. I can’t give up so easily. I rise from my fall, my back hunched and limbs swinging at awkward angles as I try to take her down once again. Instead, she wraps her bulky arms around my waist as she practically throws me to the copper outline of the ring. I see swirling stars, the room getting sucked into a dizzying oblivion of shadows. My breath is sucked out of me, my legs unable to move from the instant paralysis. When I wake up in a few hours, searing pain throbs at the corner of my brow. A rosy bruise blossoms on the bone, purple marks littering my chin and cheek. Ow. It’s only the first day and I’ve already landed myself in the infirmary. The only pleasing thing about it is that the room is lit with melancholy lavender-colored lights- the purple glow making me feel like I’m in some type of euphoric fever dream. A girl lays awake in the gurney bed next to be, her eyes shot up at the ceiling. She’s thinner than me, freckles dot her face in clusters. Her orangey hair is tied in a messy ponytail. “Oh, you’re awake.” she says.

I nod, “Do you know how long I’ve been out?”

She turns her head to me, revealing a sickly-looking gash on the side of her cheek, “A few hours. I just woke a bit before you. Your snoring was super loud.”

Opening my mouth, I try to think of what to say. I can’t. I muse, “What happened to you?”

She smiles, her lips upturned at the corners, “We’re in the same batch. After your fight with Marlene, Jaegger made me fight too. Obviously, I didn’t win.”

There’s some sort of innocent nativity that I sense in her, it’s almost adorable. She shifts on her side with a wince, “I should also probably tell you that Jaegger told us about the point dock system.”

“Point dock?”

She nods, placing a stray hair behind her ear, “Yeah. He said, ‘if we believe you don’t make the cut, you’re out. Out of dauntless. Out of your old faction. You’ll be left to the factionless..’ and then after, the whole class went silent.”

My mouth drops into a square, “What? Out for good? They can do that?”

She slaps her hand onto her forehead, “Apparently so. You and I are so screwed.”

I nod, “How do you know if you don’t make the cut?”

She replies, “Oh, Jaegger said they’ll make it crystal clear.”

I close my mouth, making the conversation evaporate between us. “What’s your name?” the girl says.

“Y/N. You?”

“Seulgi. Amity if you were wondering.”

“Abnegation- born.”

“I see.”

I swing my legs off the gurney bed, “Can we just leave?” Seulgi rubs her thumb and index finger on her chin, “I think so. There’s no one here besides us.” When both of us exit the violet infirmary, we’re greeted with ominous, stone-covered corridors that vibrate with the sound of hollering further down. We follow the sound into the main foyer. It’s a lobby full of long tables, initiates dressed in raven-colored uniforms, and strings of crystalline lights that glitter above their heads. It’s teeming with life, some people are in a separate area as they tackle each other within a ring and some opt to sit and talk in the lounge space. Seulgi notions, “This is the pit. I guess this is where everyone hangs out.” I nod back at her, “No kidding.” I hope that didn’t sound ruder out loud. When we make our way towards the tables, we see a couple of boys and girls wave at Seulgi, “Seul, over here!” She happily runs to them, dragging my hand along. They embrace her in firm handshakes and side hugs, passing us both two plates of food. A boy to Seulgi’s left laughs, “Some bruises you got, poor Seulgi.” She grins, “Hey, at least I fought the best I could. Later, I’ll become stronger than Serena and beat her up.” The group erupts in laughter, some unknown liquid spilling out of their silvery cups. She gestures at me, “We’ve got a new recruit for our crew.” They go silent, peering around Seulgi to get a better view of me.

I awkwardly wave, “Good to be here?”

The boy flashes me a thumbs up, “Glad to have you. You put up a fight against that bitch Marlene.”

Laughing a little, I nod, “It doesn’t help that she threw me around like a bulldog’s chew toy.”

A girl across from the boy says, “It wasn't even fair though! She was way bigger than you, the circumstances were so unbalanced.” Seulgi nudges me in the arm, “Tough cookie, you’re going to beat her one day. I know you will.”

The boy raises his cup, everyone following his lead, “Cheers on that! Cheers to dauntless’s newest additions!”

Our cups almost overspill our drinks onto our food, drops landing by my plate. Seulgi perks up suddenly, “You know guys, I have an idea. How about we get celebratory tattoos? You know, dauntless style?”

