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dontcheckthis-blog · 7 years

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A Dragon’s Heart - Part 2

Kris Hybrid!AU/Kris X Reader

Summary: Known as the greatest warrior to have ever lived. A prince and a soldier, he will do anything to protect what’s his. Especially for the love of his life, you. But he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know that there is a secret between you and the king.

(Note: this is part of the hybrid series by @suhitos-peaches ( @oh-beyond writing blog) which y’all should read and check out ‘cause it is freakin’ awesome, her stories are amazing! I’ll be taking up on Kris’ hybrid story and just gonna remind that uh…this is my first time making an X Reader story so I apologize in advance for my lack of skills here, but i hope you’ll enjoy the story and if you have any feedbacks, questions and whatnot, don’t hesitate to come and talk to me, don’t be shy my friends! Don’t hesitate to tell me what you think of the story and here it is, enjoy the part 1 of A Dragon’s Heart🐉)

@suhitos-peaches Hybrid Series Masterlist

Part 1 - Part 3

Opening his eyes, the first thing he sees is a dim light shining slightly on him. He figured it was the sun so he went back to sleep, not in the mood to move nor can he actually move at all since he was trapped in a damn tower anyway. He could get out of the tower and just crawl around but he was never to be seperated from it.

He couldn’t get out of this. He wanted to but it was impossible to do so. He’s cursed to stay in this form and stay in this wretched tower, trapped forever....

Or maybe....

A young man was wandering around the area. Looking around and enjoying the breathtaking nature around him. The slight breeze hitting through him as he continues to walk around, hoping to encounter it.

So many people he has heard it from. They all said the same thing. A mythical creature living around the area, hidden from the rest of the world and if you’re lucky, you could be able to encounter it. Only by following some certain tracks as well as the changing of the weather, you could be able to possibly see it.

Since he’s turned into a dragon, he of course had the strong senses of the mythical creature, as well as the strong sense of smell. And for sure, a strong smell hit his nostrils. Then he heard a voice.

“Whao, it really is real...”

Yifan looked to the source of the unknown voice and sees a young man standing infront of him, shock and in awe.

Growling slightly, he glared at him moving slightly. The young man moved back, slightly afraid yet curious of the dragon. He hesitated, until he spoke up. “Uhhmm.....y-you’re real??” He didn’t really know what to say. Being so amazed at the fact that he just found a real dragon. Not just that, he found THE dragon from the stories or the rumors that he was told about.

Yifan couldn’t answer, only responding with a grunt and a snarl.

Real? Of course I am! I am real! What the hell do you mean I’m not?!

The young man flinched at his response, clearing his throat and staying in his ground. “O-okay...so I should maybe introduce myself, I-I’m Junmyeon.”

Yifan roared at him, annoyed at his actions. Whipping his long tail towards him as Junmyeon dodged and moved out of the way to avoid destruction, screaming slightly from the sudden action.

Get the hell out of my sight!

“I just wanted to see if you were real! I’m sorry! Please don’t kill me!” Junmyeon pleaded, stumbling back as Yifan stopped his movement.

Wait....what?

“I’m sorry! They told me you existed and such and I wanted to see for myself! They told me you were a warrior before then you were turned into a dragon! This was reckless of me and I’m very sorry!”

Will you shut up already?! You’re killing me here

“I-I’m sorry, I’ll shut up now.”

Y-You can.....understand me?

“Y-yeah, who couldn’t?”

That’s impossible, you can’t do that. I’m simply a mythical creature that can’t even talk like a human, some are lucky but I’m not. You hear my thoughts?

“Wait.....I’m hearing your thoughts? That’s.....strange.....I thought all majestic creatures such as yourself have the ability to talk and communicate like us.”

Well, I wasn’t lucky when I was transformed. My mouth is kept shut unless I am feeding or wanting show my emotions such as now

“It’s true then?! You were a warrior before you were transformed?!”

Honestly, how did you even find this damned place? You shouldn’t even be here, human

“First of all, my name is Junmyeon and I wanted to see if you existed.”

Well, now you have seen my existence, you may leave now. Get out before I break you in to two if you’d like that

“Just like that? I came here from a far away village, I might as well engage in an interesting conversation with a majestic creature like you and it’s only once in a lifetime I get to do this.”

You are very annoying, did you know that?

“Yes, I have known that. Very much so. Please, let me stay here for a while. After that, I’ll leave you alone. Forever. I promise.”

Yifan sighed deeply, for years he haven’t had any contact with anyone. All being trapped in the same tower and watching the sun set and the sky turn to night. All while thinking about what has happened and to you.

Fine.....might as well just take the chance....I have not communicated with anyone in a long time....

Junmyeon’s eyes widened in excitement. “Really?! Thank you! Thank you so much!” Yifan groaned again at his loud voice.

Please do not be loud then

“Ah, I apologize for that. I’m just excited to have the honor of talking to you.” Junmyeon chuckled, before sitting down and looking up at him. “What can I call you?”

Yifan, Wu Yifan

“You were turned by a witch then? Is it true?”

Yes, I believe so. Now I am cursed to be in this form and to live in this tower forever, I cannot escape. Even if I wanted to

“You sure about that? You can’t escape?”

No, I’m quite honest with that. If I did try to escape, I wouldn’t be here today. I would be in ashes by now if I went out of the line, or seperated by the hold of the tower

“There’s always a way for every curse to back out. I’m sure of it.”

What do you know about this anyway? Why bother?

“I’m telling you there is a way for you to get out of this, I’m sure of it. I just don’t know what kind of magic.”

I do not believe you

“Well....just believe me. Trust me, Yifan, you’ll transform back! You’ll be that warrior and prince that everybody loves!”

Hard to believe that. Ever since then, I’ve been feared. For my skills in battle as well as my merciless nature

“But everybody says you were the greatest warrior who’ve ever lived. You even sacrificed yourself for the war and then they said that you died but you didn’t, you came back and then-“

Enough. Please. If you’ve heard all of this and you believe it, don’t. It’s all lies

“Really? Then what about your love for the princess before? Was that a lie?”

What do you mean? How do you know so much?

“People from the village told me all about it. Especially your love for her, you loved her truly. Then I heard that she and the king are married now-“

Wait.....they’re....they’re married?

“Yes, they’re married now.....”

I....I see...

“Yifan, I can tell you want her back.”

She is happy now, I shouldn’t interfere with her current life. She’s loved the king for a long time. I was only a second choice for her

“Oh.......she never loved you?”

I do not know what to believe, she has told me before I left that she learned to love me as time passed by

“Wait, you left her? Why?! You could’ve-“

It is complicated, Junmyeon. Don’t bother yourself in it, it’s all in the past for a long time and she is happy now

Junmyeon sighs at his attempts to try and talk it out of him. He did understand Yifan’s situation before. Junmyeon is quick on reading him, he could tell that he wanted you back but Yifan is of course, stubborn and decided to go against his feelings. It’s already confirmed.

It’s been a year since you and the king married each other. You couldn’t tell what you were feeling anymore. You didn’t know what to say. You didn’t know what to do. Did you still love the king? Did you love Yifan?

Yes. Yes, you did. You did love Yifan. You learned to. But you knew he wouldn’t forgive you and come back. Because of what happened.

You felt guilty, you couldn’t control yourself. The guilt stayed with you until now. And you know that it won’t leave you anytime soon, it will remind you. That you lost yourself that time. But most importantly, you lost him. Yifan. You lost him. And now, you were stuck here. With the king. Luhan.

He never forced or pressured you, he is still in love with you but even he felt guilty too of what happened. Especially since he was the one who started it. Things have changed now, especially him and you. You couldn’t look at each other anymore. It was difficult to when you were both reminded of what happened before.

And then something happened....

The king....

Luhan...

Soon became ill.

He became sick. But he tried to hide it. He didn’t want to tell anyone, especially you. He didn’t want you to worry about him nor did he want you to know about his illness. But it became unescapable when it started to affect his appearance.

He became paler and paler, coughing violently and trying to stop it. And the worst would be his appetite, he couldn’t eat anything. He slowly became weaker and weaker, until his energy was drained. You noticed then on the third day he got ill, he was paler than usual. But he told you that he was fine, there was nothing to worry about him, that it was just the stress overcoming him.

You didn’t believe him.

Choosing to stay close with him to keep an eye until he started to cough violently and you rushed to him. You held him with and called for help in the palace.

“Please! Someone help us!” You cried, Luhan saw a dark red liquid on his hand after coughing so much. The metallic taste lingering in his mouth, blood. Panting and wheezing slightly, then he slowly looked up at you, you can see the energy drained out of him and the blood on his hand, you feel the tears forming around your eyes. “Luhan, i-it will be okay, alright? We’ll-“ Luhan held your hand, giving you a weak smile.

“I-it’s okay.....” he whispers, feeling the consciousness slowly drifting away. You didn’t want him to ‘sleep’. You didn’t want him to close his eyes. “Luhan, please! Please don’t do this!” You begged, holding him close. You see his smile again before he closed his eyes.

“How is he?” You asked the doctor.

“I’m sorry, your majesty...” the doctor’s expression was already proof enough to her but......

“Tell me what is wrong with him. Tell me what I can do to help him. Please.” You pleaded, feeling the tears form around your eyes but you were fighting to keep them inside. The doctor looks at you with a sorrowful look in his eyes.

“He is....not well.”

“How long....does he have?”

“He does not.....have any much days left, your majesty....I’m truly sorry, I’ve done everything I can to try and prevent this but-“

“No.....I understand. Thank you for your kind help, I’ll be taking it from here. You may leave.”

The doctor gave an apology once again before bowing to you and leaving the palace. You went back inside the room where Luhan was in, the servants cleaning up and bowing to you as you entered in the room. “Thank you, you may all leave.” The servants brought all the things not needed and bowed again to you before leaving you alone in the room.

You went to the bed he was lying in, gently sitting beside his sleeping figure and softly caressing his hair as he was sleeping. You looked at him, the tears that were formerly around your eyes beginning to come more and more until one gets out and streams down your cheeks, falling onto his forehead.

It made him wake up and open his eyes, seeing you crying. Luhan reached for your hand, holding it gently as you held his back, now the emotions controlling you fully.

“Y/N.....I’ll be okay, please....don’t cry, love....” he pleaded, caressing your cheek and wiping the tears away. You leaned to his touch, closing your eyes in warmth and calm. “Luhan...I’m so sorry....I-I....-“

“No....don’t be....This is all my fault. For what happened, for everything. Years before. I stepped in and ruined everything between you and Yifan.....and for that...I am sorry....Y/N....”

You smiled weakly at him. “I’ll be here with you, okay? I promise, Luhan. I will be here with you, by your side.” You say as you leaned near him, kissing him gently and you feel him kissing you back with the warmth that you always loved ever since.

You’ll always be here with him, until his possible end.

The days slowly passed. You were grateful for that, maybe it was giving you a chance to be with him for a while to make time and spend it with him. His last days with you. But then, all of it came to a direct end. You witnessed it again, him coughing violently with blood on his hand and you rushed to him, helping him. You became afraid, knowing that this might be his possible end with you. He’ll soon leave you here, and you’ll have to take up his place.

As you were by his side, the tears visible on your cheeks, he turned to you, smiling weakly as he did, trying to make you at ease. “Y/N-ah......Can we....take a small walk outside?” He asked you, his voice already weak and broken. You swallowed a lump in your throat as you nodded your head, helping him up and beginning to slowly walk with him.

Looking at the falling snow, you held his hand in yours. You turned to him and you could see that he was beginning to tire out, walking slowly beside and slightly leaning at your shoulder. “Luhan....would you like to sit by the tree over there?” You ask him gently, trying to fight back the tears that were itching to come out of you again, Luhan smiled and nodded, following you to the bench under the tree. The all too familiar tree that the both of them know so well. Where they first met,the first time they laid eyes on each other.

“Do you remember the time we met?” You ask him, squeezing his hand slightly and swallowing another lump in your throat. You feel him nod slowly against your shoulder.

“The first time.....I saw you here.... under this tree..... you looked so beautiful....so full of joy and love.... you still are until now....always...” He added in, smiling at the fond memory of the both of you. You smiled, turning to him. GIving him a peck on the forehead, you held his hands. “Luhan.....you’ll be okay....you will be....” You gently say, Luhan breathing slowly in and out.

“I’m....sorry.....for everything....Y/N....I.....” He inhales.

“...love....” He exhales.

“You...”

Luhan.....

Yifan.......

....I’m sorry.......

I love you.....

Always........

.Author’s Note: Part 2 is here finally.... i hope you liked the first part and the third part is coming up but it might be a while, i’ll try my best to make it fast and stuff. as always, feedbacks are always appreciated! Don’t hesitate to send me feedbacks, my friends! Have a great day!

#exo #exo fanfic au #exo x reader #exo hybrid au #yifan x reader au #kris x reader au #exo kris #kris hybrid au #suhitos-peaches #hybrid au series #oh-beyond

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kpoptrashlord-007 · 3 years

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Extended Stay;; WYF [pt.1]

Check out Part Two here~

Word Count;; 10.4k total, 5.2k for pt.1

Genre;; Zombie AU [Horror], Mafia AU [Violence], Smut

Pairing;; Kris Wu x Fem!Reader

Summary;;

There comes a point in every relationship where things start to get serious. For you and Kris, that point comes in the form of a weekend getaway at a paradise resort. While you have your doubts about the many secrets he holds, there's a part of you that wants the relationship to thrive, to grow into something greater. All great things, however, must be strong enough to withstand a storm and the quickest way to learn of a person's true character is under unfathomable odds. Luckily for you, an island gone dark promises many hardships.

Collab Info;;

The Undead - an EXO12 Collab hosted by @biaswreckingfics ♡

Check out the Masterlist for more great EXO Zombie AU fics!

Warnings;;

Zombies!! + Mafia AU so

Graphic depictions of violence, gore, horror in general, guns Explicit Language!! Explicit Smut!! Thigh riding and fingering, daddy kink

My Networks;; @supermwritersnet

My Masterlist

The jet touches down in Banoi minutes before 6pm, much earlier than scheduled. Despite night fast approaching, the sun is still high and bright in the crystal blue sky. Nary a cloud taints the endless canvas - there aren't even birds floating on the gentle sea breeze.

Stretching your legs without fear of touching the seat in front of you or even coming anywhere near it, a yawn escapes your lips. Travelling by private jet is a level of luxury you never thought you'd experience and yet here you are, as impressed as you are bored.

You tear your gaze from the small glass panel and its view of the Royal Palms Resort. It was a long flight and you want nothing more than to disembark this extravagant tin can and take a gulp of fresh island air, to feel sand beneath your toes as the warm ocean kisses your feet.

The stewardess approaches you. She is smiling. Of course she is - that smile hasn't dropped for the entirety of the flight. You wish it were contagious but it's a weak facade, incapable of eliciting anything close to a spark of emotion within you, and you have a sneaking suspicion that it's all for show. Anxiety twitches her upper lip and her hands shake as she hands you a menu. It's the same menu you've seen a hundred times over the course of the flight.

You've started to hate it.

Just a little.

"Would you care for any refreshments before you leave, ma'am?"

"God, no"—you wave her off—"I'll just have a scotch when we get to the bar."

"Of course, ma'am."

She scurries toward the back just as Yifan comes through the very curtain she's trying to disappear behind. They come close to a collision but he sidesteps her. Towering over her much smaller frame with a look that screams murder, it doesn't surprise you when she quivers. You, too, felt the same way the first time you met him.

On the surface, Yifan is like ice.

It becomes noisy fast; the stewardess is apologising nonstop, the pilot announces you're clear to leave, the bodyguards are shuffling to and fro and you're sighing in relief. There's a hiss as the doors open and a quiet howl rolls in on the breeze. Outside is otherwise silent.

This realisation sends a shiver down your spine.

You can't help but wonder if Yifan somehow managed to buy the island for the weekend. If it were an option, you think he would have. Extravagance is part of his lifestyle, after all, and he likes to display his wealth, flaunt his power, showcase his trophies.

Stretching as you stand, you glance toward the exit. No one else is moving to leave yet, hung up on small details and menial tasks. Even the guards have yet to reach the door, stopping periodically to 'assess the situation'. They're just a bunch of lumbering fools. If a threat appeared, they would only serve as cannon fodder for their boss's escape.

Yifan is calculating. Not cold, but calculating.

He's the type of man that can find a purpose for anyone and everything. Even the worthless can be made useful. You don't find this to be a problem, not really. If anything you can appreciate his quick thinking and impartial approach to problems.

Your issue lies in that you don't know how he views you. Sure, he flew you out to some luxury beach resort in the middle of the ocean for some R&R, but that doesn't mean much. Material things have no real value - they can be replaced, spent, tossed. No matter how much he loves his possessions and his collections, they are not what's important to him.

What is important to him, however, is a mystery to you.

Yifan is a man of many secrets.

Hot on the trail of the security detail, your pace is erratic and sluggish until you finally reach the exit. Even within the shade of the men in front of you, the air is warmer here. Light pours in around them, basking them in an orange glow. There's an urge growing inside you just to push them out of your way, to shove them head first onto the tarmac down below. It's unbecoming of you but you can't shake it loose.

"All clear, boss."

"Thank you for your hard work."

Yifan's smooth voice rumbles deep in his chest as he speaks and you know they've annoyed him. For a brief second you think he might indulge you and help eject them but you know better. Nevertheless, it brings a smile to your lips just imagining how the whole thing might go down. He's much too meticulous to ever give in to baser desires, however.

"Sure thing, boss."

When they don't move, exasperation taints his tone. "Why don't you check the perimeter of the plane?"

"On it, boss."

They descend the airstairs one step at a time, surveying the area all the while. The runway is clear of… everything. There are no other vehicles, aircraft or otherwise. No one is even here to greet you. While you've never travelled in such luxury before, you assumed the service would be better than a commercial flight. Where are the staff members and their welcoming gifts? Who was meant to tell you where to go from here?

Slipping on a pair of shades, Yifan gives the jet one last glance before his Louis Vuitton shoes patter down the stairs. Dirt spirals in the air close to the hangar the jet will soon crawl inside. Despite the tropical palms and the endless beachfront, the concrete is dusty. It leaves a smudge on his pristine black suit.

Warm, moist air tickles the back of your neck and you jump, hand flying up to rub the exhalation off your skin. The stewardess is next to you, eyes wide as she looks out over the island. Mesmerised by the sparkling ocean, she doesn't notice your reaction, your discomfort. Her lips fall open and she inches forward.

"It sure is beautiful here."

"Yeah," you say, stepping aside to give her a better view. "It's paradise, apparently."

"That's an understatement."

"I'm hitting the bar the moment we get inside. How about you?"

At this she takes a step backward, smoothing out her stereotypical attendant outfit and clearing her throat with a slight bow of the head. "I'm here to work. I'll be waiting here until you're ready to leave."

"On the plane?"

"Yes."

"For two whole days?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"What do you mean?"

Sparing a cautionary look at Yifan, you inch closer. "Won't you, like, die? There's only peanuts and wine on this thing and it'll be turned off, won't it?"

"The plane has generators that will be connected to a power source inside the hangar for the duration of your trip and we have a supply of food, water, and other essentials, both for the crew's comfort and for emergencies."

"Is that your flight license training talking?" you tease.

