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sipsteainanxiety · 1 year

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when the night calls...

...do you answer back?

pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader

word count: 2.7k+

mentions: no pronouns mentioned, char death (bkg) but not reaaalllyyy, aged up chars (25+), supernatural elements in a pro-hero au, grief/mourning, horror-esque but it's romantic i promise, hurt/comfort, lowercase, part of the dark chocolates teahouse collab.

you thought katsuki was gone—that he had abandoned you in this life to move on to the next. you saw his body—lifeless, cold, still. saw him get lowered into the ground in his dark casket enveloped in his hero colors. you stayed, for hours after the funeral, at his grave. wondering why he had to leave—why he had to break the promise he whispered to you on the night you both said your vows.

you thought he was dead. that he'd left you alone.

you were wrong.

the shadows seemed to long for your touch.

they lingered just out of the corner of your vision, always appearing closer than they actually were. you'd turn to see them stretching in your direction in ways that did not align with the light. you played it off as your mind playing tricks on you—as your grief warping your perception. but it was so hard to ignore, so hard to simply shrug off.

they crept over your shoulder—a chill running up and down your spine. they followed along as you walked home after a long day at work. they wrapped around you as you slept. you found yourself lingering in the darkness, not quite understanding why you just—never felt like you were alone. not truly alone, anyways. it was slightly unsettling, but you learned to ignore it.

you weren't scared, not particularly. it was just—cold. it made you feel isolated, at times. like the world was trying to shroud you in this darkness to remind you of what you'd lost.

you needed time by yourself, that was all. you told your friends the same stilted words again and again. i'll be fine, you'd say with a smile, just give me time. you lay in bed—that too large bed with too many pillows—and twisted the silver ring on your finger. staring up at the ceiling swathed in the milky lighting of the moon. the shadows appeared to move before you. your mind did not relent in your exhaustion.

with each passing day the ache in your heart only seemed to grow deeper. you wondered if it would ever end. you wondered if you would ever heal.

it was hard, being at home. traces of katsuki lingered everywhere you went. he was in the large boots that rested neatly by the door. in the lingering smell of burnt caramel that plagued your sheets and clothes. in the worn handle of his favorite spatula. it felt like you were suffocating, surrounded by so much of him. it was only natural for you to want to escape—to breathe. but it wasn’t that simple, and stepping outside just made everything worse.

he was on the t.v. screens in stores as japan still grieved, his face on every news channel. plastered to every pole, every brick wall. memorials were scattered around musutafu. candle stubs lined the streets. they were constructing a statue dedicated to him in front of the agency he’d co-owned with eijiro. you did not let your gaze wander for long. you were torn—drowning in your own sorrows and the sorrows of the people who surrounded you.

moping around would do you no good, you came to realize one day as you stared at a framed picture in your bedroom. it was the two of you on your wedding day, fingers intertwined tightly—two threads woven together expertly. the setting sun cast long shadows around the room from the open window that seemed to latch onto you. holding on for dear life. you ran a finger down katsuki’s face in the picture—the gentle smile he’d graced you with. only ever shown in your presence. you set the frame down and sighed—longing.

it took a few days for you to clean the entire apartment. deep scrubbing it and dousing it in a freshener to get rid of the bits of katsuki that lingered in the air. you hoped—so desperately—that it would alleviate some of the pain you felt in your chest. but as you stood in your darkened living room that smelled like citrus, you only felt emptier, it seemed. you ran a weary hand down your face.

you couldn’t… quite bring yourself to pack his things away just yet, either. so you sat on your couch as the moon peaked at you through the slightly drawn curtains, a single candle lit on the coffee table before you. it was lavender scented. you slumped forward to knead your fingers into your temples. you were exhausted. you missed him, so much that it hurt.

you stared at the flickering tangerine flame as it gleamed across your corneas.

something whispered your name.

it was soft—faint like a breath of air—yet it echoed so loudly in your ears because of how quiet your apartment was. your eyes darted up and to the side, wide and searching in the dark. you were alone. you couldn't see much beyond the couch you were sat upon. you swallowed heavily and waited, straining your ears in case you heard your name again. but you didn't.

you wondered if your grief was driving you insane.

you pursed your lips and stood up so you could slowly make your way to your bedroom to retire for the night. the shadows around you grew deeper with every step you took.

behind you, the candle went out.

you felt as though you were being watched.

it happened out of nowhere, the feeling of eyes on you as you went about your day. at first you chalked it up to your nerves, maybe the fatigue that weighed heavily on your shoulders. but it persisted. the feeling was stronger at night, you noticed, when you were surrounded by the dark. or at least, you weren't as aware of it whilst you were bathed in daylight.

it grew harder and harder to ignore as time passed. in other circumstances, you wouldn't have let it affect you so much. you wouldn't have had such difficulty with proceeding on with your daily routine. but you were troubled by the weight of the stare and the voices that whispered your name at night—when you were at your lowest, sitting in that too cold, too wide living room that smelled like a mix of citrus and lavender.

what really shook you, however, happened one evening after the sun had set and a gloomy dusk settled across the navy sky. you were sitting on the couch in your living room as you read a book, the lamp in the corner turned on to swathe everything in a warm honey glow. after what felt like hours, you eventually got up to grab a glass of water from the kitchen. it was then that you felt your foot get caught on something.

at first you thought you'd fallen victim to the blanket that spilled over the arm of the couch like a lazy waterfall. but when you looked down at your foot, you realized it wasn't stuck on anything. in fact, there was nothing wrong with it. you blinked down at your foot slowly, not comprehending what exactly was going on. it felt as though something had wrapped around it, gripping tightly at your ankle. something you couldn't see.

you gave a halfhearted tug at it, noticing how it was in the shadow of the couch from the lamp's light. but it didn't budge—not one bit. something in your stomach seemed to sink and grow deeper as you tried to pull your foot free from whatever held onto it. you swallowed heavily and—with all the strength in your body—wrenched your foot free. out of the deep shadow it was encased in.

the force you used made you stumble back until you hit the floor roughly on your backside. you immediately tugged your legs closer to your body, staring wide-eyed at the spot your foot had been stuck in before. there was nothing there. the skin around your ankle seemed to buzz. a shiver crawled up your spine.

something had changed, that evening.

you started drawing your curtains wide open, letting in the sun's light during the day and the moon's at night. you kept the lights on in every room you were in, chasing away every last remnant of the shadows. you were driving up your electricity bill, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. anything to make you feel safe—in a place where you once thought you could not be harmed.

it made you jumpy—set your attentiveness on fire. it had gotten to the point where your friends had started to notice something was wrong.

"are you... okay?" mina asked you tentatively one day as you met with her for a late lunch. your eyes darted over to look at her from where they'd been lingering on the shadows splayed across the table. "you seem... nervous."

"i'm fine," you assured her quickly, clearing your throat. your fingers tapped at the laminated menu before you. "i just... ah... have a lot on my mind, is all."

mina hummed, but it didn't seem like she really believed you. "if you say so..." her dark eyes looked down at her own menu, then back up at your own with a newfound sincerity to them. "you know we're here for you, right? i know it's... hard. for you."

you looked at her—really looked at her. she looked as tired as you felt, though where she covered her fatigue up with makeup, you didn't. and you were reminded, just then, that katsuki had been her friend, too.

you reached over so you could give her pink hand a gentle squeeze. "yeah"—you gave her a soft smile that she reciprocated—"i know."

you found yourself, one saturday evening, sitting on the floor in the middle of your brightly lit living room as you shuffled through a cardboard box. in it, were photo albums that mitsuki had gifted you so long ago. they were filled to the brim with childhood photos of katsuki—from the moment he was born, to the moment he and you had finally moved in together. you weren’t sure why, exactly, you were compelled to crack open this box, but you did. and it was simultaneously the best and the worst decision you’d made since his death.

you smiled wetly as your fingers flipped page after page, trailed down picture after picture of katsuki. him when he was five, his palms popping like sparklers. him when he was sixteen, grumpily standing with eijiro outside u.a. him when he was twenty-four, an arm wrapped around your shoulders as he scowled off into the distance. you thought everything would get easier—you hoped and dreamed. but it didn’t. at least, not yet.

you sighed and shut the thick album gently. then you hugged it to your chest, closing your eyes as you reminisced.

you breathed in, deep.

there was the smell of burnt caramel in the air—faint.

your eyes snapped open just as the lights went out around you, plunging you into darkness.

for a moment, your breaths stilled. you blinked, your eyes wide as they adjusted to the sudden change. the open window allowed pale blue moonlight to reach into the room, but it wasn’t enough. you glanced around, wondering what had happened. power outage? you glanced at the t.v. stand, where the cable box on the shelf within it still blinked red numbers at you to tell you the time. that was odd. you frowned and slowly picked yourself off the ground.

the moment you moved, you immediately felt the weight of a foreboding, familiar stare. that bore straight through you and set each and every hair on your arms and neck straight. you froze and let your eyes trail around you, cataloging every piece of furniture, every dark shadow that stretched towards you.

and that was when you noticed it.

in the deepest, darkest corner of your living room.

there was something. something that seemed to draw in the darkness around it. that writhed and dripped as it pulled itself up from the ground. no, not from the ground, you discovered. from the shadows. it was large. it was tenebrous. and it terrified you.

but you couldn’t get yourself to run away. no matter how much you willed your legs to move, it seemed like you were rooted to one spot. you watched as this thing slammed a large, clawed hand on the floor—midnight like the shadows around it—and scratched its nails deep into the wood. it coalesced into what looked like a head and shoulders—a torso that moved in a way that was inhumane.

you took in a sharp breath of air when it rasped out something deep. that grated at your ears and made you feel the sudden urge to run. two crimson dots peered at you—bright like smoldering pieces of coal. and you realized you were looking right into its eyes.

it was difficult to decipher where the thing started and where it ended, with how wrapped into the shadows it was. you felt your heart leap up into your throat when it rasped that same word again—that you soon realized wasn't just any normal word. it was your name. and maybe that realization was all it took to jar you into movement.

you stumbled backwards, your instincts screaming at you to get away—run as fast as you could. it wasn't safe here anymore, it wasn't safe. you spun around and lunged for the front door, hoping, perhaps, that once you left your apartment, you would be okay. you could get help.

but you didn't make it too far.

something latched onto your leg, crawled up your body until you were twirled back around and forced into one spot. the thing wrapped its murky limbs around you, looming over you until all you could see was its strange, dark body. it pinned your arms to your sides and gripped at your chin to make you look up at it.

it said your name again—in a voice, you noticed, was familiar, somehow. with an undertone of this desperation. that gripped at your heart and caused you to look into its crimson eyes once more. really look at them. and what you saw reflected against them made you stop struggling. the pale moonlight backlit its features that slowly took on a shape you could recognize. you swallowed heavily.

"katsuki?" you whispered hesitantly. its grip loosened slightly at your voice. and suddenly you were burning up from the inside as the last bits of shadow slipped from its face and revealed one you knew all too well—that plagued you in your dreams and your nightmares. you slipped a hand out of his hold so you could reach up with shaky fingers and lightly touch at the curve of his cheek. his eyes closed.

"how are—" you choked out, your voice thick with emotions you couldn't even begin to decipher. your eyes frantically darted across his features, taking them in—memorizing them as though it was the last time you would ever see them again. he looked like himself, like your katsuki. but there was his underlying feeling that something was wrong. inhuman in the paleness of his skin and the way this darkness seemed to cling to him, unrelenting. "how are you—"

"i fought through hell," katsuki rasped out in a voice that seemed to echo in your ears, "to get back to you."