The girl who sits across from Seulgi cackles sarcastically, “On my virgin body, no way!”

Seulgi punches her lightly, “Come on, Adema, don’t be a vibe-killer! It’ll be fun!”

“Quit being so loud initiates.”

We all pause our excitement, turning our heads to see the voice that had spoken to us. It was Jeno. He stood before us, one plate of food in one hand. It was like his demeanor had suddenly changed from friendly vice Jeno to a cold-blooded teenage version of Jaegger. He flops his food down with clank, launching himself into the seat next to me. I speak up, “Jeno, we weren’t being that loud. Everyone here is like, yelling.”

He cocks up a dark eyebrow, lilting his head to the side, “Who said I asked? I saw you all being loud, that’s how it is.”

Seulgi nudges me once more, whispering, “Don’t engage, it’s fine.”

Her plead makes me want to provoke Jeno even more. I sip my drink in contempt. Glaring at him, “did something happen? Why are you like this all of a sudden?”

Jeno widens his onyx eyes at me, his jaw gritting with pressure, “Don’t you think it’s a bit rude to assume?”

I shoot back, “I’m respectfully asking, I’m not inferring. There’s a difference.”

Jeno cards a veiny hand through his messy locks, “Either way, I don’t care. You should just know when to stop asking.”

All of dinner was awkward to say the least. Even so, by the end, we all made our way to the dauntless studio- the one built like an underground speakeasy nightclub. The lights in the room rotate between red, green, and blue lights as some rnb song vibrates in the background of hissing needles. A row of velvet-cushioned chairs lined the parlor as a gigantic tower of tattoo designs rotated in the center of the room. A bar was placed on the side where there were a row of sinks and hair-cutting stations. We all muse around the swirling tower, Seulgi opting for a design of a flaming rose. “Where are you going to get yours?”

She smiles at me, “I’ve always wanted one near my hip. I don’t know, it just sounds sexy to me.”

The boy whose name goes by Renjun laughs, “Should I get a biker-hillbilly esque skull or should I go for the phoenix?”

The girls laugh, “Definitely the phoenix.”

When I trail off to find my own design, I opt for a more simple dauntless insignia as a commemoration. I don’t want anything too crazy. Renjun and Seulgi sneak up on me, “Find what you want?”

I smile back at them excitedly, “I think so!”

“Next appointment for Y/N!”

I sigh, “Well, that’s me!”

Seulgi laughs, “Good luck, girlie!”

When I make way to the counter, I’m greeted by a honey-blonde boy who seems only a few years older than me. His hair falls longer past the nape of his neck, his features apparent of chinese descent. He rolls up the sleeves of his white dress shirt, his arms covered in beautiful patches of flowers. I take note of the pair of angel wings on his throat. He sighs, “My name is Ten, I’ll be doing your design today.”

“Okay.” I sit down in his station’s chair, the one embellished with gold detailing. He sticks a smoking cigarette into his mouth after breathing out a misty cloud, “What’d you want?’”

I give him the slide of my design, he raises his eyebrows at me, “Really? Just this?”

I shrug, “I like simple.”

Ten makes a skeptical facial expression, “I can respect that.”

When he works, I try my best to stay as still as possible. I feel my arms and hands shake too much in the anticipation of the needle’s point . Instead, I’m pleasantly surprised by the sharpness, by the slight but not overbearing pain when Ten outlines the symbol in jet black. He continues to chew on the butt of his cigarette, swallowing back the bitter flavor, “So, you a new initiate?”

I turn my head towards him, “Yes.”

“How do you like it here?”

“Still takes some time to get used to, it’s not all bad. Better than being bored back in abnegation.”

His eyebrows crinkle with recognition, “Huh, I used to be in abnegation too.”

“Really? What made you switch?”

He pauses for a moment, thinking about his words, “My family. I wasn’t the biggest fan of their house-hold rules.” “I’m sorry to hear that.”

He shakes his head defiantly, “No need to be sorry. I enjoy Dauntless.”

Ten continues, “By the way, I’m done.” The skinny boy hands me a beautiful- rose-detailed mirror, the glass reflecting the dauntless insignia on the back of my shoulder. He puts a pair of small glasses on, “I’ll give you all the aftercare items you’ll need- it shouldn’t be puffy like that for too long.”