She lights up at the mere mention of it, her eyes twinkling. About halfway through the flight you grew bored of listening to Yifan's business calls and sought out a new companion. It didn't take long before she had opened up to you about her lifelong dream of becoming a pilot. When you're passionate about something, it's hard not to express your love for it.

"Everyone knows that basic crap." It's the actual pilot that speaks, having left his cabin to grab a travel-sized bottle of vodka. "But don't you worry, little lady. Us small folks will manage while you two live it up."

There's animosity in his tone that you equal in your own slapback. "I'm surprised you still have your license, alky."

He is disgusting, both perverse and repulsive. This sentiment is shared between both you and the stewardess. When you take a step away from the man, she follows. He grins, licking his lips while looking you up and down. His eyes linger on your curves and you once more are filled with the desire to lash out.

But you don't.

"Babe, come on," Yifan calls, his steps rattling against the metal stairs as he starts to come back up.

"Well"—you clear your throat before smiling at the attendant and mirroring her own exaggerated expression of enthusiasm—"that's boring. I would simply not stay if I were you."

"Duly noted." The pilot hiccups. He already reeks of alcohol and his cheeks are tinted pink. Reaching for another bottle, he downs the first and drops it onto the ground.

"Not you. If anyone has to stay on the plane, shouldn't it be y-"

"What are you doing? Do you need something?" Yifan asks from behind you. He wraps his arm around your waist. Tilting your chin up, his eyes scour your face, searching for any sign of unease. Between the island's eerie silence and the pilot's obvious alcoholism, you're filled with worry but you hide it well. It's meant to be a vacation and you don't want to dwell on those not worthy of your time.

"Yifan, tell her she doesn't have to stay on the plane."

"I don't care what she does. All I care about is you. So do you want to stay here until I find someone to grab the luggage?"

"Has no one arrived to greet us yet?"

You aren't one to get scared easily but something feels wrong about this whole thing. While you yourself didn't understand how someone in construction could afford such a lavish lifestyle, it didn't change the fact that Yifan had cash to blow. If you were running the resort, you'd prioritise high-spenders. Money talks, after all.

He hums, releasing his hold on you in order to lean out of the jet. "Not yet. We did arrive ahead of schedule though."

"I guess…"

Doubt gnaws at you. It may not be an official airport but surely they would know when a plane arrives. If not by sensors, by sheer visual - a jet is hard to miss.

"I'll be right back, okay?"

"No!" The concern embedded in his words is overshadowed by your adamant exclamation. "I'll go with you."

He opens his mouth to argue but closes it just as fast and you know he just doesn't want an additional issue to deal with before the current one is handled. "Alright, let's go."

There's a crunch underfoot as you disembark. Granules of sand and dirt grind under your shoes. You're glad you chose one of your more casual outfits. When Yifan had told you about this little weekend getaway, you hadn't realised the magnitude of it. Dressed in a hoodie and sweats, you had assumed a long flight in coach awaited you. That assumption bumped up to a long flight in first class when Yifan picked you up in his Porsche while decked out in designer from head to toe.

At least your few sets of designer clothes (mostly gifts from Yifan) are safe in your suitcase. A few more smudges on your tattered sneakers wouldn't hurt and you'd rather your heels be spared the harsh island breeze. Even now salt is accumulating on your face like a second layer of skin. You can taste it whenever you lick your lips. They're dry but not yet as dry as the wind ruffling through your hair.

Trailing behind your steady boyfriend of eight months, you struggle to keep pace with his large, determined strides. After a few minutes, your obvious panting seems to catch his attention and he takes pity on you. He halts, back turned to the sun and casting a shadow you soon stand within. Without saying anything, he gestures toward a back entrance to what looks like the main building and nudges you forward.

Once you're in charge of the pace, the trip is a lot easier. On occasion you point to some of the other buildings, admiring the sleek and modern design. In the distance is a set of "traditional" huts with their own pools and docks. When you point them out, he just nods and tells you that he rented one.

"I thought you said we'd be in the main building?"

"We will be. I didn't know which you'd prefer so I rented both. We can spend a day in each. The staff already confirmed they'd be willing to accomodate."

You scoff. "Seems a bit redundant. Did you also buy the island for the weekend? This place is dead."

"No, but it is kind of nice. Maybe next time."

"Not even you can afford that. There's no way your business is going that well. When I googled it, no new projects came up. Unless you're doing secret, private projects but then you'd have to be doing so many to get any seri-"

"Look." He cuts you off, yanking you backward into his chest. With a huff, you look at your feet and the surrounding area but see nothing. You look ahead, puzzled, only to find more nothing. His arm tightens around your stomach as he inches you backward, putting his body ahead of yours. "The door is open."

While this back door is technically an entrance, it remains locked and secured at all times, requiring an escort and their key card hence why a team is meant to have met you upon landing. There's a doorbell and screen to summon assistance in cases like your own where a guest is locked out. The door is closed just like it should be and even from here you can see the angry red 'no access' warning on the door's fob system. Confusion furrows your brow.

"The employee door, babe."

Following his line of sight, you have to squint to see what he is talking about. Several feet down and almost hidden behind bushes is a second door. It isn't as high-tech or welcoming as the main back door but it is ajar.

"Should we check it out?" You ask, starting to shift your direction.

"Curiosity killed the cat," he chides, realigning your trajectory.

You pout but allow him to lead. Once you reach the back door, he presses the button and you both wait. Shade envelopes you, providing a reprieve from the overactive sun. According to your phone it's nearing 6:30pm. Even so, summer is in full effect and you doubt night will fall for another two hours.

Sweat dampens your forehead. Your hair sticks to your neck. Moisture is welling between your breasts. Trickling down the curve of your spine, you can feel the salty liquid. It's uncomfortable, disgusting. Your trip to the bar will have to be delayed - a long soak, whether in a tub or shower, is your new priority.

Yifan had started to tap his foot after the first minute. By the third, he was pacing. At the exact five minute mark, he starts to push the button every other second. His knuckles rap against the door. When that fails, he yanks on the door and presses on the electronic screen. It indents wherever he touches but it doesn't utilise smart technology, remaining dark and useless.

"I'm not fuc-" He stops, taking a deep breath to calm himself. "I'm not waiting until seven. They should realise we're here."

Your lips twist with mischief as you rock back and forth on the balls of your feet, eyes shifting toward the employee door. "Well there is another way inside."

The wind starts to pick up. Sand swirls within the sudden gust, cutting off the path back to the jet in a miniature tornado of dust. It wouldn't be hard to get through it but you didn't want to deal with the plethora of particles that would taint your hair and clothes and you know Yifan wouldn't either. With a resigned sigh, he nods.

"I guess. Easier than going to the front."

"They shouldn't have left it open if they didn't want people using it," you say, a sing-song lilt in your tone, excited at the prospect of breaking the rules.

"They should've sent someone to greet us," he grumbles while waving the two guards over. They jog through the dust, desperate not to cough and choke on it. Your disgusted frown is replicated on Yifan's face. By the time they arrive, they're not faring well, sputtering while they ask what he needs.

"I want one of you to grab our carry-ons and bring it up to our room. The other is to stay with the plane. Make sure it gets into that hangar."

They salute him and your frown deepens. With an overenthusiastic 'yes, boss!', they take off back toward the jet. Without waiting for them to reach it, Yifan turns his back on them and starts to walk toward the open door. Intrigue bubbles within you. There is something mysterious about seeing a side not meant for the general public's eyes. Would it be just as majestic or was the grandeur just for show, a front to cover a dark underbelly?

"Keep up babe, I don't want you getting lost in there."

"Okay!" you say, skipping up behind him and grabbing the back of his suit jacket. Leaning out toward the side of his protective figure, you count each step until you reach the door.

An ominous vibe rolls outward from the darkness within. Not a single light is on. In fact, there's so little light inside that you cannot make out the shape of the interior room. Is it a hall? A locker room? A break area? There aren't any sounds emanating from within that offer any clues.

All there is is darkness.

"Maybe we shouldn't go in there."

"But you were so eager a second ago." He glances at you, a smirk playing on his lips. "Are you scared, princess?"

"Shut up. We should just go to the front."

"Don't worry. Daddy will protect you."

You stare at him in disbelief before groaning at the self-appointed title. "I'll manage on my own, thanks."

Pushing him aside and opening the creaking door just wide enough to shine light inside, you hold back a gag at the putrid stench that rushes out. It's pungent and rotten, like roadkill that has marinated in the sun for a few too many days.

"Oh my God, what is that?"

Sunlight touches the edge of a counter and its metallic, shiny sink. The darkness is much too thick. Like a blanket, it stops any further illumination beyond its veil. Squinting, you take a step inside, both intrigued and nauseated by the overwhelming odour.

"Smells like something died in here," Yifan supplements and you nod, taking another step, nearing the impenetrable curtain of darkness. "Be careful."

Using the hood of your sweater as leverage, he pulls you back into the small circle of light. Gulping, you look back at him. He quirks his brow but is otherwise stoic, cracking his neck before pulling out a face mask from his pocket. After handing it to you, he takes a tentative step beyond the light.

"Wear that. It'll help with the smell. Could you turn your flashlight on?"

It takes you a minute to realise he means the one on your phone. You fumble for it, your pockets somehow much deeper than you remember them being. It's cold to the touch, contrasting your clammy hands. Once you have it free of your sweats, you turn the light on and gasp. The room, now bright under the battery-sucking beam, displays a disturbing sight.

"My God," you whisper, squirming under Yifan's arm until it rests atop your shoulders. "Did they close down or something?"

Remnants of meals litter the sinks and stoves of the kitchen area you've walked into. Cutting boards filled with moldy vegetables and bloody, maggot-infested chunks of steak line the counter tops. Cutlery is strewn across the floor. Bottles of oil lay broken on the ground; their shards reflect your torch's light. Near them are dark puddles where the liquid has congregated.

And inside those thick, gooey puddles are what you can only imagine was once considered meat.

"Without cancelling our reservation first?"

Snapping out of your reverie, you shake off the unease crawling across your skin in the form of bumps and raised hair. "Have you checked your voicemail lately? Or is that just an excuse you give when you don't want to grab milk on your way over?"

He huffs, a tinge of amusement underlying the overall indifference of his demeanour. "They haven't called. Let's just find someone or maybe a flyer or notice. People don't just up and disappear mid-meal prep. There has to be an explanation."

"Yeah, let's."

It's a mistake to go in any further. This you know. Deep in the recesses of your racing mind, you know that something is wrong. You can't stop yourself from clinging to Yifan, handing him your phone so you can instead hold his jacket in both hands. Sinister silence echoes around you, devouring your footfalls and your shallow breathing until the only sound left is the unnatural lack thereof.

Yifan doesn't act affected. His breathing is steady, comforting even. He moves at a snail's pace, giving you ample time to look around and explore the deep, pitch-black crevices in the corners of the room. When you stop, he shines the light toward the direction you're staring in. It slows the process down but it's soothing to know that nothing is lurking, waiting to pounce.

By the time you reach the next door, your legs are shaking. While you don't consider yourself a coward, the unknown hosts an array of possibilities. Fear grips your heart and you have to fight back the urge to upheave the in-flight meal you had a few hours prior. The arm around your shoulder tightens, reassuring you before Yifan pulls the handle.

Compared to the Hell you just passed through, the overabundance of light you are greeted with is a welcome sight. It floods the wide, open-mouthed hallway. To your left and quite far down is the reception area where you should have entered from. It's a large room that swings around and connects to the front entrance of the resort. To your right are a few more doors, an elevator, and a set of double-doors with a tacky sign that reads, 'Beach Entrance'. Next to the door closest to the powered down metal box is an emergency red plaque with the words 'Stair Access' in bold font and 'Basement Access' in a much smaller size.

Pocketing your phone, Yifan tilts his head toward the main desk. "Shall we?"

"Can't wait."

You manage a single step before you stop dead in your tracks. There's some sort of thudding sound coming from one of the storage rooms. After a brief pause you look at Yifan but he just shakes his head, brushing it off. He takes off down the hall, dragging you with him, but your attention remains on the doors to the right. Every few seconds the sound repeats, as if someone is walking into a door or hitting their head against the wall.

Then you see it.

"Yifan!" You hiss, slipping away from him. "Look!"

He groans, both impatient and growing tired. "What?"

"There's something in that room."

"Good. That means it isn't abandoned. Let's hit up the front desk and get our key cards."

"No, there's something wrong with them. They aren't moving right… like they're… I don't know, on a loop or something."

Humouring you (but not without first sighing, impatience chipping away at his manners), he watches the doors. His gaze lingers here and there, checking under a new threshold after a few repetitions of the grating sound. Synchronised with the noise is a shadow. It follows the same pattern. When the thud occurs, the shadow moves close to the door. Then it steps away.

"See it?"

"It's a resort. Can't blame 'em for drinking early."

"That should be me," you mutter, your scotch craving returning in full force, increasing tenfold alongside your nerves.

"Lush."

"What?"

He shrugs off the venom in your question. "Drunkard."

"I barely even drin-"

A metallic clang quiets you. It resonates, bouncing from wall to wall within the stairwell. When the sound settles in the bowels of the hotel, you walk forward. After several long seconds of waiting for the sound to continue like the one behind the door had, Yifan steps in front of you, shielding you behind his lanky frame.

"I'll lead."

You throw your hands up in mock resignation. Despite the small distance, it takes a lifetime to reach the stairwell. Paranoia claws at your gut. Every few feet you look behind you. Keeping your back to the endless hall and the atrium it houses is a tactical disadvantage. Given the absolute lack of life within the hotel's walls, you would hear someone approach… but you can't shake the feeling that it wouldn't be enough, that a single second's notice could be the difference between escape and certain death.

Somewhere deep in the back of your mind you hope the stairwell is locked.

You've never been very lucky though.

Yifan's slender fingers wrap around the handle, pushing it open just enough to peer inside. Your own view is blocked. Seconds pass by while he just stares. There's a growl from high above. It rolls down the stairs in pursuit of the sudden influx of fresh air. The door creaks open further. You shiver.

"What's happening?"

"There's something a few floors up."

"Do you think it's a staff member or guest?"

"An animal."

"Is it hurt?"

He pauses before he answers, weighing his options. "No."

"Liar."

"Stay behind me. It sounds big."

"How big?"

He shrugs before ushering you into the pitch black stairwell. When he hears you patting yourself down, he returns your phone and you're quick to turn the torch on. First you flash it onto him, bathing him in artificial light. It's comforting. His visage, as smooth and suave as ever, offers a sort of normalcy in an otherwise odd situation. Then you check the lower floor.

You see nothing.

So you check the upper levels.

An endless spire towers overhead.

"How many floors does this place have?"

"A lot."

The trek upward starts strong but soon your pace slackens, forcing Yifan to follow suit. Once more an uncomfortable layer of sweat accumulates in the well of your back. After the fourth floor an odour starts to waft around you. You're self-conscious about it, going as far as sniffing your hoodie. By the sixth you're both scrunching your noses, revulsion twisting your features. A gag clutches at your throat and you dry heave.

"Fuck, that's awful."

"It's the same as the kitchen." He coughs, trying to eject the acrid scent from his mouth. "Wear the mask again."

It's when you're fumbling through your pockets for the thin patch of fabric that you hear it: an ear-splitting scream. While you're no expert, the dainty, high pitch resembles that of a child. Shivers tear down your spine. Your mind is telling you to run, to protect, and yet you're frozen to the spot.

Yifan is quicker to respond, climbing the remaining stairs between the sixth and seventh floors in a few leaps. Upon reaching the door, however, he doesn't enter. Instead he presses his ear to it and listens.

With your heart beating a million miles an hour and damn near thudding out of your chest, you raise your flashlight off his cautious stature and toward the guttural moaning floating down to you from much higher in the spire.

You're transfixed.

Squinting against the straining dark for a single glimpse of what could make such a noise, your breath catches in your throat. It seems almost surreal, no, it's absurd really. Impossible. Your eyes must be playing tricks on you. That's all it was. That's all it could be. An illusion or a hallucination brought on by dehydration.

And yet the way it hangs above you seems so real.

And the way its eyes watch you seem so life-like.

"Babe." You scream in shock at his unexpected shout. Whipping around to face Yifan, you place your hand on your chest all while panting. His eyes shine under the light's influence and he looks up into the darkness before cautiously asking if you're alright.

"Yeah, I just-"

Another scream, this time not your own but rather the child's.

"Come on," Yifan commands, dismissing the panic in your voice as nothing more than childish, like one's fear of boogeyman.

In your state of trepidation, you didn't realise the door was propped open. Yifan holds it ajar with his foot while beckoning you, urging you back to his side. Strangled sobs pour through the empty space, no longer hindered by the solid metal barrier.

Within a few short steps you're peering through the gap. There's luggage sprawled across the floor and just beyond a mountain of suitcases is a child. All you can see is their leg; it's red. Scarlet blood paints their skin in a dark hue and stains the carpet around them.

"Oh God," you murmur, falling into step behind Yifan as he runs toward the child.

"Hey, are you okay?"

He kicks a luggage cart out of his way. It rattles down the hall and with it gone, he stands over the child. You hear her soft sobs before you can get a good look at her as his long limbs pull her to her feet. Scooping the small girl into his arms, Yifan cradles her against his chest.

Her pink outfit is tarnished with grime. When she pulls her head away from the comfort of his shoulder, her cheeks are stained by a layer of dirt. The tears that rush free from an endless faucet leave a visible trail in their wake.

"What happened to you? Did someone hurt you?" Yifan asks, intent to pry a response out of the trembling girl.

No matter how he phrases his questions, she doesn't budge. All she does is stare at you. No, beyond you. It's as if she's looking right through you. With her glassy, unwavering blue eyes, she watches the other end of the hall.

In your rush to check on the girl, neither you nor Kris had checked the other side.

Your neck creaks as you turn.

The girl's breath staggers.

Yifan checks her for injuries.

Hungry growls waft toward you.

Their lifeless eyes watch you.

"-bitten?"

His voice is like a tether.

You don't dare to look away from what lurks down the hall.

"They're dead."

"What?"

Yifan's attention pulls away from the girl, looking toward the small crowd forming a hundred feet away. Most are in summer wear ranging from bikinis and boardshorts to sarongs and flowery t-shirts. Much like the girl, their bodies are covered in varying contaminants with the most notable being blood. The darkest spots are accompanied by open wounds. Their skin is torn and serrated, often oozing thick clots. Where the flesh is loose and hanging by the thread is a glimmer of white.

Right down to the bone, they've been-

Bitten.

Just like the weeping girl in Yifan's arms.

Except she isn't crying anymore.

She's dead silent.

[Part Two]

– ♡ – If you enjoyed this, please consider liking, commenting, reblogging, and/or following! Thank you!

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cloudycrystalkpop · 5 years

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L.U.C.K.Y. | unforgiven

pairing: Kris x doctor! reader

summery: L.U.C.K.Y. au | a hidden file on Subject 76

warnings: male reader, violence

words: 557

“That’s enough.” the deep growling voice of subject 76 entered the room. he faced off against subject 42, bristling angrily.

“leave him alone.” 76 warned again, taking another step towards your crumpled form. 42 simply scoffed.

“please, don’t waste your time defending him. he deserves every bit of pain, every broken bone. he’s a coward.” 42 hissed.