"you—" something seemed to lodge itself in your throat, just then. and all you could do was lean forward and wrap your arms around his shoulders. pulling him closer so you could rest your ear against his chest and listen to the thrumming of his heart. alive.

"it was hard"—he swallowed thickly—"i tried so fuckin' hard to let y'know i was here. but i was so fuckin' weak. couldn't do shit other than mess with the lights."

"all that time," you breathed as you turned your gaze to look up at him, "it was you?" he only grunted and held you closer. you bit at the inside of your bottom lip to keep it from trembling and buried your face into his dark chest. his body seemed to waver—shake, almost—like it could fall apart at any second. and that terrified you.

"what... happened to you?" you asked in a stifled voice, talking into his sternum. "please tell me you can stay."

"don't think 'bout that," he told you as one of his clawed hands came up to cradle the back of your head. you sunk deeper into his hold, unwilling to let go. "'m here now, yeah?"

you held him tighter—as though you could absorb him directly into your body. it was true, he was back. he was here as this tumultuous being of the night. that had clawed his way back to you—defying death as you knew it.

but at a cost you knew would never be repaid.

#teahouse collab: dark chocolates #no bc he LITERALLY fought thru hell to get back to u #bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #anyways um idk where i was going with this but uhhhh eldritch horror bkg ig #light dose on the eldritch #me to this one shot: i hate u biiitch #pain in my ass #bakugou x you

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xuchiya · 5 months

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so innocent: so not pure 01

—-------------- ₊˚.༄ [chapter: 01] ₊˚.༄ —------------------

[i decide to not make it supernatural au, i'm sorry] words: 2.0k warning: childhood flashbacks, mentions of astrology, cursing, smut (public sex) and fluff with maltese yeosang ₊˚.༄ [chapter: 00] ₊˚.༄ - ₊˚.༄ [chapter: 02] ₊˚.༄

summer 2002

the morning summer sun was spent perched in their kingdom atop the old oak tree, a poorly excuse built tree house, whispering secrets like dandelion wishes on the wind. moonjin, a wisp of a girl with eyes that mirrored the summer sky– her presences resemble what an angel would look like, so innocent, and yeosang, a whirlwind of freckles and mischief– full of adventures and unpredictable.

they were inseparable. they were pirates on stormy seas, astronauts soaring through stardust, their imaginations painting vibrant worlds within the creaking confines of their wooden haven, “did you know that billions of galaxies together, trillions of trillions and trillions of stars in our universe?” her soft pitch voice made yeosang giggle but shakes his head upon hearing her trivia.

“no that would be impossible …”

“but it’s true! stars would look like diamonds on the night sky. it will look beautiful.” moonjin’s admiration to astrology made yeosang curious about what so good about a ball of fire yet he didn’t interfere– seeing the sparkle in her eyes, the same as how stars glow.

“why did they name you moonjin if you like stars?” yeosang asks, tilting his head to the side. moonjin shrugs, having no clear explanation about his name, “my parents said i was born on a full moon … but-- i don’t know, they don’t have a special meaning to it.” yeosang watch her reaction carefully until he looks up to see the full moon already peeking from the 5pm sunset, his eyes settled on the moon above then back to the moon beside him, “maybe because there’s only one moon.”

moonjin looks at him, confused “huh?” yeosang smiles at her, eyes showing his honesty, “you said there’s billions of stars in our galaxy, right? then even if there’s trillions, quadrillions of them– there’s only one moon that shines the brightest amongst them.”

that moment there, the swirl of cold breeze of the summer night brought two hearts as one. their bond deepened with sticky fingers and shared laughter. building precarious towers of legos, devouring stolen cookies beneath the watchful gaze of a disapproving grandma, their days were a tapestry woven from shared adventures and unspoken promises.

it was daisies and sunshine but when adolescence came, with its clumsy limbs and hormonal earthquakes, it had a way of shattering childhood castles. sophomore year arrived, cloaked in an awkward silence that settled between them. yeosang's smiles, once as bright, became tinged with a hesitant shyness. his eyes still held those same mischief, though now there’s something more that flicker of something moonjin couldn't decipher– longing, perhaps, or hesitance, she couldn't name.

the treehouse, their sanctuary, stood witness to their fractured friendship. conversations, once free-flowing rivers, became stuttered streams, punctuated by long, aching pauses. yeosang still talked to her, of course, but their interactions remained tethered to the surface, ghosts of their vibrant past echoing in the hollow spaces between them.

moonjin, ever the observer, retreated further into her shell. her quiet whispers seemed magnified by the newfound distance, her words swallowed by the chasm that had blossomed between them. yet, beneath the shyness, a flicker of longing mirrored yeosang's – a yearning for the carefree days of shared secrets and sticky fingers, a silent plea for their laughter to find its melody once more.

2024 brought more than just a new year for moonjin and yeosang. it marked the dawn of a new era, fueled by yeosang's determined push for change. gone was the lanky boy whose smile masked a flicker of uncertainty; in his place emerged a young man radiating newfound confidence, sculpted by hours spent in the gym and fueled by an unyielding ambition.

that did not go unnoticed by moonjin, ever the keen observer, became an involuntary witness to yeosang's metamorphosis. the shy glances he used to steal in their freshman year were replaced by a steady, unwavering gaze that sent shivers down her spine. his once hesitant laugh boomed to a contagious one to other people near him, a vibrant symphony that drew surprised smiles from everyone around. including moonjin.

“have i fuck you so dumb now that you can’t talk, eh?” moonjin was pulled out from her thoughts when her hair was pulled back at the same time, yeosang’s hips thrusting back. they were still on the same position as yeosang continuously slams back harshly, hitting the spot that sent moonjin squealing, moaning under his hold. yeosang lets go of his hold on her hair, grabbing her cheeks mushing them together, tilt her head to the side, “use your words, star.”

the table keeps screeching each thrust yeosang makes as he picks up his phase, gripping her hips with one hand to keep her on place. moonjin nodded, “yes– yes you fuck me so good!” even if its inaudible, yeosang’s cock twitches from the immense look moonjin was giving. those doe innocent eyes fill with tears everytime his tip reaches her g-spot, mouth gape open struggle to keep her moans on bay, clothes wrinkle her skirt hike up to her waist exposing her milky ass that was now red with yeosang’s handprint.

yeosang crosses his arms, gripping her waist tightly his veins popping out as he grinds his hips softly then pulling back and thrusting back in swiftly, edging moonjin close to her climax. he repeat the same actions when he felt his high coming, yeosang crawled his grip underneath her uniform to her covered chest; pulling down the bra as he started kneading her breast, pinching, circling her tits in his fingers knowing it takes her to her climax and on queue, he heard her cursing repeatedly, pornographic moans leaving her lips, “fuck fuck yeosang i’m cumming–!” yeosang leaned down pressing himself on your back, hips picking up its speed, going smoothly and swiftly as his mouth ajar broken moans, his breath close to her ears, “yeah? –shit did you just–” just like she mention a while ago, yeosang pull himself up, his pants were now dripping with her arousal as her juices kept squirting out her cunt, her hips shaking as she chased after her high.

yeosang watches her unfolds in front of him, chest heaving, sweat trails down on her foreahead to her chin, her knuckles white from the intense climax. he chuckles, “you did great star … now its my turn.”

he look behind him to see the chair in the same place, he pulled themselves down on the chair as he squeezed her ass in his hands, “make me cum.” moonjin, still recovering from her high, looks behind her as yeosang leaned back down on the chair; waiting for her to move. She sat between his legs,his cock still resting inside her. Her hands each side on his thighs as she started to pick up her pace.

she started bouncing herself on yeosang, hips moving effortlessly to meet his. the view was what yeosang dreamed, watching her ass jiggles each time she comes back down–best part? Seeing how her hole swallow his cock down to the base made him throw his head back, gripping her waist before bucking his hips up, stammering by the pleasure running down his veins as he pump his seeds inside her clamp walls.

when yeosang came down from his high, moonjin gradually remove herself; bending over with one hand spreading her ass to expose her puckered pussy which slowly spewed his cum. yeosang bit his lip, cock laying on his stomach twitch at the sight, “i– fuck that’s so hot, star.”

moonjin stood up, pulling her skirt down fixing her uniform, turning around to look at yeosang; her face red as a tomato not from the compliment but from the tiresome exertion to the extent of wanting to sleep on the spot but they have to clean up, “yeo come on, let’s clean up.”

yeosang look at her as his chest, heaves still in his post-nut clarity, “5 minutes …” moonjin shakes her head, grabbing her littered panty on the floor when she felt a hand smacking her ass causing her to yelp, spinning to see yeosang smirking at her. he was leaning forward with his arms resting on his knees, tongue moisting his lips, “nice ass by the way.”

moonjin scoffed,“yeah thanks to you, my butt is probably sore tomorrow.” she mumbled, directing the blame squarely at him. yeosang laugh at her amusedly, “you should be used to this by now.”

she pouts at him, rolling her eyes dramatically, “yeah so does the slapping my ass whenever we bump into each other …” he extended his hands out with a ‘what’ look, “at least they know i can only tap that ass.” “shut it doberman!”

their ruckus continue as they clean up their mess, yeosang has to run back to his locker to change his pants which moonjin covered her embarrass face but yeosang praised her for that. the playful bickering dissolved into comfortable silence, the setting sun casting long shadows over the silent classroom. they idle near the open window, letting the cold breeze whish its way in, blowing their hair gently.

yeosang leaned against the chair, mesmerised by the celestial canvas unfolding before him. the whispers of the wind carried the scent of salt and sun-kissed sand, weaving a lullaby around him– the soft blush of the clouds, the swaying symphony of cherry blossom dancing against the fading light. he turned, gaze landing on moonjin, bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun. she stood a few feet away, leaning against the wooden table with an air of quiet contemplation. her hair, a cascade of sun-kissed gold, seemed to catch the last rays of light, turning her into a radiant silhouette against the fiery backdrop.

yeosang's breath hitched, his heart suddenly doing a double take in his chest. the scene – moonjin, framed by the fiery sunset, her quiet silhouette exuding an ethereal beauty – struck him with the force of a tidal wave. it was as if the world had paused, painted in vibrant hues just for his eyes, with moonjin as the captivating centrepiece.