I smile at him, “I honestly love it. Thank you.”

He grunts in agreement before packing various bottles and fabric cloths into a small pink sack and handing it to me. Ten pushes up the bridge of his glasses from slipping down his nose, “Could I ask, what’s your name?”

“Uh- Y/N.”

Ten breaks into a smile that’s almost scarily big, “Ah-Y/N. I thought so. You got dauntless on your aptitude test, right?”

“Um, why are you saying it like that? And to answer your question, yes, I did.”

He laughs amusingly, “Anyway, a little birdie tells me that you made Jeno so embarrassed on your first jump.”

My cheek flare up with redness, “You heard about that?”

Ten unwraps a honey lollipop from one of the drawers at his station, “Of course I did, Jen’s like a little brother to me. I know things even the others don’t know.”

Winking, Ten motions at me, “Don’t tell him I said this but, I think he needs someone like you in his life. The kid’s been struggling on his own.”

I raise my brows out of curiosity, “To tell you the truth, he was extremely rude to my friends and I at dinner just now.”

Ten waves me off, lollipop flinging between his fingers, “Agh- forget that! It’s just a mask that he wears to seem tough since he’s in dauntless. He’s just a sweet kid.”

I mutter, “Even so, he was very rude.”

“He doesn’t mean it, he would never say that on his own out of malicious intent. Please, just give him a chance.”

As resignation, I consider it, “Okay. I’ll try my best to forgive him of the grievances.”

Ten reaches into his bottom drawer again, pulling out a strawberry lollipop, “Good. Take one for your troubles.”

Once I finish thanking Ten, I wait for the rest of the group to get their tattoos before heading back to our dormitory. Come to think of it, I hadn’t seen it yet. When we get back, I’m appalled by the acidic smell of bleach that floats from the showers in the corner. The beds are hard as rocks and even worse- there’s no privacy between the boys or girls. Dauntless couldn’t have spent one more second to install walls in the rooms? The next few mornings were dreadful. Every single day, we were awoken by Taeyong’s and Jaegger’s barking orders through a megaphone. Days and nights were spent learning partner combat, close-range shooting, and weapons mastery. Of course, it was hard for me to keep up. I barely could hit the dummy targets. I was the first to run out of breath during the exercises. Even Seulgi, Renjun, and the others were making amazing progress. Jeno’s nice enough to give me an array of pointers, some personal lessons when Taeyong isn’t paying attention. The question remains: will it be enough to be my name above the line?

Few days later

Because I was still struggling the most, I only believed it to be right that I had to work the hardest to do something about it. In my family, we were never allowed vanity. But, we were allowed pride. I felt the need to prove myself to the other initiates, to Taeyong, and to maybe even as far as Jeno. In the middle of the night, I was in our classroom as I practiced close-range shooting on a rice-bag decoy, my goggles becoming foggy from my warm breath. It was probably past midnight then and seeing how silent it was, I’m sure everyone was safely tucked into their back-breaking beds. That’s when I felt a pair of arms surround mine- a face pressed up against my cheek. Without having to look, I knew it was Jeno. His lips barely grazed my hair, his fingers wrapped securely around mine. When did he come in? I didn’t even notice him? He places his index finger on top of mine where the trigger is, “The trick is to focus on your scope rather than the target itself. Aim at an angle so you don’t miss.”

I follow suit, my bullet lodging straight into the bulls-eye heart of the rice decoy, some grains spilling out into a small pile on the floor. I nod, testing his tip again, my bullet hits the decoy by the shoulder. He gives a small applause, “Now you’ve got it!”

“Thanks for the lesson.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

Jeno chuckles awkwardly, “So, I was just on my way out to grab a few things and I’m making a stop by the coffee machine, did you want me to get anything for you?”

I shake my head, “I’m good, thank you.”

My mind flips back to Jeno’s stark hostility that peeked through a few nights ago- how could he be the same boy now? He heartily laughs, “I’m getting you one. You’ve been at this for hours and I think you need it.”

Sighing in defeat, I pique, “Wait, how do you know I’ve been up?”

Already making his way to the door, he turns as he smiles until his eyes fold into his eyelids, “Just a hunch. I’ll be back.”

I take a rest on a near-by bench, my legs thrumming to the vibration in the building pipes. A loud boom sounds from outside the training room as if someone had dropped something. Peeking out the tiny door window, “Jeno, is that you?”

