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mins-fins · 5 months ago

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˖ ࣪ . the happiest day

❝ for on its wing was dark alloy, and as it fluttered-fell, an essence-powerful to destroy, a soul that knew it well. ❞ ─ edgar allan poe , 1827

warnings swearing, explicit language, implied sexual content, infidelity (sorta), unhealthy relationships, mentions of drug use, drinking, fighting, and one mention of child abuse. word count 7.3k.

JENO ABOUT FAINTS.

“i will have you know that you have the right to remain silent” detective qian crosses his arms above his chest, a spine-chilling, egregious figure intimidatingly prominent before him. it should instill its own feat of comfort, being met with somebody whose main course is to bring justice, gather evidence and solve the crime.

jeno feels all frightened, however, it’s the law, and you were..

“i’m sorry, it’s just a bit—“

“feel free to take your breaks” the crack of a few knuckles, jeno flinches, it’s cold, sweat endures across his perversely brisk skin, the perspiration clearly not giving him the best possible appearance. he already spent a good few hours sobbing his eyes out, sclera’s red beyond repair.

jeno braces himself, there isn’t going to be a hard hit, not a punch, nothing of innate violence, it’s just.. this.

“i wanna help any way i can”.

“of course, i’ll have you know that you are not under investigation for murder, this is basic interrogation protocol we do to everybody”.

“okay”.

jeno is unaware of why he whispers, afraid of something.

“what was your relationship with the victim?”

jeno pauses, the was is particularly perturbing in this instance, a term which jumps out and broadens the true occurrences of this situation. it dawns on him strangely, almost steadily, most would say several hours have already passed, but jeno barely perceives such a time gap until it suddenly consumes his reality overwhelmingly.

you were alive. then you were dead. now he’s here.

“we were friends, very close friends, i.. uh— i had a crush on him”.

it’s a bit embarrassing, juvenile, cheeks all pink in that inherently boyish constraint. jeno is often commended for his honesty, but for the longest time he could never really admit it to anybody, not even you yourself. yet everybody was aware, batted their knowing eyes and curt grins, those are simply the certain things you expect from people when you exhibit such damning behavior.

detective qian’s eyes practically glow at the given information, as if he had just struck gold, jeno barely even stated much..

well he supposes it is much, to him and the now warming blood in his heart.

“had?”

jeno is unsure what extent of the past tense he is even referring to, ‘had’ could encapsulate many things, your death, or the fact that he supposedly got over you.

he decides the second option is the most suitable.

“it was a childhood thing really, i grew out of it over time”.

terrific save jeno.

“huh” he doesn’t believe jeno, the discrete cock of his eyebrow is a bright, loud indication. “was that an unrequited crush?”

well jeno didn’t exactly expect that, it would be terrible for him if it had been, a true spurring detail that could easily brand him as suspect number one, a murder of outrage, jeno is sure that’s probably the easiest notice one could grab.

“well i don’t.. he never said, actually? we didn’t date ever we just— but i guess we kind of did have a relationship..”

you never named it anything, perhaps you simply enjoyed muddling things for him, jeno was enamored, you apparently had that all figured out at every singular glance.

“y/n didn’t like labels” he blurts, a bit outmoded, you would presumably be the slightest irritated at such a soundless giving of details, you’d glare, decorating the surface with the sheer docility your eyes hold. jeno always loved your eyes, they’ve been very intriguing for the several years you two had known each other. “and he wanted someone else anyway, didn’t even have to say it”.

jeno tries so hard, yet the explicit disdain pervades throughout his speech, his very own reply resulting in a slight agonizing squint. he too earns a squint, from the detective, much of an information dump, a scornful expression merely hidden with a sweet smile. “huh, well he seems a bit complicated”.

the chuckle jeno produces is comically dry, the true amusement impeding this situation could not be any farther away. “i didn’t hold it against him”.

“right, so what about the others then?”

“hm?”

“perhaps a disgruntled ex, a crazy one night stand, you have any names for me?”

well of course, he was so pissed when i came around, it would only make sense that he—

“no” jeno swallows, shaking his head. “yeah y/n has a couple terrible exes but they weren’t invited to the party, and if they did somehow show up he would’ve had someone kick them out anyway”.

jeno didn’t tell a whole lie, it was merely partial, a statement not all littered with fallacies. there’s an intolerable stir in his stomach when he even muses on throwing one of them under the bus, he’s sure they are all aware in their own right, every single one of them was there, present, but he feels much too..

he does the speculative squint, the narrowing of his eyes signaling suspicion over a claim that appears much too feasible in jeno’s own eyes,

but perhaps he doesn’t have much of an investigative mind.

“and when y/n passed?”

“i was.. god mark and hyuck were going at each other and jaemin was laughing instead of helping, chenle was cheering and i was trying to calm them down cause y/n would’ve never forgiven them if they got into a fist fight at his party” jeno slightly snickers at the recollection of you, of course you would be worrying over the state of your party rather than mark and donghyuck getting into a fist fight, you already had your bets set on mark winning anyway. “jisung was getting overwhelmed so he went upstairs and—“

“ah” but then the detective’s eyes widen, it is all for a simple reason really. “do you happen to recall where huang renjun was?”

jeno blanks. he.. doesn’t. that’s a bit strange.

he peers for a second too little, as if the moment will appear before his eyes in the manner of some movie flashback. he sees it all; mark and donghyuck screaming at the highest capacity their lungs could offer, jaemin watching with eyes encapsulated by his pure entertainment, chenle giggling, jisung practically on the verge of tears watching, jeno forcing himself in between the two quarreling.

huh. renjun wasn’t there.

he presumes his memory must be off.

“i don’t remember him being there now that i think about it..” jeno’s head is pivoting much too rapidly, growing dizzy despite the lack of clear movement. “i mean he did seem a little angry all night, his answers were snappy but i didn’t think much of it? sometimes he gets overwhelmed easily, besides renjun couldn’t—“

jeno stops himself.

what is he thinking? renjun is capable of a lot more than people expect, innocence never his forte.

“well i’m just curious, you’re much more honest than your little friend”.

now jeno is wondering how donghyuck must’ve relayed it.

but that contains little of true scrutiny, he wasn’t entirely honest either.

jeno had his final conversation with you not even an hour before you had been discovered.

11:16, he remembers, by that point in time his head had begun pounding, repetitive melodies drowning into the ear ringing background which he took in as his own. jungwoo had swayed his whole and dumped a shortened story about your clash with donghyuck because of course you two argued, jeno failed to completely hear it all.

“i think i might die”.

always the ever so spectacular, you slapped a hand over your forehead, a tentative habit made to supposedly aid with headaches. you mused to jeno that whenever your father had done it back in your turbulently ‘pain-stricken’ childhood all of the agony erased straight away, he is beginning to wonder how many of those moments could even be clarified in truth. your dad has irked him in every moment, as a child, even too in adulthood.

you were strange, in a frankly striking way which has always interested him.

“don’t do that, does it really even help?”

“you won’t know until you try it”.

jeno had tried it, having almost burst into tears once when he was going through one of the worst fevers life could offer.

it didn’t do shit, but at least you were there to cushion the pain and listen in on the endless rambling paired with sobbing that took place. you let him cry into your shoulder for hours before he was finally ready to take a nap, overwhelmed by it all.

“kinda looks like you’re just hurting yourself”.

“it’s a bit ironic”.

jeno does not recollect the moments in time that led to you two holding hands, but it began much rapidly and never had a sure explanation in his mind. “why’d you two fight again?”

you crinkled your nose at his tone, as if feigning annoyance. “there wasn’t even a reason, we just fight to fight really, sometimes i think it’s embedded in us or some shit”.

jeno has to admit, he giggled at that one.

“seriously, i’m so.. i don’t know, it’s always a thing with us, we argue and we just act like it’s normal”.

“well it sort of is for you two isn’t it?”

you squeezed his hand discreetly, almost glaring, though your eyes reserved that beauty they had in every gaze, jeno may have been just the slightest smitten. “i do love hyuck, you know, i get on his nerves and he gets on mine but it’s all in the name of sport or whatever, debating.. he doesn’t hate me”.

right, donghyuck had been careless with his words but when is he not? it could simply be the effects of knowing someone so closely for that long, but jeno was always aware he’s been a softie, never the toughest type, just stubborn.

“that’s a way to say it”.

“he was drunk”.

it was a minuscule moment where jeno heard you be unsure of yourself, that is much too atypical, he simply perceived everything as planned out in your very mind. “what the fuck am i even saying right? i need to lie down, vomit everything”.

you waved a shy hand as if surrendering, finally allowing your fingers to slip from jeno’s, he about complained, yet he stopped himself.

you rubbed your temples, one, two, three times, then your arms dropped where they had remained prior to the turbulent hand holding. “yeah, think i just miss my bed”.

“you alright?”

“of course i am, just got too drunk” jeno never assumed such a statement would ever escape your mouth, he always assumed your go to would be do now think later.

he realized then, and carries now, that such a prospect could not have been further from every other thing true to your nature.

of course he had to discern such a thing too late.

“do you want me to go with..?”

“no no it’s fine i’m not gonna sleep” you seemed as though you could slip at any moment, eyes having already begun to flutter, yet you pursued on. “a few minutes, i’ll come back downstairs, i’m sure you guys can entertain yourselves without me”.

a few minutes. a. few. minutes.

jeno blinked, a tight breath kept in his throat, he wanted to grab your hand, maybe follow behind you like a lost puppy for the rest of the party.

he should’ve.

“i’ll be fine, don’t worry about me”.

but jeno did, in every waking moment he had that sneaking voice alerting him that he should brood on the singular things you say. sometimes he wishes his mind didn’t expand in such a manner, there is only so much sure worrying you could do over so many words.

“you sure you won’t fall asleep?”

“yes, i have a sure point” you leaned in, a kiss on his cheek, your signature. “love you”.

“love you too”.

then jeno observed you rush upstairs, yearning to follow you, fingers hesitantly pinching at one another. he should have followed you.

he did not, alone time is alone time and you certainly did need it after hours spent downstairs practically driving yourself to insanity.

he supposes much more faith should be put in his own judgement.

JENO PRESUMES HIS MEMORY JUST ACTS AGAINST HIS WILL in most important moments, when he attempts to have a sane conversation with somebody or is simply trying to study, perhaps take an innocent shower. no. his mind dizzies with flurries images he feigns ignorance too, aptly spacing out midway through very pertinent minutes of life he shouldn’t be taking for granted. his pride shatters at each recollection, it’s humiliating, future mind readers possibly having a laugh at the dreadful nature reeling in his head.

jeno remembers the day you two slept together for the first time almost perfectly.

it happens to be that way due to the gravity that night holds, amusingly enough.

just blinks before his eyes every now and then, startling him at even the most mundane of moments, he’s beginning to believe he’s been rendered abnormal.

he almost too often harks back on it all, you pressing him into the doorframe, hands steady on his hips, then they began roaming, curving nails carving marks into its seams and hasty hands meandering to virtually rip his shirt from his chest. tripping over your very feet as you journeyed to his bedroom, disorderly, tangled, done through frankly idiotic giggles and extensive lip biting.

jeno recalls assuming such all to be a dream when it had happened, it’s the person he’d been essentially in love with for a time he barely comprehends displaying his innate desire point blank.

well it couldn’t have been any more crystalline.

jeno still presumed it was a dream whilst you two lied together, the flat of your palm resting atop his encased heart, the quickening beats per minute would have easily been observed, even soundly. you gazed up at the insipid ceiling, jeno’s vision continued blurring for some odd reason.

“how long were you planning on doing that?��

jeno glanced in your direction, immediately entranced by the just how simply you could behold such looks. the whole universe could be portrayed by the hue of your eyes alone, it’s fascinating, jeno could stare in them for hours.

your awareness appeared brightly, displayed in the manner you flicked him in the forehead, drawing a yelp. “you alive in there?”

“let a guy breathe dammit”.

“was it all you ever wished for?”

jeno always regarded himself as exceptionally hopeful, a true man of his word, all bright despite the disdain the world so tried to push atop him.

his eyebrows furrowed, they were never all detailed, jeno assumed the highest point possible would be imminent rejection, his virtue had torturously beaten such a thing into his head until he figuratively bled out on the floor with the blurring image of you beholding his gaze.

but you were there in his bed, jeno got the memo way too late.

it didn’t matter then, though.

“not exactly, more of dreamed”.

“wow, you weren’t wishing on a shooting star every night awaiting this very moment?”

jeno allowed a snort, what mattered was your delivery, not much pertaining to the true amusement the joke could hold in another setting. he just thought you were funny, explicitly funny, bounded to extensive sarcasm and self serving quips.