He knew how beautiful she is–heck he witnessed how she went from being the nerdy looking limp kid back in 4th grade then evolving to an athletic appealing young woman she is today. his gaze traced the line of her neck, the way it curved gracefully where it met her shoulder, her figure down to her milky skin. each detail, bathed in the golden hour's glow, amplified his admiration, sending a tingle through his fingertips.

he wanted to capture this moment, freeze it in time like a precious butterfly caught in amber. he wanted to step closer, whisper her name into the fading light, and bask in the quiet magic that seemed to swirl around them. but his feet remained rooted to the spot, his words imprisoned in his throat. the fear of shattering the delicate bubble of their shared stillness held him back, a silent observer in his own unfolding dream.

as the last whispers of the sun faded, moonjin turned, her eyes catching him in a fleeting moment. there was a surprise in her gaze, a flicker of something unspoken that mirrored the storm brewing within him.

and then, just as quickly, her lips curved into a soft smile, the warmth reaching his eyes even before her words did. "what is it?" she murmured, her voice a gentle echo in the twilight, yeosang swallowed, finding his voice at last. "noth–" he breathed, his gaze never leaving hers. "you–," he hesitated, a soft smile curling his lips, "you look beautiful"

moonjin's cheeks flushed a delicate pink, the setting sun mirroring the blush on her skin. but her eyes, sparkling with amusement, held his gaze unflinchingly.iIn that moment, under the fading light of the setting sun, yeosang knew that these feelings he had to her were not just any infatuation– they’re more than that and he is sure of those feelings.

and he hopes that maybe one day or someday when the time is right, he gets to express those bottled up feelings to her and maybe a pinch of hope if she feels the same way.

with moonjin as the captivating muse to his every whispered verse, he’s willing to do more than this.

taglist: @jonghostie , @tigressnamsoon

#ateez #ateez imagines #ateez hard hours #ateez hard thoughts #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #ateez choi jongho #ateez jung wooyoung #ateez song mingi #ateez choi san #ateez kang yeosang #ateez jeong yunho #ateez park seonghwa #ateez hongjoong #ateez x reader

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synthetickitsune · 2 years

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California Dreamin' | Yandere!Demonic Entities!Ateez | [s]

A/N: This whole thing is inspired by the marvelous Hotel California fanfic by @mint-yooxgi and the subsequent headcanons about this au (most of all these) - go read it! It's literally so good and fun and it just sticks inside your head. I've been in my ATZ brainrot era since reading that fic, just... read it and love it 😭 Besides this is a fanfic of that fanfic so yeah, all the necessary context is there lol. And also the character y/n is thinking about is Woven from the webdrama Handmade Love, because I've seen too many memes of Seonghwa looking like Soohyuk's son and Woven makes clothes just like Hwa does in the fanfic so yeah lmao. Summary: Living with eight very attractive men would be a dream if they weren't creatures of hell holding you captive against your will. Frustrated in more ways than one, you decide to take a risk and test the self-control of a certain demon. [Seonghwa centric] Word count: 7.5k Warnings: suggestive, mental voyeurism(?), mentions of masturbation and sex

If your recent experiences taught you anything, it was to be careful what you wish for. Sometimes, more rarely as you grew older and before your life’s become an absolute mess, when your primal desires were a little out of hand, you craved something spicy. Something, as embarrassing and ironic as it is, supernatural. A lover who could go all night without tiring and who would worship your body, please as you wished for - give you pleasure so great you’d trade your soul for it.

Thinking back on it, you almost wanted to cry and smack yourself for being so stupid.

Because it turns out that living trapped with a bunch of exactly those, well, creatures, for the lack of better word, is not exactly as great as you imagined.

Not that it was all that terrible either, they took care of you. You couldn’t complain about boredom, hunger, thirst - they kept you entertained, they fed you the most delicious of meals… You just missed your freedom. And privacy.

Privacy most of all.

That they kept constantly reading your mind was bad enough on its own, but it’s been a while since you’ve had some alone time, and you’re living with eight very attractive men. Your mind wants to wander. How could it, though, when they’d know all about it? And they don’t make it any easier either.

It’d be a herculean task to count the number of times you’ve caught San walking around shirtless or that he’s suddenly appeared in the pool with you, too close for comfort just to see you jump and justify the hug he’d give you as comforting you. Wooyoung turned out to be a pretty passionate dancer in his spare time, you’ve discovered, but everytime you wanted to watch him the dances would get progressively more suggestive until you had to excuse yourself. While others usually found their way to you, Hongjoong you’d look for down at the lobby. It was almost a habit. But whenever you’d be waiting at the desk, your elbows resting on the smooth surface, he’d appear behind you, his hand brushing low, like low, on your back as he apologized for keeping you waiting. Yunho and Mingi? You’d open a door you’d swear led to the library but no, there was a gym now instead and well, seeing two sweaty men, their muscles and veins pumped, looking at you with hooded eyes made you close the door, and your legs, very quick before your mind could betray you. Yeosang and Jongho on the other hand were pretty lowkey, probably the only ones you were confident keeping your head in check around. Safe for the occasions you needed to get something from a higher spot and Yeosang would roll up his sleeves, exposing muscles you would not guess he has and stretch up to get whatever you needed before handing it to you with a smirk tugging at his lips, or whenever Jongho nonchalantly decided to eat fruit around you, splitting it in half with his strength alone, the sweet juices dripping down his hands…

And then there was Seonghwa, who was a menace in his own way, but you couldn’t quite get the little incident that happened during the fitting of your dress for that damned dinner out of your head. They say that the firsts are always the hardest to forget. You tried your best to stay out of his way, but it was near impossible since he, like all of them, could appear out of thin air. He was the most frustrating to be around since you’ve already felt his hands on your waist, your hips, felt his breath on your neck… and that was a problem.

A big problem as all of them could read your mind and had no decency of leaving even the dirtiest of your thoughts alone. They knew you were attracted to them, and you knew they knew. But you were not about to give in. You’d been scared that they’d do whatever they want with you at first, but they made it pretty clear that consent was key for them. In everything but living together apparently. Because that was just a little tiny thing, not like a huge deal. Whatever. Anyway, they’ve reassured you an ungodly amount of times that they won’t do anything you don’t want. And so far they’ve kept that promise. You’ve seen them desire you, seen their eyes turn dark with lust and heard the growls in their chest as they fought against that desire, and you’ve seen them worried about you, caught a rare smitten gaze before you blinked and it was gone too. You wouldn’t call it trust, but it came pretty close.

So now that you step in the shower, feeling frustrated and honestly the most horny you’ve ever felt in your life, you think fuck it. Let’s test it - let’s test them. See if they really do have enough self-control to keep their promise when the only thing separating them from the thing they want most in the world is a couple of flimsy doors. And you know what? Let’s personally attack the one person who’s shown you the least amount of self-control - that’s probably what your brain’s decided. After all, there is a perfect fantasy you’ve dreamed up a long time before you’ve met them, one that you think might ruffle the feathers of a certain demon or whatever they claim to be.

-x-

I don’t care, I can satisfy her better than she can. Mingi growls as he teleports right in front of your door. In a second there’s seven pairs of arms pulling him back while keeping each other in check as well.

No, we have an agreement. Just wait until she calls for us herself and it’ll be that much sweeter. Yunho tries to calm him, as well as the rest of them.

Maybe she'd accept if we offered our services right now… Wooyoung argues back.

We'd just be taking advantage of the situation. Let's show her we can wait and she'll be ours soon enough. Seonghwa growls as he pulls a very eager San and Jongho back from the door.

You're the one to talk. Yeosang scoffs, elbowing Seonghwa who got just a little too far forward himself.

You're acting like a pack of animals. No wonder she doesn't trust us. Hongjoong finally speaks up, effectively shutting down the conversation. They all frown, none of them wants to accept the fact that you’d probably still prefer to leave the hotel and get as far away from them as possible instead of staying with them and becoming truly and properly theirs.

In the silence that settled over them they can hear much better and their minds can’t focus on anything but you. The image of you, aroused and naked with water cascading down your body does little to calm them down, especially since they can hear your sinful thoughts. They need to collectively take a few steps back, no one trusting anyone not to go wild. Besides as your thoughts spiral deeper into the lustful territory, it's harder and harder for them to hold back and so they teleport into another free room. They each check that everyone is there, growling at whoever makes a move or so much as thinks about surprising you in the shower.

“We’ve agreed to give her some privacy. She needs to see we respect her,” Hongjoong reminds them, aloud, since they’re far enough for their voices not to disturb your activities. He’s trying to be the voice of reason, although given the chance he’d be more than willing to fulfill your every wish himself. There seems to be agreement on what he said, even if all of them think that it’s unfair. You must be so lonely and needy, and they’d do a better job of pleasing you than you ever could. If only you’d let them… but no.

Was anyone to walk past the room, they might’ve as well thought there’s a pack of wolves inside. There’s insanity on their faces, in their minds, as rage licks at their souls. Not only do you push them away when you clearly need some release, but you dare imagine another man? Their chests vibrate with growls and snarls as they try their best to stay calm and rational enough to not consider their chances against their brothers. And then suddenly, slowly, their rage begins mixing with confusion.

They can’t see the face of the man in your imagination, but from the back… there’s something suspicious and as much as they’re raging, they’re a little intrigued. Because the man’s figure is walking through a workshop filled with fabrics, mannequins, dresses in all stages of being done, tools familiar to one of them especially. From the back, the black slightly wavy hair is familiar, even the length seems to be about right. What’s not right, however, are the other details they can pinpoint. The man’s shoulders are wider, more muscles on his bones. He’s a little taller too.

If this is going where I think it’s going, I don’t know whether to piss myself laughing first or strangle you first. Wooyoung interrupts the scene, the smirk on his face hinting on the former, while the jealous fire in his fire implies the latter. The others shoot him a glare, Seonghwa’s eye burning holes into him in particular even as the remaining seven boys turn their attention to him.

He can’t help but feel hopeful. He knows you’ve been trying to avoid him, nervous around him the most after what’s transpired in his tailor shop. But he also knows you’ve desired him all the more for it, because unlike his brothers he’s given you something real. Something you can refer to. You know what his touch feels like, you know how tenderly he can hold you and how his lips feel on your skin. Who else but him should you dream of? There are differences, he knows. The slight physical discrepancies, the walk of this person is different from his own, but that might just do with your preferences. He could change for you, if so you wished. The others are of course not as optimistic as Seonghwa is, because as much progress as it would be to have you imagine one of them during such an intimate moment, they wish it’d rather be them.

They don’t get to escalate the situation, however, as your mental image shifts and the man is taking his clothes off, what’s more important - and interesting - however, is you. You’re lying on your back, sprawled on a table that seems to have been cleared in a hurry, the floor littered with fabrics and threads. You’re naked, but the point of view does not provide them with anything to see of your body that’s lower than your shoulders, except for your bare arms that find their way to the man’s shoulders and hair. The growls buzz in their chests like swarms of angry bees. They can’t watch, some of them would swear it physically pains them to see you like that, even if it’s just a dream - a wishful thinking, but before they can take their minds off you, they hear it - the one sound that will haunt them for days and nights, all the way until they make you theirs. Just as they want to close their minds to your fantasies, they hear the sweetest moan escape your lips, but it’s all wrong. You should be calling their name. But no, the last thing they see and hear is you moaning a name that sounds like a curse aimed at them, moaning it with a voice filled with desire. They will never erase that damned name. Not until they get to hear you chanting their names like the sweetest song.

-x-

“Well… at least the dude’s not human,” Yeosang breaks the tense silence. Of course the first thing they’ve done after they calmed down enough to be sure they’re not going to destroy half of the hotel in blind rage was to find out who this guy you were imagining is. Turns out he’s some stupid drama character. While reassured he’s not really real, the madness lingers in their minds. You’re theirs. And they are not ones to share with anyone.

“No, but he’s a god. That’s as far from us as you can get,” San barks back sarcastically. If only it was literally any other supernatural being then maybe he’d consider it a good sign that creatures not of your world are not off the table.

“Are we really gonna ignore the elephant in the room?” Wooyoung sneers and Seonghwa is already bracing himself, calculating the fastest way to cross the room and slam the younger male into a wall, “If our dear brother here was a little more buff and older, they could be brothers. Even have the same damn hobby.” He enjoys the way the eldest fumes, his lips curling in a threatening snarl.

“No, he’s right. I mean, squint a little and you can see the resemblance,” Mingi shrugs, supporting Wooyoung because of course he would. Over the course of his long long life Seonghwa’s gotten quite used to being the butt of their jokes, only it was never quite as serious as now.