76 growled low once again. he had placed himself between you and the man who had attacked you. lacking the strength to crawl away, you simply lay there helpless, trying not to whimper from the intense pain of your broken leg.

“you are the coward Luhan,” 76 taunted. “you are the one who lay there, the one who didn’t protest. how can you expect better from them if you never raised a complaint. you just lay there, still, taking it and quietly planning your revenge.”

42 bristled, fits clentching at these acusations.

“you bastard.” you gasped as subject 42′s finger twitched, sending a chair hurling through the air right for subject 76.

76 acted quickly, scooping you up in his arms and leaping into the air. your good arm shook as you clutched onto the front of the man’s shirt eye just barely peeking over his shoulder.

he guided you down softly, floating until his feet touched the floor, gently placing you on the ground outside the broken door.

“it’s alright Doctor, you’ll be safe out here.” 76′s eyes were hard and angry, but his touch was gentle as you hissed from the pain.

“i-i’m so ss-sorry,” you cried, clutching onto his sleeves. he leaned down and shushed you softly, shaking his head.

“now isn’t the time. i just saved your life, i’ll decide whether or not to accept your apology later.” he clenched his jaw hard and stood above you.

you felt small, helpless, and so very, very frightened. you had never wanted to cause your subjects pain. you were simply too frightened of your superiors to stop them. and... maybe just a little too curious to see what would happen.

“Kris!” you jumped at the shout from inside the room.

“get out!” 76′s eyes filled with panic as he rose off the floor. before he could float away however, some invisible force seemed to take him by his arm, dragging him back into the room.

you shouted for him, but the once destroyed doors were shoved back into place and braced with metal.

sobbing, you tried to crawl away, tried to block out the sounds of yelling, shouting, and blood curdling screams coming from inside the room.

had it been worth it? always a curious man, when the prospects of studying these people with these extraordinary abilities fell into your lap, you had pounced on it. now however, with your leg broken and your arm still dislocated, surton only one of your subjects would walk out of that room alive, you wondered.

every file you had ever found in L.U.C.K.Y’s facilities had been top secret, no one was to know about anything going on. you weren’t government funded, as surely what went on here wasn’t government approved. therefore, you were a private organization... so... what was L.U.C.K.Y. doing with what they were learning. and... you had never bothered to ask so, you didn’t even know where your ‘Subjects’ came from...?

#l.u.c.k.y. au #lucky one au #Kris Wu #wu yifan #exo #exo au #kris au #yifan au #exo x reader #exo x male reader #kris x reader #kris x male reader #yifan x reader #yifan x male reader #exo drabble #kris drabble #yifan drabble #exo scenarios #exo series

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exhoe-imagines · 5 years

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again: ad astra || prologue

series warnings → soulmate!au, reincarnation!au, major character death (gore, blood, violence), heavy angst, war, imperialism, religious themes, drug/alcohol use, gangs, toxic relationships, smut/suggestive themes, etc. (specific warnings will be available per chapter!)

pairing → exo ot12 x reader

summary ↴

"our lives may not have fit together, but oh did our souls know how to dance..." - k. towne jr

throughout every lifetime you've met him -- in all his different forms. you've gone through every challenge possible with him, but when you both push against the universe's wishes, you start to realize what being alone truly feels like.

video trailer ↴

youtube

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tiaragqueen · 5 years

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At The End Of Her Tether

✂ Pairing: Yandere! Wu Yifan x Reader

✂ Word Count: 1,6k

✂ Trigger Warning: Isolation, possessive behavior, jealousy, slight angst, demeaning nicknames, yandere theme.

✂ This story is fictional and for amusement only. I don't believe any of the members would do this in real life. As always, thank you for reading and I hope you have a good day! [Edited]

If you like my writing, please support me on ko-fi!

"You're reaching out, and no one hears your cry. You're freaking out again, cause all your fears remind you. And all the dream has come undone." - Desperate [David Archuleta]

Two years.

It’s been two fucking years since you left him. Him, the only one who loved you. Him, the only one who cared for you. Him, the only one who knew everything about you.

And him, who sacrificed everything just to be with you. For you.

Kris was a man of few words. That, and his inability to fully express his feelings made him unreadable to others. For these very reasons, many people dubbed him as ‘boring’, ‘too quiet’, and to some extent ‘robot’. It hurt to hear those demeaning nicknames just because he possessed high self-control, especially the latter.

Just because he rarely showed emotions didn’t mean he was a robot. He, like any other humans in the world, had feelings. He did feel angry, sad, content, excited, and sometimes a mixture of all those things. He did feel the emotional rollercoaster sometimes, and he did cry once in a while. It was a shame that very few people realized that, and went on with their shallow judgments. They spread lies to the others to make them believe he was a pathetic loser with no friends. That pathetic loner who had trust issues because he was too cynical.

That pathetic loner with nobody to love, and to be loved.

Kris used to pray for a miracle; for someone to notice how lonely and hurt he was. He’d prayed for someone to befriend him, to go through thick and thin with him, to be loyal to him despite his distant attitude. He didn’t really think about a lover that time, as he considered dating someone to be too much of a stretch.

And God eventually granted his heartfelt wishes.

It was one overcast day – snowdrops falling from the cloudy sky and the atmosphere was bleak overall – during his first encounter with you. You were working as a cashier in some convenience store when a tall man approached the counter. He was buying toiletries and groceries, but that wasn’t what caught your attention. It was the bags under his eyes; definitely bigger and darker than yours. From his appearance, you deduced that he couldn’t definitely be older than twenty. However, his exhausted face made him look like a thirty-or-something.

“Hey, you’re okay?”

Kris glanced up from the iron countertop, finding you staring at him with a concerned mien. Not wanting to waste his time chatting around with some random stranger – and a staff nonetheless – he silently nodded.

“Oh, well,” you coughed into your palm, suddenly became conscious that you might have been a bit rude towards him. “It's just... you look very tired.”

“I didn’t have much sleep last night.” he murmured, voice so soft you almost misheard it.

You frowned. “Well, that’s not good at all. You look younger than me, and yet your face seems like an old man. A jaded old man.”

Curiosity peaked, Kris asked. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-five.” You bit your bottom lip at the sudden realization. “Oh, man. I just realized how old I am. This is why I avoid talking about age.”

Kris smiled. It was small – you weren’t sure if you saw it had his eyes didn’t soften a little – but it made your heart flutter nonetheless. You always loved bringing a smile on to other people’s faces, no matter how minuscule it might be.

“You know, your smile is very beautiful.”

Caught off guard, Kris snapped his head towards you at a surprising speed. You smiled and maintained steady eye contact, showing him your sincerity. Blood slowly rushed into his cheeks as he bowed in bashfulness.

“Thank you...”

Ever since that day, Kris made an effort to shop in that store more often and talked with you. You also began to exchange your number, leading to deep conversations in the middle of the night. The night where his depression hit him. The night where he couldn’t sleep because he was too busy thinking about you.

What were you doing?

Have you eaten yet?

Did you get enough sleep?

Whenever you were absent or on a vacation, he felt a slight pang in his chest. Kris used to think that it was odd to get attached to a new friend, but after meeting you, he started to consider that maybe – just maybe – you weren’t so bad at all. You were easy-going, understanding, and sympathetic. You never seemed irritated whenever he texted you on ungodly hours or calling you because he was struck with a longing to hear your voice.

That soothing voice that always eased his tensed nerves. That giddy voice when you told him something interesting that happened today. That melodic laugh that echoed in his mind when he made a joke.

Kris never perceived himself as funny, but after listening to you laughed to a corny pun that he made on the spot, he endeavored to be as funny as possible. He wanted to be the reason for your smile, of your laughter, the same way you made him smile that time.

That wish to bring happiness to you eventually blossomed into romantic feelings. He couldn’t help it; you were too precious for him. You had proven yourself as a worthy and loyal friend, and Kris desired a deeper relationship with you. He didn’t want to lose you to anyone else.

Which led him to confess to you.

It took a long time for you to accept his confession. Not because you didn’t like him – you did, yet the sentiment was nothing compared to his – but because you wanted to make sure he wouldn’t cheat on you. That this relationship wouldn’t be a waste of time. You were aware that it was impossible to control people’s feelings, because who knows what would happen a month or a year later? Then again, the chance of him being disloyal to you was slim. But you wanted to ensure things wouldn’t change in the near future.

And Kris held on to his vow. The vow to be a good boyfriend and a best friend, because being in a relationship with you didn’t mean he would stop befriending you. He knew that those two could be very different things depending on the problems that arise.

It was truly a delight to date him. He was a hundred times more caring, kinder, and attentive than he already was. It was like he had developed a sixth sense to detect your wants and negativity that came from day-to-day troubles. You appreciated his efforts to always put your needs above his, even though you had repeatedly told him to think about himself too.

Everything was sunshine and rainbow. You grew to love him even more; his little quirks, attitude, looks, and everything he had offered. However, you had underestimated how jealous he could be given the circumstances. It didn’t matter if you were merely glancing at a random person, he would still take it to the heart.

“Kris, let me out, please! I’ll do anything just please... please don’t lock me in here. Please!”

Your scream and sobs echoed in the otherwise quiet house. Kris leaned against the wall beside the door that led to a room; devoid of any furniture except a single tray that contained your dinner. He didn’t know if you had eaten it yet, seeing as you had passed out from fatigue during the daytime earlier. It was a waste of food, but he was fully aware that all you needed was freedom. A breath of fresh air. Not a small room with the dizzying smell of paint wafting around.

“I'm begging you, Kris, let me out! I’ll promise I won’t talk to him again! I’ll do anything, just please let me out!”

Kris squeezed his eyes shut to prevent the tears from leaking as he listened to you coughing and whimpering inside. He didn’t want to do this – heck, he was willing to gloss over it – had you didn’t choose to escape.

Then again, if anyone – any sane person – were to look at it through another point of view, it would be understandable if you made such a rash decision. Kris could be cruel if he wanted to, and although his punishment was normally sexual, you refused to lay on the bed crying your heart out. It was enough that you had more than enough time stewing over what had been, over what you had missed.

Just for once, you wanted to be able to independent. You wanted to be free from his suffocating clutch. You wanted a taste of freedom; something that you used to take for granted.

But that choice only turned to bite you back in the end.

The door creaked after you had collapsed from hours of wailing and sobbing. Even though you saw Kris slinking inside, even though you were begging for him less than five minutes ago, you had never been happier at the sight of the light that poured inside the room. It gave you hope that you were still alive – that you didn’t need to be trapped in this hellhole again.

And perhaps, you could regain that freedom you had so carelessly let go in a moment of complacency. No matter how farfetched it might sound. No matter how laughable the mere notion of you escaping his tight hug.

“You promise to be a good girl, right?” he whispered in your ear as he caressed the hair that clung on to your sweaty forehead. “You promise to never leave me again, right? I’d hate to do this for the second time if I see you repeat your mistake.”

Or maybe not.

Sighing, you closed your eyes and buried your tear-stained face against his chest. You were tired. So, so tired it felt like your soul had left your body.

It would be good if that was true. If that could be reality. At least, you never had to deal with him again.

“Yes...”

#yandere kris #yandere kris wu #yandere exo #yandere kpop #yandere kpop au #kpop yandere #yandere exo au #yandere kris x reader #yandere kris wu x reader #yandere exo x reader #yandere wu yifan #yandere wu yifan x reader

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etoilesbyul · 6 years

Text

Wolf!Kris Moodboard inspired by @marshmallow-phd ‘Memories Past’

Hope you like it~~!

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smollbaekhyun · 7 years

Photo

"These violent delights have violent ends."

#violent delights inspo #shamelessly makes a moodboard for a series I haven't even finished writing #whoops #kris wu #wu yifan #yifan #moodboard #moodboards #exo moodboard #kris wu moodboard #kris wu x reader #yifan x reader #mafia!au #kpop moodboard

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shuadotcom · 3 years

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That’s All She Wrote | KNJ

ლ Summary: It’s been nearly 5 years since Namjoon left you behind to pursue his dreams and he’s thought about you every day since. When his now-famous band goes on their first world tour, he finds himself at your doorstep. Only now you have another man in your life that isn’t him, but Namjoon’s still very much in love with you. He’s got the fame and the fortune, but more than anything, he wishes he also had you.

ლ Pairing: Rockstar!Namjoon x Female!Reader

ლ Rating: PG-13

ლ Genre: Angst, childhood lovers to exes au, rockband!au

ლ Warnings: Profanity (and a very sad Namjoon 😭)

ლ Words: 8.3k

ლ A/N: This was written for the Not a Phase collab! Thank you to Mo @suhdays for hosting the collab! I had a lot of fun choosing a song from my childhood lol. The song that inspired this is “She’s Got a Boyfriend Now” by Boys Like Girls.

Also thank you to Mo for making this amazing banner! She literally chose the perfect Namjoon that my brain was envisioning for this. And thank you soooo much to @justasparkwritings for being my magnificent beta! I couldn’t have made it make sense with you Louise!! 🖤

ლ Tagging: @imanerdychubbyqueen @secretlycrazyhummingbird @stigmaluvr @tae2litty @moonlitmyg @betysotelo18 @bobbyboops @afangirllikeme-blog @kwanisms @uwu-yifan @xiaokoo @xxluckydreamsxx @silveyes @bang-woolssi @rooo-tah @jalexad @jungkookforpresident @hodginss @oopsthi @minyg-agd2 @limited-edition-teddy-bear @sugamonster22 @i-am-invisible-for-you @lochness-butmakeitsexy @introambition @ggukkieland @milk-and-moni

“Class, say hello to our new exchange student, Y/n.” The homeroom teacher motioned to the new girl at the front of the class, and Namjoon couldn’t take his eyes off you. It was halfway into the first year of high school, so a new student was a surprise. Namjoon’s best friend Hoseok commented something of the like from next to him, but that’s not why Namjoon was staring at you.

“Hi, I’m Y/n. My parents just moved here from the United States.”

“Wow! Your Korean is so good!” The teacher complimented, impressed by your fluency. Your round cheeks heated up as you smiled back at her bashfully.

“I took it as a language in my old school for a few years.”

“Impressive! Well, you can go ahead and take a seat next to…” the teacher trailed off as her eyes scanned the room before they landed on Namjoon. “Namjoon! Kim Namjoon, raise your hand!”

Sheepishly, Namjoon stuck his hand in the air, and he watched as you walked over and slid into the seat next to him.

“Okay, Namjoon, you can put your hand down,” The teacher said, making everyone in the room laugh. His hand shot down to his side, not even having realized he left it up. A small smile played on your lips as you made eye contact with him. He returned the smile, dimples on full display.

Namjoon spent the rest of the morning sneaking glances at you every chance he got. He observed the way you wrote, the way you spoke, and the way you carried yourself. He made mental notes of every little thing you did and psyched himself up, so that come lunchtime, he could ask you to eat with him and his friends.

When the lunch bell rang, and everyone rushed to pack up and leave the classroom, you lagged, not having any lunch plans to get to and no idea where to even go.

“Hey, uh, Y/n?” Namjoon’s voice from next to you had you flushing as you forced yourself to look at him. He was the type of handsome that had you hyper-aware of everything you did around him.

“Yes?”

“Do you want to come to have lunch with my friends and me? You can say no if you don’t want to!” A blush spread across his cheeks, looking away as he anticipated you'd turn him down.

“Okay.” You squeaked back after taking a few seconds to process his words. You both stared at each other, almost nervous about making a move.

Hoseok calling Namjoon’s name from the hallway broke the silence between you. You gathered your lunchbox and fell in step beside Namjoon as you met Hoseok and two of their older friends, Yoongi and Seokjin. The five of you headed outside to eat, you and Namjoon still feel shy, but he was hopeful he could get over that and get to know you much better.

“Holy shit, I’m exhausted!” Jimin huffs, throwing himself onto the green room couch. The rest of the band files in, finding various spots in the room to sit. Tonight’s show was incredibly tiring, with them performing four encore songs instead of the typical two.

“I’m ready for bed,” Jungkook yawns, drumsticks still in hand.

“No sleep yet, boys! I’ve got news!” Hoseok’s boisterous voice cuts through the fatigued room.

“Hoseok, it’s nearly midnight. You’re way too excited, even for you.” Yoongi grumbles from the spot he’s decided to occupy on the floor.

“Oh, you’re gonna be excited when you hear this!” Hoseok, their best friend and band manager, makes a show of standing in the middle of the room and clearing his throat. “While you guys were up on stage, I was on the phone with the label’s tour manager, right.”

“And?” Seokjin asks as he wipes down his guitar.

“We have our first-ever world tour!”

“What?!” The band asks in unison.

“You heard me! We leave in two weeks! I’m talking about Japan, France, the U.K, and North America! I’ll have the full list of where we’re going in the morning, but this is it!” The room’s mood changes instantly from one of tiredness to an electric excitement all seven men share. They’ve done plenty of shows in South Korea, a few in Japan, and some scattered small things in the U.S., but never an entire world tour.

When Beyond the Scene took off six years ago, they were just a bunch of boys who worked to make it in the pop-rock scene instead of going to college. Instead of studying for entrance exams, they practiced their songs and made up scenarios for when they’d make it big. Their big break came from YouTube when one of their music videos just so happened to take off, and people talked about it on every social media platform.

From there, an indie label signed them, then a few years later, a more prominent label picked them up. This resulted in music festivals and brand deals. The band had even flown to America two years ago to be featured in a magazine and do a photoshoot, but a world tour was the opportunity most of them had been yearning for, and now it’s here.

Even though the excitement and the satisfaction with this next milestone, Namjoon’s mind immediately goes to you. He knows where you go to school - thanks to social media and the occasional text conversation - but he’s never had the chance to take the time to see you since he lost you. Until what seems like now, that is. He just needs to build the courage to do it.

“So, Hoseok is our manager, I play rhythm guitar and rap, Seokjin-hyung plays lead guitar, and Yoongi-hyung plays keyboard. Taehyung plays the bass and also does backing vocals, Jungkook plays drums and does vocals and Jiminie here is our lead singer!” Namjoon ruffled Jimin’s hair, then quickly flashed you a smile.

You’ve been friends with Namjoon for a few months and were just now meeting his band as a whole. You’ve hung out with him, Hoseok, Yoongi, and Seokjin plenty, but since the other three boys are younger, you didn’t see them as often. They’ve all mentioned their band around you in passing, and you were already impressed with how organized they were for a group of high school and middle school boys.

“Well play me a song already!” You bounced excitedly on the bench you were occupying. Seokjin’s parents were powerful (and wealthy) enough to get the school administration to let the boys practice in the school gym a few days after classes were over.

“We can do that for you.” Namjoon nodded. The band chatted amongst themselves for a bit before taking their places at their instruments. Hoseok came over and plopped on the bench next to you.

“They’re going to do a song Namjoon wrote.” He told you and you turned to give all your attention to the band.

Jungkook counted off the beat with his drumsticks before he began playing, eyes slipping closed as he found his rhythm. Yoongi’s fingers flew across the keyboard next, then Seokjin and Namjoon came in with their guitars, followed by Taehyung. Jimin opened his mouth and began to sing as your eyes widened each second of the way.

You weren't sure what exactly you expected, but the song immediately had you tapping your foot and nodding along. The way each boy poured their all into their instruments was noticeable, and Jimin’s voice sounded perfect to be the lead singer. This was the first you were ever hearing this song, but you already loved it and could tell how talented they were.