“you’re so full of yourself”.

your stare from that day was one jeno struggled to decode, jeno can visualize it all, your rings, a barrage of gold and silver that somehow fit together, your eyes, a massive spiral akin to photos captured of the milky way, the initial quirks of your smile which he couldn’t help but shy away from.

that hadn’t been the end of your night, though.

and jeno also had an inherent intrigue in something else his eyes could not even be forcefully pried away from.

he just couldn’t decipher why such a sight angered him as much as he recalls.

“you know what? we should go out”.

“go out? it’s almost midnight”.

but you’d already rolled out of your very comfortable spot in his bed, leaning over onto the floor where you began collecting the strewn variety in which your clothes littered around. it was all so simple to you, nothing of the innate embarrassment jeno could not his showcasing of.

you clicked your tongue, nose scrunched at the wrinkled nature your shirt posed. “it needs to be romantic, okay? can't believe i haven’t taken you out yet”.

“you don’t have to..”

you glanced again, almost amused before whistling. “what kind of person would i be? dinner is only a sure”.

“dinner? at this time?”

you tutted, willfully ignoring such a question as you stared down the articles of clothing, momentarily, jeno observed regret in your eyes, but then you smiled, as if nothing had happened at all, little lapse in your judgment. “you haven’t eaten dinner today, right? okay, i’m gonna go home and change into something more fitting, you wait for a phone call from me”.

jeno digested such said information gradually, as if somebody’s life was on the line or you could even really bide your time in that particular situation. you allowed the silence to hang, not one distinct blink that jeno can recall glimpsing, just.. staring.

occasionally, even without fault, you displayed a coy eeriness.

then the smile appeared once again, vibrant, way too pretty. “i’m taking you out on a date, stupid, wear something nice”.

it was all puerile, the way jeno grew flustered at the rustic words, his smile so faint-hearted, so cute. being treated is sweet, dates are absolutely to die for, if you hadn’t been there he would have little choice but to giggle to his heart’s content.

he may have been much too smitten by then.

FALLING OFF THE FACE OF THE EARTH FOR A GOOD THREE AND A HALF months should be the most impractical of tasks to successfully accomplish, but you have never enjoyed taking no for an answer. jeno could mark several days leading up to that discrete moment that he assumed it was a farce, the dramatics of it all have always been your favorite, however, speculation drives you, countless people with your name on their tongue akin to adrenaline, a fix, the sort of drug you don’t just get from guys in shady alleyways, you have to do big to earn the attention you want, your sights had already been set.

it may have been one of your worst addictions, yet everybody handed such a fix to you on a silver platter. it extended from strangers to even those who were extensively close, donghyuck and chenle simply couldn’t resist, they presumed that you not being around meant that you would never figure out the tales they spewed.

but the words falling into your hands was inevitable.

well someone did know where you had disappeared off to in that time, jeno was aware because he kept most quiet during lunch story times, only ever observing idly, biting his tongue in order for the truth to not aptly slip from his lips. donghyuck and chenle spouted their ridiculous stories while jisung scrunched his nose because he liked to believe you were all perfect, the edges which rid your personality were nothing to the golden shade he admired you.

not even jeno was that naive.

“if it really was an overdose than his parents probably would’ve bled our ears to death with the news”.

“what makes you think they didn’t just cover it all up so their little gala would be spotless?”

“he didn’t even go!”

“well that proves my point genius!”

he thinks they were much too into it.

jaemin rolled his eyes at the remarks and went back to cooing at the stupid photos of his cats he adored so much, he always attempted the mysterious approach, jeno knew he had little of that in his true personality, he was simply peculiar in his own sense.

renjun sneered, the claims entertaining though increasingly tedious to hear of every single day. jisung kept the sugarcoating to an all time high, of course he did because how else would he cope? jeno loves jisung, but he could just never understand the leaps his mind had to take in order to paint you in such a bright light.

he remembers what you said a good month before your.. ‘break’ (if it could even be called that).

“what makes you think i can’t just disappear? pull a houdini and walk into a box to never come out?”

jeno gazed, your dazzling flair displayed in the manner you motioned your hands, like you really were about to pull a houdini and escape from handcuffs. you have wanted to be many things, an author, a magician, perhaps an actor, anything that would piss off your father extensively, witness such a turning frown sprout on his face when you became something he detested.

you adored his bubbling anger.

“well for starters, your parents would never support such a thing”.

“they don’t have to, they don’t know the half of it”.

jeno supposes you did have several secrets, but how much could your parents not know? sometimes he thinks they have cameras behind their eyes, especially your father, he can’t even begin to envision your relation, it’s all looks, your father’s got nothing of a picturesque personality.

you, however, had all of it.

“how dishonest can you be with your parents before they catch on?”

your smile from that specific moment perturbs jeno, strangely, there’s a possible horror there he lingers on for a sheer moment, then it all muddles itself into nothing. he stared at you, attempting to gauge out something from the shadow which cascaded over your intent.

“you’d be surprised”.

“but you’re so..”

jeno did not collect his words in time, instead remaining silently gobsmacked despite his clear desire to say something. the hefty terms sat atop his tongue, you didn’t long for the answer, rushing on over to the widely expanded kitchen where you began rummaging through cabinets.

“i’m so? don’t you go silent on me now”.

“so bright, yeah that’s the word.. it’d be a little useless knowing everybody would suspect something sinister”.

your eyes glistened with an ingrained want, a glowing need jeno didn’t need extensive academic credentials to understand. “well i want the attention, for one”.

of course, jeno was too busy observing other things to grasp that one.

the locket had been there for a while, jeno didn’t get you that. totally platonic friends can gift their fellow friends gifts such as that, but the heart and pristine golden engravings purportedly glared in his direction, as if mocking. messing around with others was a given, jeno should’ve known somebody else could capture your attention in such a fashion, get you a gift which practically screamed i’m better than you in his face.

every time he glanced, a confining curl of unwritten envy stabbed at his stomach, the gleam at the corner of his eye always alerting him that ‘exclusive’ was not a word in your vocabulary.

he tried to ignore it.

“seriously?”

you hummed, all cute, then holding up a vintage porcelain plate, the ridges a gold akin to your locket branded in a stylish circle. your nails did nothing against the ridges, it’s likeness reminded jeno of several old paintings, the same kind which adorned the walls of your parents home. “do you wanna know what’s special about this plate, jeno?”

jeno snorted, your smile remained, your surveying eyes fixed on the material which could only produce a giggle. jeno has had bright knowledge of your various laughs, you have certain ones you love to simply sprout. your giggles are important because he’s aware they’re genuine, your laughter is always transfixed on something, someone.

for the certain person, your laughter echoes distinctly.

only one of those laughs was ever as vibrant, though,

and it wasn’t for jeno.

“enlighten me”.

“this plate is a family showpiece, it carries a stupid amount of worth, the shit goes for five thousand at best, dad had it and his daddy had it and his daddy had it and so on and so forth, mother treats it as more of a child than me”.

“is this a story?”

“it’s pertinent” you very gently placed the valuable piece onto the counter, delicately, too out of fashion for somebody in your caliber. “if my parents care about this little plate so much, whose to say they’ll even notice i’m gone?”

“a plate is your ticket to disappearing?”

“it’s an idea”.

the apparent idea was an evident success, just how was the strange outcome.

when the two week mark passed, jeno realized you really did pull it off, disappearing without anybody.. including your parents, realizing where you had gone.

scratching behind his ear, he adjoined the conversation. “wouldn’t he be at the lake house then?”

donghyuck scoffed, squeezing his cheeks into an astounding vice grip; jeno didn’t recall him ever being particularly strong, but the shit hurt. “that’s the most obvious of places, it’s why we already verified he isn’t there!”

“maybe he left the country, went on an abrupt vacation”.

“by himself?”

“what is he, twelve? y/n can handle his own shit”.

“is this all you guys are gonna talk about? i’d rather hear mark impersonate a weatherman” renjun’s complaining was on par with how the whole situation stood out.

it wasn’t expressly urgent, not because you carried little importance, but because he knew you. you’d show up and create a spectacle for the love of everything dramatic, that’s just how you were.

jeno guesses he should’ve seen it coming.

YOU ALWAYS DID ENJOY A GOOD MYSTERY, AND LUCKILY YOU HAD BEEN BORN INTO a life which offered you several millions, enough for a fully crowded library in at least one of your parents assorted properties, an innate privilege most can dream of. it’s entertainment at its finest, you would always muse. someone dies, there’s a cast of quirky characters, maybe they’re trapped on a train, an island, snowed in at some tiny cabin in the middle of nowhere, it’s fun when there’s a stake.

there always is one with you.

when you were younger, you wanted to be an author, your mother went to college in hopes of someday getting out a book of her own. jeno only bears such facts in his mind due to your unabashed declaring of them to him whenever you decide you want to spend a good moment up in the clouds.

i found one of moms old drafts once, i thought it was genius, the best writing ever, i kept going back for seconds, all greedy and shit, you know? she wanted to write, but she ended up stuck with dad, stuck doing nothing important, left dreaming about the life she could’ve had if she kept punching at barriers. she made me think i could be an author too, then dad found out i said such a thing, of course he did cause he’d never let me live in peace, made sure i wouldn’t ever think of putting pen to paper, broke my right wrist, said if i cried he’d ‘make me wish i were dead’.

a typical person who understood what they truly experienced wouldn’t brush it off with a mere hand and some terse chuckles, as if it were funny, humorous, amusing, not extensively concerning because your parents should not be breaking your bones for something so small.

cannabis is where the true honesty lies.

that’s terrifying, something along those lines jeno had muttered, his reminiscing can be shifty, blurred.

but he does recall you laughing at it all, your ‘childhood memories’ holding nothing of the vibrance they should, especially for somebody in your situation.

“well at least i have money” and the books continued stacking, as if you were to climb them like a leader. jeno read the fine print embroidered over the covers as best he could, eyes opting to squint instead in order for the terms to appear somewhat readable. head up in the clouds, he snorted at nothing, merely your stack of several books, the stupid stack which practically towered over you, a staggering six feet.. or he thinks, jeno must’ve been too high, numbers appearing as whatever they pleased. “all because my daddy made an investment when he was eighteen, the wonders of the world!”

you had that knack, rambling, droning on and on about shit jeno could only stare idly at. occasionally his brain erased terms of importance, streaming words blurring into an extensive ear ringing pattern. he listened in various moments, wavering in and out of seeming consciousness.

you loved to talk, jeno always enjoyed listening.

giggles are endless when the weed settles, and jeno will admit that they were so fucking cute, it wasn’t just the expanded affection coloring his brain, anybody could admit you produced adorable noises. “well someday it may all just go”.

“when that happens i may just have to go with it”.

jeno recalls choking on nothing, the words slightly brightening despite the effect drugs clearly have on auditory nerves.. mostly. “is that a threat?”

“it’s a promise! anyway, let me tell you all there is about crooked house!”

it was a threat, not in the typical way threats are fashioned, and you could dish out some good ultimatums when you desired, it’s why jisung always jumped at the sight of your strangely crafted smile. jeno had no true fear of you, not whilst you lived anyway, you were simply.. well a bit freakish, not in accordance with someone like jaemin, jeno couldn’t exactly interpret the many lines which dealt themselves across your skin, all that determination instead focused on other aspects.

kissing was nice, giggling over weed as you two acted like everything was real and the illusion held up in some manner jeno almost wishes could crowd his facade. it was no secret that exclusivity made you feel all terribly, your stomach curling with that stupid heat which rendered one bed sick all day. you truly enjoyed the whole acting approach, it is not as if you were some emotionless bastard, far from it in fact, you just mused that life was too short for relationships to keep you bound indefinitely.

jeno simply got wrapped up in what you described as “all tumultuous”, enthralled by the picture of you, various perks he had been hooked upon ever since he realized that you do not have feelings like that for your regular platonic best friend when your in high school and he’s branded as whorish.

and every single time he glanced at the locket, he would hope to retch it all up, he couldn’t fathom such a gift simply tightening itself around his point of respiration. his gaze trained on it in every particular moment of importance, carvings taunting him.

“we should make cookies” you lept from your spot instantly, almost tripping straight into a shelf, about putting a wood shaped hole in your head. “we need to make oatmeal chocolate chip this time”.

“can you even walk?”

“i don’t need my legs to make cookies” and then you stumbled over, hands bracing his own as you wrestled when pulling him upward, jeno doing his own purposeful hard work in order to bruise your attempt a few, just to play with you. “hey, i’m not playing around here”.

“but it’s so fun”.

jeno really assumed the locket was nothing,

it was too much.

“you won’t get any, then”.