“Must be terrible - so close, yet so far,” Yunho jumps in on the opportunity, voice laced in mock sympathy. Seonghwa pushes himself off the wall, ready to remind them that while they may forget it, the truth is he is older and stronger than them, but Hongjoong stops him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Cut it off,” he orders, not really in the best state for dealing with his sour mood and this bunch of idiots wreaking havoc too, “We heard her thoughts, she’s still angry with us. I bet she did this just to spite us without thinking much about it.”

“Hongjoong’s right, it’s probably not that deep,” Jongho murmurs. He just wants to forget the whole thing and move on. He’d much rather get back to the library already, hoping to catch you there and maybe persuading you to chat with him a little.

“Let’s just keep our girl happy so next time she invites one of us,” Seonghwa spits at them, considers for a second actually spitting in some of their faces, but that’s beneath him, so he leaves the room and slams the door behind him instead. He really doesn’t wanna see his brothers any longer. You, on the other hand, he needs to have a word with. Urgently.

-x-

“Yes?” you feign innocence and try to stop your heart from beating its way out of your ribcage as you’re pushed, albeit with utmost care, against the door as soon as you step out of your room. Now is really not the time to get flustered, especially not with a certain demonic presence staring at you like you’re a piece of meat. His eyes are black at the corners and his chest is heaving. At least you can say that you’ve tested his patience and self-control enough. If you survive this unharmed and not traumatized, you’ll know you can trust their words about respecting your decision to give or not give consent.

“What was that supposed to mean, pretty thing?” Seonghwa asks, his voice calmer than you’d expect as he lowers his head to your eye level. His hands are on both sides of your head. You’re trapped, yet you can feel your body trembling more with excitement than fear, but you’re not in a state to unpack that so you push it back from your mind. You really don’t need him to know.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you shrug, sticking to your clueless image, “You seem worked up, did something happen?” Maybe fake concern would help, and well, you wouldn’t be totally wrong - Seonghwa does feel his heart jump a little when you ask him that. What he wouldn’t give to have you care about him, yet he knows it’s just another way to tease him and he’s in a bad enough mood already.

“Do you think you’re being funny?” he growls, bringing his face closer to yours and smirking when he feels your breathing quicken and your eyes lower briefly before you compose yourself. He basks in the effect he has on you. If only for a few seconds.

“I really have no idea what’s your point,” you say with as much smugness as you can muster which is not much but hey, better than none, “But it’d seem to me someone was sticking their nose where it doesn’t belong.”

There’s a deep rumble in his chest that makes you briefly reconsider your choices, especially as his head drops lower and you feel him nosing along the column of your neck. It reminds you so much of the incident in his shop that the memory pops up in your mind and you feel him smirk against your skin, so of course you push your luck and when you look up in the memory, the face you see is not Seonghwa’s, but one of your favorite drama god. He reels away from you as if he was burned. His eyes are black, but you’d swear there was a spark of hurt in them. If you thought he was angry before, he’s raging now. How dare you?! Imagining a scenario is one thing, but replacing him? You’re lucky he’s so addicted to you, otherwise he’d be tearing you apart already.

You see his fury, so you up your game, of course. You imagine Seonghwa’s own tailor shop as the place of your dirty fantasies. It’s his table your being fucked on, it’s a dress that he’s created that’s being ripped to pieces. But it’s not him who gets to touch you, mark you up, who gets to bury himself into you. And watching him as you imagine all that, you suppose you’ll soon burn in a flash of hellfire. His jaw is clenched so tight you wouldn’t be surprised if his teeth cracked. Before the consequences of your own actions can bite you in the ass - literally? - however, his brother comes to your rescue.

“Seonghwa, I think this is enough,” Yeosang steps between the two of you, jerking his head to the side to make you move. And you do, but not before flashing him a thankful smile that honestly almost turns his legs into jelly. Seonghwa on the other hand, hisses, agitated more than he remembers ever being - and that’s a feat considering the company he’s lived with his entire life. Yeosang stands his ground though, pushing him back to prevent his older brother from following you. He’s uncomfortable too, he hates seeing your fantasies starring another man, but what’s honestly more uncomfortable is the things Seonghwa imagines he’ll do to you once he gets his hands on you.

You leave them both behind, oblivious to what’s going on in their heads, figuring they’ll maybe bicker a little, worst case scenario some punches will be thrown, but still Yeosang will definitely handle the situation better than you would. It crosses your mind that maybe you could use all this to separate Seonghwa from the rest, make him a target for their teasing - because seeing just how jealous they are, you’re sure they’d pick on whoever was the least favorite - and maybe it’d make escaping possible, but you don’t let that thought linger. It’d be too cruel to make anyone the outsider, even without the possible danger of him taking a revenge on you.

-x-

“I don’t know, man,” Hongjoong shrugs without any attempt at hiding the malicious smirk on his lips, “Serves you right for that stunt you pulled when she wasn’t even ours yet.” A growl resonates in Seonghwa’s chest. To bring up the happiest memory of his lifetime right now is a low blow even for Hongjoong. Maybe it was a mistake to come to vent to him. Clearly he won’t get any consolation anywhere in this place.

“It’s not like it’s not pissing you off too,” he snarls, knowing well that his brothers didn’t like seeing you with another man either. Even if it was just all in your head. The issue, however, was that none of them was as affected as he was. You even imagined yourself being railed at a workplace of his expertise and his own fucking tailor shop. Your goal was clear and he’d be lying if he said that a small part of him was not upset and that he didn’t have a brief thought of just telling you outright that he’ll tone down his affection towards you if you just never do this to him again. He wasn’t sure he’d manage to do that, but it’s not happening anyway.

“No, it’s not like that,” the younger male agrees, “But seeing you so worked up over it is kinda worth it. I have to give it to our darling, it’s smart to attack you so personally.” He smirks, watching Seonghwa run a hand through his hair with so much force it’s a wonder he doesn’t rip any of it out of head. Sure, as he said, he hates seeing your imagination conjure up images of another man, touching you, marking you as his when you’re theirs, he hates it with passion. But at least he can comfort himself with the thought that you’re doing this just to mess with Seonghwa and he and the rest of them are just innocent victims caught in the fallout. Not that it helps with the urge to go on a killing spree just to blow off some steam, because he’s going just as crazy as everyone in the hotel. He’s just better at hiding it and staying calm.

“We’ll see about that when you mess up and she starts doing this to you,” Seonghwa growls again, using the slight height difference to his advantage as he invades Hongjoong’s personal space and towers over him.

“Well, then it’s enough if I just don’t mess up. Unlike someone I can control my urges,” he scoffs, unintimidated. He’s a little disappointed if he’s honest. He always thought he could rely on Hwa, but apparently everyone really does make mistakes. Not to mention the other male also wasn’t exactly supportive when he was stabbed. Hongjoong feels a little petty, but really he’s just on edge because of the punishment they were all going through just because of Seonghwa.

“Why are you all like this?! You know how shitty it feels, but imagine how it must feel for me,” the man in question slams his hand on the nearest surface even if it means stepping away from his brother. Not like he wants to be anywhere near him anymore anyway.

“Don’t think any of us forgave you for what you did,” Hongjoong snarls right back at him, his blood boiling just thinking about the older male’s lips on your skin, “We had an agreement, Seonghwa.”

He can’t take it anymore. The love of his life would prefer the company of another man - not even one of his brothers’ on top of that! - and the only other people he has, ones he thought he could rely on, all seem to be set on giving him shit for one little misstep. He storms out of Hongjoong’s room without looking back at him.

Everyone seems to enjoy watching him be miserable. Fine then, he’ll show you all. But right now he feels his hunger getting stronger, he should probably consume more suitable nutrition than human food. He’s gonna find some unfortunate soul to feed off and think about his next steps. He needs to show you that two can play this game, he’d say he needs to take revenge but that sounds so… brutal, and you, despite everything, are still his precious princess. He only wants to cherish you, to serve you, to please you, to belong to you. He needs to show you that, he needs to make you believe it and make you realize how unfairly and cruelly you’re treating him right now.

-x-

You think you might have miscalculated.

Ever since Seonghwa cornered you and you were saved or whatever by Yeosang, you haven’t seen him. While Yeosang has assured you that nothing happened and it was alright, you wondered whether he was really honest with you. After all, you’ve seen all of them every day. Every day, without fail, each of them would find their way to you, usually to spend some one on one time.

All of them except for Seonghwa.

It’s been two days, which, sure, wasn’t that long of a time, and you haven’t even thought about it the first day, but today on day three without seeing Seonghwa at all you were kind of paranoid. What was going on? Was he planning to sneak up on you suddenly and take his revenge? Was this some kind of plot to make you lose your mind? Did Yeosang hurt him? There was uneasiness in your stomach, a sinking feeling of guilt, that you supposed was connected to the other weird thing.

Your dreams.

The last three nights Seonghwa haunted your dreams in the most delicious way possible. You wondered whether it was your own fault for teasing him, whether your mind got confused and tried to make things right in your sleep. Either way, you didn’t sleep well. You kept waking up sweaty and worked up throughout the night, needing a cold, cold shower. Not that you weren’t interested in what Seonghwa could do with his tongue, you just didn’t want to imagine it or dream about it surrounded by entities that could easily read your mind. At least in this aspect you were glad that Seonghwa either avoided you or couldn’t see you because you weren’t sure how you’d be able to look him in the eye.

You wouldn’t call it missing him, but it came pretty close.

Before all this mess, you've gotten the tiniest bit closer to them and if you were honest with yourself, which you really didn't want to be, you've learned to appreciate different sides of them. Like Hongjoong seemed to be the most controlled and took your side if you became overwhelmed with everyone's attention, Yunho who never failed to cheer you up and make you laugh even if you tried to resist, Yeosang who somehow seemed very innocent and was by far the most respectful of your wishes, someone you could talk to and feel at relative ease, San and his cooking and playful nature - the same for Wooyoung who kept you from dying from boredom. Mingi was a great conversational partner to have over a drink and Jongho always listened to you so intently and was easy to spend time with in comfortable silence. Your situation wasn't ideal, and you were still a little afraid of them, but they weren't bad people. Seonghwa too.

Seonghwa had this aura around him that calmed you somewhat. Not to mention it was nice to hangout with him in his shop because he listened to your input and the clothes he made were always perfect and considerate of what you told him. While he was annoying too, possessive and overly touchy just like the others, without him it was starting to become… unbalanced? Like there was something missing, the harmony was broken. Thinking about it as you wandered through the hotel, you began feeling lost and let your feet take you anywhere.

-x-

For Seonghwa these past days were torturous. To watch you from far, not being able to get close to you… not that he couldn't, he just didn’t want to - well, no that he didn’t want to, it was just all part of his plan. But it felt so much like the hopeless days before they lured you here that he was losing his mind. And his dear brothers didn’t help one bit. He swears they were all over you just to rub it in his face that he’s not desired - which, obviously, wasn’t the case. He knew, they knew, and he knew they knew and that they were jealous of the effect the dreams he planted into your mind had on you.

Each night of his absence he played with your dreams, planting into your mind sweet, delicious scenarios of desire and sex. And you reacted to them, much better than he expected to be honest. At first he worried, secretly, that you’d find them disgusting. He might’ve just been hurt by your messing with him more than he’d realized. But that wasn't the case. No, he watched you from the shadows, from the mirrors and reflective glass, and he saw. He saw you the state you woke up in, your skin glistening with sweat and your lips bitten raw. He saw the frustration when the dream ended before you could properly enjoy it. He watched the awkward, embarrassed walk you did to the bathroom and he had to stifle the growling in his chest and remove himself from your vicinity when he realized what you were doing in the shower.