The song ended with a very impressive guitar solo by Seokjin and once he was done, the room was silent only for a second before you were on your feet, applauding them so hard your hands hurt.

“What’s your band name again?”

“Beyond The Scene,” Taehyung answered you.

“Well, consider me Beyond the Scene’s first fan! And my first action as your fan is to start a fan club! You guys are obviously going to be famous so I need it to be known that I was first.” The boys all laughed at your enthusiasm, while Namjoon began the descent of falling in love with you, clear as day. He’d been enamored with you since the day he met you, and the blooming he felt in his chest told him that his feelings were becoming so much more.

“This is happening! We’re going to go play a sold-out show in an arena in America right now,” Jungkook says for what feels like the fifth time in the last four hours. The band is only a handful of hours into their flight to Los Angeles, and everyone is antsy. Jungkook, Jimin, Taehyung, and Hoseok sit next to each other in the plane’s middle row. Seokjin was lucky enough to have his two-seater on the right side of the plane to himself, the man already sprawled out on both seats and sleeping. Namjoon and Yoongi share the two seats on the other side as the former tries to read.

This proves to be useless, as the only thing his mind has been focused on the last month is you. Since the night Hoseok announced their world tour, Namjoon wanted to text you so badly, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so, and still can’t. The last time you spoke with him was almost four months ago, and it was you asking him if his parents still lived at the same address because you wanted to send his mom a birthday present. He confirmed the address, and you sent him back a smiley face emoji and a thank you in response, and he let the conversation die from there.

With this being the first time in a while the band has time to do a few things they want while being in America, he wants to see you so bad, but what if you don’t want to see him? What if you’re no longer friends and more acquaintances than anything? He doesn’t even know precisely where you live-only the name of your college. There’s no way he can just show up and find you without that seeming incredibly creepy. What if-

“So are you going to talk about what’s wrong finally?” Yoongi interrupts his thoughts from beside him.

“What? I thought you were sleeping.”

“Yeah, I was trying to sleep, but you’re thinking so loud it’s keeping me awake. Talk to me. You’ve been off for a while, so spill.”

Namjoon hesitates only for a second before he quite literally spills to Yoongi about how you’ve been on his mind, not only for the last month but since the day you left for school six years ago. He talks about how you’ve spoken to him on and off for years, but nothing like the way it used to be, and that sometimes he regrets choosing the band over you. He admits that he wants to ask you to hang out when you get to L.A. but he’s terrified that you’ll turn him down and he doesn’t know if he can handle that kind of rejection.

Yoongi listens to him talk and when he’s finally done, Yoongi says, “Text her.”

“What?”

“You heard me. You’re doing that thing that you do where you overthink and overanalyze. She’s not going to reject you. She’s going to tell you where to meet her and she’ll want to see you.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Are you forgetting that I went to school with her too? I know, Y/n. It was obvious how much the two of you loved each other. The way you left things with her hurt you both, but she’s going to want to see you, I’m telling you. And it’s okay to feel what you feel. First loves don’t just go away, but don’t you dare dodge her while we’re there. You’ll regret it more than letting her go the first time.”

“Y/n, you’re not gonna believe this!” Namjoon burst through your front door, kicking his shoes off quickly.

“Good news?”

“The best!”

“I have news too, but you go first.” You followed him into the living room and sat across from him on the couch. He gripped his phone so tightly his knuckles were turning white.

“We got an offer from a label!” He practically screamed. “It’s a small indie label called Big Hit, but Y/n, they love us! They saw the videos we put on YouTube and they want to sign us as soon as possible.”

You smiled at him, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Joon, that’s amazing.”

“I know, right?! They want us to record an EP already and will let us use our own stuff. Yoongi and I have so many songs ready. And you know how Seokjin’s dad is a lawyer? Well, he said he’ll help us with all the legal stuff and we have a meeting set up for two days to start talking. Y/n, we’re going to start the real work and graduation is only a few months away. This is the best day of my life.” Namjoon was about ready to bounce off of the walls, his good mood filling the entire room. It didn’t hit you though as you clutched the envelope in your hand.

“I’m so happy for you, Joon. Really.”

“It’s all thanks to you, you know.” Namjoon rested his hand on your knee, squeezing you “Okay, okay. Enough about me. You have news?”

Eyeing the envelope, you nodded. “I got accepted into the University of California in Los Angeles. Full ride scholarship and everything.”

“Babe, that’s amazing!” Namjoon pulled you into a hug which you did your best to return. You didn’t say anything else and tried to telepathically make the realization hit him.

It seemed like it did at that moment as he pulled back, hands limply falling to his side.

You applied to all the same colleges together, mostly because Namjoon needed a backup plan in case Beyond The Scene didn’t take off the way they all wanted. But now that the dream was becoming a reality, it was clear he couldn’t leave Korea - not when the band finally reached what they’d been working for.

“What do you want me to do?” He asked after enough time had gone by for the tension to fill your lungs.

“What do you mean? You just told me you’re going to sign to a label. That’s what you’re doing.”

“And you’re going to California?”

“Well, yeah, I need this. I don’t have any sort of plan b lined up.”

“But, I mean I still have my UCLA acceptance at home. I can just-”

“No. You’re not going to pass this opportunity up for me.” You scooched forward on the couch and took Namjoon’s hands in yours. “This is your dream. You and the guys have wanted this for so long and it’s finally here. You’re not going to walk away from this to move across the world with me.”

“But I love you. So much.”

“And I love you, but I’m not going to stand in the way of this.” Your voice cracked at the end of your sentence and Namjoon was quick to scoop you into his arms. The two of you stayed like that for what seemed like hours. You knew you only had a few months left like this, a few months left of being together, holed up on the couch, in each other's arms. You needed to savor it.

Yoongi was right, as he usually is. When the plane landed in Los Angeles it was late at night, but Namjoon sent you a text message anyway. He told you the band was in town for tour and that if you wanted to, he could meet up with you tomorrow. He waited for almost an hour before you texted him back with an okay and your address.

After a restless night in a different time zone where all he thought about was you, he’s at your door, knocking and holding his breath.

He nearly loses his nerve when you swing the door open, a smile that melts his heart etched onto your face. You are as gorgeous as you were when he saw you off to the airport all those years ago, and Namjoon nearly forgets how to breathe at the sight of you.

“Namjoon,” you whisper, a beat of silence between the two of you before you’re practically throwing yourself into his arms. He catches you effortlessly, his strong arms wrapping around your waist as you cling to his neck. “I can’t believe you’re here,” you mumble into his neck.

“I can’t believe I’m here either.” He really can’t. He’s thought about the way your skin feels against his and the way you smell for far too long.

Namjoon isn’t sure who pulls away first, but eventually, you do. You step back onto your stoop, taking him in. “Wow. This is really Kim Namjoon in the flesh standing in front of me.” You admire the way his broad chest fills out his white t-shirt and notice how tightly the leather of his jacket clings to his thick arms. “This is the same boy with the bowl cut and glasses that kissed me at the movies when we were 15, huh?” You reach out, running your fingers through his dyed blonde hair, and marvel at how things have changed.

“Sure is. And this is the same nerdy girl that cried when she dropped her ice cream on our first date.” He chuckles, admiring the shape and the curves of your body that weren’t there when you were teenagers.

“Hey, I was nervous and that was a new dress! Do you know how hard it was to get the chocolate stain out of it!” You cross your arms, playfully sticking your tongue out at him. Namjoon’s heart soars at this moment, the banter between you natural and as endearing as it always was.

“Babe?! Who’s at the door?” A voice calls, seconds before a man with brunette hair pokes his head out of the building behind you. Upon seeing Namjoon, his eyes widen and he practically trips over his own feet to step outside, running into you, and gaping at him. “Kim Namjoon?!”

“Joon, this is my boyfriend Vernon. Vernon, this is my friend Namjoon.”

The word boyfriend cuts Namjoon deep, a heavy pang hitting the pit of his stomach. He’s seen you post a few photos on Instagram with your boyfriend before, but he hasn’t seen any pictures of the two of you in a while, so he hoped you’d have broken up with him at some point.

Clearly, this is not the case.

“Wow. When you said you were friends with Kim Namjoon, I only half-believed you, but here he is.” Vernon gives you a glance before focusing on Namjoon again. “I’m a huge fan! I’ve been following Beyond The Scene for a few years! When I heard you were finally having a world tour, I tried super hard to get tickets, but they sold out quicker than I could buy them.”

“Want to come tonight?” Namjoon blurts in response, you and Vernon both surprised.

“Seriously?” Vernon gapes.

“Yeah. You can meet the rest of the guys too. And I know they want to see you again, Y/n.”

“Holy shit, thank you!” Vernon launches into a story about how he tried to see them the last time they were in the U.S. for a Korean festival they were asked to perform at, but Namjoon mostly tunes him out. His attention is on you as you seem to zone out as well. He’d probably have to beg Hoseok a little to get you and Vernon inside tonight, but he didn’t want to pass up the chance to spend more time with you.

“Damn, I gotta head out to class, babe.” Vernon finally finishes his story and dashes back into the apartment. He’s out seconds later with a backpack and kisses you on the cheek. “I’ll see you later for the show! And thank you again, bro.” He claps Namjoon on the shoulder as you both watch him jog down the street and hop onto a bus that just pulled up to a stop.

“So,” Namjoon starts once Vernon and the bus have gone off. “I have a couple of hours before I need to go to the arena for soundcheck. Wanna go grab something to eat?”

You don’t hesitate to accept, running back inside for your purse and keys. “We can head to a cafe around the corner. It’s my favorite local place and their pancakes are to die for.”

Namjoon nods, not caring where you go as long as he can still spend time with you.

It only takes an hour together before you and Namjoon fall back into conversation just like old times. The first few minutes of brunch are silent as you wait for your food to arrive, but at some point, that silence is broken and things are normal again. Namjoon makes you tell him about grad school, which you hate, but you’re determined to get your masters.

You tell him that you’ve lived in your current apartment since your second year of school, having left campus after your freshman year. You’ll likely stay there until you finish grad school next year, and after that, you see yourself staying in the city, just moving elsewhere. Namjoon takes the opportunity to ask the question he’s been holding onto for months.

“What about Vernon? When did you guys get together?” An unreadable expression flashes across your features for a second in response and Namjoon takes note of it.

“Well, we’ve been together for two years. He’s working towards his masters too, and we met in our public speaking class. We were partners on a project and he asked me out after a few study sessions together. Last year, my two roommates moved out after they finished their four years, so then he moved in with me.” You shrug and wave him off as he opens his mouth to ask another question about your boyfriend. “Anyway, enough about me and my boring life. What about you, Mr. Rockstar? What’s it like to finally be living your dream?”

Namjoon wants to say how much he’s been missing you and how his dream doesn’t feel complete without you. He wants to admit that at times he wishes he had turned the label down all those years ago to stay with you and how sometimes he even wishes he could trade his career to have you again. He doesn’t say any of that though. He doesn’t want to ruin the time you’re spending together right now and risk you getting mad or feeling guilty all over again.

“It’s a lot to handle. I feel like we went from this modest band playing a few home showcases to this big thing almost overnight. It doesn’t feel real sometimes.” He admits. The smile you offer him is genuine and loving and Namjoon can feel your sincerity radiate from across the table.

“Well, you deserve it, Joon. Everything you’ve gotten you and the guys worked so hard for. You deserve to be rewarded and I’m so proud of you.” Namjoon’s heart nearly bursts out of his chest when you lay your hand over his. The warm feeling of you spreads through his entire body, only serving to make him want you more.

He keeps this all to himself for the remainder of his time with you, tucking this away in the part of him that only thinks about you.

As anticipated, Namjoon has to beg Hoseok to get you and your boyfriend inside. He goes on a rant over the phone about fire codes and rules, but when he’s done he gives in and says you and Vernon can be in the pit and that he’ll let security know to come and get you at the end night.

After brunch, Namjoon walks you the short distance back to your apartment and you leave him after another hug and a whisper of “See you later” which has him giddy for the rest of the afternoon.

The boys all poke fun at him throughout soundcheck up until they’re about to go on, but he doesn’t care. He watches through the curtains as security brings you and Vernon in to stand against the barricade. He observes as you dance along to the music of the opening bands, eyes wide and smile bright. Before the lights start shining too bright, he sees the way your entire face lights up when Beyond The Scene takes the stage.

Knowing you’re in the audience, in front of him right now lights a fire under him that he hasn’t had since their first few shows. He plays his parts with a renewed sense of vigor, taking note of the thousands of cheers and screams around him. As the night wears on, he tosses nearly all of his guitar picks into the audience, but makes sure to save the last for you. When the encore is finished, he goes over to the edge of the stage and stretches his hand out to you. You quickly mimic him, fingers grazing his as you take the pick with a megawatt smile.

After Yoongi ushers him off the stage, Namjoon quickly changes into a less sweaty shirt just in time for you and Vernon to come around the corner, following a security guard.

“Hi-” You go to speak, but Vernon cuts you off, butting in and gushing about the show and how badass the band looked. Namjoon steps off to the side, with you following while Vernon fanboys over the rest of the band.

“How’d you like the show?” He’s almost nervous to ask. This is your first time seeing them up on a stage bigger than the high school talent show.

“Joon, that was amazing. I don’t even have words to explain how phenomenal that was. Seeing you guys up on that stage, surrounded by all those people who love you, I’m just so proud of you.” There are tears in your eyes as you speak, and Namjoon moves to pull you into him, but you wave him off. “No, no I’m okay. I’m just genuinely happy for you.” You wipe a tear that almost falls and Namjoon has the urge to kiss it away.

Before he can act on this impulse, you’re suddenly swept off of your feet by Jungkook who pulls you into a side hug.

“My favorite Noona!” He exclaims as you turn in his hold to properly hug him.

“When the hell did you get so tall?!” You joke, reaching up to ruffle his blonde locks.

“At the same time, I did!” Jimin chimes in, rushing over to pull you into a hug of his own when Jungkook puts you down. Namjoon glances over at Yoongi and Seokjin who are still being held in conversation with Vernon. Yoongi sends Namjoon a look that is clearly asking for help. Namjoon nudges you in the middle of your conversation with the now present Taehyung and you follow his gaze to your boyfriend.

“Uh hey, babe?” You call Vernon who looks at you.

“Yeah?”

“Wanna come listen to the story Taehyung is telling me?” Vernon doesn’t hesitate to join you and attentively listens as Taehyung tells a story about the last time they were in L.A. for a photo shoot.

You slip away to greet Yoongi and Seokjin, who thank you, and for the next half an hour you catch up as best as you can with the boys until Hoseok, begrudgingly, has to call it a night.

It almost pains Namjoon to say goodbye to you, but he does and makes you promise to see him tomorrow morning before the second show.

“I would love to! I can’t have you leave without bugging you again.” You hug him, the urge to never let you go is strong, but he does and he watches you walk away holding the hand of another man that isn’t him.

“I can’t believe you!” You yelled at him.

“What?! I said I was sorry!” Namjoon defended himself, switching his phone to the other ear. He was on his bike going back home after band practice and just wanted to sleep, not argue with you.

“Yeah you did, but that doesn’t change what happened now does it?! Ugh, you just don’t get it. Seeing her all over you was hard to watch and you didn’t even do anything to stop her!” You were referring to earlier in the day during gym class. Beyond The Scene had become well known in school and more and more girls were doing their best to woo Namjoon, even though they all knew you and he had been dating for nearly two years now.

“Y/n, you know I only love you right?” You grumbled in response. “What did you say?”

“I said I know!” You huffed. Namjoon listened as you shift on the other line, most likely getting ready to go to bed. “I just get so mad when I see these groupies trying to get in your pants. You’re mine.”

“Aww, someone’s jealous.” He teased, finally arriving home.

“Yeah, well so are you! Remember that guy in the class next door who picked my book up when it fell? You were ready to beat his ass right then and there.”

Namjoon laughed, trying to keep his voice down knowing his parents were asleep.

“I can’t help it. I’m just so in love with you. Seeing you around another guy tears me up inside.”

“I know,” you sighed, but he could hear you smiling through the phone. “And I’m so in love with you, my protector.”

“Damn straight I am!” He whisper-yelled making you break into a fit of giggles.

“Alright, well I’m going to sleep, so try not to fight any boys in my dreams.”

“Then don’t dream about any boys except me.”

“Mmhmm. Night Joonie. I love you.”

“Love you too, Y/n. Goodnight, love.”

Namjoon: I’m seeing you today right? Y/n: Duh I said you would. I know you don’t have a ton of time to spend with me, but we should at least spend a little time at the beach while you’re here! Namjoon: Sooo this means I get to see you in a bathing suit? 👀 Y/n: Joon you’ve seen me in one plenty of times 😂 Namjoon: Yeah, but not when you look the way you do now 😏

“Hmm.” The sound of Yoongi’s voice behind Namjoon startles him, nearly causing him to drop his phone.

“What? What’s ‘hmm’?” Yoongi is walking past him in their shared hotel room as Namjoon sits on the edge of his bed, texting you before he’ll leave to meet you.

“Nothing. I’ve just noticed since yesterday, your texts with Y/n have been pretty flirty.”

“No, they haven’t.” Yoongi looks up from his phone, fixing Namjoon with a hard look.

“Really? So you’re telling me you didn’t text her last night after she left that you can’t wait to come back to LA to see more of her and include the winky emoji?”

“It’s just an emoji!”

“Mmhmm. Whatever you say.”

Namjoon huffs and gets off the bed to grab his bag. “And anyway,” he says after a few seconds. “Even if I was flirting with her, she hasn’t said I’m making her uncomfortable or anything.”

“Okay, so what’s your plan here?”

“What do you mean?”

Yoongi shrugs. “I mean it's obvious you two are getting closer, again. We’re leaving tomorrow for Texas to continue with the tour we’re going to be on for the next 3 months. Are you going to keep talking to her every day?”

“If she wants to.”

“Okay. Just remember, she has a boyfriend.”

“Yeah, I know. But, he also seems like an asshole if you ask me.”

“Because you’re jealous?”

“What? No. He just does!”

“Okay.” That is all Yoongi says. He doesn’t make any other commentary, but he doesn’t need to. Namjoon has been friends with him long enough to know what his short answers and silences mean in most situations.

Namjoon is well aware of your relationship status and what this could look like, but as long as he can still talk to you and see you, he doesn’t care. Besides, Vernon truly does seem like kind of an asshole, with how he cut you off constantly yesterday and the way you always redirected the conversation away from your relationship whenever it strayed there. Perceiving the dynamic of your relationship, Namjoon doesn't feel bad that he knowingly flirts with you via text.

It’s also why when he finally gets to your apartment to pick you up and sees you come outside in a form-fitting tank top and jeans, he shamelessly checks you until you climb into the car next to him. Even then, his eyes still dart over to you as you buckle your seatbelt and tell the driver where you’re going.

“This is so fancy,” you comment, looking around the backseat of the sleek black car.

“Yeah, Hoseok insisted on renting drivers if we’re going to be out and about to make sure we all get to the arena on time.”