“but i have to do all the work!”

it was an unfortunate night of messes, the cookies turned out good, you knocked out in a matter of minutes, snuggled against his side with occasional shivers alerting him that you had not just silently passed in your sleep, the rise and fall of your chest keeping the warmth around him elevated.

jeno supposes you may have been closer to other people, but a fucking locket doesn’t mean anything, not in comparison to baking cookies while exchanging kisses in a kitchen, snickering over inside jokes nobody else would ever recognize though you were both high out of your minds, disoriented beyond relief.

or maybe that is just what most people think when they get caught up in a situation they don’t have control over, with the huge glaring issue of not knowing how much you understand the person you’re infatuated by.

a lot of it keeps pounding into his head, continuous, a good add on to regrets his conscious delivers.

“HOW LONG ARE YOU GOING TO KEEP THIS UP?” BECAUSE DONGHYUCK ALWAYS TOOK THE blunt approach when it came to whatever the fuck you two had going on, a sore subject that he had his clear suspicions about but uttered on a small-scale. crushes are their own feat of normalcy, yet donghyuck was aware you weren’t the most regular of people, so was jeno and chenle and mark and jaemin and renjun, maybe jisung kept the wool over his eyes, but that’s jisung, jeno perceived that as a simple rite of passage, he was mostly akin to your shadow more than anything.

“ugh, what now?”

“why so annoyed, jeno? it’s not like you to suddenly be so inattentive with these things”.

“it’s cause his feelings are too big”.

“fuck you”.

“ouch! my heart!” donghyuck opted for a performance bit, a hand placed atop his heart, his figure falling backward onto various cushions, presumably feigning death, abject despair from words jeno usually didn’t speak, even when they were irritating him with their consistent kissy noises and pairing eyebrow raises. “how rude jeno, you killed him!”

“he deserved it”.

when donghyuck rose again, he swooped his head upward and fixed his hair, not even a strand meeting fingertips. then his arms propped up over the advanced table and he narrowed his eyes, the extensive attention on jeno. “seriously, it’s a good maybe two weeks before y/n decides he wants to hop on another one”.

“that’s a little ironic coming from you—“

“this is about y/n, not me, you can’t talk about morals to me”.

“yeah but i can talk about hypocrisy”.

“do you even know what that means? you ever open a dictionary, chenle? or did you have a nanny do it for you? little bitch..”

“oh no jeno is y/n’s little bitch”.

jeno scrunched his nose, the language nothing of a bother yet having met his senses in various rushing fashions, that may have just been the wine, donghyuck and his stupid wine collection which always pinched at his throat unbearably. how he even drank that stuff is beyond jeno’s comprehension.

he was about to say something, perhaps a week argument in his favor, but renjun of all people beat him to it.

“that’s much more up jisung’s alley”.

“hey! don’t get on jisung’s case, he’s a baby”.

“a tall eighteen year old baby, why don’t i get his treatment?”

“you’re a literal monster, at least jisung has redeeming qualities”.

“i have many redeeming qualities! i’m chivalrous!”

jeno is sure chenle could not spout the definition of that word even at gunpoint, all crossed arms and large mouthed when it mattered, because being right in comparison to donghyuck was all that mattered.

“renjun called jisung a bitch, i think he should get booted from the group” jaemin aimed his glass in the former’s direction, shaking his head, his attachment is all obvious, not much of a glare yet enough for jeno to have unraveled a mere animosity. jaemin can be uncanny, yes, but jaemin doesn’t typically hate. “and hyuck called y/n a slut”.

“i didn’t say that!”

“it was implied”.

“implied my ass it’s nothing no one else hasn’t said before, mark didn’t even show up!”

jeno squinted, that was strange, even with his stance on things, the whole thing was a tradition most of them took with true pride, drinking in a circle accompanied by your friends who aren’t exactly friends in the general sense of the word is something most people cannot resist, jisung only avoided such a custom because he didn’t want to drink underage, a rule follower from birth. mark not showing up was weird but jeno guessed he had more important things to do which did not include a group of them shaming you before him.

it was the first of those meetings which did not include you, peculiarly enough because you and hyuck pretty much started the whole thing, a bit ironic considering all you two did was argue when the terrible wine finally settled.

everyone enjoyed watching.

“mark is probably sick of your shit”.

“and y/n’s also literally missing! for all we know he’s dead in mexico or something..”

“you don’t seem that concerned, it won’t be long until you see him in hell”.

“anyway” donghyuck waved his hand renjun’s way, ignoring him with the smile that always sprouted when he was drunk. “jeno, i’m just looking out for you, y/n’s like a shark, you know? he’ll drain you of all your life and then leave you all dry when there are bigger fish around”.

“could you get that cushion for me?”

“smother him!”

chenle glanced donghyuck’s way. “i can’t say i didn’t see it coming”.

donghyuck again fainted over the couch, his heart having stopped at such rough words from those who were meant to be his coveted friends till death or whatever. maybe mark should have been there, he’s the only one jeno has recollection of being to calm them down, you were always the catalyst for blow ups, it caused something of a terrific spike in your heart, all smiles as you watched everybody grow more agitated.

“think you’re the last person on earth who should complain about someone sleeping around, hyuckie”.

“don’t call me that”.

“no seriously, you wanna be all big and bad, what if y/n was here, huh? you’re no better than jisung, don’t even have the guts to say it to his face”.

jeno’s eyes passed over the two arguing, there was no contest, jaemin would beat donghyuck to a pulp, all for him having a big mouth, at least you could put up a good fight, donghyuck wished. “what’s wrong with telling the truth?”

“y/n would kick your ass”.

“well he isn’t here to kick my ass, maybe you could do it for him, hm? if jeno won’t do the pleasure”.

jeno clicked his tongue, it was too late by then, one in the morning, rounding the corner halfway to two, he decided it was the perfect time to exit. if donghyuck ended up getting punched by jaemin like he so dearly wished then chenle would send him the video, maybe renjun would giggle or something, jeno couldn’t even say he was entirely against it, most of the debacle was hilarious.

“if you do get into it i don’t wanna be here for that”.

“but what if you need to hold hyuckie back when he throws a punch?”

“i said don’t call me that”.

“well what are you gonna do about it?”

“ladies please!”

jeno hummed, offering his best eye smile despite the overwhelming situation. “i’m sure y/n will send a postcard or something, you two do all the damage you desire”.

“wait why are you leaving me with them?” renjun whined. “take me with you please!”

“good night, renjun”.

he’s sure renjun cursed him to hell that night, and maybe he deserved it, not entirely.

“WHAT DO YOU THINK SOMEBODY WOULD GAIN FROM MURDERING Y/N?” JENO HAS NEVER THOUGHT detectives could truly have that horrific look in their eyes, all of it beholding a degree of barbarity he typically never witnesses in men, but he guesses he has only gazed upon men who had no true terrible intent, jeno realizes he would never recognize if he were looking the murderer in the face that night, and that’s masquerading well in a crowd. he blinks, he doesn’t have to think for that one.

“satisfaction” he drawls. “it probably would’ve been momentary, maybe they didn’t want to kill him but—“ then he gets a look, jeno knows that look because every time jaemin says something that doesn’t really make sense he can’t help but gaze that way. “i mean, i don’t even know what i’m saying, i’m sorry i haven’t slept at all”.

“usually people are more honest when they’re exhausted” jeno supposes his inhale is too loud in the room’s expanse, because the detective does that smile thing which freaks him out, eyes rid of their typical color, as if they’re pitch black. “and honesty is the key in an investigation”.

jeno bites the inside of his cheek, he begins scratching at the junction his wrist shares to his hand. “think, i’m sure you all have interesting answers”.

“well throwing our lives to shit for one” jeno winces, the continuous scratching made for good pain. “of course y/n wasn’t the greatest but he also wasn’t the spawn of satan, he wouldn’t invite people who despised him to his birthday party”.

“so what gives you the impression that one of you didn’t do it?”

jeno almost flinches, he barely keeps it all together, hands kept clasped together like he’s on life support, glued shut, he can’t pull them apart. he blinks, two separate blinks as if he’s some idiot who cannot comprehend big words. “like.. the seven of us?”

“if people who hated him weren’t there then they possibly couldn’t have done it, right? you know people are most likely to be murdered by someone they know well in comparison to some one off enemy”.

jeno’s eye twitches, donghyuck probably knew that, heck you probably knew yourself, courtesy of the many detective stories you two can’t help but have littering across your shelves. “well i don’t.. i just can’t see one of them doing it, i know that probably isn’t a good answer but i can’t imagine fucking— renjun grabbing a knife and stabbing y/n like seven times”.

his eyes again light up, he gets too excited over things he shouldn’t, but he guesses being a detective entails that, excitement for words which don’t come out completely right, eyes all glowy like some over obsessed teenager. “well maybe that’s just an indication that you don’t know your friends as well as you may think, time means nothing when you all have secrets”.

jeno remains silent, a bad sign.

“you know what was missing when y/n died?” his fingers poke at a certain file, his eyes do not stray off jeno, however, his lips do that side hook upward, all cocky, a sham. “no i really want you to take a guess”.

“i have nothing in mind”.

the detective decides to drop a crystal clear picture of the crime scene before him, jeno instinctively moves back in his seat, but there is also another photo there, a photo of your college id.

the fucking locket.

jeno is sure he’s paled, as if he’s seen a ghost.

the detective whistles, drawing a figurative circle around your neck, pointed in a very specific direction. “you wouldn’t happen to know who got him this locket, do you?”

well jeno guesses this is a good time to be honest.

“no, i’m sure one of them knows, but it’s not me”.

“ah, maybe you should swear an oath on that, then”.

jeno isn’t sure he can swear on anything, not on his parents, nor on god or the law or anything credible, he didn’t do anything, he’s sure none of them did either but how is he supposed to trust them?

he knows them, he knows enough.

of course jeno’s a coward, not jisung cowardly but he presumes he could make a good stance on that point. there are too many other issues for him to be worrying about stupid things like lockets or if you actually loved or not or—

when jeno leaves that interrogation room, he craves to just bash his head in on the nearest wall, images of the locket flashing in his brain like some stupid movie.

he’s sure he has a migraine creeping up on him.

masterlist .. ˓ previous ─ next

#𖦹 a babel cat 제노..#nct dream #nct #nct drabbles #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct dream imagines #nct dream drabbles #nct dream x reader #nct dream x male reader #lee jeno #lee jeno x reader #lee jeno x male reader

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mins-fins · 5 months ago

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good things come to those who wait omg.. but dw gay things are imminent its in the notes

dont let your (ex)situationship stop you from finding another!!

#just kidding im sure they wont stay ‘friends who exchange gay little looks’ for too long..#jisung cant even read fr 😕 last time he went to school he was like 9 at best??

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mins-fins · 5 months ago

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AWKWARD⠀⸻⠀이마크⠀😵🔋

nine⠀check the letterboxd

jj 🤓⠀new user TojiGoated3000

previous mlist next

TAGLIST 🍪⠀@wave2love @mins-fins @kimgyuuu @wtfhyuck ( perm )⠀&⠀@fishstcks @kaiyunsim @dontwannaexsist @dkmyman @multifandomania @gnusihcom

#i got a notif abt this from my email 😊😊#anyway!! can we speed up now its almost chapter ten.. didnt ask for a slow burn romance if i recall 😒#going to watch a movie with your bro and crying seems pretty gay to me 😕 i dont like gay ppl #marks got pretty eyelashes ☺️

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mins-fins · 5 months ago

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˖ ࣪ . the valley of unrest

❝ uneasily, from morn till even, over the violets there that lie in myriad types of the human eye—❞ ─ edgar allan poe , 1831

warnings swearing, fighting, smoking, sexual harassment, and mentions of blood. word count 5k.

“I’M SURE YOU’RE AWARE OF HOW THESE THINGS WORK, CORRECT?”

detective qian carries poise despite the very clear shit eating grin painting over his features, the blinking light of the interrogation room cascading above him almost.. evilly. donghyuck would grin at such a sight, but he assumes they would mark that as suspicious. “i’ve watched a few detective movies..”

the older man hums. “well life isn’t like the movies, i hope you’re aware of that sir”.

the capricious title is perturbing, and perhaps that’s his goal, donghyuck is sure enough of that with the way his smile simply brightens at his frantic eyes. “i just want to help”.

it’s like child’s play.

“i’ll have you know that you aren’t under investigation for murder, you were simply one of the closest to the victim, it’s basic protocol”.

“i know”.

“perfect, now enlighten me, what was your relationship with the victim?”

donghyuck shivers, the echoing term victim stabs at him, chilly, all brisk, in the fashion of icicles on a terrible winter’s day. it’s been a mere twelve hours, he could barely even glance in the direction of your parents as they sobbed before the police officers, it was all so tragic, he wanted to carve out his very own heart and hand it to them for support, yet he felt he couldn’t do anything worthwhile, anything that would definitely help.

his chest tightens, airwaves seemingly closing at simply the thought of it all.

“we were friends.. well— ugh it wasn’t that simple”.