You didn’t continue the dream where it left off. You weren’t imagining him, but for now it was enough for him to know that you were interested and that he had this effect on you. He could’ve ended this game after the first night, his curiosity satisfied and ego fed, however, he was feeling petty. And hurt. So he’d torture himself further on the off chance you’d do something interesting in his ‘absence’. He wants you to beg for him to come back. Hell, ask the others for all he cares - just show him that you care about him. That you’re sorry.

And this might just be it. He’s been lurking around, trailing behind you in the shadow, away from your sight when he’s noticed your blank stare. He got worried. Not only did it look like you were in some type of trance, your mind was blank too, your thoughts unfocused and unstable, disappearing as soon as they came to be. He’s thinking so much he doesn’t notice where it is that you’re going without properly realizing.

But when he does, he swears he starts shaking.

-x-

You only stop and wake up from your stupor when you stand in front of a glass door. You’re confused as to where you are, but only for a second because you do recognize this place.

It’s Seonghwa’s tailor shop.

You frown, looking around as if someone has led you there but you’re alone. And it’s pretty obvious why you’re here.

You’re looking for him.

You feel slightly nervous as you open the door and step in. Somehow it seems like he should just appear out of nowhere, jump out from wherever he’s hiding to scare you. Or maybe just naturally walk out like he’s done so many times and greet you with his enamored smile and warm voice.

But he doesn’t.

Silence greets you and fills the entire space even as you walk further in. Your steps resonate on the luxurious floor and you feel afraid. You rub your arms for warmth, even though it’s not cold in the shop. It just feels that way without Seonghwa around. The place seems dead, empty and bare even with all the fabrics, dresses and all sorts of garments lying about. It’s just as neat as you remember too. Maybe if there was chaos you’d feel better, like you saw some evidence of him… what? Living? Oh please…

Your eyes scan the room and you do eventually find something out of place. There’s a jacket you’ve seen Seonghwa wear a few times lying on the desk. Someone must’ve thrown it there, pretty haphazardly too.

Unbeknownst to you, Seonghwa watches with bated breath as you walk around and he panics when he notices the jacket and your eyes falling upon it. He prides himself on keeping his workspace clean, on being tidy, but when he came back from feeding, he wasn’t in the right state of mind and he must’ve left the thing there. What will you think of him now? He already feels pretty sensitive and anxious watching you walk around his dominion - do you even know how crazy you make him? Crazy with worry, with love, with desire… You’ll be his ruin.

What he doesn’t expect, and frankly neither do you, is you sitting down on the chair at the table. You reach out and run your hand over the fabric of the jacket. You remember when you slapped his arm after he made an extremely suggestive flirty comment and you smile. He smiles too, his heart fluttering in his chest. See? You have nice memories with him. You were laughing then, you were happy. Let him make you happy again.

You carefully take the jacket into your hands and pull it closer to you. Your heartbeat picks up the pace. You don’t know what you’re doing but it feels right. Maybe you should listen to your heart instead of your head for once.

You lean down and bury your face into the fabric. You breathe in. The jacket still smells like his perfume, like him. It’s nice. It’s… well, not comforting, but the balance that has been disturbed by Seonghwa’s sudden disappearance feels restored, if only for a fraction of a second. It makes the corners of your lips curl up.

While you seem very happy taking in his scent, he can’t breathe. He has to shut down the mental link with the others because he won’t let their complaining taint this precious moment. He steps out of the shadows, he lets the light fall upon him again. You could see him if you just turned your head, but you don’t. Don’t mind if he takes advantage of such an opportunity.

His movements are quiet as he stops right besides you and reaches out his hand to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. He feels electricity hum in the tips of his fingers as he touches you, finally, after starving for the feeling of your skin for days.

You get startled, understandably, and jump from the chair, standing with your back against the table and turning your head towards the hand and you gape at him when you see him. Seonghwa. He’s there. Right in front of you. He’s real, you know it’s not another dream or your imagination as he strokes your cheek with the back of his fingers, cooing softly at your scared and shocked face.

So many emotions hit you right in the face upon seeing him. Surprise, fear, annoyance, but also relief and a certain kind of fondness, or something akin to it. And embarrassment, the memories of your dreams flooding your mind.

“Not so cocky now, are we, my love?” he smirks. He doesn’t stop himself from using the nickname. He’s earned it. He was so patient, he deprived himself of you for days, he deserves to call you something nice. Only now that he’s touched you he wants more. Especially after seeing the blood rushing to your cheeks as you remember all the things he’d love to do to you. It makes him smug like nothing else could.

You don’t have the time to dwell on the embarrassment, though, there’ll be enough time for that later - now there’s anger rising in you that burns more prominently than shame. You have half a mind to weaponize your imagination again. Maybe you should. You allow yourself a brief flash of the image of you in the arms of what is probably Seonghwa’s nemesis at this point. He snarls, trapping you between his body and the table, hands on either side of your hips but not touching you, merely keeping you in place.

But oh does he want to touch you. You’re right there in front of him, so alluring. Your sweet scent makes his head spin. Your skin would feel so soft and smooth and perfect under his palms. He’s going insane trying to hold himself back when every single one of his cells screams to press himself closer to you, right against you to soak up your warmth and to envelop you in his arms and his scent, to mark you as his and claim you for himself. He’d show off to the rest, prove that he’s the eldest and the best of them, that he’s perfect for you, so much so that you’ve given your trust to him first.

“It’s not about being cocky, Seonghwa,” you say and he’s taken aback by the venom in your voice, it’s a very sharp contrast to the work of his imagination, “It’s about basic decency.” He just frowns, confused, so you continue.

“It’s decency not to snoop in someone’s mind all the fucking time, and it’s decency not to just disappear after being confronted by a fucking demon,” you growl at him, not backing down even as he leans closer to you, a playful grin on his face. He’s ecstatic. Why does it sound so much like you were worried about him?

“I think you’re forgetting that me and Yeosang, we’re the same. Although I do appreciate the sentiment,” he purrs. It’s so adorable. If only you could be cute like that all the time, but then again he likes a kitten that draws its claws from time to time. The incident with Hongjoong and the knife comes to mind and fuck, he loved that.

“And I’d think it’s also decency to be loyal, isn’t it? Hm?” he tilts his head, his smirk mocking and it makes you swallow the lump growing in your throat, “You couldn’t even do that. First thinking about some loser, and then when you got bored of him your dreams turned to me? Pick one and stick with that choice, sweetie. And if it was up to me, I’d pick the real thing, just saying.” As he continues speaking, his voice gets lower, just as his head does until he’s resting his chin on your shoulder. His body is so close you can feel the heat radiating off of him. He leans his head against yours.

“Someone who can hold you, who wants to care for you,” he says, his breathing fanning over the bare skin on your neck, goosebumps rising there as a result, “Someone who would do anything for you.” He raises his hand, gently, experimentally, placing it on your waist. You’re right there, in his hold. Under him. If only you’d say the word, he’d give you all the pleasure you could ask for. He’d be so generous, so selfless. He’d treat you like the royalty you are, like you deserve to be treated.

And you struggle to fight back the image of the dream as much as he does. You’ve seen him take you on this very table, in a very similar position. You remember how he touched you then. It all started with his hand on your waist too. He pushed you down, his tongue exploring your mouth as he held you still, his hold firm but oh so caring, his thumb stroking under your shirt as his other hand pushed it up… You’d be lying if you said you didn’t find it the least bit appealing. But not now.

“Someone who will leave because he gets butthurt and jealous of a fictional character?” you whisper, lips almost directly next to his ear. You feel his body tense. “You might want to work on your anger management, before you can have more than pretty dreams, Seonghwa.” You slide your hand over his that’s on your waist and up his forearm. You can feel the shiver that runs through his body.

“I don’t think you quite deserve what you want, do you?” you murmur as you carefully remove his hand from you. It’s a miracle that your voice doesn’t shake or break because you feel scared shitless under all those layers of fake confidence. Fortunately Seonghwa’s reactions fuel your acting. Perhaps you can trust them on that consent thing. You’ve seen that they’d bend over backwards to get you what you want. Perhaps you hold more power over them than you realize.

He doesn’t try to stop you as you lay his hand back on the table. He’s pliant under your touch and it’s almost cute. He leans back so he could look into your eyes and you miss his warmth.

“I didn’t leave. I was always right here,” he murmurs in his defense. You think he’d leave? You must be out of your mind just like he is. “I told you, we all told you, haven’t we? We only want to cherish you, to protect you. How could I do that if I left, silly thing?” His eyes are honest, his voice dripping in honey and you think this is the softest you’ve ever seen him. You can’t say you dislike the look on him.

“You’d find a way. Besides what better way to spite me than running free somewhere out in the world while I’m stuck here?” you argue back. It feels strange, and not in an entirely pleasant way. The tension is still high, it just shifted from the red hot tension of passion and lust to a mellow tension of emotions and intimacy. What else to call it? He’s so close you can feel his breath on your skin and you can see all the details and color shifts in his eyes. He’s being so open with you, and you find yourself peeking from behind the walls you’ve built too. It’s not comfortable, yet you can’t back away. It’s addictive, the way it feels like you’re taming a wild beast. But who is really the one doing the taming?

“My love, if you want to see the outside world, all you need to do is tell us,” his eyes narrow when you want to yell at him. You’ve been saying you want out of here since day one! “We can take you on a trip to the outside. Understand, you’re too precious for us, we can’t lose you - we made that plenty clear. But that doesn’t mean we want you to suffer. We want to please you, care for you.” He seems satisfied when you don’t try to interrupt him again, even if he doesn’t like the way you’re scowling at him and doubting his words.

“It’s all about trust,” he explains, smiling softly as an idea enters his mind, “We need to trust you to take you outside, just like you need to trust us to be comfortable here and among us.” You blush at his words, looking away briefly. “We wouldn’t hurt you, darling. I wouldn’t, and I think I’ve proved that enough, haven’t I?”

You nod, reluctantly. You guess that since he hasn’t harmed you or anything when you were literally fucking another guy in your mind right in front of him, he won’t do anything to you for other reasons either. At least since you won’t have any access to other real men any time soon if ever. Well except…

“You’re really testing my patience, love,” he growls, black swirling in his eyes as your mind wanders to what would happen were you to romance one of the others.

The others would explain it to me… You think and you know you’re not being exactly fair, because the others would react the exact way he does, but what’s a little more teasing when he’s already this worked up. He scoffs, then smirks.

“You might want to work on your relationships, before you can have more than pretty dreams, y/n,” he feeds you your own line with a victorious grin. It looks ridiculously good on him.

“Touché,” you give it to him with a sigh. Comfortable silence falls between the two of you. He seems happy enough to watch you, drink you in. You will never know how much it pained him to stay back. To watch his brothers spend time with you all the while listening to their ecstatic discoveries and progresses. Never again.

He raises his hand to your face, his fingers gently caressing your jaw and neck. You let him, because it feels nice or because he seems so excited and grateful to be allowed to do so, you have no idea.

“I won’t ever make you feel like I left again,” he promises quietly, his eyes meeting yours. He needs you to know he means it.

“You better. I was getting worried I’d run out of new clothes to wear,” you tease, uneasy at the prospect of accepting his words as seriously as he’d probably wish.

“Why don’t you ask your favorite tailor then, hm?” he hisses through his gritted teeth, even if he meant to sound lighthearted, disinterested.

“True, I should, his clothes were bet-” you shut up quickly, seeing his body tensing again and the murderous look in his eyes. “Remember what I said about anger management?”