“I’m so impressed. You have drivers now. My little Joonie who only rode his bike everywhere for as long as I’ve known him.” You giggle at him, making him flush at your teasing. He doesn’t respond and instead enjoys listening to you launch into a memory of the time the two of you tried to pile onto Namjoon’s single-seat bike, only to crash into a trashcan and get scraped up. Knowing that you also hold these memories close and remember them as easily as he does has butterflies fluttering in the pit of his stomach. What if you miss him in the same way he misses you? When you said you missed him yesterday, he assumed you meant just talking to him and knowing him, but what if you still think about him how he does you?

He decides to try his luck when you get to the beach. You find a spot for the two of you to be further away from the crowds and lay out the blanket you brought. Once it’s spread out, he watches as you shimmy out of your jeans, revealing that your tank top is actually a bathing suit. He eyes the cut-outs in the swimsuit sides and admires how soft your skin looks and how well the color compliments you.

Namjoon makes a comment that’s in line with his thoughts about you in the swimsuit and doesn’t miss how flustered you get.

As the day wears on, he compliments you as much as he can, watching you get nervous and trip over your words each time. At one point, he reminds you that you need to wear sunscreen and offers to put it on for you. You shakily accept his offer and he can feel the way you shudder underneath his touch.

When he isn’t trying to get a reaction out of you, the rest of the morning into the afternoon feels nostalgic. Spending time with you, laughing at stupid jokes, and talking about life is reminiscent of the time you spent together in high school and it only serves for his feelings for you to grow even stronger.

When the driver reminds him that it’s time to go and they drop you off at home, Namjoon makes the impulse decision to ask you to come to the show again tonight.

“Really? Again?”

“Yeah, why not? It’s our last show in town on the tour so you get the full experience. Plus we get to see each other again.” Namjoon looks away, suddenly feeling extremely nervous.

“Sure, okay. I’d be silly to turn down a free show by one of my favorite bands. Vernon has to work tonight though, so it’d just be me.”

“That’s fine!” He answers quicker than he means to, but thankfully, you just laugh in response.

“See you tonight, Joon!” You send him a wave and he waits until you’re inside before he’s off to the arena.

Tonight’s show is similar to the one before, but Namjoon has even more energy, knowing that you and only you are in the audience watching him. Hoseok and the rest of the band gave him shit for inviting you to the show again, but he barely paid them any attention (including the obvious looks Yoongi was giving him). The applause seems louder and the air is hotter, but he’s running on nothing but adrenaline all show long.

When you make your way backstage, he’s still buzzing with energy. He pulls you into a tight hug as soon as you round the corner.

“You guys were as amazing as you were last night!” You mumble into his chest where he still keeps you pressed.

“Knowing you were out there watching helped. I’m so glad you got to see us again. ”

You finally pry yourself out of his embrace with a laugh. “Aw Joonie. Even without me, you’d be just as talented. I mean you made it this far didn’t you?”

“Yeah, but it’s not the same. I miss y-”

“Noona! How did we do tonight?!” Jimin’s voice cuts Namjoon’s words off as he appears, draping his arm over your shoulder.

“Jiminie, it was magnificent! Thank you for letting me watch, twice.”

“Thank Hyung,” he says, pointing at Namjoon. “He begged Hoseok-hyung to let you come. He even said he’d clean everyone’s hotel rooms when we leave the next five cities.”

“Yah!” Namjoon shoves Jimin away, the tips of his ears turning red. You and Jimin share a laugh 𑁋 at Namjoon’s expense of course.

“Anyway,” Jimin starts. “We’re going to have a little party back at the hotel we’re staying at. You’re coming right?” He gives you his best puppy-dog eyes, but you shake your head.

“I can’t, sorry Jimin. I have work tomorrow morning. I just wanted to tell you all how good you were, then I have to head out.”

Jimin whines and you ignore him, asking Namjoon to walk you out. He doesn’t object, even though he wants to get down on his knees and beg you to stay. He watches you say your goodbyes to the guys, all of them scooping you into hugs and telling you how much they miss you.

The short walk to the back of the venue is silent, words swirling through Namjoon’s mind as he decides what he wants to say next if anything.

Once at the door, you both turn to each other and share a shy smile. Namjoon’s thoughts become jumbled when he looks into your eyes, admiring how bright they shine when you look at him and how much they remind him of the past. Things were different then, but he had you and at the time, it was the most important thing to him.

His eyes dart to your lips, and he swears you smile just a little sweeter at him.

Before he can talk himself out of it, he’s leaning forward, capturing your lips with his own. He anticipates that you’ll fall into his arms and lean into the kiss.

Unfortunately, that’s not the reaction you have.

“Namjoon, what the fuck?!” You blurt after you shove him away from you.

“Shit, Y/n, I’m sorry! I just… I couldn’t help it, okay? I miss you so much. I miss kissing you and holding you and being with you. I never stopped loving you. Every day that went by, whether we were in the studio recording or on the road, I still thought about you and what you may be doing and if you were thinking of me. I still love you, Y/n.”

The look you give him in response cuts him deep. “Namjoon, you can't kiss me out of nowhere and think I’m going to just fall for you all over again. We ended things 5 years ago when you left, remember?”

“You said you supported me? You told me to choose music over you!”

“Yes, I did! And I did support you - I still do - but I also wasn’t about to be the selfish girlfriend that holds you back from your dreams. That’s not a life I want to live and I know you wouldn’t have wanted that either.”

You’re right and he knows it. He loves you and has done nothing but think about you, but the idea of never getting to experience the life he has up until now is one he can’t wrap his mind around. More than anything he just wants both. He wants to live the life he has, but he also wants you again. He wants to bring you into this life with him like he couldn’t do all those years ago. You’re both adults now. Things have changed and it’s not too late. Not to him.

When he voices this out loud, you shake your head, eyes misting. “Joon, I care about you a lot, I really do. I love you even, but you’re my friend now. I have a life here and I have a boyfriend now-”

“A boyfriend that you don’t even seem to like.” Namjoon cuts in.

You fix him with a hard look in response. “Vernon and I have our own personal issues and I will only ask you once not to bring that up again. Now, I’m going home. Please don’t try to push this further.”

Namjoon opens his mouth to say something, but no words come to mind. You force a smile, a sniffle escaping you, and you turn away from him. Wordlessly, Namjoon watches you walk out of the door to the parking lot and away from him for a second time.

“So what are you gonna do when you become rich and famous?” You asked, turning to look up at Namjoon. You were laying in the grass, looking up at the stars as the question popped into your head.

“I’m gonna buy us a huge house. A mansion. It’ll have like 10 bedrooms and just as many bathrooms. There’ll be a room for me to work on my music and a huge room for band practice.”

“Do I get a room for my crocheting?

“You can have as many rooms for your crochet masterpieces as you want.”

“And as many dogs as I want?”

Namjoon chuckled and pulled you closer into him. “Yeah sure. Anything for my number one fan.”

You giggled, wrapping your arms tighter around his waist. “You’re damn right! I was your first fan and your best fan so I expect all of the riches you can offer me… and our kids of course.”

Sputtering, Namjoon looked down at you. “K-kids?” He had every intention of marrying you of course, and sure he’d thought about children, but he was too afraid to say it. You were still in high school and he was worried you’d say no.

“Duh. Maybe two or three. We’ll see how I feel after the first one. My mom always tells me she stopped at one because she couldn’t handle another.” You shrugged and looked up at him again. “Is that cool with you?”

“I love you so much you can have anything you want,” he said in response. You smiled back and cuddled into him once more, your heart swelling at his words and the prospect of a future with him.

The next morning, Namjoon asks to go to your place, to talk to you one more time and make things right. Yoongi spent the entire night giving him shit about what he did. He knew Namjoon still cared about you, but he didn’t think his best friend would be so bold as to act on it, knowing you’re in a relationship.

Namjoon knows he needs to talk to you about it as soon as you left the venue, but when you didn’t answer his calls or texts all night, the only thing that he had left was to go to you in person. Yoongi doubled down on this, as did the rest of the band. It turns out they also were well aware of Namjoon’s lingering feelings for you but had thought that they’d taper off eventually.

The band spent the night piled together in Namjoon and Yoongi’s hotel room, both comforting their friend and talking him through showing up on your doorstep before they’re off for the remainder of the tour. They all echoed the same sentiments of worrying about his all-around health if he continues to pine over you with no closure.

He agrees and it’s why on their way to the airport the next morning, the van they rented stops in front of your apartment building. They all watch as Namjoon steps out and takes one, two, three, four nervous steps to your stairs and up the stoop.

Hand raised, he’s about to ring the bell, but you throw open the door first, jumping at the sight of him.

“Oh. Hi.” The awkward tone you take stings like hell, but he ignores it.

“Y/n, can we talk please?”

“I have to go to work right now so I don’t have time.” You gesture to your formal-looking outfit and glance at your watch.

“Okay, well just listen to me then. You don’t have to talk.” You heave a heavy sigh in return, but stay where you are. “Yesterday, I was completely out of line, I know that and I’m sorry. All I thought about last night was how I fucked up and how scared I was that I’d lost you for good, and for a second time at that.” He pauses and you nod for him to continue.

“When you left, I regretted a lot of things. I regretted not stopping you and asking you to choose me. I also regretted not choosing you and running to America with you and choosing a different path. I wish more than anything that I could’ve had both you and what I have now. But I couldn’t then, and I can’t now. I have to accept that. It’ll be hard; falling out of love with someone you weren’t ever able to get over, but I’ll do it. All I ask is that you don’t leave my life. I can live with you as my friend, but don’t leave for good. Please.”

The silence between the two of you is almost deafening as Namjoon waits for your response. You blink a few times before your eyes close as you take a deep breath.

“Namjoon, you’re not the only one that still yearned for our relationship, you know. I wondered every day what would’ve happened if I stayed in Korea and stayed with you, but I didn’t and I had to move on with that decision. It sounds like you still need time to process that, which I can understand.” You step forward, hand coming up to graze his arm. “I won’t leave your life, but you have to promise me you’ll start to heal. Don’t stay hung up on me. You have this amazing life now, so live it. Please.”

“Y/n…” Namjoon moves his hand up to settle over yours and it’s silent again, but this time it doesn’t hurt. It’s a good silence. A silence that means there’s nothing left to say, but that’s okay.

“I have to go.” You take your hand away and Namjoon watches as you lock your front door and step closer to him. Before he can process it, you’re reaching forward and pulling him into a hug. He’s caught off guard, but he reacts quickly, wrapping you in his arms and holding you close.

You don’t let it linger and pull back too soon for his liking, but he reminds himself that you need to pull away because he knows he wouldn’t have.

“Promise me you’ll see me again? Maybe on your next world tour?” You offer him a genuine smile; one full of hope.

“Of course I will. As long as you come back to Korea soon.”

“Promise.” With a final smile, you turn away and head down the sidewalk. With a wave to the van idling at the curb, which you know houses the rest of the band, you keep going down the street until Namjoon watches you disappear around the corner.

Once seated back in the van, the band offers him murmurs of encouragement and support, but don’t press him on the conversation. Namjoon needs time and they know this, so they’ll give him all the space he needs.

As hard as he wills himself, Namjoon still can’t take his mind off of you and the future that you won’t have together. It’s silly, he thinks, to truly expect that he’d just be able to show up out of the blue after all this time away and be able to sweep you off of your feet again.

In a perfect world, you would’ve jumped into his arms when you first opened the door and told him how much you’ve missed being his. You would’ve gotten back together and ran off with him on the rest of the tour, and eventually gone back to Korea with him to live happily ever after.

In reality, Namjoon has to accept that’s not the way your story ends. You’ve got your own life and a boyfriend that isn’t him. He’s spent more than six years giving you his heart and it’ll probably take double that for him to take it back, but he’ll do it to keep you with him any way you’ll have him. It’s not the way he wished for, but he’s learned that he can’t have it all.

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kpoptrashlord-007 · 3 years

Text

Extended Stay;; WYF [pt.2]

Check out Part One here~

Word Count;; 10.4k total, 5.2k for pt.2

Genre;; Zombie AU [Horror], Mafia AU [Violence], Smut

Pairing;; Kris Wu x Fem!Reader

Summary;;

Collab Info;;

The Undead - an EXO12 Collab hosted by @biaswreckingfics ♡

Check out the Masterlist for more great EXO Zombie AU fics!

Warnings;;

Zombies!! + Mafia AU so

Graphic depictions of violence, gore, horror in general, guns Explicit Language!! Explicit Smut!! Thigh riding and fingering, daddy kink

My Networks;; @supermwritersnet

Main Masterlist || EXO Masterlist

When you turn to him, she's watching you. No, not you. She's watching the way your muscles slide beneath your skin, the way your sweat marinates you in a seasoning of salt. Saliva gathers in the corners of her mouth. Her jaw falls open as she reaches for you. As if a sudden sickness overcame her, the healthy hue of her skin turns pallid and wretched.

You watch as the final ember in her eyes dies.

All you can do is gasp in abject horror as she bares her teeth.

Her nails claw at Yifan's suit.

Snarls ring out loud and clear.

There's a thunder of footsteps.

His neck is exposed to her.

You choke on the words you want to scream.

God, fuck, Yifan, she's dead too. They're all dead and you will be too. She's going to bite you and you'll be d-

"What the fuck," he snaps, his fingers wrapping around the girl's throat. Her mouth is mere inches from his face, teeth clattering and chomping. There's something feral in her eyes. Even as Yifan holds her at bay, she insists, pushing against his hand and scratching his clothes. "You little bit-"

Deep down you've always known that Yifan isn't the man he pretends to be. He has secrets. Everyone does. Sure, the skeletons in most people's closets are mundane and petty, but everyone has them. It's because of his secrets that sometimes your jealous side thinks the worst, thinks that you're just one of many, that you're just a plaything to him. Watching him now, though, the pieces of the puzzle fall into place.

Yifan is a made man.

The girl slams into the wall like a ragdoll. She slinks to the floor with nary a spark in her eyes. You think perhaps that may be it, that she hit her head hard enough to pass out, so you redirect your focus to the stampede rushing toward you. Your heart thuds up and into your throat, constricting your air. There's more than there were before and they all have that wild, hungry look etched into their rotting faces.

From your peripheral you see her twitch. The girl - she's moving. Her head lolls around as she scrambles back to her feet. She doesn't sound human any longer. None of them do. With an unnatural crack of her neck, her arms reach toward you, her fingers bending in a multitude of degrees.

Her starved roar is cut short by a resounding bang.

Blackened blood erupts from the newly formed crater in her skull. Once more her body slumps to the floor but this time it's definite; she's dead. Again. Yet somehow she seems less dead than she had seconds prior. Now she seems innocent and youthful, an unfortunate victim of something unspeakable.

Without missing a beat, Yifan grabs your arm and starts to drag you away from her… and them. Their footfalls make the ground shudder. You can't see where the crowd ends. Amongst their endless numbers are tourists, children, and staff alike.

And they all have their eyes on you.

Yifan never shows them his back. His legs move faster than yours do and you stumble alongside him. With the gun in one hand and your bruising arm in the other, he's unable to check the doors you're passing. There's an explosion of light with each shot. Every few seconds he fires a bullet into the oncoming horde.

Bullseye.

He aims between the eyes and he never misses.

A rush of excitement floods your system.

This is a new side of him.

His grip tightens around your bicep.

"Hey!" He's using his stern voice. It anchors you back to the shitstorm raging around you. Tearing your gaze away from the approaching carnage, you tune into what he's been trying to tell you since the girl's second death. "Get to the stairwell."

"But the-"

"The other one."

He nods behind you, toward the end of the hallway. The hotel is large; of course there's more than one stairwell. Peeling free of his hold, you wince. Shades of blue and purple litter your skin. You make a mental note to survive long to give him a piece of your mind about it before sprinting down the hall.

Gunshots continue to ring in your ears at a steady interval until they cease altogether. Thinking he ran out of bullets, you quicken your pace. No matter how fast you run, the sound of the horde is just as loud. They never falter, they never stop.

When you reach the stairwell access, you risk a glance at Yifan. He's much closer than you thought he would be. In his hand is the gun, its clip out and a fresh handful of bullets shining in his palm.

You scoff. He's reloading. Of course he came prepared with bullets to spare. He's a fucking mafioso, after all.

Firing off a few more shots and killing the undead closest to you, he wraps his arm around your waist and yanks you backward, shielding your body as he flings the door open. Checking his corners, he clears the landing before whisking you inside. As soon as the door closes, you're plunged into silence and darkness.

"Should I turn the flash-"

He hushes you with a sharp exhale. "Listen."

The steel door is holding strong against the swarm on the other side. It muffles most of the sound but you can still hear them pressing against it, snarling and hissing, desperate to pursue their escaped meal. Doing your best to ignore it and quell the fear pounding inside your mind, you steady your breath. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, ex-

Much further down you can hear shuffling. Someone is dragging their feet against the concrete. It isn't the only thing you hear, however. There is a raspy groan emanating from the pit far below, as well as a constant drip of liquid and the squelch of moist organs grinding against one another, trying to spill free of their rib cage imprisonment.

With a bravada you didn't know you could muster, you tiptoe to the guardrail and peer down. Miraculously the bottom floor is well-lit. The door must be open. It provides just enough light to illuminate the bottom segment of the tower. To your dismay, the entirety of the first floor landing is swarming with the undead.

"There are more on the lower levels," you whisper, backing away from the railing.

"How many?"

"Too many."

"How many people were in this shithole?"

You roll your eyes. "What are we going to do?"

"I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"Keep your voice down."

"Yifan," you whisper-shout, poking him in the chest. "Figure something out!"

His reflexes are much faster than your own. Grabbing your wrist, he twists your body into his own, your back flush against his chest. Warm air caresses your ear as he rests his face near yours, his words a whisper only for you to hear. "I told you to stay quiet."

"Yifan," you whine, pushing back against his chest.

He doesn't answer. Instead the hand that once held your wrist trails upward along your arm. The other is running circles on your stomach, travelling a bit lower with each repetition. By the time his fingers crawl under your waistband, he's littering your neck in teasing kisses in an attempt to distract you.

You shudder. There's a fire building in your gut. His touch is addictive and your mind falls into a haze of longing. It isn't until one of the undead several floors below roars and the crowd floods out of the small square space that you snap back to reality. Yifan's hands don't waver, intent to feel every inch of your skin.

"They're hunting," you whisper. He hums in acknowledgement before nibbling on your ear. Biting back a moan, you yank his hand out of your panties. "Now isn't the time, Yifan!"

"Why not? They left."

"There are literally hundreds of them right outside this door! They might-" His teeth sink into your shoulder and you hiss, pushing him back a step with all your strength. "Asshole! They might break through!"

The door rattles on its hinges as if to empathise your point. It creaks and bends under the pressure of the endless force behind it. Yet it holds strong. There's a soft rustle in front of you and you can imagine Yifan shrugging, maybe even rolling his eyes. Your clenched fist hits him square in the chest. He doesn't react.

"Besides, we have a lot to talk about, don't we?"

"Come on, baby, let's live a little."

"I think I want to live a little too much to do something that stupid. If you're not going to take this seriously, I'll leave without you."

"Where?" Yifan snorts but when your feet clank against the metal stairs, he sighs. "Babe. Wait for me. Don't run off."

"Oh don't worry, I have no intention of straying far from you and your goddamn gun!"