“elaborate then”.

donghyuck wants to die, he can’t blink without recalling that sight, he clenches his teeth, anxiety manifesting in how he shifts his clothing around.

he senses the scanning gaze of the clearly agitated detective, room all grasped by the silence.

how are you even supposed to react when somebody that close by gets murdered? donghyuck is afraid..

“we butt heads a lot” he admits, uncharacteristically sheepish, he avoids the eyes attempting to breach through him. “many disagreements, we were close but.. we were prone to arguing”.

it’s risky, usually someone does not just confess that off the bat, especially with the narrowing of eyes and the distinct manner surrounding such a case. he again thinks back to your parents, their faces, crafted into terror stricken expressions that just—

he loathes the fastening bile pacing itself upward, he attempts to keep himself completely relaxed despite the clear heaviness of it all.

the detective can clearly tell, it’s his job for christ’s sake.

“interesting” he taps his foot, arms folding all big and bad over his chest, like a monster from the flurries of scary stories donghyuck’s parents would spout whenever he accidentally broke one of their expensive porcelain plates. “did he have any enemies?”

“probably, he wasn’t the nicest but..“

he didn’t deserve to die.

not entirely, donghyuck could agree that you were eccentric, a bit of a tight-ass who probably couldn’t entirely be trusted, but murder was really a crazed decision that there’s no contest for, why would he do it? donghyuck always thought he’d be the last person to ever do that to you, his stomach curling up uncomfortably.

the detective hums, a mere sound which appears so much more threatening than it should be. “where were you when the deceased met their end?”

donghyuck blinks, all of this is.. untimely. he recalls what they said, suspect passed away at 11:49 pm, it is currently almost noon, it’s been a whole twelve hours, and donghyuck can explicitly picture it all.

he will not say it all, however.

“downstairs, all of us were there i was..” donghyuck is ashamed of what he’s about to say. “mark and i were fighting, it was over something stupid, i was distracted until jisung—“

“i see”.

detective qian has got some prying eyes, darkness swirling in his pupils like the milky way. his chin points upward, he’s looking down on donghyuck, the other can’t help but feel naked, as if he was stripped of all his dignity, this guy is terrific at his job, because there’s this embedded fear donghyuck cannot explain. “why do you think somebody would murder y/n?”

donghyuck flinches, this is the first time your name has been said all morning, directly, to his face. it all feels so.. strange, he’s waiting for the instance to be a joke, for you to walk into the room, probably tease him for getting emotional over such an irrefutable gag.

but that’s not going to happen, you’re dead, even worse you were murdered on your fucking birthday at your own house and literally everyone was there. donghyuck’s mind wanders, all seven of them were there, an issue was going to arise.

and donghyuck is sure, he’s certain it was him who did it, he’s even aware there’s an inkling of a motive at the back of his head.

he was being pissy all night, donghyuck recalls, it isn’t crazy to simply imagine him snapping, grabbing a knife and—

“i think.. he had to have made someone mad, it’s not like he was crazy terrible he was just a bit annoying, i didn’t think it’d get to murder”.

the detective seems to buy his words, but he still does that thing, as if he knows more.

and perhaps he does, donghyuck thinks he may just be a mind reader.

donghyuck was a fibber, he left out something that was much of viable.

your fight.

yes, in your true fashion, you had argued, a good hour and a half before you were found lying dead and cold in your large bedroom, you two went at each other because how could you ever do any other particular thing? it was your birthday, and like every further year before then, you had decided to go all out, somewhat trashing the place.

you were over the moon, happily so, yet you two both rifted, because of course you did.

“you’re so annoying you know” you murmured, pointing your finger, a tiny pinch to his skin. “you come to my house, it’s my birthday, you got me that terrible gift last year and now you’re back, without a gift!? you’re a horrible friend!”

you were clearly drunk by then, cheeks all reddened and speech slurred, you waved your hands dismissively all over the room, donghyuck catching a glimpse of his very own reflection in your silver rings as it swung back and forth, constant, continuous.

it wasn’t all that serious now when donghyuck thinks back to the moment, it did not even happen a full twenty four hours ago, not yet yesterday, it is all so picturesque in his very mind, playing out again and again and again.

“oh yeah? you’re so ungrateful, you know, i did get you a gift if you were listening, all of your issues are dumped on me and you don’t give me any credit for literally everything i do for you!”

“oh and why don’t you give me a cute little list, hyuckie?”

even intoxicated you could sink that corner of his mind, easily tick him off and cause that familiar twitching his eye muscle always brought whenever you in particular agitated him dearly.

and donghyuck, though pissed, was too absolutely enamored.

“you know what? fuck you y/n”.

“of course, your common choice, do you really want to? you know i remember when you sai—“

“hey hey can you two not?” yangyang had to be your saving grace, donghyuck was on the verge of advancing, yet a curdled hand stopped him in his tracks. somehow he was the voice of reason regarding this dumb situation, and that is something which donghyuck could never see happening in his twenty two years of living. “y/n it’s your birthday, you need to relax..”

“no, i think donghyuck has something to say”.

“your drunk”.

“yeah no shit, i want to hear how brave hyuck is gonna be tonight”.

“i fucking hate you, y/n”.

he is truly unaware of why he decided to blurt that out. in the moment it seemed right, all the alcohol and the stupidly overly gleaming atmosphere which had everything pounding against his head, the music had not even been that loud, yet his ears felt they would pop.

and you.. you were just pissing him off, he hated you, hated you with all his might in that moment that he just had to tell you.

there was little of definite offense, you smiled, donghyuck wanted to punch you, the emotions surging in such a rapidly rushing manner he wanted to vomit, regurgitate everything he had eaten, had drank, pummel you into the floor with some sheer strength.

not too much, not so much, he didn’t want to kill you, it would’ve been..

well his thoughts that night were fairly ironic.

“wow, you should kiss me with that mouth”.

“you wish, go get jeno to do that for you, we all know you’re—“

“okay! girls oh my god stop fighting this is a party!” curiously, kim jungwoo was the saving grace of that day’s altercation, that stupid quarrel which almost ended in donghyuck speaking a word that would’ve probably gotten out a much more visceral reaction. both of jungwoo’s available hands were placed upon your shoulders, his familiar inebriated smile all blossomed. “just kiss and make up”.

you scoffed, smacking his hand rather harshly before you stomped away in another direction, donghyuck was undecided, it felt as if his ego had been bruised, he should’ve been the one to walk away.

and that was the last time he saw you, the final words he had ever uttered to you in your culminating hour of life.

but he couldn’t admit such a thing, not to the law, not in the face of a detective during the aftermath of your murder, it would be full and crystalline to haunt his very nightmares.

THERE WERE SEVERAL THINGS CONCERNING YOU DONGHYUCK COULD never truly understand, even with his smarts, academic accolades plastered all over his walls at home, trophies, medals, certificates he won with the brightest of smiles, he struggled to mostly wrap his head around you. your relationship was tumultuous, never anything more than ‘friends who argue biweekly’.

yet he was simply so.. drawn to you, your nature and the peculiar little things you did that he always narrowed his eyes at.

the jagged edges of whatever you two were constantly clashed, nevertheless, you remained, bringing the worst from each other despite the clear clinginess.

you were much smarter than people ever gave you any credit for, the various scholastic honors colored your world differently than it did donghyuck’s, it was like a dumb little sport, a mere cakewalk, they didn’t seem to mean anything to you, you were simply all carefree. the airhead persona could not have been further from the truth, but you always loved acting, donghyuck supposed you could’ve been a terrific one, the overly glamorized actor life not so far fetched.

“you’d have better luck trying to start a fire with pencils, hyuckie”.

the nickname is so stupid, coined when you two were six and having never left his side since. a small tug at your shirt, the nightly air settled in your hair, donghyuck swore he could smell the aroma of your jasmine shampoo, you looked.. pretty.

yeah, donghyuck could admit it, your get up on that night echoed the appearance of some mystery story heartthrob, peril at end house propped up in your lap despite you seemingly glaring in donghyuck’s direction.

“how do you not have a lighter?”

“i’m off cigarettes for now”.

“for now? you’re such a poser”.

he sneered, you snickered, thumbing at the edge of the murder mystery book between your fingertips. you then hummed as he instead caught your attention in spite of the novel, you gazed, you smiled, donghyuck felt you had practically sunken large, animalistic like teeth into his very conscience, all knowing, it was just a look,

but it seemingly conveyed so much.

“ouch, you always hit so hard, smoke breaks that important to you?”

“it’s..” well donghyuck was frustrated, the previous semester had been terrible, he’d never failed anything, his whole gifted kid archetype couldn’t drown, his parents poured masses into making it all happen, his various academic awards being the stark effect of that one, but it was taking a toll on him, he had everything he needed yet it wasn’t enough. “yes, god you don’t get it”.

“thankfully”.

donghyuck wanted to rip out his hair, his head pressed into the material of your couch and he screamed, his true irritation building up in that particular moment. any other person would’ve had to push and dig before ever witnessing such a thing, not you, you were always there, his vulnerable scars all bare for you to observe closely.

you viewed for a moment before sighing, a loud, deep breath which would typically indicate its own feat of annoyance, but it wasn’t that, not entirely. you stared and stared, attempting to open up his further mind with your very eyes.

donghyuck thinks you must’ve succeeded at that one.

“skip next semester”.

donghyuck rose, parallel to you on the couch, arms crossed, lips pursued. “don’t you ever say that again”.

“it was a suggestion”.

“you’re so— fuck you y/n”.

you raised an eyebrow, true expression apparently shadowed over by the intriguing mystery buried in the printed book pages. “so aggressive hyuckie..”

“skipping? really?”

“it’s not like you’ll fail”.

donghyuck knew that, you didn’t have to remind him. “just because it worked for you doesn’t mean it’ll be the same for me”.

your gap semester from the year prior took most of everybody off guard, there were whispers involving what the true reason may have been, an overdose, sleeping with someone you shouldn’t have, getting threatened by a crazy ex partner, some familial problems, everybody talks, a few of them indulged in their own spreading heresy, but none of them really knew anything, even with your proximity to all seven of them.

you mused that you simply ‘needed a break’, kept it all to yourself, you always did enjoy entertaining people with several mysteries.

“well how do you know it won’t? when did you become so risk averse?”

“there’s an end point when it comes to risks”.

you snorted, donghyuck found it interesting.

you then narrowed your eyes, waving a hand. “i think there’s a lighter in one of my kitchen drawers”.

eyes averting back to the novel, you began humming. donghyuck watched, you were not even doing anything particularly interesting, simply reading.

he was enraptured anyway.

“it depends on the risk”.

donghyuck is sure you were a bit of an egomaniac, avowedly certain in your life despite the muddy waters which could not even be washed by the bleach you attempted to pour over it.

or maybe you just reveled in the mess, catastrophe, letting it trail behind you everywhere you went.

DONGHYUCK NEGLECTS TO REMEMBER THE SPECIFIC DAY, but he was angry, and in a gleam which is much too prominent, you were the catalyst for his very anger that day. it was evident in the manner his eyebrows drew together, about compressing in the arrant fury you had risen because of course you were the source of donghyuck’s wrath.

jeno said it wasn’t as much of an issue as he was making it out to be, but that’s jeno, what the fuck does he know?

well donghyuck knows a lot, and donghyuck knows you just cheated his way out of a fair fight.

“what the fuck was that?”

your eyebrows rose at the shout, yet not much of a facial twitch. you retained little fear, all just mundane, as if this was a regular thing to do on a random fucking day that should have been ordinary but now had that happening.

then, a small smile.

“i thought you would’ve been more grateful, kissed me or something”.

“what do you think you’re doing!? did the whole former leader thing get to your head or something?”

“don’t yell, christ i did you a favor”.

then you stood, hands clasping as you hummed, giddy, too frivolous for just how irritated donghyuck appeared. when thinking back to it, he assumed you were slowly building up sheer excitement over the way his face contorted into fits of emblematic emotion. “you said i owe you” is all you uttered afterward.

“not like this! i was really trying to build a fair argument, it’ll all just be handed to me now!”

you sucked your teeth. “i got rid of the competition”.

“he wasn’t going to beat me anyway!”

“exactly, spared him the embarrassment of losing”.

donghyuck wanted to kill you, take his hands, wrap them around your neck and strangle that witless smile off your face, or perhaps you’d smile as you struggled to breathe, you would never let him win, you’d leave staining his world with the stark rage he always couldn’t extinguish once around you.

that’s just how you were.

“that isn’t fair”.

firstly, shock colored your features, momentarily, the color coding your eyes a much peculiar sight at the time. secondly, you allowed the slightest chuckle, it was just a little daunting, and donghyuck could never find you frightening. your smile remained, teeth perfect, stretch perfect, all too alluring.