“Remember what I’ve done to you on this table? Over that one? Against that wall?” he recollects your dreams, nodding his head towards each mentioned location.

“Dream on, Seonghwa.”

#ateez #ateez x reader #yandere ateez #yandere!au #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines

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euphoricfilter · 2 years

Text

Devil That I Know (Part 7)

~ True home

Pairing: Demon! Jungkook x Human! Reader

Genre: (Inaccurate) Historical AU || Strangers to lovers AU || Supernatural AU || Smut || Fluff || Angst

Summary: A dive into the past makes you realise they really do look alike. And the sad reality is that he isn’t the man you once knew.

Word count: 7.2k

Tags/ warnings: jk tattoos, murder, mentions of dead bodies, blood, angst, mild fluff, foreplay, cock blocker jin, reincarnation, religion (and slight god slander), the m/c kind of has an attitude… and i don’t know where it came from?

Notes: it's somewhat late again... and i’ve come to the realization that i like writing reader x jk moments the most. this chapter was fun to write, and i don’t think i’ve ever done something like this but i thought about it earlier and obsessed kook is just so delicious. when will i find a man that’s obsessed with me?????

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You think the earliest memory you have of Seokjin is the afternoon he had helped you after you’d tripped on a branch while the both of you were exploring the forest. And you remember the forest being both of your little escape from the reality you faced at home; scrutiny from Jin’s father and shouts that penetrated the thin walls of your bedroom when the candle in the corner of the room was blown out.

You remember how gentle Jin’s touch had been that day, and the easy smile on his face as you’d wipe your damp cheeks with the backs of your hands; how his plush lips had softly pressed against your damp cheeks, kissing away the pearly tears that shone in the golden light of the sun that peeked through the branches of the tress, towering over both of your prepubescent bodies.

“Does it hurt?” Jin had asked, gently kissing over the linen he’d found—shoved in the bottom of the bag his mother had woven together with reeds, to wrap up the scrapes on your knees, ruby-red blood already seeping through the thin cloth.

You remember how he’d leaned up to kiss your forehead when you’d nodded, words of praise dripping off his tongue like honey. And you remember the way he had carried you on his back all the way home; even climbing up the steep hill with you clinging onto him. And you remember he never complained, even going as far to tell you a story to keep your mind off the icky stinging pain that would travel up your leg when you’d bend your knees too far. Nor did he ever scold you for those few moments you’d squeeze his neck too tight, his lungs constricting behind the gates of his ribcage.

Jin was only a few years older than you, his mother having had him quite young. You had never asked her, but you assumed she must have only been in her late teens, early twenties. Marriage at such a young age was more than common in the small village you had learnt to call home.

She was a kind woman, at least that’s what you believed—not everyone would take on the responsibility of a new-born from a woman you’d only known for a couple of weeks, with a language barrier that stopped you from conversing, never truly understanding the backstory of the other woman; but an understanding that as women you only really had each other to rely on in those fleeting moments on the ship. And you never asked her about why exactly she had been on that ship; the deep furrow of her brows when her husband would bring it up, enough of an indication that it wasn’t a fond memory.

Slowly over time as you’d grown older, you’d forgotten how warm her embrace was, how she would hold you on cold evenings or brush your hair of a morning. You think if you were asked to describe her face, nothing more than a blurred image of the woman you once knew would be the end product, your brain showing nothing but a silhouette of someone you once loved.

She never held any biases between you and your older brother; and she treated you as if you were her own child. You may have forgotten her embrace, but a whittling flame in your heart remembers the love she had shown you as a child; a love so pure—the love of a mother, a love that you’ll never forget for all the years you’ll continue to live on this earth. A love you’ve come to realise is a warmth you’ll never experience again.

You remember one day it all changed. One morning changed the trajectory of your life for the worst. The one you’d seen as your mother hadn’t returned home. You remember Jin had reassured you she had probably stopped off in a neighbouring town, and you’d believed him. Until days had turned into a week and not even a letter had made it to your front door, nor any news from familiar faces that had known of your mother.

You were young enough not to think of the reason why her husband didn’t seem to care about his wife, carrying on his days like she was never there in the first place; a ghost that only you and Jin had noticed floating throughout the halls of the house, and you wonder why you were so surprised when the head of the village had dropped off the decaying body of your mother in the kitchen, and why you were so surprised when the man who had never once acted like a father, laughed at the corpse of such a kind-hearted woman. A sick smile pulling at his thinning lips, decaying, yellow teeth displayed for you to see.

You and Jin had never spoken about the death of your mother, both of you silently aware that the man you both lived with—Jin’s father, had murdered his own wife.

And you never found out why. But you suppose the other woman that had eventually moved into your home had been part of the reason. A woman who you later found out couldn’t have children of her own, and to this day you wonder what that man would have done to her when he found out. You’d sat with her one evening, not out of freewill, but you’d listened. Listened to her sobs, and the itch of her nails trailing down your arms as she clung onto you like a lifeline still tickles your skin when you think about that day. It was a shame you decided to leave days before she broke the news to her husband, and you can only wonder if she faced the same fate as your mother. Body thrown in a ditch, a mouthful of dirt and your pride stripped away; ready for her corpse to be discovered weeks after her death, the man who had committed the crime laughing at the empty shell of what once was.

Jin’s father wasn’t a kind man, and on more than a few occasions you seriously believed he didn’t even love his own son; and you could only wonder why, as Jin worked hard to follow in father’s footsteps and worked hard around the house to help his mother. It was clear the marriage between Seokjin’s parents was arranged, his father was a lot older than his mother and you can only guess he hated the product of their relationship; Jin. And then eventually you came along, a pitiful baby whose mother had died at sea and was handed off to a woman kind enough to care for it.

Unlike his father, Jin was like a star, your star. Something that twinkled beautifully in the moonlit sky, your fingers itching to touch something that seemed so far out of reach. Slowly as you’d grown older you realised, he treated you better than all the other brothers in the village. He shared all his toys with you, fed you when you got fussy and let you slip beneath the tattered blankets of his bed when you didn’t want to sleep alone.

You idolised Jin. He was there for your first steps, he was there to measure how tall you’d grown each year when your birthday rolled around, he was there to carry you when your little feet got tired, he learnt to cook for you and slept in the stables when his father would punish you. He was your Jin.

And somehow your tiny body contained all the love you held in your heart for your best friend and brother.

“Don’t eat that, baby” Jin pulled a mucky stone from your pudgy fingers, helping you lean against his legs. Your head still a little too heavy for your body.

Seokjin smiles as you giggle up at him—enamoured by his face, no teeth aiding your smile. And Jin often wonders why he never asked his mother for a younger sister sooner. He supposes he was worried his parents would love his sibling more than him, their eldest son being left and forgotten for a cute baby. But Jin had slowly started to understand that only his mother had really cared about him, and his mother had love beyond belief. So much love in such a young body that Jin didn’t mind sharing his mother if it was with you.

From the moment his mother had walked through the door with you, bundled up in rough blankets that caused a rash to flare up on what should have been supple skin, Jin thinks he fell in love. And he silently promised himself that he would be the best brother, something his mother had asked of him that evening when she had brought you home. A small part of him hoped you’d stay this small forever, the perfect size to keep laid across his chest; but he knew you’d grow up fast, he doubted you’d surpass him in height, but the thought of you growing into a beautiful young woman was a little exciting. And he would get to watch you each step of the way.

Jin knew you couldn’t have been the child of his mother; she would have been hung in the centre of the village if she had committed adultery while away from home, sent as a representative of the village. But Jin found himself not caring if you were related by blood or not. Happy that although you were two completely different people, not only in looks but persona, you would be able to hopefully live-in harmony—two differently cut puzzle pieces that somehow fit together perfectly; meant to live beside one another.

He remembers sitting on the porch, sun dipping behind the layers of mountains that overlooked the village; slowly making its move to rest, allowing the moon to watch over the people for the hours it slept.

His mother had tired eyes, exhausted from sleepless nights awake with the pitiful baby that had lost its mother moments after being born; minutes held in her arms before being passed off to any woman who was willing to care for the child.

And Jin remembers being handed you, a hushed whisper from his mother to be gentle with you—his own young arms shaky as he holds you gently to his chest, scared you’d shatter like fragile china if he was too rough. And by some miracle, your sobs had slowly fizzled down to pitiful whimpers as Seokjin cooed down at you, a gentle smile on his face as he starts to tell you and his mother about the adventure he had been on that day. And he thinks you must have liked his voice, squeaky cries tumbling from your mouth when he would stop talking, his throat dry by the time he’d gotten you to settle down for the night in the old crib that used to be his own.

Jin pulls you up from under your arms, gently depositing you onto his lap as he brushes your wispy strands of hair from your forehead.

“So pretty” he coos, letting you teethe on one of his fingers as he brushes mud off your face.

“That’s it, come to Jinnie” your brother encourages, eyes wide with wonder as you push yourself to stand with the help of the wall, your legs shaking under the weight of your body. By no means were you large for your age, Jin’s mother had made sure not to spoil you too much at mealtimes, and if Jin sneaked a few extra mouthfuls from his own breakfast that was a secret he would keep from his mother. He just wanted to make sure you ate enough; you were a growing baby after all.

He waves his hands towards his body, a gesture of encouragement as your stubby leg lifts from the ground; hands lifting from the wall as you try to toddle forwards.

Jin watches as you take two steps, scrambling from his knees when you fall face first onto the hardwood floor. Only when he lifts your body, wide smile on your face that his heart calms down; no trace of injury or tears spilling down your cheeks like little waterfalls, just a circular red mark on your forehead that Jin can’t help but giggle at.

“Try again” he tells you, helping you stand on your feet. He watches you wobble as he pushes himself back, your arms stretching to grab hold of your brother. His fingers twitch by his sides to help you stay up and not topple over again, but he stops himself.

“Come on” he whispers.

Jin’s plush lips pull into a wide smile as you step towards him, and on your fourth step your knees buckle under the weight of your body, falling right into your brother’s chest.

Seokjin lifts you up from under your arms, holding you above his head as he kisses both of your cheeks, loud smooching making a giggle fizzle up your throat.

“Mother did you see?” Jin turns towards said woman, a gentle smile on her face as Jin holds you to his chest, your pudgy fingers tangling with his overgrown hair, having needed to be cut but forgotten as he spends his days by your side, happily watching you mould into your own person. Even if you were only months old.

“I did, she’s a smart girl. Must take after her brother” she muses, and Jin turns his head towards you as you babble up at him.

“Very smart, you can have extra rice tonight” he tells you, wondering if you were smart enough to understand him; he imagines you must be, because the wide smile that pulls onto your face seemed like you liked the idea of extra dinner.

“Jinnie, that’s yours” you point at the heaped spoonful of rice that Jin drops into your bowl, speech still a little garbled due to age, but Jin had learnt to understand what you meant, no longer having to wrack his brain to understand your babbled answers and cute lisp that occasionally made an appearance.

“But you helped with the dishes this morning” he tells you, pushing your bowl closer to your body, silently encouraging you to eat. He still cut up your meat into bite sized pieces, worried you choke, and some days you would weave your way onto his lap and with those round eyes; begging him to feed you himself. Of course, Jin indulged you, spoiling you more than he should; even his mother often worried about how much Jin seemed to do for you. Whispering to him once you’d gone to bed how much you relied on him, and her worries for both of your future; you were practically stuck to your brother’s hip.