He's hot on your heels. Even though he's larger than you in many aspects, he's quieter, almost indiscernible aside from his aura. It hangs around him wherever he goes - intense, powerful, authoritative. Palpable, you can feel it shrouding you.

When you reach the fifth floor landing you stop. There's a bit more light here. The closer you get to the bottom, the more that filters through. You can also hear a gentle lapping, like waves hitting the side of a pool. Peering over the edge, you recognise that the shards of refracted light beaming into the harsh darkness are the sun's fast-fading rays bouncing off an uncalm surface.

"Is that a pool?" Craning your neck to get a better view, you huff when Yifan leans further over the edge than you can manage. He's all limbs. "There was no pool when we came in."

"There was. It was through the door on the right. The whole bottom floor beneath the right wing is an indoor beach."

"An indoor beach… at a beach resort?"

He shrugs. "We can't go all the way down. We need to get back to the center stairwell or we'll get lost and swarmed."

He pushes off the railing. Giving him space, you shift to the side so he can listen to the fifth floor through its large, foreboding door. After just a few seconds he sighs, shaking his head while using his hand to slice an imaginary line along his neck. It's dark but you understand the intent all the same: death.

This time you tiptoe down the stairs. While you're louder than Yifan, you're still much quieter than you had been before. Aside from the occasional splashing from the pool, the stairwell remains silent. There's no signs of movement, living or otherwise.

When the fourth floor is also a bust, you consider going back up. Too much further down and you'll have trouble if a horde appears. If they strongarm their way through a door, you won't be able to go down without running into the mass of corpses awaiting their next meal on the ground level. Yifan, however, insists on trying the third floor.

"It's better to keep moving towards the bottom than making our way back up. That's horror movie 101."

"But if we so much as hiccup they're going to be on us in seconds," you whisper into his ear. He's bent over, his head tilted in your direction so you don't need to raise your voice.

"I'll protect you."

"Right. Because Mr. Construction over here just happens to be a marksman. Not weird at all."

He laughs, breathless and airy against your cheek as he straightens his posture. "Just trust me."

Muttering an irritated 'fine', you cross your arms and pout every step of the way down to the third floor landing. You're still sour when he starts to open the door. A bitter frown contorts your lips when Yifan gives you a thumbs up. He opens it further, performing a visual check before grasping your arm and pulling you through. To your surprise, the hallway is empty.

There is, however, plenty of carnage to remind you of the hell you've found yourself ensnared in.

Stepping over travel bags and jumping over puddles of blood, you're dutiful in your pursuit of Yifan's tall frame. His steps are larger than yours and he crosses the distance faster. If your pace decreases too much, he waits for you to catch your breath, scouring the hall with its millions of doors for anything out of place in the meanwhile. Every now and then he closes one of the doors as a preventative measure.

Halfway to the centre stairwell he comes into view - one of the blundering idiots Yifan hired as security. Facing the direction opposite you, he's a few metres away from your destination, just beyond the stairwell entrance. It doesn't take a genius to figure out he's become one of them.

Blood trickles down his back from the gushing wound on his shoulder. Huge gashes paint his skin in a myriad of dark reds. When he stumbles forward, he damn well near tumbles, unsteady due to the massive lacerations severing the tendons in his legs.

You try to skid to a halt but Yifan tightens his grip on your arm and keeps going. All he offers is a quick finger against his lips, urging you to remain quiet. Your heartbeat picks up. If they have any form of heightened senses, you're as good as caught. The stench of exertion and fear clings to you. Sweat leaks down your face as your adrenaline peaks, overwhelming your system with the desire to run.

Unlike you, Yifan is a cool cucumber.

He doesn't bat an eye. This whole situation has had no visual effect on him. In a way you despise him for it. You know you'd be dead without him but there's no tremble in his hand, no sway in his feet. He has nerves of steel. It doesn't surprise you, it just makes you feel weak. Grateful, of course, but so, so small and vulnerable.

Every time the idiot sniffs the air or tilts his head, Yifan's hand hovers over his gun. He's fast on the draw and his brow furrows in concentration, fighting back the urge to go through the motion, to kill. His hand caresses the dark metal like it's an old friend, comfortable and reliable, but he never unholsters it. It's a last resort; if he uses it, more will come.

By some miracle you reach the stairwell with no issue. Even as you open the door and slip inside, he doesn't turn. Just as he was in life, the guards a fucking moron who can't detect or secure shit. Some things never change.

The door clicks closed and you sigh in relief. "We did i-"

"Help… me…"

Knowing you well, Yifan clamps his hand over your mouth before the scream has a chance to escape. With frantic and terrified kicks, you leap backwards from the fingers wrapping around your ankle. In an elegant twirl you could never muster on your own, you're whisked away from the threat and its pathetic sobbing. Yifan's back barricades you against the wall and you hear the soft click of his gun's hammer.

"Sir, it's me," the voice mumbles, raspy and strained. "Your pilot."

"Pilot?"

Both you and Yifan spit out the word, though his tone is much more venomous than yours. Shimmying your phone out from your pocket, you shine the flashlight toward the voice. It is indeed a man that bears some resemblance to the alcoholic you had the displeasure of meeting earlier. Yifan confirms the man's identity with a bitter chuckle.

"Great. Our pilot is as good as dead. So much for getting back to the plane."

"What do we do now?"

"I can get us out of here if you get me back to the plane," he speaks with more enthusiasm now, a glimmer of hope in his glassy eyes. Forcing himself to stand, a foul smell emanates from his body as he limps closer to you both. Your nose scrunches in distaste.

"Back off," Yifan warns, raising the gun.

The pilot throws his hands up in defense before backing up. He calls Yifan an arsehole under his breath. The word echoes in the small space. You're unsure if he's aware of this or if he thinks he's being sly. Either way you sidle out from behind Yifan and start to slink down the stairs. You make it down four steps before the man growls.

With an audible thump, he knocks Yifan back against the wall. Metal clanks against stone as the gun falls. To your relief, it doesn't hit the steel of the stairs; it's still within reach. As you turn to flash some light on the tussle, you're thrown backward. Grimy, moist nails claw at your neck during the whole descent. On the first rotation, your head and back slam against the concrete. On the second, it's your knees and feet.

By the time you're flat on the mid-floor landing, there's a hundred too many pounds crushing your chest. Every inch of you aches from the fall but it's nothing compared to the scorching fire exploding inside your throat. Snapping your eyes open, you see the pilot. He's pinning you down and choking you.

Glancing upward to where Yifan once stood, you pray he'll rescue you. Seconds are worth a lifetime when each could be your last. Speckles of darkness pollute your vision, somehow even darker than what you've been plunged into now that your phone is lost. It's probably shattered given the extent of your tumble.

His hold on you tightens, his fingers digging into your pulse points. Searching for something you can use, anything at all, your nails rake across the ground. There's nothing in reach. You force out a gasp, desperate to suck in some air, and Yifan stirs. His boots slam against the stairs two at a time but he's dizzy, or at least uncertain, and his footfalls are hesitant.

And then it moans.

Your old friend hanging high in the spire moans.

You had been too afraid to acknowledge it then, to admit that it was no hallucination but a very real, very undead monster lurking in the dark.

Yet now it's moans serve not to lure you upward to certain doom; they're a reminder of the inevitable future coursing through the pilot's veins.

It's a brief distraction but one nonetheless and you don't plan on dying like a dog under this madman's grasp. Lurching into a sitting position, you headbutt him. It's enough to throw him off balance. He's well on the track to becoming one of them and his mind is deteriorating fast, but if he wants to play mad, you'll just play madder.

Gripping his hair and ignoring how it tears out in clumps, you trip over him, kneeing him in the stomach during the descent. On legs that scream in defiance, you lift yourself to your feet. He follows, your hold on him shifting to his ears and neck, and he whimpers. It's a pathetic sound. It makes you want to hurl. Instead you stand tall and focus, breathing deep to reinvigorate your tired muscles. Even if you wanted to, you know you can't make quick work of it.

"This is going to hurt," you whisper, a chill settling deep in your spine as you pull his head closer to you. "You should've stayed on the plane."

Like a bow drawn taut, you release the pressure in your arms in one sudden punch. It isn't your typical hit, however. Instead of using your fists, you use the man's face to pummel the wall. Over and over you cock the pistol that is your body before shooting more of his face all over the cold, hard concrete.

Even as your hold on his sloughing skin becomes slippery from the excess blood, you keep going.

"He's dead," Yifan murmurs.

You jolt when he immobilises you. With his arms around your waist, he uses this newfound leverage to levitate you up and away from the bloodbath of your creation. Unfurling your fingers, you relax, allowing your jittery body to calm.

"You did well. He's dead."

In the safety of his embrace, you succumb to the exhaustion pulling you deep into a restless slumber.

It isn't Yifan shaking you or calling your name that awakens you but the cold night air. There are crickets chirping somewhere beyond the jungle's treeline. Upon opening your bleary eyes, you see little orbs of light floating on the soft ocean breeze as it rolls in across the tarmac. One of the lights dive toward you and you flinch.

It's a firefly.

Small, fragile and beautiful.

It rests on your shoulder for a brief moment before taking back off into the sky.

"Babe, are you awake?"

You hum in response, nodding while struggling to keep your heavy eyelids from closing.

"The jet should be in the hangar. Can you walk?"

Humming again, you stand. It takes great effort to stay upright. Your legs are like lead beneath you. Each step is harder than the last and your feet drag, leaving a trail on the sand-covered runway. It would be easier to walk in cement shoes, you think, and it makes you chuckle. Cement shoes. Yifan would surely appreciate the mobster reference.

He scoffs in front of you, looking over his shoulder to observe your condition.

Had you said that out loud? Did he at least find it as amusing as you did?

"You need to rest but it isn't safe out in the open. Push yourself a little more, okay?"

It's a genuine, sincere request so you do it. Despite how your body screams for rest, you hold onto his belt and soldier on. You even look around as you tiptoe behind him, your head in a constant state of swivelling in order to report any undead sightings. A strike of good fortune finds you both entering the hangar without issue. Another lucky break has your jet inside, door open and ready for you both to embark.

Whoever said good things happen in threes, however, is a liar.

The second bodyguard falls face first out of the plane.

His fingers are stumps, worn down to the bone.

Sniffing the air, his rotting eyes snap to you.

"I'll distract it while you get on the plane."

"What? No w-"

The guard croaks before he charges. You pray that nothing else heard it, that nothing else will come. Yifan pushes you aside while kicking the guard square in the stomach. Blood explodes out of his mouth as he stumbles backward, stunned. His attention shifts to Yifan.

"Get on the plane!"

"But-"

"Here." He tosses a set of keys to you: the pilot's, and therefore the plane's. "Now go."

Turning your back on him feels like a betrayal. There's another thud and grunt as Yifan lands a kick on the guard and then the clunking of metal. Squelching permeates your ears and you want to vomit. It's what flesh sounds like as it slides off the bone as if it's shredded beef.

You don't stop to look back.

You have faith in Yifan's abilities - in him.

The steps rattle with each plod of your feet until you're standing in the plane's cabin. Your chest heaves. It burns to breathe. Between exertion and exhaustion, every inhalation is a fight to stay conscious. There's a thundering boom in your ears that won't cease, adrenaline pounding against your skull.

Knowing your senses are impeded, you turn to view the carnage. Worry clenches your heart when you're unable to spot either the guard or Yifan. Resisting the urge to go back and help him, your hand hovers over the stair's lift button. At the first sign of trouble you'll press it.

You'll press it and wait in this flimsy tin can for God knows how long.

Perhaps until you run out of food.

Perhaps even until you die.

There's a scuffle beyond your view and then several hits reminiscent of flesh smashing against stone. You know this noise well now. It's a sound you'll never forget courtesy of the pilot.

Who's going to fly the plane?

Another clang resonates from nearby as metal strikes something hard, not stone but… bone.

Over and over again.

Clang.

Seconds pass in relative silence. No matter the outcome, the fight has come to an end. One will emerge the victor and you'll either die alone or die with Yifan. Operating a plane, after all, requires finesse and training. It's not something you just decide to do on a whim.

It's either by his side or by his hand. Or, you suppose, his teeth. You laugh at the grimness of the situation. This is your reality. It's a joke - a fucking nightmare, sure, but a real fucking cosmic zinger too.

A real ride or die then ride some more kind of couple.

"Babe," Yifan huffs, limping into your view. "I'm opening the bay doors."

Relief surges through you. It's an emotional overload. Sobbing, you fall to your knees, abandoning your post by the button. He's hurt but he's alive and so are you. You're alive. Against the odds, you both survived.

The hangar door shutters open. He doesn't wait for the machinery to finish before jogging onto the plane. Smashing the button after himself, you watch as the stairs retreat back into the plane's side. The hydraulics hiss as they settle. Yifan stands beside you, shoulders slumped and head hung. His once immaculate suit is drenched in blood and sweat.

"You alright?" he asks, aware of your eyes on him.

"Are you bitten?"

"It's not my blood."

"Are you bitten?"

"No, but you shouldn't trust my word on it. I have a penchant for lying, after all."

"Yeah," you scoff. Grabbing his hand, you use him as support to pull yourself up. "You really do. Construction, huh?"

He laughs and the easy nature behind it soothes you, a bright spark erasing the somber atmosphere until you're laughing too. "I was planning on telling you event-"

The pilot's cabin door flings open. In the same breath Yifan draws his gun, aiming it at the young woman standing on the threshold. It takes her a moment to catch onto what is happening. When she does, she screams, throwing her hands up in defense before cowering. It's the flight attendant.

"I'm normal! I'm not one of them!"

After a visual check for wounds, he holsters his gun. "What were you doing in there?"

"What do you think?" you mutter under your breath, ignoring how his hand creeps up to hold the back of your neck, squeezing in warning.

"Hiding. From… from the guard. He went crazy. He's been trying to get in for the past hour." Closing the door slightly, she points at the tarnished metal. The metal is scratched and coloured red from his attempts. "I thought maybe the pilot left the keys…"

She trails off and you gasp, a lightbulb going off in your head. "You can fly the plane!"

"Yes… not that I intended to leave you here! I just assumed-"

"We have the keys. Get us out of here."

Upon hearing Yifan's approval, you toss the keys to her. She trembles as she speaks, anxious to escape the madness infecting the island, "Yes, sir!"

When the plane rumbles to life, you remember how to breathe. You don't think twice about what Yifan is planning as he leads you toward the bathroom. There's a part of you that wants to let loose and forget everything. He pushes you inside, rough and dominant like always. You slide your irreparable hoodie off and toss it into the corner.

When he doesn't enter behind you, you face him, equal parts confused and eager. "Are you coming?"

"Do you need help washing up?" He smirks before gesturing toward the small shower cubicle. "Go on."

"But I need to check you for bite marks."

"Well who am I to say no to a good time?"

"I'm being serious here, Yifan."

"So am I, baby."

His suit jacket is on the ground before he even steps foot inside. Scrambling to keep up with how fast he's peeling his clothes off, you shimmy out your sweats and panties in one fell swoop. The clothes are beyond ruined so he takes a shortcut, popping the buttons of his dress shirt as he tears it off. After his shoes are kicked off and his pants abandoned, he drinks in your body as you continue to undress. There's a myriad of bruises scattered along your skin.

"Look what all that manhandling did to my arm."

Chuckling as his fingers trace the marks, he smirks. It's a signature look of his, one that excites you. When you pull away from him to step inside the shower and turn the water on, he pins you against the wall. With your arms raised overhead, he places gentle kisses along the bruises, avoiding the speckles of blood on your body all while grinding his hips against yours.

You moan in unrestrained need. It entices him. His cock brushes against your throbbing cunt and you buck, chasing his hardening length but he doesn't give you what you want. No, that would be too easy. Instead he continues to tease, holding your wrists in one hand while using the other to grab a bar of soap. Rubbing it along every inch of your skin in painstaking detail, he cleans off all the grime and blood before doing the same to himself. All you can do is watch, unable to touch, unable to help.

Once satisfied, he sighs in relief, tossing his head back and allowing the hot water to drizzle through his hair. You squirm under his hold, whining for attention and shuddering whenever his body so much as touches yours. He peeks at you with one eye.

"Is my baby needy?"

You nod, grinding against his thigh as he rests it between your legs. Starting slow and tentative, your movements are exploratory but when his muscles tense and flex, you gasp. He doesn't bother to move beyond that, forcing you to put in the work all while wearing a cocky grin. Sliding up and down his bare leg, you ride him, yearning for release.

It builds up slowly, starting as small sparks that soon blossom into a raging fire as you fuck his thigh in earnest. When you're close to climax, Yifan lends a hand. Gripping your hips, he pulls you close, sliding your soaked pussy along his leg like it were a water slide. He dips two long fingers deep in your cunt, using his palm to massage your clit until you're clenching around him, screaming his name in absolute ecstasy as you cum.

"How desperate," he scoffs before your high has a chance to subside. "But don't you worry. Daddy's going to fuck you so hard you forget the last few hours ever happened."

– ♡ – If you enjoyed this, please consider liking, commenting, reblogging, and/or following! Thank you!

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ukiyoexo · 4 years

Text

HAUNT ME, BABY! — PJS

PAIRINGS — nct, park jisung x reader

GENRES — ghost!jisung, quarantine!au, humour, lots of fluff (+grumpy!cute!jisung), angst (?)

SYNOPSIS — when you see a ghost, you’re supposed to be scared right? yeah, that’s what jisung thought too until he met you.

a night spent in boredom leads you to lighting random candles and attempting to summon a ghost. you never expected it to work — or for the spirit to be so cute.

WARNINGS — ghost summoning, mentions of blood, swearing, pricking your skin for blood, mentions of how jisung died, unedited

WORD COUNT — 5.2k+

TAG LIST — @uwu-yifan @peachjaem00 @heartyyjeno @guccichan

NOTE — i basically took the bloody mary ritual and made some shit up so enjoy :) this is also the fluffiest of all the fics from deviltales so yeah... this is also shorter than i intended but oh well.

DEVILTALES — MASTERLIST

quarantining alone had its perks. like being able to eat whatever you liked whenever, and never having to actually get dressed. as well as the fact that you could spend the day doing what you pleased, without anyone getting in your way.

and maybe that’s why you were going through with the slightly crazy and slightly stupid idea you had come up with whilst spending your fourth hour scrolling on tiktok. there was no one here to stop you from summoning a ghost and you wouldn’t be getting in anyone’s way. plus, you couldn’t help but think it would be nice to have someone other than your cat to talk to — even if that someone was some demon that probably wanted to possess your body.

“red and white candles, check. mirror, yep.” you mumble off the checklist to summon your very own supernatural being. your finger scrolling over the wiki how page on your phone screen one last time before powering it off and chucking it onto your bed.

next stop was the bathroom connected to your bedroom, where you had already lit the two candles, placing them at either corner of the sink. you had already turned off the lights and plugged the sink like instructed, all you had to do now was repeat the chant and prick your finger.

you clear your throat, debating what you would do if your attempts actually worked but deciding to instead remain unbothered. “yolo i guess.” you mutter, only to laugh at yourself when you wonder how many people’s last words were that.

you repeat the chant confidently, despite the fact that it was some random latin that you didn’t understand and most definitely mispronounced. after rerunning it through your head to make sure you had it, you pick up the pin you had placed next to the sink. the cool metal almost numbs the feeling of it piercing your index finger, yet still not enough to completely distract from the unpleasant pinch. a steady drip begins even before you remove the needle, landing against the white ceramic sink bowl and trailing it way down to the plug. one drop, two drops, three drops, you keep count until you hit 16 and a small pool of the metallic liquid has formed at the drain.

nothing happens for a while, and you wonder if it really was just make belief. and then when the red candle blows out, you try to convince yourself that it’s just a draft. you know, because a draft in a closed room with no open windows is so common.

you’re not scared per se, but the feeling of someone’s hot breath against the neck is slightly unsettling, the hairs on your back standing up just that bit straighter with every exhale. you know the next step is to look up and face the mirror, but a part wants to just turn on the lights and pretend nothing ever happened.

then again, you were never one to back down from something once you had begun it.