“it isn’t fair? suddenly you’re a patron saint? should i remind you of your little stunt last year?”

of course, how could donghyuck ever forget? all you had to do was a little digging, hold evidence over the head of siwoo in order for him to do your bidding, you didn’t keep your promise, you never keep promises, not for anybody distinctly, especially not for guys like him.

really, you had found something genuine to blackmail him with, donghyuck has pulled shit out of his ass, baseless, uncharacteristically disordered though he’d typically think it through.

and of course, you had something on donghyuck too.

it isn’t to the extent of siwoo, attempting to spike drinks at parties or forcing himself on people, not insanely deplorable,

but at the end of the day, it fractures the superbly crafted image he held so dearly to himself and his parents.

donghyuck supposed you died with one of his worst secrets then, and all he can do is now allow that guilt to encapsulate his entire being.

“this is different”.

“it really isn’t, you should be thanking me really, i saved your fucking campaign”.

yeah, you were a proud egoist now that donghyuck remembers it.

somehow, he found himself both enjoying and resenting that half of your personality.

YOU HAD YOUR MOMENTS, DONGHYUCK WILL ADMIT, anybody with two working eyes could acknowledge that you were an attractive guy, never aloud because that would be a stab at his very conscience but it was an existing certainty. the binding string of your very friendship were the very words only you two could share, aptly sat upon your parents’ porch, the nightly air grasping you almost beautifully.

in its own murky way, your relationship, friendship, it sort of worked for you two, the arduous push and pull in tandem with turbulent disputes simply became what you were.

donghyuck remembers it because your parents had gone at each other’s throats until you had gotten so overburdened by the argument you simply.. left. they were humiliated, bashful as their cheeks reddened and your father allowed a few swears under his breath before your mother began apologizing to donghyuck for causing that hefty disturbance.

he wasn’t the one who deserved an apology, but he was aware they knew that.

he almost expected for you to be concocting some evil plot outside, but you were simply sitting on the porch, playing with your own fingers as the cooling air settled atop of you. you glanced over at him, then you looked away instantly. “do your parents know?”

he perked up, cigarette instantly in hand, tucked between his middle and pointer, your eyes bore a striking resemblance to that night’s sky, pooling in endless spiraling motions, it was simply entrancing, though the shrouded atmosphere pervaded. “hm?”

“your parents know you smoke?”

donghyuck didn’t exactly think it was a strange question, everybody has their ticks, little quirks, things they aren’t proud of that they instead continue doing because they just can’t help it, of course it’ll destroy them in the near future but it surges the serotonin they need momentarily. “probably, just not as much as i actually do..”

you pursued observing, outwardly interested in even the slightest features his face held.

donghyuck thought you were pretty,

you thought he was too.

“do they always do that?” he asked, the aroma of smoke affecting him naught, your nose crinkled, you said nothing. “your parents”.

“they save the fighting for special occasions” you drawled, chin supported by your hand. “they’re not terrible, not entirely”.

“they seem pretty terrible”.

“they’re harmless”.

you hesitated, evidently contemplating as your eyes rolled, little of true irritation sneaking through the cracks. donghyuck always wondered how much your personality actually shone out, he assumed it was all a defense mechanism, barriers you upheld because you weren’t truly the untouchable person those perceived you as.

or perhaps you were, he’d been placing a lot on you, sometimes he wished he could harbor those same attributes. his parents would always observe you with kindred fascination, as if you were somebody special, donghyuck had never gotten it, but he could collect a few ideas.

he just couldn’t understand what made you so great, why everybody wanted to be around you so bad.

it may have been an innate, overarching jealousy.

yet he too had been embroiled in a similar group, frankly unknowingly, engrossed by you despite his built in defiance.

“don’t seem like it”.

he took the slight approach, striving to get something out of you, something real.

your arms crossed, you offered a scoff. “it’s none of your business”.

it wasn’t all that aggressive, less of how you typically acted, you were vulnerable, the most at risk you would ever be before donghyuck.

you straightened yourself up, a hefty breath. “you don’t need to act like you care for shit like that, alright? especially not for me..”

“is it so strange that i have an empathetic bone?”

“don’t lord it over me now, hyuckie”.

donghyuck frowned, sucking his teeth. “i don’t like that nickname, you know”.

“why? it’s cute, isn’t it hyuckie?”

“you’re infuriating”.

“ironic”.

and donghyuck laughed, a short, silent giggle, he absolutely despised you in that moment, with a huge smile on his face, loathed your very face and the smile which blossomed over it at the event of his own laughter.

“well you’re dramatic, hyuckie”.

“that nickname is a national embarrassment” he recalls offering the cigarette over, the gesture of smoking was not all accustomed to you, but you indulged like any other typical young adult would.

so you did take it, the curves of your fingers meeting in a split second,

he buried the endless musings his mind kept sprouting up about indirect kissing, it was nothing of that sort.

(but he did think all about it that night).

“national treasure”.

donghyuck narrowed his eyes, he sporadically felt riveted by the way you performed actions, it was always so effortless, the way you did things, uniquely intriguing. “please come back inside with me”.

the glimpse you allowed foretold humor, amusement, you found it funny just how he seemed to care about your well-being. “please? is that begging i hear? from lee donghyuck? i’m appalled”.

“well i don’t care, your parents just wanted me to bring you back inside”.

you handed him the cigarette back, wiping your palms over your pants. “that’s so cute hyuckie”.

“okay well fuck me for caring, right?”

“how adorable! i always knew you had a crush on me!”

“don’t touch me!”

and donghyuck couldn’t help but feel warm, all mellow, you pinched his cheek just like a mother does to someone she hasn’t seen in a good minute.

it was all.. a little fun really, like you were kids once again, free of the pressure you’d eventually be faced with.

“you’re terrible”.

you snickered, an added pinch to his side. “you’re a liar”.

donghyuck smacked your hand, you blew him a kiss.

“i’ll go back inside, just not now..”

“your parents seem pretty..”

you glared, he paused.

it became a little back and forth game, passing each other the cigarette, basking in the serene silence of your parents home entrance.

you were just barely entering adulthood, but you two thought you knew everything the world could offer you, assumed you were toughened up enough, that you could withstand it.

you probably could, with each other that is.

“you and jeno aren’t.. or are you—“

when you glanced again, a pit formed in donghyuck’s stomach, your gaze maintained docility yet he felt himself shrinking anyway. “you’re too interested in these things..”

“it’s not my fault! you two can’t be all lovey dovey than just avoid each other and not expect anyone to be curious”.

“i didn’t do anything with jeno, stop picking at me for answers”.

“nothing?”

“nothing”.

“you know he’s had a crush on you for like.. ever?”

you clicked your tongue, passing him back his cigarette with little due regard for how your hands would meet, rushed, tousled, nothing of poised. “yeah, i know donghyuck, i know more than you”.

and you did not stay for another smoke, walking back into your parents house despite your clear aversion to being around them, just to get donghyuck off your back, or maybe just so you could get away from him.

donghyuck always did find you interesting.

DONGHYUCK ISN’T EXACTLY SURE THAT HE ISN’T UNDER INVESTIGATION for murder, detective qian has that signature detective look, the upward cock of his eyebrow and that stupidly invasive stare, as if he knows more than he truly does. it’s an obstruction of justice to lie to the law, if anybody did find out that donghyuck just left a huge hole in the retelling of events, it’d be—

his parents wouldn’t ever forgive him, nobody would ever forgive him, he can’t even forgive himself,

but he’s ashamed, and he’s sure, with everything he has, that he did it.

such an accusation might just be completely wrong, however, so he does not say it.

“is there something else you need to tell me before this is up? i have six more people to interrogate”.

donghyuck wants to vomit, bile doing its own crawl upward, almost pushing itself up his chest. he’s sure he looks absolutely guilty, and he is in some regard, for lying, for feeling so hard towards you even when you did nothing, for pushing up against you with so much jealousy that it became overwhelming, for expressing his intrigue with sheer, patented contempt.

he should’ve at least allowed you credence in your final moments, he instead spouted that he hated you, like a kid, a baby, childishly, heinously.

if anything, you should’ve said you hated him, it would have been more fitting.

“not much i mean.. i don’t know it’s just a bit difficult to digest all of this”.

“not everyday your friend gets murdered”.

donghyuck again shivers, his sweater doing nothing to combat the chilling, claustrophobic air of this tiny room. he scratches at his sweater sleeve, too noticeably anxious, all this for wannabe internet detectives to dissect his body language and the uneasy habits emanating from him to tout him as ‘guilty’ or some shit.

“i’ll remind you that withholding information could come back to bite you when we do eventually catch the murderer, trials gonna be tough”.

donghyuck stills, clearing his throat, then taking in a deep breath he can’t seemingly exhale. “i’m aware”.

“good, you’re going through a rough time” there’s sympathy, though expertly hidden with careful deceit. his hands plant over the table, he stares donghyuck down, there’s a mocking tone present, as if he’s domineering the sheer superiority he has. “but i’d advise you to think carefully about what all of this entails, none of this will be told to your little friends out there”.

“are they being investigated for murder?”

“investigated is a big word”.

so donghyuck is being investigated for murder, nothing more bright of an indication than those particular words. “all seven of you were the closest to him, how can someone simply die in a house full of people and produce little noise? was the music really that loud?”

donghyuck clears his throat, the knot clasping around his neck to rapidly cut off his breathing. “i don’t have an answer for that..”

detective qian shrugs, almost belittling him with the smile which shows over his face. “well you don’t need to, let’s just hope your friends talk”.

that’s practically a threat, a full blown threat that chains donghyuck to the ends of the stupid metal chair in this idiotically frozen room. it’s a display of superiority that is akin to yours, donghyuck realizes, the smile, the eyebrow raise, all of it fits in a perfectly wrapped package.

but he supposes that’s a strange grieving technique.

when donghyuck exits that interrogation room, he definitely does feel like a murderer, feels all dirty, as if your blood is splattered across his shirt in this very moment, there isn’t a right way to react to your friends murder, how can anybody just judge a person based on an offhand reaction coming from the twelve hours after your friend had been murdered.

donghyuck might just vomit up everything, even if he hasn’t eaten.

jeno is the first one to perk up, ever so observant, yet donghyuck notices the unnaturally reddened shade of his very eyes. “are you alright?” he asks, all gentle, he shakes his head at nothing, anxiety so clear even the ends of his fingers had hued red.

“yeah.. yeah i’m fine it’s just— just a lot”.

not everyday your friend gets murdered.

jeno looks like he wants to cry, donghyuck wishes to hug him and tell him everything is going to be okay, assuringly, to ease his mind and just let him cry into his shoulder.

but it’s not, you’re dead, when is it ever going to be okay?

jeno’s smile is feigned, any genuine good spirits clearly dissipating with the passing seconds. the look he earns rips out his heart, the vascular organ slowly culminating into nothing, completely lifeless.

he assumes that’s a fitting feeling for this situation.

masterlist .. ˓ ─ next

#𖦹 a babel cat 해찬..#nct dream #nct #nct drabbles #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct dream imagines #nct dream drabbles #nct dream x reader #nct dream x male reader #lee donghyuck #lee donghyuck x reader #haechan x reader #haechan x male reader

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mins-fins · 5 months ago

Text

A BABEL CAT … 𝒏ct dream

victim had just turned 22 ˓ ─ you should really be careful of how you treat everybody around you, you can never be aware of when those will simply.. snap. the problem is, the boy is now lying dead in a pool of his own blood, and with seven main suspects retaining all of their own huge feelings, it’s clear answers aren’t in an arms reach..

starring .. ˓ ─ ot7 nct dream & male!reader. a few original characters. also ft 127 & wayv members.

there are 7 suspects.. 7 different motives, yet they all seem to intertwine. it’s a bit brutal, murdering somebody at their very own birthday party, but there would be inklings that he.. deserved it perhaps? does anybody truly deserve to die? everybody has their secrets after all. perhaps he just didn’t mean to, maybe the anger simply had gotten to him, why would he kill somebody he loved so dearly?

warnings .. ˓ ─ swearing, explicit language, murder, blood, violence, brief corpse details, manipulation, drug usage, drinking, smoking, sex, sexual harassment, unhealthy relationships, blackmail, non-linear narrative, reader and the dreamies are out of touch rich kids, morally grey characters, a frankly easily solvable whodunit murder mystery.. maybe, a somewhat love octagon (i.e reader gets around).

table of contents .. ˓ ─

i. the valley of unrest … ❜

ii. the happiest day … ❜

iii. to the river … ❜

iv. an acrostic … ❜

v. a dream within a dream … ❜

vi. the haunted place … ❜

vii. ulalume … ❜

viii. eulalie … ❜

total word count .. ˓ ─ n / a

#𖦹 a babel cat 엔시티 드림..#nct dream #nct #nct drabbles #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct dream imagines #nct dream drabbles #nct dream x reader #nct dream x male reader #mark lee #huang renjun #lee jeno #lee donghyuck #na jaemin #zhong chenle #park jisung