There’s no reply. Opening the door carefully, I stick my head out into the hallway to my left- there’s no one in sight. In a span of a few seconds, I feel a rag be pressed to my mouth as my screams come out in silenced muffles. Three large figures wrap their arms around every part of my body, carrying me as if I was a sack of trash ready for dump-pickup. Kicking and screaming kind of helps but doesn’t at the same time. I’ve learned to maneuver my body in certain ways, twisting out of grips but whoever these people are, they keep a strong pin on my wrists. They’re all wearing black masks like some vigilante robbers- cowards, they don’t even dare to reveal their faces. I continue to scream, “Let me go! Get off!” The more I struggle, the more they squeeze my wrists and ankles. Suddenly, I’m dropped to the ground, my back hitting the concrete with a smack, one of the figures wrenches my braid over the chasm drop. The person grabs my face, threatening to toss me down the water-filled void, “We know you’re protecting Jeno’s secret! Confirm it or die!”

I grit my teeth in response, “What the hell? What secret??I barely know him?”

The voice, that of a young boy’s, “Trying to play stupid huh?”

My words come out in whimper, “Seriously, I have no idea what you’re talking about. We’re not even that close.”

The second figure hisses at the younger boy with a deeper gruff, “We’re taking too much time. Let’s just get rid of her.”

Feeling my back lose stabilization on the ground, the top half of my body is already above the chasm- a little more and I’d splat like an insect. I reach out to grab hold of something, someone, only to be met with a kick to the ribs. I bite my tongue out of pain, blood seeping to my lips. The iron taste is familiar yet sickening, I didn’t come to dauntless to die like this.

“Get the fuck off her!” Jeno’s voice booms with anger as he flies his fist at the figures standing behind my captor. One by one, they fall to the ground in defeat as their limbs fail to lurch back at Jeno. He grabs the boy holding my hair by the back of his collar, swinging him into the granite wall behind us as the boy’s pained shouts reverberate through the cave. In haste, Jeno pulls me up into his arms, his eyes wild with furious sparks that flame at the center of his ash eyes, “Why did you go outside when I wasn’t back yet?”

I stutter, “I heard a loud noise so I stuck my head out and yeah..”

He shakes his head, “Do you like getting into trouble? You almost died back there!”

Gazing at him, “But I didn’t. Because you came.”

Jeno’s features soften, his frame melting with the weight of my body in his arms, “Let’s go.”

“Where are we going?”

“Just be quiet and see, Y/N.”

After Jeno leads me through a series of elevators, stairwells, and corridors, we arrive at a door. Swinging it open, we’re met with a cold gust of wind, my skin tingling from the icy air. Jeno sits at the end of the rooftop as he plops down, legs swinging over the edge. The view is absolutely breathtaking. In Abnegation, we never really had any windows to see the outside world. This was a stark contrast: a view of each of the sections in the distance. Candor’s buildings touch the stormy skies, Amity’s farming dome covers their entire section, and the center city emits noises from the factionless bartering for food. If you squint hard enough, there’s a wall that surrounds the entire perimeter- urging you to wonder what’s beyond it. Jeno says softly, “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

I nod in agreement, “Really is.”

Plopping beside him, our thighs barely touch, my hands placed awkwardly on the roof’s surface. Jeno fixes his hair as he tustles his bangs back and forth before biting his lip in anticipation. His voice comes out in a timid but deep vibration, “I’m sorry.”

I stare back at him incredulously, “What are you sorry for?”

Jeno fiddles with the black thread from the fabric of his gloves, “Back at dinner. A few nights ago, I wasn’t very kind to you and your friends.”

Surprised with his apology, “I hope you had your reasons.”

Jeno’s habit of over-biting his lip becomes apparent because they’re pink in the middle and red at the edges. He bobs his head slightly, shutting his eyes with confirmation, “I do. More than you know.”

I put a hand on his shoulder, “If that’s the case, apology accepted.”

When I look at Jeno, he represents a rhythmic soul, one that marches to beat his own drum, and one that’s capable of showing unconditional love. Ten’s correct- his hard exterior reveals the heart of an innocent boy, one that also happens to be covered in bloody scars. “Jeno! You’re hurt!”