“fuck it.” you take a deep inhale, holding your breath as you direct your eyes from the bloodied sink towards the mirror.

there it is. the dark outline of a body— a person, you can’t see it’s face at first and wonder if it’s just your shadow. but then the features slowly become more clear, a wicked smile, one white eye, there’s blood dripping from the crown of his head, trailing down to his other, reddened eye, where a thick cut is sliced through. “boo.”

“jesus fucking christ.” you’re pretty sure your soul leaves your body at that very moment. definitely a ghost- definitely a ghost- definitely a ghost. but what fucking ghost says boo?

one hand is clutched to your chest, heart hammering against your ribcage, the other fumbling for the light switch. your widened eyes still trained on the mirror.

“you— you’re like actually a ghost?” you question, the light switch seemingly impossible to find despite your frantic attempts. the boy behind you seems caught off guard by the enquiry. “i mean—” he begins in the most unghostlike manner “yeah, i guess. i prefer haunted spirit of the underworld though.”

you finally hit the switch and the boy comes into full view, your body turning so you can get a better look at him. he’s— he’s surprisingly unthreatening.

sure, he has copious amounts of blood dripping from his being, and yeah, he looks like he could possess you with the snap of his fingers. but, he also has the roundest rosy cheeks, and the most adorably button nose. plus, he talks like most of your friends do — not the spooky victorian vibe you were picturing. “huh.” you lean back against the sink basin, arms folded across your chest, eyes narrowed. “hmph, you’re kind of cute.”

the ‘haunted spirit of the underworld’ looks a mixture of offended and confused at your statement, eyebrows furrowing with a exaggerated pout on his lips. “what?” he mirrors the action of your arms, “you’re not supposed to find me cute— you’re not supposed to.” he stomps his foot and you can’t help but lose it, giggling erupting from your chest.

“not my fault, dude.” you inform him casually once you’ve caught back your breath. sliding past him to get to the bathroom door and promptly opening it. he follows as you enter your bedroom, standing above you with the same expression as before as he watches you slump onto your bed.

“but no one ever finds me cute.” he just looks more confused now. “guess im the exception,” you shrug, “i mean how many people have summoned you anyways?”

“a lot, ok? and that’s not the point. you’re killing the atmosphere by being so chilled out and i’m not here for it.” the boy continues but you’re more focused on examining him. under the thick red liquid is a dishevelled, ink black mop of hair, a slightly tattered black shirt that is loose fitting to his figure and then a pair of ripped black jeans, although you can’t tell whether the rips are intentional or a result of his untimely death. “hello? are you even listening to me.” your eyes flick back up to his face, “yeah, yeah i’m listening— something about atmosphere or some shit.”

he lets out a huff and indicates for you to shuffle over, moving to sit on your bed, “whoa, pause, that blood won’t get on my sheets right? i just washed them.” he pauses in his tracks, looking at the white linen and then back at you. “i’m a ghost.” he states obviously. “good point.”

silence seems to settle in the room once he gets himself comfortable, his eyes examine your room whilst your eyes examine him. the pout on his face had vanished, only to be replaced by this almost saddened look. for some reason, you can’t help but feel like it’s your fault.

“you can try again.” you mutter awkwardly, offering up the best comforting smile you could. “try what?” “you can try scaring me again. we’ll go back to the bathroom, i’ll turn off the lights and you can jump out again.” his head tilts as you explain your suggestion and you swear you can see the apples of his cheeks redden just slightly. “i— i mean it won’t work will it? you already know i’m here.” he reasons back.

“ah, my dearest haunted spirits of the underworld, you clearly haven’t witnessed my superior acting skills before, lemme show you how to be scared.” you stand up confidently, sliding backwards to the bathroom, wiggling your eyebrows as you do so.

he once again follows, watching inquisitively as you relight the candles and turn off the lights, closing the bathroom door behind you, once you’re both fully in. “now, do your thing.” you offer him a quick smile and he nods hesitantly, settling himself in the darkest corner of the bathroom where you can’t even see him. “haunt me, baby!”

as you let out your last, more joking, words, the red candle is blown out once again, the white candle merely flickering and provided little to no light. your breath catches in your throat and any humour you have left to offer seems to dissipate out of your body.

there’s a tapping against the tiles to your right. then a scraping behind you. you can hear an unintelligible whispering echo throughout the small space but can’t make out what’s being said.

a cold draft hits the back of your neck, following the shiver that runs done your spine and leaves goosebumps on your arms.

your eyes are locked on the mirror in front of you. you don’t even have to act scared, you just are. your heart pounding harder and quicker in your chest with each passing second, your breaths unsteady and shallow.

one tap on your shoulder, then two, then what feels like someone tugging on strands of your hair. your body tenses at the touch, limbs stiffening.

and then, in the glow of the weak candle light, a face appears, a familiar face but one that given the circumstances, looks all the more terrifying. your eyes widen just as before, your features hardened in the tense moment.

“boo.” he repeats the same ‘scary’ word as before but in a low whisper. you try your best to remain calm but it’s at that moment that you lose it, your eyes squeezing shit and your hands flying to hit the lights. “nope, nope, nope.” you repeat in a chant, jumping on the spot as if that would make things any better.

“what? was i good?” the ghost sounds surprised, chirpy, and it’s enough to convince you that you can look up again. “were you good?” you respond bewildered, staring at the boy, “you were to fucking, i hated that.” you inform him, pacing to wards your bed. he trails behind, cheering to himself proudly.

“promise to never scare me like that again?” you hold out your pinky once he’s sat back next to you.

he pauses slightly but then nods, extending his pinky as well, hooking it around yours. “promise.”

♡ ♡ ♡

“wait, you never told me your name? and how old are you?” you and ghost boy are lying on your bed, having established that he’ll be ‘haunting’ you until dawn, leaving you with six hours to kill.

“jisung, eighteen.” he hums back, “you?”

“i’m y/n and the same age.” you roll onto your stomach and closer to jisung, giving him a wide, cheesy grin. his eyes narrow, as if to say what are you doing, but then widen when he feels your arm shove him off the bed. of course, it doesn’t work because he’s a ghost and can hover, but you still receive the same amount of entertainment.

“why can i touch you?” you continue your questioning after jisung settles on the chair next to your desk, “and why can you sit on things?”

he huffs out a breath but doesn’t really seemed bothered by the pestering, in fact he rather enjoys having someone to talk to. “you can touch me because you summoned me, and i can sit on things because i control what i go in and out of.” he explains as simply as possible, holding his hand out against your desk. “look, like this.” he rests his hand ontop of the surface as if it’s nothing. then he lifts it back up and lowers it again, however this time, it goes straight through the wood. “whoa.” you gasp, genuinely impressed. “cool, right—”

“can you go through me?” you burst brightly, and jisung looks mildly concerned. “i mean— i’ve never tried but—” “try it on me! try it on me! try it on me, please!” you extend the last your vowels desperately, grasping your hands hands together in a begging motion.

jisung rolls his eyes but agrees nonetheless, rising from seat and walking towards you with his hand extended. “ok, hold out your hand.” he instructs and you comply eagerly. your hand pointed outwards with your fingers spread slightly.

jisung rests his palm against yours, his skin is cold but soft. but then the feeling seems to vanish, and you watch wild eyed as jisung closes his fist, inside your hand. “what does it feel like?” he asks.

“like nothing.” you tilt your head, it wasn’t as exciting as you thought it’d be.

jisung then pulls out of your hand again, places his palm back against yours and threading his fingers with yours, materialising his flesh again. “aw, you’re holding my hand.” you tease sweetly, “cute.”

jisung scoffs, quickly pulling away at the mention of that horrid c-word.

“anyways then, what do you want to do?” you flop back onto your bed, staring at the ceiling. jisung lifts off the ground, hovering above you and looking down to make eye contact. “what do you mean?”

“well, is there anything you didn’t get to do whilst you were alive that you wish you could? are there things you want to experience again?”

jisung smiles, it’s a sweet question. bittersweet though.

he had never really thought about the things he had missed out on, and he’d tried his hardest to not think about the things he actually missed. but something about you asking it, so innocently, so pure hearted and warm, makes him smile. makes him less sad about his untimely death.

“i don’t know.” the ghost drops beside you, fiddling with his fingers. “well let’s make a list then.” you match his smile and jisung swears this is the most he’s felt since becoming a ghost.

♡ ♡ ♡

half an hour passes before you finally have a list you can actually accomplish within the confines of your apartment.

first on the list is learning how to skateboard, your board that had been propped up in the corner of your room since the start of quarantine coming in extremely useful. “ok, put one foot on the deck,” you instruct calmly, hands already being grasped by jisung’s. the icy feeling if then still something you couldn’t entirely get over. “then the other.” he does as he’s told. stepping on carefully but surprisingly soon, he was a ghost though — nothing to lose.

it goes pretty smoothly, your body guiding his around the hard wood floor of your bedroom. there’s a few wobbles but nothing too severe. “fun?” you grin and he nods eagerly back, it was almost like having a puppy.

“now you try on your own.”

he stops smiling at that.

“but what if i fall off?”

“you’re a ghost.”

“oh yeah.”

jisung adjusts the board so that it’s facing down the longest stretch. he confidently settles himself on the deck. with one, slightly too strong of a push, he’s off across your room. he picks up speed quickly as he goes and it’s only near the end of his path when he realised that he’s fucked up.

whilst he jumps off, the board keeps flying, only stopping when it hits the wall — or rather goes through it.

you both stand, frozen in you positions, staring at where your plaster wall had been broken through. “you just put a hole in my wall.”

“that, i did.”

“ok enough skateboarding for you.”

you move on swiftly after that, finding out that jisung can still eat and deciding to order a selection of his favourite dishes: sushi, pizza and even pork belly.

whilst you wait for food, you decide to move onto the next on the list: alcohol.

“so you’re telling me you never drank alcohol, like any at all, before you dies?” jisung nods to your astounded question. “seriously?” you scoff, genuinely shocked. “the most i’ve had is a sip of mum’s wine and it was nasty so i just steered clear of alcohol as a whole.” he informs you and you’re pretty sure your jaw is touching the ground. “what about drinking games?” he shakes his head again. “that’s wild dude.” it seems like the only motion jisung can do is moving his head as nods awkwardly for what feels like the hundredth time.

you don’t pay much mind as you head to your kitchen, choosing a selection of alcohols and mixers and several glasses before making your way back to the bedroom with full arms.

you settle yourself on the floor of your room, pouring out the various liquids into different glasses. “you don’t have to drink if you don’t want, you know that right?” you asks, swirling a glass of lemonade and lemon vodka in your, wanting to make sure that you weren’t forcing the ghost boy to do something he didn’t want to. “yeah, i know, but i do want to.” “ok, good.”you grin, hoding out the glass in your hand towards him.

he winces at just the smell which makes you giggle, the way his nose srunches being incredibly cute. he takes swig anyways however. its a quick one but you can tell by the range of emotions that spread across the boys face that he definitely got a taste. “good?” “i guess.” he twists his lips and you laugh even more.

“up next is gin.” you inform him, swirling another glass of alcohol and this time tonic.

you hand him the glass and he readily takes it, offering you a concerned look after taking his routine sniff as if to say ‘you really drink this?’. you smile encouragingly, despite thinking the drink you had just handed him was the worst of the lot.

unfortunately for jisung, he takes you expression as a form of reassurance that the gin will be better than the last and takes a more confident sip than the prior drink. however, just as quickly as he’s sipping it, he’s spitting it back into the glass, this disgusted look on his face as he tries to hold back a gag. you let out a boisterous belly laugh at his reaction, much to jisung’s distaste.

“you like that?” he questions between gulps of water, watching you intently. his eyebrows arching wildly when you respond with a “rarely.”

“so, wanna taste the next one?” you grin again, but jisung as trusting as before. “not really.” he pouts but you circle the drink around his face and he can’t really say no, he had never really had any self restraint anyways. “fuck it.” he hums before downing the mix of malibu and coke, a pleased look flashing across his face. “you like?” you nudge him into a response, “i do.” he smiles back, surprisingly happy.

you appreciate his good taste in alcoholic drinks but decide to do only one more round before wrapping the session up.

the last differs from the rest. the fact that it was dairy based and thicker eing the most obvious differences, as well as the fact that you put no mixer with it. “what’s this?” he holds the brown liquid up to the light as if that would help him decifer what he was about to sip on. “chocolate baileys.” you smile at him fondly, and he tilts his head at you. “don’t worry, you’ll love it.” you offer him some more genuine reassurance this time and his nods timidly, “bottoms up.” he raise his glass to his lips, taking a small swig. “wow.” he has another taste. “good?” “really good.”

food arrives shortly after and you waste no time stuffing yourself with the selection of delicious foods, making that jisung has plenty and enjoys the meal to its full.

♡ ♡ ♡

next on the agenda was catching up with all the music jisung had missed. and god, there was plenty.

you created a playlist of your favourites, a collection of ones he may know, and other new ones, setting it to full volume on your speaker — your neighbours could deal with the noise for a while.

when you begin to twirl around the room, busting out your favourite moves, jisung doesn’t seem too fond of joining in. unfortunately, no one told him how hard it would be to say no to you. the way you grip his hands and spin him on the spot with encouraging cheers make him laugh too much for him to then say no.

“there you go!” you grin ecstatically, watching jisung throw out some peculier but workable dance moves. your questionable singing matched with his much better singing when a song he knew came on.

your dance party goes on for what feels like half an hour but is really half an hour at most.

you spend half the time belly laughing while battling it out on who could dance better and although jisung won, it’s one of the best half an hours of your life. it almost makes you sad that, despite your exhaustion, you can’t continue with the dance party for longer.

you cross it off the list happily, looking for the next doable thing — watch avengers: endgame.

you were never much of an avengers fan but it turns out jisung was a huge one. and one thing he didn’t get to do before he passed was watch the last to the film, something he had been dying to do.

thankfully for him, you had already bought it after one extremely boring day in quarantine, figuring it would help you easily pass three hours of your time. only now, you were hating the length as it just meant less time to spend with jisung.

jisung actually having to agree to play truth or dare with you whilst watching otherwise you refused to turn it on.

it gets only fifteen minutes into the film and your prodding at the ghost’s arm. “psst,” you over exaggerate, “truth or dare?” you grin taking a scoop from the ice cream you had retrieved earlier.

jisung flickers his gaze between the screen and your pleading, hating how cute he finds you. “dare.” he whispers back.

if he hadn’t been so focused on the film, jisung would have seen the almost maniac like smile that spread across your lips. he then, would have been less shocked and disgusted when you dared him to drink a shot of soy sauce.

“you want me to do what?” the boy splutters, looking at you with mild concern. “what happens if i don’t?” one eyebrows quirks upwards. “then i choose a different date, as well as a truth.”

the manic smile returns.

“ok, fine.” you’re almost more shocked that he agrees to the questionable, sodium packed drink. “really?” you gasp. “yep, really.” he only confirms back.

you return to the bedroom a couple moments later with a glass bottle of dark brown liquid in one hand and a pair of shot glasses in the other. “you doing it with me?” jisung wonders once he sees the two small vessels, normally for alcohol.

“might as well.” you nod, questioning your own sanity as soon as you agree, “you only live once right?”

the joke is probably inappropriate given the circumstances, yet jisung chuckles nonetheless.

the humour dies down shortly after when the sodium liquid meets your tongue. your attempt short lived as you wait a whole five seconds to spit the shot back out. grabbing one of the glassses of water you had prepared and swirling it around your mouth.

jisung seems to struggle less than you, the alcohol most likely acting as a good warm up to him. however, you can tell by the expression his face twists into that he still definitely doesn’t enjoy it.

you fire more dares back and fourth after that, resulting in you snacking on a whole lemon and jisung ending up in an outfit of your choice — turns out ghosts can change clothes. and it continues until jisung finally chooses truth.

“so,” you clear your throat awkwardly, “well,” you continue to stall, twiddling with your thumbs. you open your mouth to speak again but jisung cuts you off, “you can ask me anything, like anything at all.” jisung nudges you encouragingly.

you sigh, looking at him with a pout, “ok then,” you don’t sound very enthusiastic but it’s more that you just feel bad, you couldn’t imagine that many people would enjoy reliving their last moments — assuming that’s what he was referencing, “my truth for you mr jisung is, how did you die?”

a silence settles between you and you’re too scared to even look up from where you were playing with the hem of your shirt.

“i— why would you ask me that?”

his words cut through the tension sharply. his tone serious.

“i— you- but you just said—” you’re beginning to panic, wondering if you had just hallucinated th last five minutes, but for all you knew, you could’ve been hallucinating all of this experience. “i’m sorry—”

“i’m fucking with you y/n, it’s fine, i was surprised you didn’t ask me earlier in fact.” jisung is evilly giggling just a bit too much for your liking, enough for you to attempt to wack his stomach. of course that fails though as he lets your arm just fly straight through him. “i hate you.”

“you don’t really,” he teases, reaching over to squish your cheeks as you glare at him. “it wasn’t interesting anyways, i was just hit by a car, boring really.”

“was it on purpose?” you pull the ice cream spoon between your lips.

“huh,” he takes another scoop himself, “i never thought about that.”

“well, did it hurt?”

“kind of,” he hums, looking like he’s genuinely trying to remember, “this bit hurt.” he motions towards his eye and for a second you almost forgot having a thick red gash across your eye wasn’t normal.

“hmph,” you lean towards him inspecting the cut, “that’s wild.”

“well, how do you wanna die?”

the way jisung asks so genuinely has a bubble of giggles brewing in your stomach, but you expression hardens when you realise he’s being serious. “i don’t know, i’ve never thought about it before. i die when i die, you know? i can’t stop it, so i might as well just enjoy what i have now and accept whatever death comes to me in the future, momento mori or some shit.”

you answer nonchalantly and jisung’s surprised by how calm you are about death.

he remembers the first time he experienced death. his grandpa passed away when he was eight and although he didn’t fully understand the concept of dying, he understood enough to be sad. and when his grandma passed away at ten, he was finally able to grasp the concept of it.

if he was being honest, death terrified him.

it was uncertain. and jisung didn’t like uncertainty. the unknown darkness that was death scared him and he even at eighteen, he hadn’t fully accepted it.

but hey, he was a ghost now, not much he could do to change his death anymore.

♡ ♡ ♡

the film ends sooner than you had expected and there’s not long left before jisung will leave. it’s weird, you didn’t think you could get so attached to someone so quickly, but then you summoned jisung and you both just clicked.

you had both decided that for the last moments you’d sit out on the balcony of your apartment, let jisung jisung feel the warmth of the sun as it filtered through the clouds.