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mins-fins · 5 months ago

Text

AWKWARD⠀⸻⠀이마크⠀😵🔋

eight⠀ginuwine vinyls

jj 🤓⠀secretly i wanted to make sungchan say Brah these fraggets

previous mlist next

TAGLIST 🍌⠀@wave2love @mins-fins @kimgyuuu @wtfhyuck ( perm )⠀&⠀@fishstcks @kaiyunsim @dontwannaexsist @dkmyman @multifandomania @gnusihcom @pinklemonade34

#IM DOIMG SOME MURDER MYSTERY MUSING RN 😈#bruh these fraggets 😭😭💔💔#sighs.. why are you updating ur smau more than i do mine 😪 im a terrible tumblr person #mark & renjun look gay as hell in that pic.. theres a word for their kind..#cant believe jeno predicted the plot of the story…

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mins-fins · 5 months ago

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i CAN feel .. 𝒏a jaemin

👑 , ❝ i want to fill my mouth with your name. i want to eat you whole . ❞ ─ pablo neruda

⠀૪ જ the prince of regnum morsu has always been the slightest bit peculiar, looking to devour, appearing to yearn for the very taste of ..

pairing, na jaemin x male!reader.

genre, alternate universe, medieval & mid–1800s combination, romance, ..fluff(?), inspired by many gothic tales, (attempted) horror, strange cryptid jaemin, royal au, arranged marriages.

warnings, violence, murder, cannibalism, romanticizing cannibalism 😕, blood & gore, implied sexual content, initial corpse details, somewhat unhealthy relationships, reader is pretty pathetic, jaemin is a strange creature (which is not specified).

word count, 7.3k.

notes, first real post of 2025 lets go!! cant get over my final work of 2024 being jaemin & my first one being jaemin again.. i love this strange mf 🫶 please do head all of the warnings given because this thing sort of goes into a few grisly details!! i obviously do not condone cannibalism i just enjoy love being expressed through wanting to consume your partner bone by bone <33 its romantic 💖 as always, user junjiie, my forever technical beta reader, i love you 🫶🫶 always so receptive to my ideas even when its THIS monstrosity 😭😭 it really killed me to write idk 🤷‍♂️ i just enjoy writing strange creature jaemin and i love daphne du maurier btw 😊.

YOU COULD BEST DESCRIBE REGNUM MORSU AS DEAD.

death awaits all souls, and maybe the landscape of the kingdom is somewhat akin to sand slowly allowing for you to sink, taking everything which equates you to a human being. tragedy permeates the earth, even the nocturnal creatures fear the weight of the land under their feet, less of crunching dirt and more of crunching bones after each step.

the liveliness of the subjects are all which save the incarnation of ruination which is this kingdom. without the tunes, the gatherings in the square, the dancing, the sheer joy of containment concerning human relations, this kingdom would be the haunting walk it so much exudes.

despite its own state, there’s beauty in the picture of death.

yet tonight can be excused, it is a much different story.

“a body has been discovered just before the palace”.

you would often assume your nightmares could not escape your mind, if you do not dwell, how could they escape its corners? well it seems you’ve mistaken the extent of this kingdom, though death is as mundane as the rising of the sun, the astonishment remains festered in the air.

the council falters for a singular moment, in spite of the clear feat of normalcy, there’s a rise to the worry. the gleam of concern causes for the widening of eyes, frantic pupils glancing back and forth as the situation attempts to be assessed.

one soul remains dormant though.

you find yourself releasing a wince at the alarming details. he was one of the knights stationed outside, the bones of his skull protruded out from where his head had been completely lacerated. there laid bite marks sunken into his skin, animals bites potentially? but what kind of animal snaps a bone in a singular bite?

“what kind of creature..?”

“that is what we are all thinking” it is clear that nobody can help their own fear, you cannot place blame on them for that. “were trying to see if we can.. capture it”.

you stifle a scoff at such a suggestion, the trembling of their undertones alone sells that the feat at which they appear to think they can capture this thing is faulty at best, it needs reparation, there’s none of courage in each of their singular glances.

you suppose you have to hand it to them for the attempt.

“what do you think it might have been? some undiscovered wolf?”

“it’s not the time for comedy, your majesty”.

with the quirk of an eyebrow, na jaemin relays his pure amusement, no such need for words. you envy his seemingly born courage, not even the flinch of a facial muscle, it is as if the gruesome nature of the execution is just another tick on a yet rising pile.

you manage to shake out of your thoughts, assuming his degree of empathy is ridiculous, he could just cope with passing in a differing manner. your gaze falls to the ring caged around your finger, the spontaneous paleness of it causing a drop in your stomach, you didn’t realize the tightness of it.

when you cease your staring, jaemin’s eyes burn into the side of your head, a small smile tugging at his lips, chatter fading into the background as it seeps into ear bleeding noise.

but you cannot wince, focus lasered in on the pierced eyes of your fiancé. you do not fear him, yet it appears as if he has earned a ticket to your very own mind, each distinct wavelength of thought sprawling outward, not perfectly hidden in the corners you folded them into.

his lips remain upturned, an indescribable gleam shadowed by his voided pupils. “are you alright, your highness?”

they’re speaking much too high, you’re afraid of your ears popping, jaemin opts to turn in his seat, speaking no words to you. “just a little disturbed”.

the words are scarily lessened, yet you surmise those surrounding you still capture the fear of your undertone.

you cross your arms in feigned defiance, as though the air would sink its own barred fangs into you, ripping seams from your neck with the simultaneous blood pour following the crushing of your bones.

a painstaking demise, you ponder on when the fear would take form. might it possibly begin in the same manner as the ripping of your muscle, or perhaps the trepidation would descend as the life drained from your soul, skin paling, eyes rolling back, bones snapping in tandem.

you have much time to consider such a thing, you’re aware the wedding will be delayed.

you do not mind that.

“it hasn’t become a pattern yet, guards will remain stationed outside”.

a whisp of the air, hot breath behind your ear you have bright knowledge does not exist. you shiver, aware someone must have caught that.

that lonely night, you dream of death in the form of a beast. tearing at the cursed remains of your soul with the pure white gleam of its fangs, crushing the bones of your body with pure animosity. you would have no time to escape, all life coming to a nought.

you assumed the death which would grasp at the strings of your viability may appear beautifully, a face of clear artistry. perhaps you would pass in your sleep, eyes peacefully fluttered shut as life slipped away. yet you now have the mind to comprehend a newly settled fear, this creature, a monstrous varmint attempting to gnaw through the protective barrier of your skin.

your existence may now depend on the ability of this thing to stalk around the palace, the palace of a kingdom defined by its deadly curse. you offhandedly realize the danger of your arrangement, yet what can you do besides allow for it to unfold?

after allowing for several hours to pass, your eyes unwillingly flit upward, darkness shrouding visibility, ticking clock akin to the countdown of terror, an imaginary behemoth scales the walls, golden pupils staring intensively into your soul, serrated edges of teeth pulling at the confines of your heart in spite of the clear deterrence you attempt to make face with.

you fear sleep, so you do not sleep.

THERE APPEARS TO BE SOMETHING TERRIBLY WRONG WITH THE CROWN PRINCE OF REGNUM MORSU.

you have always linked the worst of your nightly thoughts to your insane extent of observance, the act of you picking up on singular traits, quirks, peculiarities that no one person would utter to another human being without a feat of embarrassment.

prior to the engagement, you had always perceived na jaemin as just a little odd. children often perceive the unknown as strange, yet na jaemin carries the eccentricities in adulthood, split smiles, voided out irises, unmoving molars which appear jagged once you allow a squint, curls of hair strands unrealistically unalloyed in a hue of white.

the titular moment you laid your eyes upon na jaemin, childish naivety surrounding your circle, you feared him. feared the conundrum of him, feared the clear darkness of his eyes which contrasted the bright shade of his hair, white you could not make sense of.

and the engagement brought out oddities you could not comprehend prior, something of a mystifying element added onto his presence. yet over the years, the formerly habitual fear has become something much more..

you assume the strange likeness is one of his most prominent qualities, though his parents often irk you, they are not as anomalous as the man they brought into the world. occasionally, you assume he may not even be of human nature.

you have known him for long enough that it all simply contains its own fit of normalcy.

of course, the thoughts shall remain entrapped in your mind.

just up until two more guards appear slain before the gates, face paled, the structures of their skeletons protuberant, skin— oh lord, you feel yourself growing disgusted.

after a consistent nightmarish battle with your inner conscious, you spare yourself the definite details, instead yearning for some degree of isolation.

the marriage shall be pushed back, knights will no longer be stationed outside, the subjects are now granted a curfew in order to ensure their own safety, the king can’t risk any more accidents before the ending of his term.

you spend days scouring the library’s romance novels, fearing that if you blink severely enough the entity would flash before your vision. you do not make time to listen during important discussions, having to catch yourself once the titular spot on the walls begin to blur your sight, not even the callings of your name enough to snap your conscious into working order.

you so desperately yearn for the solace of your home kingdom, agitation grasping at your soul, now seemingly guiding your movements. you long for the peak of sunshine, there appears to be nothing of light in this place, the air devoid of soul, life, animation. you ache for your parents, in spite of their consistent arguments, they provided you with some necessary protection.

but you are no longer a child, a simple monster should not be enough to petrify you.

in order to not sink into your fit of terror, you occupy your time with reading and painting, an illustration of the creature which plagues your nightly thoughts.

you are able to scribble through eight of those before you feel the settlement of horror.

“y/n, i feel you are taking this strangely”.

for all his own abnormalities, na jaemin’s parents appear to be as mundane in the daylight. you stare down your creations, feeling the carving of your own sockets, lethargy seizing you by the throat.

“i’m simply.. curious”.

you suppose the mechanism of your subsistence is clearly inquiring, and by the flickers of their eyes, the debate of if they should have engaged you to their son is clear.

well, their son is enough of an atypical figure, they have no place to judge.

“those look.. beautiful”.

in contrast, na jaemin appears enamored at the sight of your art pieces, splattered red paint coinciding with the widening of his eyes, the blank shade jumping out to your own, you cannot even make out a gleam, it is the slightest bit disturbing.

yet there remains a degree of devotion, a deep sense of partiality, it appears he intends to remain transfixed by your artwork, nothing of a falter in each singular movement.

you are thoroughly perturbed.

“all of them are hand painted?”

“with my very own ones” you whisper, beaming off that of the lamp, his pupils widen in manual astonishment. the engrossment outweighs any chance of reason, it appears he will not emphasize on external stimulus. a stark warmth encapsulates you, the shy appreciation does wonders to your very heart, something of a miracle. “do you.. uh— enjoy them?”

he steps closer, the curvatures of his fingertips tracing the esteemed canvas, corners seeming to stab, yet falters whisking out into the air. “you are dementedly adroit”.

“well i was just painting based on my night terrors” he spares a glance, and the speck of affection settles a fit of disquietude, for an unsure moment, you fear the presence of a man who you are bonded to by none other than a slab of golden jewelry, a man who, in a odd manner, you also cannot help but desire in the same breath. “can’t even muse on where my mind went when i crafted these..”

and spontaneously, he occurs closer, frightening you enough it manifests in a physical reaction, a wince caught in your teeth. it did not even arise that his footsteps are startlingly silent, it is as if he simply surfaced besides your own, materializing out of the air’s own particles. how does one perform such a thing?

his lips pursue, the cracking of his bones emitting a daunting sense in your very own blood, heart yearning to burst out of your skin. he unnaturally bevels his head sideways, boring through the valor you attempted to fasten in place. “there appears to be something wrong, are you bothered y/n?”

suddenly, there descends a chill across your being. lord, should this room not be hot? should his occupancy not be the catalyst of calefaction? why are you chilling?

“no, i’m simply weary”.

you do not mean to display full dishonesty, yet you cannot help it.

and then, you have your stomach twist when his guise transforms into that of concern, a latterly aspect of his face which you haven’t seen. guilt grabs at your heart, you are unsure how.

“make sure you sleep, alright?”

regard, perhaps you may blush.

“thank you for the notice, i will”.

oh, well you suppose the oddities stray far once proximity nears. you happen to enjoy observing the crescents of his features, because you can state the prospect of beauty, na jaemin conveys beauty, you could sketch that of his own concaves, already picturing a perfect painting.

yet a degree of alarm remains.