He smiles when you pick up the rice with your fingers, still unable to properly grasp the idea of cutlery; but he doesn’t mind because he already has plans to bathe you after dinner anyways; a nightly ritual that took him a while to convince you to follow, especially after your little outbreak about being allergic to water.

Jin leans across the table, thumb brushing a grain of rice clinging to your round cheek, easing it into your mouth. Your lips closing around the thumb, soft tongue licking at the pad of his finger.

“Let’s go and wash up, baby” he calls after soaking both of your bowls into the bucket of water; ready to be scrubbed clean after he puts you to bed.

“I’m old enough to bathe by myself” you cross your arms over your chest; however, you made no move to shoo Jin away as he continues to lather your hair with sweet smelling rosy soap. One Jin had made sure wouldn’t damage your pretty hair, finally falling past the length of your shoulders. His mother had told him as a baby, he had had a thick mop of hair, and Jin had worried when yours had seemed a little too wispy, but he’s soon learnt that neither you nor he were the same; and so, he learnt how to care for your hair, and you skin no matter how much it differed from his own routine.

It always amazed him how much you seem to grow each day, you’d sprouted a little taller over the recent months and your speech had gotten better. You often tucked yourself into bed and helped more around the house even if Jin insisted you go play with your toys. You still liked to be told bedtime stories, and still liked Jin feeding you a snack when the sun was high in the sky, watching over both of you. And when some nights got a little too scary, the haunting shouts of Jin’s father bouncing off the walls, Jin would find you climbing into his bed, cuddled up to his side with only moon as your guardian until the sun decided to wake up.

“Is that so?” he muses, passing you the wooden tiger he’d carved for your last birthday as you begin to fidget around, water spilling from the sides of the wooden tub onto Jin’s shirt. But he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t scold you for splashing around too much, and listens to you babble about the story of a tiger that lived in the mountains that overlooked your small village.

“Do you really think we’ll really see a tiger?” you ask, holding onto the back of Jin’s shirt as you trek up the mountain, on a mission given by your mother to find a medicinal plant. Technically only Jin was asked to search for the herb his mother needed, but you’d begged him to allow you to trail along; saying you wouldn’t bother him at all.

And who was Jin to deny you?

There were only so many hours in the day and Jin wanted to spend all of them with you. You seemed to grow up a little slower when he was with you every day, your development a little less surprising when he watches it happen in real time right before his eyes.

He remembers the short trip he’d taken a while back, his mother ill and unable to travel to a few of the neighbouring towns to pick up the herbs she needed for the tea she was planning to sell that winter, and so Jin volunteered. He remembers not being gone for too long, a couple of weeks at most, and the surprise he felt when he had returned was unimaginable. You’d grown taller, he would know because when he stood you up against the wall you stood above the last line he had carved into the wood, and you’d gloated about almost being as tall as him all afternoon.

Jin thinks maybe it was this moment he had realised you really weren’t going to stay small forever, and the little selfish voice in his head made bubbly blue sadness fizzle within the confines of his body.

Before he knew it, you’d be getting married, living away from him, how was he meant to take care of you if you lived on the other side of the village?

“We might” Jin turns to look over his shoulder at you, unclasping your smaller fingers from the fabric of his shirt and taking your hand in his own, squeezing the still pudgy flesh; you having not lost that baby fat just quite yet.

You swing your arms between your bodies, eyes trailing to look at Jin’s side profile. Your brother really was handsome, even the old ladies that sold vegetables in the centre of the village told him so. But Jin took no notice of the girls that fawned over him when he would take you out for a walk in the evening, nor did he flirt back when the girls nearing marital age added a few extra vegetables into the basket when the two of you would go shopping.

“You’ll need to think about marriage soon” Jin’s father drops his chopsticks onto the table, directing his attention towards his son.

And Jin knows this is a way to hurry up and get one problem out of the house. The other silently chewing on a cube of tofu, the soup Jin had cooked for dinner one of your favourite meals.

After his mother had died, Jin’s father had made no effort to fill in the parental role. And he’d made it more than obvious on more than one occasion that he was making plans to push Jin and you out of the house.

Jin’s eyes trail over towards the strange woman that sat beside his father, her head turned down towards the table. She said nothing, making no objection against her new fiancé. But Jin understood the situation she must be in. Trapped like an ant that strayed too far into something sticky, stuck in place with only the big scary man that lured you there to help you escape.

Jin had seen how easy it was for his father to swoon any woman. He was not ugly by any means, Jin’s mother was a pretty woman, but he had always looked a lot like his father, a fact that had never really sat right with him. But Jin had promised not only his mother, but you, that he would never become the product of his father. He would never harm another individual for not getting his way, nor would he shout, unprovoked. He at least has respect for the two important women in his life, and that was enough to ease the worries of his late mother.

So, with his good looks it was no issue for his father to whisper a few pretty white lies to any woman gullible enough to believe the filth that spilled from his mouth, and then he would let his true colours bleed when they are too committed to the relationship with the slimy man; bleed like Jin’s mother had when she was beaten before killed, and left for any animal to chew on the rotting flesh of her corpse.

That night, Jin had crept into the stables. You’d been sent to sleep with the horses, you hadn’t done anything wrong, you just happened to be standing in the wrong place at the wrong time. And Jin’s father was unforgiving, having been in a bad mood he’d sent you to sleep alone, with only the rumbling snores of the few mares as your company.

You’d looked up at Jin, eyes dull when he’d shone the candle in your direction.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, pushing yourself to sit up.

“Coming to keep you company” he replies, falling into the pile of hay that you were using to protect your back from the cold ground.

You pull half of the blanket over Jin’s body, his arm wrapping around your stomach.

“Jinnie?” you don’t look at him, voice soft.

He hums, arms tightening around your body when a gust of wind slips under the gate of the stables, rattling the doors.

“I’m thinking of travelling home” you tell him.

Jin blinks, “Home? But you are home?” his head tilts towards where your head rests on his chest. And he wonders if you could feel the sudden change in the pace his heart was beating, thrumming quickly behind the skin of his chest.

“You know what I mean Jin. Really going home”

“But why?” he pushes himself to sit up, watching as the candlelight exaggerates your tired features. But he knows you really are exhausted, he’d seen the dark circles that pulled at the skin under your eyes, how not only your mind but your body seemed to be tired.

“Your father doesn’t like me, and I’d rather leave now before I end up with the same fate as mama did” you whisper.

Jin swallows, and he knows its unjustified to get angry at you. Stupid even for him to lash out on you.

You were old enough to make your own decisions, you didn’t need him like you used to. And he knows you’re right. He knows that it could be days before his father decides he’s had enough of you.

Not only that, but he’d started to hear little whispers from a few of the other village people that the king was seeking out possible spies. And Jin knew you wouldn’t be safe for long, especially if these spies had similar facial features to you.

“I know someone that owns a boat, he could help you travel to the country over” Jin tells you, thumb brushing over the soft skin of your cheek.

“You do?” you ask, leaning into his touch.

Jin nods, eyes glossing over with tears, “Yeah”

You nod, swallowing thicky. And Jin knew you must be scared, the subtle shake in your hands as you held onto his own was enough to give you away.

“We can stop if you want to” Jin turns to look at you over his shoulder.

You just shake your head, “We could stop in the next village, maybe they’ll have an inn”

Jin nods, “If you’re sure you’ll be okay”

Although Jin had been worried, you had trudged alongside him until the both of you reached the gate a village neither of you had heard of.

Jin turns to look at the sun that had just started to dip behind the large mountains, his arm falling to lay over your shoulders.

“Let’s go and find a place for the night”

Is what he told you, and as Jin stares down at your body, chained to a pole, he wonders where he had gone wrong in life.

He’d tried to be a good man, he’d helped his mother, treated you well and watched you grow into one of the most beautiful women he knew. And he was honoured. Honoured that he was able to grow alongside you.

He never held prejudice, nor harmed a being that didn’t deserve it.

So where had he gone wrong?

He wants to tell you it would be alright. That he was okay and the both of you could just go home, pretend none of this ever happened and live alongside each other in peace.

But Jin found himself tied up, limbs pulled tight and large dogs snarling at his body. Knowing they were getting a large meal soon. The hot blood rushing through his veins tempting them to jump him before given the command by their owner.

He watches as opaline tears tumble like little waterfalls down your cheeks, each tear reflecting the flames of the large torches the village people had lit.

He catches sight of the axe one of the wood carvers hold, and Seokjin prays. He prays for a miracle to happen, for someone to save him.

His head tilts towards the sky, and the sick realisation that a god doesn’t exist finally settles into his mind. Surely if a deity were real, they wouldn’t let him die under the hands of brutish village men, who plan to slaughter him before your innocent eyes.

But no matter how much you plead, Jin realises they aren’t going to listen, and so he accepts his fate.

With no higher power coming to his aid, and the moon reflecting in the dark abyss of his eyes, Jin realises that only the moon will be the witness of this night. And he can only hope that you’ll be able to move on.

As he sees the axe being raised from the corner of his eye, he tilts his head to look at your frail body.

And seconds before the offending weapon makes contact with his body, Jin manages to whisper a short “I love you”.

Your eyes widen, and Jin smiles, wondering why you seemed so surprised. Because he really did love you. Maybe that’s why he wasn’t scared, nor did he resent the men who were mere moments from taking his life.

He supposes that if he were to die first, he could love you forever. He would never have to deal with the pain of you leaving, or naively handing off your love to another man.

Jin could love you forever.

He thinks even as his body rests, his soul will find you again. And maybe he won’t remember you, but he can only hope that whoever he may be reborn as will love you just as much as he did in this moment.

He supposes he doesn’t mind dying with his last memories being of you. Silently hoping that a miracle would happen and that whatever life he lives next, the two of you would meet again.

And he can live the life he had always wanted with you.

Hopefully this time he could ask for your hand in marriage, maybe build a home together and live out your days by each other’s side. His father wouldn’t be able to interfere, and maybe he would rank high enough in society that he could work for the king, giving you lavish life he truly believed you deserved.

+ + +

You blink over at Jin, your eyes narrowing slightly. He really did look like your Jin.

Said man shifts uncomfortably where he sits beside Yoongi, and you take that as your cue to stop being a little bit of a freak and turn your attention to something else.

When you’d been told a feast was being prepared, a small part of you imagined a lot more people attending. It made the whole situation so much more awkward when there were only four of you sat at the table, with enough to feed not only all of the staff that were serving you, which you assumed to be five times more than you sat at the table, but you also had no idea what to say.

What were you meant to talk to a king about?

You’d never been so close to a royal, what were you meant to talk about?

Slaughtering peasants and thrones made of gold?

You hadn’t exactly made the best first impression with Mr. Kim either, on top of that, he seemed to be uncomfortable with you sat at the same table as him.

‘Do I know you?’

You never knew four simple words could crush you like they had when they had left Seokjin’s mouth. And it could only be some twisted coincidence that not only was his face identical to the one your brother had, but his name was almost the same. However, you’d found out his surname had been different.

You’d barely been able to squeak out a ‘no’ before Jungkook was pulling you into his arms.

‘This is Mr. Kim Seokjin, my aide’ Yoongi had explained, and you had only been able to give a curt nod.

Your gaze wanders over to the glaring red scar that ran down the right side of the King’s face.

Yoongi catches you, obsidian eyes locking your gazes. He cocks his head to the side, and you swallow thickly, gently placing your chopsticks onto the table.

“What happened?” you motion to the scar and a cocky smirk pulls at Yoongi’s lips.

You feel a chill run down your spine as the serving staff all freeze, their attention all shifting towards your body, and you feel as though you want to curl up into yourself with all of the attention that was being placed onto you.