“i think you’re my favourite ghost.”

“you’ve met other ghosts?” jisung quirks up his eyebrows, tilting his head towards you.

“nope, but i imagine you’re the best.” you continue confidently, watching as pastel blues and pinks fade into the sky.

he smiles at that.

he thinks you’re the best human he’s ever met, too.

you attempt to pass you the time by talking about life before death and your life after he goes but all conversation simmers down into a silence. it’s not uncomfortable, more just this solemn quiet. jisung didn’t want to leave, but he didn’t really have a choice — being a ghost really sucked sometimes, that was for sure.

“you know, there’s something else i kinda want to do before i go.” jisung hums, drawing your attention to his face. “what?” you question innocently which in itself makes the ghost smile.

“well,” he begins, suddenly nervous and blushing under your gaze, “when i was alive,” you nod, encouraging him to continue, “i never got to have a proper first kiss.” he quietens at the end slightly but what he’s saying is still clear as day.

“oh.”

you watch him shift in his seat, waving his hand in and out of the arm rest anxiously. “mr haunted spirit of the underworld, are you asking if you can kiss me?” you can’t help but tease the red cheeked boy, swirling your finger on your lap.

“i mean— you don’t—”

“i’d love for you to, jisung.”

your grin is suddenly matched on the boy’s face, a genuine smile that makes your heart pump even faster and this bittersweet feeling to settle in your stomach.

you stand up from your seat and he does the same, intertwining his fingers with yours and shuffling closer towards you. his gaze lingers on your lips for a moment before shifting towards your eyes. the way your irises glow in the morning sunlight something he wishes he could witness everyday. the way your cheek feels against the delicate touch of his fingertips, something he wishes he could experience everyday. “thank you.”

“for what?”

“for making me feel alive for the first time in all my eighteen years, dead and alive.” he confesses barely above a whisper, your hand shifting to cup the back of his neck.

he tilts forward, resting his forehead against yours, letting out a soft breath before closing gap completely.

his lips are plush, a soft velvet against yours. this heavenly feeling that makes you wonder whether he’s more of an angel than a ghost. the feeling has jolts of electricity sparking through every nerve of your body and you wonder if he feels it too. you do your best to savour each second of the kiss, letting yourself indulge in the moment.

hoping to imprint it in your memory for ever.

when you pull back, you’re met with nothing but the rays of sun indicating that dawn had come and jisung had gone.

you’re not sure what comes over you but there’s a gentle trickle of tears that escape your eyes. you were happy to have gotten to know him while you could, but it hurt knowing that you couldn’t do more.

you settle back in your chair after the realisation comes to you, dwelling over the questions you didn’t ask him. the most important being whether he’ll ever be able to come back.

you hoped he would.

and if not, you found comfort at least in knowing that he had still left his mark. from the hole now in your wall to the many memories you had to look back on.

even though you had never been one to believe in soulmates, you couldn’t stop yourself from wondering if that’s what you and jisung were. even if you roamed in different worlds, you couldn’t help but think you were made for each other. only hoping that in your next life you would finally get to be together.

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cloudycrystalkpop · 5 years

Note

“liar” and “run” with Kris Wu from EXO

spell book

“there’s some weird ass shit going on.” he huffed as he pulled his hood over his eyes.

“you’re being dramatic.” you rolled your eyes.

“am i?” he raised a brow. you suddenly felt a chill down your spine. Kris’ eyes moved from your face to just over your shoulder.

“…what is it?” you asked, about to turn over your shoulder.

“don’t.” you jumped at his tone, reaching out and grabbing your shoulder. his eyes flitted from your eyes to just behind you. “listen to me very carefully.”

you swallowed, but nodded.

“(y/n), i’m going to need you,” you felt something cold brush your back, causing you to stiffen. “RUN!”

Kris grabbed you arm and pulled you behind him. you let out a yell and bolted.

Kris stared at the creature, a warmth he’d forgotten about growing in his throat.

“you can run, but you know it’s hopeless.” the voice echoed. Kris scoffed in reply.

“liar.”

you looked over your shoulder, just in time, to watch a black hooded figure go up in flames.

#beltane+litha drabble game #coven au #witch au #exo au #Kris Wu #wu yifan #exo x reader #kris x reader #yifan x reader #exo drabble #kris drabble #yifan drabble #exo blurb #kris blurb #yifan blurb #kris au #yifan au

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v-hope · 4 years

Text

»part one - introductions

»tiger flower

»jeon jeongguk x reader | college!au

not many people knew the shy guy who used to do everything alone in high school was the one to secretly leave flowers in your seat every week. you most certainly didn’t know the introvert guy you were just befriending in third year of college was the reason flowers meant so much to you now. and jeongguk? he most definitely didn’t know he would once again be silently aching for you to please love him.

a/n: hellooo, so here are the introduction for this au’s folks 🤧 idk what to say tbh kdñaks. there’s quite a few users that tumblr won’t let me tag for some reason? so i’ll see if i can fix it later but sorry to those that couldn’t be linked properly :( i hope you enjoy! 💕

tag list: @brinnalaine @bangtan-madi @mygukandonly @summerbangtan @hyunsungcore @woodstockisjustlikealittlekid @thestral-balerion @xclo02 @dixonsbugaboo @rainyinseoul @jayhope88 @ramblingsofawolfgirl @kimv @cherriigguk @curioughts @blancheinneverland @uwu-yifan @taeandpuppies @bangtansbun @minyg-agd2 @parfaiitjoon @namjxonkim @munkey888 @guksweet @bburninggoldd @oddlymnsmh @sunshineseokkie @kimchii7 @adoorinyourheart @sistaflubs @infiresmaanyeah @goingneo @angjeon @bts-reveries @bubbletaetaesstuff @betysotelo18 @nerdycookiemonster-1222 @icklemissmayhem @bls-luv-me @mayumioutloud @pineapple-panini19 @trivia-cosmicara @sungieshines @sweetmoonlight9 @taeshuworld @cielitoot7 @mayumioutloud

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gamerwoo · 4 years

Text

[The Pack Next Door] Mingi: Friends With Benefits (Part Four)

(photo edit courtesy of @songmingki)

Characters: Mingi x female reader

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, friends to lovers au, smut (multiple orgasms, overstimulation, choking, unprotected sex but remember to be careful kids, dom mingi) but it gets soft afterwards i promise, a tiiiiiiny bit of crack at the end because i had to

Word count: 2,829

Summary: Growing up, you and Mingi were inseparable. You’d been friends your entire life and, as far as you knew, things were never any different. But what you don’t know is that Mingi imprinted on you when he was 15 and first turned into a werewolf, and he had been trying to keep it a secret ever since. And with the awful timing of mating season, he’s hoping he can somehow keep the facade up.

Tags: @sakura-uji @xummie @peachy-hoon @psshwa @uglyratlmao @uwu-yifan

Unable to tag: @reading1011

a/n: did I edit this? no. i’m sorry sdkhfsd

Previous | Next | Friends With Benefits Masterlist

Was it weird to get ready to leave the house, knowing you were about to go sleep with your best friend just because you both wanted to? A little bit. Were you worried about his friends judging you? Kinda. But you still walked out to your car and got in like you were running to the store to get groceries.

As Mingi got the text that you were on your way, his already painfully hard length seemed to hurt even more. Just knowing you were going to see him just to let him fuck you was something he couldn’t believe was happening. He actually managed to get himself in probably the best scenario possible.

But, he didn’t tell the rest of the pack. He knew they were off at school anyway, and you didn’t have classes that day. So what they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.

He perked up when he heard your car door shut outside. He wanted to race downstairs and just shove you up against the front door as soon as you walked in, but he figured he should probably try to control himself a bit more than that. Though, he had to at least pace his bedroom because he couldn’t sit still.

You didn’t bother knocking on his door, opening it and being attacked immediately.

Mingi wasted no time pressing you up against the door -- slamming it shut in the process -- and pressing his lips to yours with an intensity that took you by surprise. But somehow, feeling him kiss you so suddenly felt...right. He would’ve rather he asked if he could kiss you or maybe made some small talk first, but he really couldn’t control himself when you were in front of him -- especially when you were wearing shorts and a flow-y crop top that had most of your skin exposed to him.

“Dude, you’re burning up,” concern laced your voice as Mingi’s lips began to trail down to your neck. “I think this fever is--”

“I’m fine,” he hummed against your skin before he was nipping and sucking to take your mind off of how hot his body felt. And it worked because you let out a quiet whimper and melted into his touch.

Just feeling your hands on his hot skin felt good and took away a little of the tension. But you could even tell he wanted more from the hardness you felt pressed into your hip. Mingi was too quick to pounce on you, so you hadn’t noticed that the only thing he was wearing was boxers.

“How rough can I be?” he wondered, subtly rocking his hips into your body to get some sort of friction that caused him to moan lowly into your shoulder.

You didn’t even have to think about it because the idea of Mingi being rough had heat shooting straight through you to your core, “Do whatever you want to.”

Mingi let out a pleased rumble in his chest that was so low, you didn’t even hear it. His fingertips dug into your waist as he lifted you up and brought you to his bed. He threw you down, your hat flying off your head and falling onto the floor next to the bed. You looked up at Mingi with wide eyes as he all but tore off your shorts and underwear, throwing it somewhere in the room without looking. The room was purposefully darker -- the only light being his dim lamp on his nightstand thanks to the blackout curtains he used -- so you wouldn’t notice the color of his eyes, but he made sure to keep his head down, his eyes focused between your legs as he pushed your thighs open and laid on his stomach between them.

He wanted to be able to say something witty or sexy or dirty to you, but he was far too eager to waste time. His tongue lapped feverishly at your heat before he wrapped his lips around your clit. Your hands flew to his hair, fingers curling in his red locks as your head dropped back.

“Oh god, Mingi,” you moaned out, causing a low growl to rumble in him.

He loved hearing you moan his name, and his goal was to get you to do that as much as possible. The noises he pulled from you only egged him on as he ground himself into the mattress to relieve himself a little bit. He inserted two fingers into you slowly before moving them at a fast pace, his lips and tongue licking and sucking at your clit.

He either kept his eyes trained downward or closed just in case you happened to notice the bright red they had turned, even though he wanted nothing more than to look up at you and see your expression as he brought you to your first orgasm.

Mingi sat up and pushed his boxers down, “Condom?”

You hadn’t even relaxed from your high so you hardly even made out what he said, “Huh...?”

“Do I need to get a condom?” he asked.

“I-- Um,” you stammered, trying to clear your head enough to even process the question. “N-no.”

He normally would’ve stopped and questioned your answer. He would’ve double checked to make sure you were positive about your decision, making sure you were on the pill or okay with whatever, but he couldn’t hold himself back seeing you laid out for him on the bed with your chest heaving and your eyes still closed as the post-orgasm bliss wore off.

And it was before it wore off that he slowly pushed into you. You gasped feeling him fill you until he couldn’t push in any farther, a low growl emitting from him. Part of you wanted to tell him to be careful because you were still sensitive, but another part of you didn’t care and wanted him to just keep doing whatever he wanted.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, baby,” he mumbled, ducking his head down to your neck to kiss and nip at your skin.

“You’re--” your sentence cut off as Mingi slowly pulled out and pushed back in to test how you felt. “S-so big, fuck.”

Of course, he was definitely prideful in that, and that might’ve been partly why he tore your shirt in half to get it off your body -- only partly. He had also just been holding back and really needed to get it out somehow. You didn’t say anything about it, though, too turned on from how Mingi was acting. Something about him being so rough was really hot, honestly.

“C-can I move faster?” he asked, almost sounding like he was in pain, his lips grazing over the skin of your chest.

“Please,” you whimpered.

And move he did. He couldn’t control the harsh, fast snaps of his hips as he thrust deep into you. You let out a gasp that turned into a loud moan as your legs wrapped around his waist as you clung to his sweaty and scorching body.

“Fuck, you take my cock so well,” he grunted as his lips kissed every inch of you that he could reach. “You feel so fucking good.”

You didn’t expect that kind of praise from him, but it made you moan and clench around him. He growled as he smirked against your skin. He loved the ways you reacted to him over the smallest things. Part of it was thanks to the mating pull, but he also liked to think he was just that good.

He managed to unclasp your bra before throwing it blindly away. One of his hands began kneading into one breast as his mouth wrapped around the nipple of your other. His other hand moved between your legs to rub your clit, and he felt your thighs clench around his waist as you rocked your hips in time with his thrusts.

Mingi let out a loud moan of profanities and your name as he came for the first time that day, releasing inside you. The feeling of his cum filling you, mixed with the pleasure he was giving you, caused you to cum for your second time, this orgasm more intense than the first. Your back arched off the bed as your nails dug into his back and scratched down his tanned skin, no doubt leaving red, raised marks in their wake.

He was panting above you, sneaking a peek at your face. When he saw your eyes were closed, he studied your blissed-out look. He didn’t get to see your expression when you came, but he could at least see how flushed you looked after you came. Your hair was a mess and your face was glowing with a sheen o sweat, and he thought you looked so beautiful.

Despite already cumming, Mingi was still painfully hard. He pulled out of you, pulling a soft whine from your lips before he flipped you onto your stomach. He pulled you up onto your knees before pushing into you again, and your hips squirmed.

“M-Mingi,” you whimpered. “Sensitive...”

“I know, baby,” he hummed as he gripped your hips so tightly that you were sure the shape of his fingertips would be bruised into your skin later. “I know you can do one more for me, can’t you? You’ll be a good girl for me, won’t you?”

You softly moaned out a, “yes”, so Mingi went just as fast and hard as he had before. You kept your face squished against the pillows as his thrusts rocked his headboard into the wall. He reached around you to rub your clit, and you squealed from how overly stimulated you were. It felt good but it was borderline uncomfortable. But after a little bit, the bit of pain turned to complete pleasure.

With you facing the other way, Mingi could admire the side of your face. You looked so fucked out, but your face was scrunched up into pleasure as you babbled out his name like it was the only word you knew. He pulled your body up and held you with one arm so your back was flush with his front, his fingers still on your clit rubbing quick circles.

“I wish I fucked you sooner,” he growled lowly in your ear, his words causing your pussy to clench around him. He knew how much you seemed to like him talking to you, but he also just couldn’t control himself. “You feel so good around my cock.”

Your hazy brain couldn’t even form words, just letting out strings of moans and whimpers of his name with a few curse words here and there.

“Can you cum for me again?” he asked as he kissed up and down your neck, your head lolling to the side to give him more access. “You want that, don’t you, baby? You wanna cum on my cock again, don’t you?”

“F-fuck, Mingi, please” you mumbled through your moans. “I-I need to cum again.”

Mingi’s arm that was holding you up trailed up your body, his hand finding your neck. He gave it a firm squeeze, and your orgasm suddenly hit you. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you came for a third time, your body slightly spasming against him as you cried out his name and dug your nails into his arm and wrist.

The feeling of you cumming caused him to cum again, burying his face in your neck and trying to resist the instinct to mark you. Instead, he pressed his lips into a thin line -- probably drawing blood in the process -- and muffled his moans as he filled you again, his cum and yours mixing and leaking out onto the bed.

Your body went limp in his arms, but he held you up. Satisfied, he gently laid you onto the bed, your eyes already closed and your brain half-conscious.

“Don’t fall asleep yet,” he said softly as he pulled out of you as gently as he could. Hearing you quiet cries, he apologized a few times before he got up from the bed. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

You didn’t even hear him as he left the room, but feeling something cool and damp between your legs woke you up. Your hips twitched, trying to squirm away, but Mingi softly cooed at you and told you he was just cleaning you up. Then he moved the bedding off of one side of his bed, moved you to that side, and took the bedding to the laundry. He grabbed extra blankets from his closet and covered you up before he got in, and held you sideways in his lap, letting your head loll against his shoulder.

“_____, you need water,” he said quietly in your ear, sounding back to his normal self.

“No,” you mumbled sleepily.

“I need to make sure you’re okay,” he chuckled, finally managing to rouse you from your almost sleep as he put the water bottle to your lips. You took the bottle with shaky hands and began to gulp. “Okay, slow down. If you drink too fast you’ll get sick.”

He took the bottle from you and let you pant as he stroked your hair back, “Do you feel okay? I didn’t go too far, did I?”

“No,” you murmured, your head falling against him again. “How the hell do you have so much endurance?”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple, “Just cursed with it, I guess.”

“More like blessed,” you joked with a soft smile.

He talked to you for a little longer, making some small talk just to make sure you were alright. You asked if anyone was home, he asked if you skipped school. It was pretty much just normal conversation until you Mingi suddenly turned kind of awkward.

“So...” he began slowly. “Could we...like...make this kind of like a...regular thing? If that’s cool?”

You lifted your head to look at him, “Really?”

Mingi had turned the lamp off earlier because he figured you would’ve fallen asleep by now. But now it helped because he could feel you trying to look at him and he didn’t want you to see his yellow eyes.

“Not to be weird, but that was pretty much the best sex I’ve ever had,” he admitted with a light laugh.

“Honestly, same,” you nodded. You were silent for a few seconds before saying, “Yeah, we could do that.”

“Cool,” he nodded, grinning to himself.

And it was probably a good thing you agreed because you could feel him getting hard again. His erection was pressing against your ass, and both of you knew that you knew.

“Seriously, dude?” you laughed. “Are you that excited?”

But truth be told, it ignited a new fire in you despite the fact your body felt exhausted.

He whined, “I can’t help it!”

By the time any of his brothers got home, they could all smell Mingi’s scent, your scent, and the very clear smell of sex in the house. Hongjoong’s eyes widened, being the concerned alpha he was, thinking that something bad had happened. He couldn’t hear anything, but he knew something had happened, and he wasn’t sure if it was something that he had to worry about.

“He wouldn’t,” Wooyoung said before quietly adding on, “...right?”

Hongjoong raced up the stairs, Wooyoung, Yunho, and Seonghwa barreling up behind him. Hongjoong threw Mingi’s bedroom door open, mouth open and ready to yell at the younger werewolf, but Mingi sharply interrupted with, “Shh!”

Mingi was laying in bed beside you, your naked form laying on your stomach on one side of the bed, completely passed out asleep. He had a finger to his lips as he gave a stern look to his pack, who took one look at you and then quickly averted their eyes to lock onto Mingi.

“What happened?” Hongjoong demanded, keeping his voice down.

“Nothing that wasn’t consensual,” Mingi replied before waving his hand for them to leave. “Get out.”

“Wait, you fucked _____?” Wooyoung asked in shock.

Seonghwa whacked the younger boy in the chest, “Don’t say it like that.”

“She agreed, though?” Yunho questioned. “Wait, so then...does she know?”

Mingi quickly shook his head, “No, so I’d rather not have this conversation in case she wakes up. Get out.”

“But--”

Mingi grabbed the closest object -- it happened to be one of his shoes on the floor -- and chucked it at the door. Hongjoong closed the door before it could hit them, so it hit the door before falling with a thud onto the floor.

But that didn’t even wake you up.

The wolves in the hallway were listening to see if you woke up. When they found your breathing and heartbeat to still be slow and even, Wooyoung raised his eyebrows, impressed.

“Don’t,” Seonghwa said as Wooyoung opened his mouth to probably say something stupid or gross or both about Mingi’s skills in bed, “say anything.”

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