THE FOLLOWING NIGHTS, SEVERAL OTHER BONES CRUSH UNDER THE FORCE OF TEETH.

you physically regurgitate, fearing the inevitable sickness which typically seizes you in tandem with consternation. existential dread may be your downfall, the expanse of your mind, and contingent upon your very scrutiny, will completely overtake any of your credible sense, tears welling up in your eyes, all safety naught.

the palace encapsulates impending doom, your sight appears to be pulling strings of its own. you envision bite marks, engravings cursed into your skin, the fracture of your skeletal structure now plaguing your days, no longer secluded in the form of your nightmares.

the pattern of a bodily pile continues, yet you strive to venture down a contrasting path, possibly able to distract yourself by burying your nose in absorbent literature.

the palace swallows you whole, the terror rendering you unable to escape its clutches, however, you are encased by your own unrest.

the night you find the metaphorical monster behind your back a minimal issue, you find the act of treading the extensive hallways to perturb you much more.

you take a small breath as your footsteps shuffle towards the door of a titular room. your defense is meant to be the brick wall cascaded by the supposed hardness of your eyes, but you believe it might not be doing much.

na jaemin settles where you supposed he would settle, atop his bedsheets with a book in hand. your eyes nowhere, his current read being that of ‘madame bovary’, a piece of literature you could only squint at when passing through the library. you surmise from the quirk of his brow that he takes a liking to the novel. “y/n? evening”.

you muse that he appears much too tranquil.

“hello, i..”

you swallow your upcoming words, weakness stabbing at the skin of your stomach. “my apologies, could you accompany me to the cookroom?”

he blinks, eyes devoid of particular passion, yet vibrant with a capital of affection. you really do find his individual qualities strange, down to the movement of his pupils. his eyebrows then jump in a silent display of amusement, fingertips tracing the curves of his storybook. “is something astray?”

you practically tremble at how visible you are. “i’m a little frightened”.

then he spontaneously splits into a smile, allowing for the novel to remain dormant on his sheets. “that is no issue, y/n”.

in clockwork, he emerges beside you, offering his arm for you to cling to. “don’t worry honey, i’ll keep you safe”.

the use of an endearing name could be concern for perturbation, yet you instead feel an encapsulation of warmth. although na jaemin is typically numbing, there’s an air of mellowness which captures you as your arms come to intertwine, the hold providing solace you seek in moments such as this.

“what exactly do you fear?”

the inquiry results in the freezing of your facial muscles, perhaps intrigue is integral in moments such as this, or perhaps this is a trick, it is conceivable to say that he draws amusement from your fright. “well.. the unknown, i suppose”.

there appears to be a gleam across his pupils, absorption you would be an imbecile if unable to pinpoint. “ah, but it is not that bad”.

“how are you so sure?”

“i’m simply gauging the prospect” he whispers, mouth splitting into a smile, the display of his straight white molars alerting you to the uncanny ferocity of the spaces. “there is no need to fret, y/n, i’m here”.

“for protection?”

the sight of the cookroom alerts your eyes, yet you can only gaze upon the man who you surmise is the definition of valiance, you spite your very own mind. “of course”.

you blink, vulnerability overtaking your presence as he slips from your grasp. it appears the protection heightens once he remains close, you do not want for him to leave just yet. “could you.. uh— well, i would enjoy it if you remained by my side for the time being”.

amusement colors his features, humming gleefully. the stretch of his smile pleases you, his smile really is a touching sight, you could sketch out its pattern from memory. “that will not be a trouble”.

the soft sigh which escapes you completely displays your serenity.

THOUGH HE APPEARS TO BE THE PINNACLE OF BEAUTY, you have yourself a fear of the.. humanity regarding the man you are set to marry once the dust settles on these morbid “animal” attacks. when the thought initially crossed the threshold of your mind, you surmised that the demented man some whispered you to be was finally making himself known.

it really does appear ridiculous, na jaemin, for all the abnormal actions of himself, is human. a fairly odd human with fairly oddly sharpened molars, voided out eyes, and the untypical appearance of his limbs, but a human nonetheless.

at least.. you yearn.

there appears to no longer contain order, regnum morsu seizes you by the throat, a knife against your heart and air swallowing you whole.

you suppose one day you might waste away in this kingdom, death coming to fasten your end, there appears to not exist an endless struggle, the tug will not end up in failure, and perhaps you’re a weakling, a pathetic excuse for a man whose right mind has been hindered from the flurry of stories you have been fed in the passing weeks.

it is completely feasible, you are going to perish here, despair scrawled across the stone which will house your corpse.

and na jaemin, he happens to strike the balance of elevated paranoia in tandem with simply.. adherence. you crave a degree of intimacy which appears to have manifested itself out from thoughts you had mislead yourself into believing did not exist, it is not as if the marriage disappointed you, the prospect was aptly plain, a paradox which did not trouble you enough for such thoughts to arise,

you desire the brushing of his curvatures against yours, the astounding delicacy of his fingertips as they make contact with your skin. grown nails cultivating individual marks on the vain, restrained complexion of his simply striking epidermis, teeth barred in the manner of an animal as you unabashedly ground them into the side of his neck, masticating each piece in a singular bite, the bitter lingering of copper remaining on your tongue.

but no sane individual divulges such feelings, you envisage the horror that shall paint the features of your parents, and you’re aware of the petulance of jaemin’s own, they would chop off your head.. astoundingly, that would be a terrific case for you.

you really do despise how far your mind strays, intrusively worming into your conscience, staining every plain thought you could ever have.

na jaemin makes it no better.

and it occurs to you that he is completely aware of that fact, your clear lack of contentment aside, there’s a sense of delight he derives from your plight, lips splitting upward in that terror inducing grin he possesses.

“do you still have night terrors?”

he inquires it to you the following week, accounts of attacks have lessened, yet you remain entrapped by surrounding dread. your nails sink into the conjunction of your shoulder blade, but you neglect to mention such an aspect. “yes but.. i can take care of it myself”.

“aw, don’t you desire my company?” he begins breaching through your safety guard, a specific chord striking in tandem with his candidly alluring smile. “i heard lying along with someone helps do away with them”.

heat coils over your previously unadorned skin, a shade of red evocative of the blood which warms even in the wintry tenor this room holds. you remain frozen, he somehow manages closer. “ah, really? and who states that?”

“that will have to remain a secret”.

you intertwine your fingers before even concluding your contemplation process, basking in the mellow delicacy brought by the contact. your eyes flutter closed, as if completely against your own being, but you do not fret.

you do not exactly recall agreeing with his term, but you suppose your memory does often deviate occasionally, that does not happen to grasp your attention.

what does grasp your attention is the sheer mellowness emanating from such an embrace, you once surmised na jaemin would be cold, you reckon he can be once focus is truly applied, but you have never begun to slip so easily. your breathing steadily plummets to a silent state, chest rising and falling in consistent motions, fatigue rendering your limbs weak.

you question what otherworldly abilities he must hold, head tipping over as your conscious slips. his hand remains on your back, jaemin hums, you cannot see him, yet you envision a beam marking his features. “see, what did i tell you?”

a thumb swipes across the skin of your cheek, a touch so pliable you could fall asleep from just it alone. “..soft” you mutter, lips pressed on the blade of his own shoulder. “i’m exhausted”.

the brush of lips on your forehead just barely breezes by, but by such a point, you’re about halfway gone. “sleep fine, i’ll wake you up tomorrow”.

and you cannot halt such movements, you slip almost insistently.

MEETINGS TACK THE FIGURATIVE SCHEDULE YOU MUSE PROBABLY BURNS INTO your brain, though you typically assumed as a child marriage would be much simpler, you retained little of the knowledge needed for such extensive features riddled in the complexities which scorch the arranged union. your mind is misplaced over the course of a few slipping weeks, and if you had little known knowledge of your surroundings, you would be oblivious to how jaemin breaches through your soul with his stare.

his suddenly spiked intrigue in you is displayed by the several thousand gazes you truly wish you could avoid. he has the prettiest of irises, the softest hands though his palms run frigid, a few sharpened molars yet a strikingly enticing smile.

of course you had been riveted first, a flooding, intense fascination marked once you two were children, you suppose you aren’t exactly superior to him in that regard,

but it begins striking that chord again, a pit burying itself further in the crux of your gut, it takes its own childish turn, your skin tone burning bright red as if it is some playground coquetry, he simply holds so much skill, lording all of it above you in a fashion he is aware you could never avoid.

though that cannot shadow over the impending dismay he can always seize one with.

“you’ve been captured by a bundle of nerves haven’t you?”

your constant grazing of your fingertips against the very ring binding you two is enough indication, you wish to envy such observance but you had been much too keen on displaying such anxiety.

he appears knowing of it all.

his riposting grin earns a physical recoil.

yet there’s a shadow of beauty your gaze is sure he possesses, snow white hair and all.

“this is a bit imbecilic”.

“won’t you brighten?”

the corresponding locutions sprout a small smile, regardless of several other feelings present in the air, he somehow boasts the ability to blossom a beam.

“see? you have a beautiful smile”.

and you attempt to grasp at words which have suddenly whisked away, skin possibly an atypical shade of red.

there is an irretrievable skill, you admit.

“won’t you let me help you?”

you blink, baffled, poking a short nail into the visible skin of your chest. “with— with my shirt? i can do it mysel..”

“what kind of fiancé would i be?” and when he advances you remain in your spot, your core organ threatens to beat out of the confines created by your bones. when he takes ahold of your very hands you gaze, in an almost obtrusive manner, his are astoundingly beautiful, the ends of his fingers curve perfectly into your own, despite a clear unconventionality concerning the civil partnership of you two, he simply.. fits. “you deserve to be spoiled”.

“well not.. spoiled, odd word”.

“not even by me? i have no qualms with it”.

“i..” then his hands cross the figurative barriers you had yourself fasten upward in regards to strangers, it all crumbles speedily, the brick wall fragmented by his plainly frozen hands, prompt points of his fingertips coming to aid you in pinning the buttons of your shirt together. “it’s a little convoluted”.

whispering appears to be his forte, his reply arrives swiftly; “i’m good at decoding people”.

you have diminutive assertions against that one.

the silence is an irreparable exertion you somehow fear though the expectancy rules over the now chilling air.

you peek with the upward flit of your eyes, an encapsulating fear tugging onto the seams of your conscience. jaemin’s gaze retains hunger, faultlessly dimmed over by affinity mysteriously wrought.

a flinch, his thumb dances over your knuckles and the brisk touch withdraws a wince. “ah, you have a problem, do you always bite them?”

you timorously heave yourself away from such a convenience, leer averting as you attempt to disconcentrate. jaemin chuckles, it has a peculiar, harmonious ring, a sweet rhythm you loathe enjoying as much as you do. “i’m simply.. uh—“

well you’re a bit pathetic aren’t you? so entrenched in the confines of your very mind that the prospect concerning a simple tête-à-tête had you just about yearning to perish at his presumptuous peering. “i get overwhelmed easily, it has a better effect than scratching”.

you misread his upcoming expression, the reticent nature of his eyebrow raise unsettling you. “could you not?”

you are slightly baffled. “what?”

“it’s destructive”.

nail biting is a years aged tendency sparked in your juvenescence, simply ridding of it has proven arduous. he appears to miscalculate you in the same breath his confidence overtakes him,

but you cannot say that.

his grip tightens yet you cease the painful sound crawling up your throat, hands threatening to burn a shade of red. “okay”.

he seemingly senses the urging perturbation, movements faltering as he relaxes his tensed limbs. “sorry, i care for you, you know?”

you remain quiet, he hums.

“i won’t ever do anything to harm you” oh his tone is so docile, pupils shaded over with intimacy. “trust me”.

you swallowed down your extent of fear, despite it all, there was a certain degree of benevolence you cherished.

WHEN NA JAEMIN DOES KISS YOU, FOR THE initial moment you’re stagnant, motionless, astonished yet not all averse to such actions. darkness shrouds over the horizon as brisk months reign in, candles blazing in tandem across the halls, effortlessly brightening the atmosphere despite a clear weariness. your limbs had acted upon practice and a step back was taken, expression remaining stalled.

“sorry” his laughter always produces a harmonious rhythm, a sound so pleasurable you constantly wonder the circumstances of such actions. “did you not..?”

“no, no! i—“ well you could merely blink, a stark glance retaining all of the apprehension you could communicate, though silent. “i was put aback, that is all”.

a sullied frown tugs at his lips, his appearance remorseful even in the face of your clear craving, soulful desire you could barely contain in the crevices of your pupils and the continuous exhibition which concerned your very inclination. “is kissing restricted?”

“i..” he is indeed adept at rendering you aghast, tongue tied as your stare lingers. “no, i was unaware our relationship extended far enough”.

the visible light bouncing off his eyes falters a bit, as if planned by those pulling the strings of the universe, an indurate pool of dullness coating it all. he then chuckles, the hysterics a chorus in itself, you are unsure of what to expect from him, courtesy to several peculiarities.

“we have to practice for the wedding”.

a short snicker itself escapes you, amusement as clear as the bright red displaying itself across your cheeks. “you’re charming”.

“ah, really?”