Jeno touches his face lightly, the scratch on his cheek irritated, “Oh. I barely noticed these.”

Taking his hand, “Jeno, we need to clean those or they’ll get infected.”

Giving me a small smile, he drags me back through the door we came through. I don’t even register that we’re still holding hands, his large fingers around my palm. I silently pray that he doesn’t notice the heat that’s enclosed between us. After we enter, the room widens into a warehouse-like studio: paneled windows, an unmade bed, and a small kitchen that resides at the corner. The clouds look more organic through the glass window, the view of the factions illuminated with dim lights. Jeno’s rummaging through his kitchen cabinet to find a first aid kit as he sits down on the black sheets of his bed, pulling out q-tips and antiseptic cleaner. Wincing, Jeno shuts one eye as he smoothes the liquid onto the cut on his face.

I say, “Here, let me help.”

He opens his mouth to refuse but closes it when I take the q-tip from his hand anyway. I clean my fingers with a wipe before squirting some cooling gel onto the tip of my thumb. Jeno’s breath feels warm on my face, his eyes unmoving from mine. I try to ignore his intense staring, “Jeno, look away.”

He quirks an eyebrow up, “Why?”

“Because you’re making me nervous.”

Jeno’s laugh is full of mirth and sincerity, “Nothing to be nervous about.”

Jeno’s eyes shift to the ground, his lashes framing his eyelids. Jeno looks beautiful when he isn’t trying. When the dim lights illuminate the bridge of his nose to the high points of his cheek, his features harden and soften depending on the angle of his face. Though he has some scratches on his cheeks, some above his eyebrows, it doesn’t change him. He tuts, “Now look who’s staring.”

I quickly dart my eyes away, heat crawling up the expanse of my back in embarrassment, “I wasn’t! Where else are you injured?”

He touches a tender spot on his back with his shoulder blade, “One of those attackers had sharp nails, he got me right by my shoulder.”

“May I?” I gesture beside him on the bed, my mind flashing back to when my mother told me it was rude to sit on someone’s bed without asking.

He nods in affirmation, lifting the hem of his black sweater over his head. He stretches his back muscles, rolling his shoulders back to move them. I yelp a bit too loudly, “Why are you taking off your shirt??”

Chuckling, Jeno reaches a hand back to scratch at the hairs on his nape, “How are you going to treat it if you can’t reach it?”

“Oh, right.”

I see my hands visibly shake when I apply some more gel to the scratch that aligns in a downward line by his linear tattoo. When I press my fingers to the smooth skin of Jeno’s back, I feel myself letting out a breath I had been holding in. Jeno starts to hum an unfamiliar tune while he takes off his black gloves, tossing them to the floor. I have to say something, it’s way too quiet. “So,why this tattoo?”

He turns his face over his shoulder, “You wanna know?”

I hum, “Yeah, I do.”

Jeno goes on to explain it, his mother’s favorite flowers are cherry blossoms. He talks about how he was originally in Candor and how his mom would paste clippings of Japan from books on to her bedroom walls. His back is like a canvas for the faction insignias, all of them entwined with sakura branches that wrap around his ears and neck. “Basically, I love my mom so that explains the sakura blossoms. For the factions, I don’t believe I can just be one thing. I want to teach myself how to protect the people I love, to be kind, honest, and smart. I don’t want to be shoved into one mold, you know?”

Giving him a nod, “I get that. That’s how I thought- or, think. Now.”

In that moment, I remember Ten’s words: “Jeno has been struggling by himself.”

I pat his shoulder, “Jeno, could I ask you something?”

He turns around to me, his chest is bare and toned. Muscles are carved with definite lines that cross all over his body, “What is it, Y/N?”

“When I came in for a tattoo, I talked to Ten. He told me you struggled by yourself or currently struggling? What’s that mean?”

Jeno narrows his pointed, smoky-filled eyes at me, “Ten said that?”

I nod, “Don’t be mad at him, he’s just trying to help.”

Jeno makes a whirring hum from between his lips as he leans his hands back on the bed, “It’s hard to explain but, things aren’t always easy for me here.”

He pauses before continuing, “Ten knows something about me that most people don’t.”

Saying nothing, my heart beats with anticipation, I withhold myself from pressing him even further. On his own he says, “If I tell you, I need to know if I can trust you. I can’t afford to let this slip.”