“strange.. but charming”.

he may as well eat you whole, a shadowing creature which reminds you of the word devoro; consume, devour, taken from the roots of devorare; devoravi, devoratus. teeth all illicit, conniving in that evil manner you cannot comprehend, tearing first at your flesh, then muscle, then bone, licking it all clean simply, gore painting the seams of his lips.

yet you are irresolute to just how freakish you would find the sight, in the worst of shades he could possibly behold the world’s beauty.

such a shameless notion is pathetic.

and perhaps you are too, a stout man built off concerning queries.

“how about we just anchor in on the charming point?”

you chuckle again, delight somehow trailing behind you once in his presence, perverse eccentricities and all.

“well it’s..” the mismatched terms lodge themselves in your throat as he purely approaches you, once more, inaudibly, lashes fluttering in their typical fashion. his fingers trail across the fabrics of your shirt, it acting as a barricade towards his veracious desires. you waver, fumbling through terms which should be compatible. “is seduction formidable?”

“what were you speaking of before?”

“i— jaemin..”

“hm?”

a sharp clutch at your collar, his lips hook upward into a grin which entices you greatly, ready serenity faltering.

your sanity shatters in definite fragments.

he latches onto it, some solemn creature, dimmed gaze boring through the enclosure you once prided upon the existence of, yet you are simply so..

frail.

you may well have madness scrawled over your features, permeating the insolent corners of your very mind.

so he does advance again, and you do not stagger astern, in the moment, you solely submerge yourself into the juncture.

kissing is.. odd, on his part anyway. it is as if his proclivity does entail the prospect of drinking your lungs, unhinging his jaw from its point of origin to swallow you whole, scant bones behind in your wake.

the honesty which persists colors your cheeks a baby pink, his drive is uncoordinated, mismatched yet boyishly endearing. its endlessly puerile, a complete disparity to what you might have assumed in specific late night dreams.

he nips at the breaching barrier of your top lip, teeth all perfect as he groans into the seams of your mouth. it’s all foolish, asinine in the fashion concerning a child, uninterrupted clashing with pulling and gnawing, like you supply a ready source for his hunger.

his teeth take a grinding motion in the sector of your neck, you sigh.

“still wedding practice?”

his tongue slides over his teeth, your breath hitches.

he breaches in and takes you apart with easy pulls, his nimble hands embed themselves into the crevices of your sides, barrages of red and purple blossoming in the stitching joints which align your hip bones, overly interfering with the digging of his nails.

it’s all a dizzying prospect, his fingertips figurative markers in the canvas which smudges your epidermis.

he is intensively torrid, blistering despite the frigid stabbing the ends of his digits offer.

the starry stricken actions remind you of scribbled literature, poetry echoing in reference to intimacy, boundless scriptures throughout history concerning love, amor, roaming hands clasping several individual emblems into your typically pallid dermis.

you can muse on several instances where you reflected over love making, isolation leads to those sprawling out perplexing ideations of how their fate may play. the curvatures painted into the ceiling jump out in your vision, figures reaching to entwine fingers despite their inevitable distance.

jaemin lifts a finger, the touch emitting some otherworldly pinch on your temple, cushioned up across your ecru comforter, his features appear all docile in spite of the intimate point shared, laid out bare before you. “your eyes keep brightening in that manner..”

“hm?”

“you are all disconnected, is ceiling architecture truly so riveting?”

you tut, habitually seeking out your unguis to pick at, yet na jaemin instead interlocks your hands, soundless in his scowling. “i’m unsure”.

somehow, he nears, your frames practically woven as the fragmented vaulting artwork resembles something of a dream, dormant pastel shades weaving into each other, an image you can equate to a quite familiar sight.

“do such paintings come with the palace?”

“do i possess all the world’s knowledge?”

you stare. “is that the start of a spurn?”

“is all you do inquire endlessly?”

you fall inaudible, interlaced hands falling atop the door of your heart. jaemin hums.

“your heart beats rapidly, you’re all skittish”.

such a circumstance is unfortunate, you could not illustrate a much fitting word.

MAN OFTEN ESCALATES STRIFE, IT IS OFTTIMES WHY you speculate violence transpires in the manner of an outdated experiment, rapidly evolving upward, surfacing until it all delves into inevitable failure, the gurgling of one’s own blood or the protruding fragments their bones offer. the landscape crunches under your scōns, figurative screams of souls suffocating in the mountains encapsulating nature’s parcels haunting your very ears.

yet you have not been in the face of death for a few yearning months, nightfall extends over the horizon and the numbing atmosphere seizes your nimble heart, rendering you a mere useless vessel.

what pleases your mind is the presence of flora, all slight graces and bated breaths heeds it. there is trivial discrimination on your part, floret all bear beauty; daffodils, irises, daisies, roses in spite of the rudimentary thorns and peonies all alike. they harbor no true judgment, the luminescent moon beams several petals containing grace, across the curves outlining your features which then correspond to the solace easily provided.

the most unsaid of thoughts do not bear a name in the crevices which begat your mind, yet you are aware the inclined hymns of nightly creatures bring out the worst notions any one mortal being could manifest, such an upheaval a stoic plight.

jagged, uncanny corollas about splinter the core of your middle finger when you are alerted by a sound. your eyes flit upward, encompassing ambience encapsulated within the twilight area, veiled in tenebrosity.

nothing, you have a mad mind, y/n.

chastisement does you no aid.

a twig snaps, the racket nearly shaking the encircled environment.

you shut your eyes, avoiding any semblance of antipathy is intelligent, your parents clobber in the like statement ad nauseam, lacking juvenile violence a marker for the clear upshot.

you shake your head, naught imperilment yet a stark disquietude.

you retain a minuscule feat of valor, all which compasses you equates to one fainthearted caitiff, one who could not withstand peril,

yet you take the two steps.

stalking around the overarching woodland bordering the garden is possibly an imbecile’s action. thorny vines form shards in the cross of your epidermis, weaving before your path as if shading you against the inevitable hazard.

but you haphazardly breach through the incorrigible protection offered by mother nature herself, all impetuous, unhandled negligently.

on the outset, you surmise the continuous snapping is of your soles pressed against the ground, a poignant snap resounding in every step.

you are terribly mistaken.

the former uptake of clouds has now dispersed, though you are completely overtaken by whelmed dread.

there stands a.. creature, wolf-like features all nowt, a nauseating crack echoes throughout the environ, magnetic pulsars reverberating off the walls. its jaw extends, splintering, inhumane, hanging onto the point at which it begins. enlarged claws drawn from the seams of its fingertips, it towers over the surface its feet begin at.

you, insoluble in all sane mind, are starstruck.

throughout the several pages of scorned literature which permeate your mind, you have never once envisioned the skeletal structure regarding such a behemoth, but this is no veridical varmint.

frankly, the sight is obscene, though such a statuette has not once beliked the eyes of one human being, yet you gaze upon it, alive, fragmentary..

the thing is much akin to leviathans, swines you had sworn to fiction in the safety of your shy story books, its protuberant skeletal frame distended from the very corium which relays the sliver of humanity a beast could retain.

then it descends upon its victim and.. oh lord how you do not purge up every single internal vapor at the grotesque sight. he is hapless, seraphic phenomena nowt as it takes one ceremonious bite, resounding in a abhorrent crunch to destroy formerly order bones in the seams of his chest cavity.

your breaths remain intact, a dutiful action which could possibly save you a couple years.

it is ruthless in its execution, the overgrown claws obtruding from inhumane limbs sinking into the core of the human senses; the heart. ribs snaps in tandem with trenchant talons euchring the man’s existing cutis, blood beginning a violent stream as his continuing beating heart seemingly withstands the barbarous strafe.

you are aware of how it may transpire, you are an imbecile! you ought to evade such a discerning affair and hasten.

yet you gaze on, enigmatic, the inscrutable urging to merely perceive such gnarled events, perhaps inciting your very demise, a death which you had narrowly circumvented with impromptu prosperity.

ichor almost poetically stains the lamented land you and all others associate the air of regnum morsu with, coloring it with vibrancy one would surmise could only be caused by celebrations of human life.

you suppose it is much forthright.

clear thought is steered clear once the hankering creature, abundantly immersed in feasting on the heart of one innocent man, pauses in their maneuvering, as if sensing your very presence, you muse on how far you would make it to ready safety, aptly falling into the arms of your parents in the manner of a skittish child, sobbing into the night.

yet you are once again frozen in your locus, the purging pool in your stomach relinquishing.

its..

“jaemin?”

indeed, it is the scrawled face of your imminent husband, golden marriage token binding you to him. a spate of several conversations hastily meeting the points which intersect your mind with your common sensibility.

the sight is sickening, a ravishing grin overtaking his distinct facets, gore staining the formerly vain white of his teeth, softening pupils akin to the unlit ether relegated by the existing sky. he does not allow a kindred terror to grip his heart, unlike the one he had been mauling.

you despise your very fortitude, you cannot help.. well,

he is beautiful, almost ethereal, otherworldly in his denominative modus. your blink produces teardrops you had little cognizance of, though you conserve the inevitable sniveling.

“y/n” and oh, may the lord forgive you for your actions, peering in the direction of this monster, yet you reside, circumstances enigmatic to your very sanity, how does one oppose a prospect?

the back of his hand comes smeared over with blood as he seemingly polishes himself, a sheer amount tinting definite strands of white.. red. a sight paralleling the printed words regarding the queen of hearts painting her white roses red. “ah, i wished for this to hap another way”.

you grapple with deduced terms, inhaling a long breath.

“you want to sob”.

your riposting head shake displays lucid dishonesty. “well.. i—“

foreseeable words perish in your throat, his stupor dissolves, and he again inclines back into the jaemin you know, startlingly peculiar, yet not an entire monster.

you whimper, his stained hands come to cradle your cheeks. the slight caress jostles a sob upward from the crux of your chest, blood painting your very own skin despite the nearby ferocity. “pardon me, it’s simply.. difficult”.

your sleeve acts as a cushion, drying up your tears. a swiping finger, your teeth sink into the side of your cheek. “you— a bath, you’re filthy”.

it’s a pragmatic approach, a man’s heart lay bare over the grassy landscape, yet you have apprehension concerning the portrayal of your fiancé.

he chuckles, the first of many pink tints accompanying his rejoinder.

you two interlock hands, solicitously, uncanny callousness meeting your very fingertips.

in sickness and in health, they muse, till death do us part.

AMANS SEMPER, QUOD TIMET, ESSE PUTAT; a lover believes it to be as he fears. your several durational stints are pervaded by absorbent literature, tempura airbrushing permeating the air fumes, and an anomalous expanse of displayed macabre, distempered varnishes staining several of your very canvases, clashing hued red only deciphered with the slightest narrows.

the marriage shall go forward, the reflection of your aureate trinket reminding you each moment. per capita, jaemin insights hindrance, prodding at the seams of your very mind which clearly does not detest, you surmise that something has to be wrong with him.

yet you suppose uncanny cheshire grins and flagrant embraces he feigns all innocence to are little of an indicative hassle, you covertly enjoy such disturbances.

he heedlessly carves over the arches of your shoulders, thumbs compressing the sheer few knots, all tempering the strain which weighs upon you.

you affably bat no eyes when jaemin infiltrates your chambers during the off fashioned twilight hours, habitually whilst you fasten your focus onto a particular novel, his lips stained a peculiar red, the prospect now its own distinct color painting your very canvas.

jaemin is exotically benign considering his.. attributes, as if you are all fragile, a lone share of glass, one where despite the sting, is all volatile at the merest of graces. his fingers weave extensively into yours, digits often tapering off into callous territory, natheless evading their typical docile manner.

there is a clear lack of the imminent monstrosity you expected prior, or perhaps you have simply been driven deranged.

you presume the derangement pervades it all. feasibly, he could consume you one day, once the figurative cattle go to waste, you remain. he commences at a hushed beginning, allowing you to gaze on at his teeth as he carved out the thoracic cavity, the core of your thorax decimated to fragments in a singular bite alone. dawning at your lungs, then mangling your thymus, esophagus, trachea, you muse he would save your vascular organ as an apparent finish, savoring each singular sinking of teeth.

jaemin is an indicatively amorous, pure white smiles planting kisses upon your skin.

“you are all.. hysterical”.

“not quite”.

his fingernails require some trimming, it is a stark reminder to you what he truly entails, uncannily splintered claws abrading over your nightly cooling dermis. “i reiterated i would never”.

“what if i’m the only one left for you to?”

his thumb snares at the corner of your lips, his caress so placid you about pitch into a slumber. his grin is narcotic, every single tooth, including those which occupy much brimmed space is displayed.

“is that where intimacy lies for you?”

“is it truly that intimate?”

you reckon the answer is about crystalline.

it may appear intimate to him, desire as imminent as the ichor which would smear over his hands at the grasp of your beating heart. “intimacy varies..”

“a sincere romantic you are”.

the flat of his palm feels your heart once more, he may devour it one by one, chewing immersive.

you infer perishing is inevitable, but if you do, you crave for his hands to be those to ruin you.

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