Holding up my hand in pledged oath, I nod, “You have my word.”

“I’m divergent.”

My gasp sounds like my lungs have failed due to how loud it sounds. Truly, I didn’t expect those words to come out of Jeno’s mouth, “You’re divergent?”

Nodding solemnly, “Yes. My mother died because she was harboring me, my results got reported. Ten found us when he was on patrol with Taeyong, they took me in and forged the results so I could live.”

Connecting the dots, I point at him knowingly, “Is that why you tried to put on a front during dinner?”

Jeno sighs, “For whatever reason I thought the more mean I was, people couldn’t see through the mask.”

Instinctively, I place a firm hand on Jeno’s bouncing knee, “Jeno, you don’t have to act that way when you’re with me.”

Oh no. Why did I touch his knee like that? He must think I’m trying to come on to him or something, judging by the confused look on his face. I messed up. Jeno cockily smirks, launching himself until there is absolutely no space in between us. His face is only a couple centimeters away, a mischievous glint shines in his shadowy irises. He’s so close I can spot the faded mole at the flat of his cheek, some of his dark hairs fall to his brow. “Y/N, am I making you nervous right now?”

I gulp, my eyes widened like disks, “Very.”

Jeno flicks his eyes to my lips, his smile curling on one side, “Don’t be nervous.”

Like that, Jeno’s lips are on mine in a split second- a soft, slow sensation washing over us like time’s been stopped instantly. I feel myself relaxing as I straddle Jeno’s lap, pulling him closer by his shoulders. The way Jeno moves his head, forehead bumping against mine feels bone-chillingly pleasant as he continues to kiss me passionately. The dark-haired boy moves his rough hands through my hair as loops curl in between his fingers. When I pull back for air, my heart feels like it’s burning when I memorize the honey-golden sheen of Jeno’s skin, his parted lips swollen from our contact. Kneeling up on the bed, I rise to look down on Jeno, his strong arms grasping me by the waist as I lean down to his lips again. Jeno traces the curve of my jaw, his lips moving to the hollow of my neck- his lips sting against my skin. Shutting his eyes in pleasure, Jeno sighs into my shoulder, “Can you just stay here?”

I hug his chest even harder, “Won’t I get in trouble?”

Jeno laughs, “For being with me or for missing curfew?”

I laugh, “Both?”

Jeno kneads my area by my hip, massaging my sweater upwards, “Can I?”

I look back at him, raising my eyebrow, “Do you even deserve me?”

His smile reveals the highlights of his teeth, “I can try my best for you? Don’t worry about the others giving you a hard time, I can take care of it.”

My arms hang off Jeno’s shoulders, hands crossed by his neck, “Really, Jeno?”

Jeno gives me a fond nod, “Really.”

When I lower myself to Jeno’s level, he helps me lift the fabric of my top above my head. His eyes widen at the sight, he almost looks surprised. I panic, “What, what is it?”

He shakes his head in resignation, “When I first saw you, tumbling on the train, I thought you were the prettiest person in that dirt-covered train car.”

A blush glows on my cheeks, I feel my ear sting a bit- the feeling causing my heart to tremor. Instead, I result to leaning my forehead against Jeno’s, “You’re not bad at all.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Jeno smashes his lips against mine once again, harder than the last time as we lower ourselves into Jeno’s navy-blue pillows that sit in a squished pile by the headboard. I sweep a hair behind Jeno’s ear, peering up at his figure on top of me, “We should sleep, I was told that we have intense training tomorrow.”

Jeno’s eyes crinkle like moons, “Y/N, you really know how to kill the mood don’t you?”

I slap a hand against his pectoral muscle, “Jeno, let’s just go to bed!”

“Okay, okay.”

Jeno gets up to turn off the lights before tossing himself next to me on his bed. Pulling the comforter over our bodies, I feel his breath hit the back of my head as he hums in content. I turn my body to face him, his eyes already softly shut. His eyelashes are even more prominent, his hair is a bit more messy than it was in the last few hours. Pressing a kiss to his forehead, I stare back at him for a little bit longer. In the dark, he flicks open one eye, “How do you expect me to go to bed if you keep kissing me?”

“Goodnight, Jeno.”

Pouting, Jeno huffs playfully, “Good night, Y/N.”

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