You begin to worry that maybe you weren’t supposed to have asked that, and you look over at Jungkook who places a large palm onto your thigh. But he doesn’t turn to meet your gaze, and you start to feel your hands get clammy.

“All of you leave” Yoongi eventually calls out, unfazed as his serving staff rush out of the room, in sync like a colony of ants. None of them wanting to be the last out of the room.

“Do you really not know, darling?” the king asks you, leaning into the table a little more. And from the corner of your eye, you can see Seokjin staring at you. His gaze holding an emotion you can’t identify, but you assume it must be something akin to disgust.

You swallow, “No, I don’t” you reply truthfully.

Yoongi and Jungkook exchange a quick glance, and the king tries to suppress the smile that threatened to pull at his lips. You don’t dare ask, watching as Jungkook raises his eyebrows, challenging the young king.

“I got this” he taps at the rough skin of his cheek, “When I killed the previous king” he tells you.

You nod, “It must have hurt” you muse, eyes narrowing as you try and gauge how deep the cut must have been to leave such a gnarly scar.

“You’re not disgusted?” Yoongi tilts his head, mild amusement glinting within the confines of his dark eyes. Amusement that shone like gold in the light of the setting sun that leaked into the room from the open window.

Your eyes flit over to Jin, who only briefly meets your gaze before he looks down at the food still sat in his bowl. And you find yourself a little less hurt than the first time; aware that he wasn’t the man you once knew, so why would he want to smile at you?

“Everyone dies at some point, some just have to go sooner” you say, “Thank you for inviting me to dinner but I’m tired” you push yourself to stand up, Jungkook following closely behind like a guard dog.

You don’t check for neither the King’s nor his aide’s reaction, sliding the door open and sighing when you get into the hallway. The heavy atmosphere that was weighing down on your shoulders dissipating a little.

“That was suffocating” Jungkook groans, arm laying limp across your shoulders; tattoos peeking out from under the long sleeve of the hanbok.

You ignore the beady eyes that seem to be scrutinizing you and Jungkook as the two of you walk in silence back to the bedroom you’d woken up in only hours prior. Their eyes reminding you of the little rats you’d spotted that hang around the hanok. Or what once used to be the hanok.

Your heart sinking at the fact you no longer had a home. And you could only wonder what that meant for you and Jungkook.

The one place you truly felt at home; gone.

Nothing more than a pile of ashes.

And with Mr. Kim who reminded you of your Jin, you didn’t want to stay in the palace for too long.

You’d have to ask Jungkook what plans he had for the near future. You truly believe the sooner you’re out of this place the better. There had been an unsettling feeling that had been tickling the back of your mind since you’d woken up, and the only explanation you could think of was the palace; a place you would have never thought you’d find yourself.

And a little voice in the back of your brain reminded you that the little beady eyes of the King’s rats would always be reporting back to him your every move. Yoongi seemed like a kind man, but he was cunning. That much was evident.

With the world in turmoil about demons, you find yourself confused as to why he would willingly let Jungkook stay within the four walls of the palace. And to be so kind to a strange woman that the demon had lugged with him?

You knew for Yoongi to rise to power; he must be a smart man. Perhaps stupid enough to risk his life, and morally grey enough to kill his own family, but a smart man, nonetheless. So, you could only assume he had eyes and ears everywhere. Never letting Jungkook wander too far into the darkness where Yoongi doesn’t know what he’s thinking.

And you know Jungkook must be aware of this, he was smart afterall, so it can only be limited time before Jungkook decided it’s time to go.

The only one you could really trust in this place was Jungkook, so you planned to always keep him close. But that had never been an issue, Jungkook always seemed to be a couple of steps ahead, always sure that you were trailing behind him; and if you weren’t, he’d pick you up to make sure you never strayed from his side for too long.

+ + +

“You want tell me what that was all about?” Jungkook asks as you flop onto the bed, palms of your hands pushing into your eyes.

You let out a shuddering breath, “Not really”

Jungkook takes a seat beside you, one of his many hands coming to brush through your hair.

“You sure? You looked like you’d seen a ghost”

You push yourself up to lean on your elbows, “I did”

“What?” Jungkook chuckles.

“I really did see a ghost Jungkook” you tell him, full conviction in your voice.

“Baby, you’re not making any sense” he shakes his head.

“Seokjin” you tell him.

“What about him?”

“He’s meant to be dead”

Jungkook’s eyes narrow down at you, “But you’ve never met that man before” he tells you and you shake your head.

“How do you know that” you ask, “I really have”

And Jungkook wants to tell you that it’s impossible you could know Seokjin, that man had been born while you were resting from his second stage of your conversion, there was no way you could know of that man.

“Maybe he just looks like someone you used to know” Jungkook shrugs.

You push yourself to sit up, “Do you remember when I told you I was travelling to the coast?”

Jungkook tilts his head, nodding after a moment of thinking, “Your friend was helping you?”

“Exactly!” you hold onto Jungkook’s shoulders, “Kookie, that friend is Seokjin”

“I think you’re still tired doll, you told me the people in the village killed him” Jungkook reminds you, the story you’d told him that starry night slowly filtering back into the front of his brain. And he’s confused as to why you would be bringing this up now, so many years after it had happened.

“They definitely did, I watched them” you nod, “But it can’t be a coincidence that he not only looks identical to my Jinnie but also has basically the same name?”

“Your Jinnie?” Jungkook dares to ask, ugly green jealousy bubbling through his veins. And he knows it’s stupid to be jealous over a dead man. But how could you be thinking of someone who died so long ago when Jungkook is sat right before you?

You nod, oblivious to the tick in Jungkook’s jaw.

“Yeah, my brother” you say.

“I thought he was your friend”

“He was. But he acted like my brother, so he was my best friend and brother.” You explain.

Jungkook wraps a set of arms around your waist, pulling you a little closer to his lap “And what am I to you?”

You tilt your head, “You?”

“Me” Jungkook confirms.

You let your head fall onto his shoulder, “I don’t think I’ve ever thought about it” you tell him honestly, “I suppose you and Taehyung were my best friends”

“You suppose?”

“You’ve always just been there” you hum, “I guess I never thought more about what we really are. Friends?”

“Is that all?” Jungkook grumbles, leaning his cheek on top of your head, “Friends don’t do some of the things we’ve done”

“Like?”

Jungkook takes a hold of your chin with his thumb and forefinger, “This” he leans down, pressing a firm kiss to your parted lips, his tongue licking at the seam.

A breathy whine reverberates from your throat when you feel his tongue lick the roof of your mouth.

“Or this” Jungkook’s fingers trail up your bare calf, fingers dancing over the skin that had been hidden under layers of fabric.

You feel his thumb brush over your clit, your hips bucking in surprise when he does it again, only this time more purposeful.

Jungkook’s mouth drinks down your moans, his lips pulling into a smile when your fingers thread into the hair on the back of his head. Tugging in the way he’s come to love.

Your hips stutter when his fingers run over your slit, your sticky arousal becoming more apparent as he toys with your pussy. And you feel your cheeks flush at the thought of Jungkook being able to feel how wet you are just from a little kissing through the thin fabric of your panties.

You flinch when a loud knock disrupts your time with Jungkook, a frustrated whine dripping off your tongue like honey when Jungkook gives you a chaste kiss to the lips, his hand retreating from the veil of your skirt.

You tug at his wrist, thighs squeezing together when his gaze flits down to between your legs.

“It’ll be quick” he reassures, pressing a kiss to the pads of your fingers as he gently pulls his hand away from your grasp.

When Jungkook opens the door, Jin is given the sight of your skirt hiked up around your waist as you sit up on the bed with flushed cheeks.

He clears his throat, turning his attention back to Jungkook whose hair is a little messier than Seokjin had remembered it to be during dinner.

“His majesty—” he starts, willing his eyes not to trail back towards your body, aware that you were fixing your skirt, “He wanted to apologize if he offended you in any manner and offers an evening snack” he thrusts a basket of cut fruit into Jungkook’s arms.

“We weren’t offended, were we kookie?” you speak up, fingers clasping tightly to the back of his shirt as you come to stand beside the demon.

“Not at all” he turns towards the king’s aide, tight lipped smile on his face. A silent warning for him to hurry up and leave.

Seokjin nods, “Then I’ll be on my way” he motions down the hall, coughing awkwardly when Jungkook does nothing more than give a quick nod before turning to shut the door.

“You, okay?” Jungkook asks when he turns towards you, “It must be weird seeing such a familiar face” sympathising a little with you.

You shrug, “It was a little less surprising this time. I think I just have to get used to the fact that he isn’t someone I once knew”

Jungkook nods, placing the basket of fruit by the door, one of his pair of arms wrapping lightly around your waist. He sways the both of you, smiling when you rest your head against his heart.

His heart that only beats for you, the thumping that is locked behind the bones of his ribs like a cage, raring to burst. Because Jungkook loves you. And he wants to bare his raw heart to beat alongside your own forever.

He knows he loves you more than your Seokjin could have ever, the name tasting bitter on his tongue. Jungkook knows to protect your pretty beating heart, and he supposes it’s only right to dispose of anything that could crack the cage to the cell that only he should have the key to open.

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the-chipped-cup-awards · 2 years

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Chipped Cup Awards are still on!

Hello, all you lovely Rumbellers! It’s nearly November, and you know what that means: it’s time to start thinking about nominations for the Chipped Cup Awards!

As many of you are aware, The Espenson Awards, our fandom’s beloved event to send love to Rumbelle writers and artists, was retired last year. In an effort to keep the fandom thriving, we decided to make an event that will keep the spirit of the TEAs alive, while putting a new spin or two on it.

One thing we heard from several participants was that the size of the ballot could be daunting to fill out. We listened to your feedback, and did our best to distill the nomination categories into something that’s a bit more manageable, while still giving plenty of individual categories to choose from. You can see the complete list below the cut. If you have any feedback on these categories, you can send us an Ask. We’ll be happy to take it into account!

We’re also reducing the number of nominations needed for each entry down to three, where previously it was five. We’re hoping that this will give a wider range of fan works to choose from.

Finally, we’re adding a new feature: shout-outs. This will operate similarly to the Newby Spotlight, in that it is not a voting category. It gives the fandom the chance to shine the spotlight on some old favorites that may have been forgotten over the years. You can find more details on this feature at the bottom of the nomination categories under the cut.

We hope you’ll enjoy this event - both the tried and true aspects, and the new spins we put on things. If you have any questions, concerns, or other feedback, feel free to send us an ask or respond to this post.

Love,

TCCA Mod Team

FLUFF

Family

Comfort

Fix-It

Reunion

SMUT

Kink/BDSM

Romance

Comedy

Threesome

Best First Time

PWP

ANGST

Death

Hurts so good

Misunderstanding

ROMANCE

Best Date (Overall)

Best Hamburger Date

Best Courtship

Best First Meeting

GENERAL AWARDS

Best One-Shot

Best Series

Best Novel Length Fic (does not have to be finished, but must be a minimum of 40k words to qualify)

Best Holiday Fic

Best Remix

Best Crossover Fic

Best Dark Castle

Best Storybrooke

Best “Missing Years” Fic (taking place between Gideon’s birthday party and That Thing that happened in ‘Beauty’)

SPECIAL CATEGORIES

Best Golden Lace

Best Woven Lace

Best Woven Beauty

Best Rumbelle Poly Ship (ex: Golden Swan Beauty, Mad Golden Beauty)

Best Background Swanfire

Best Afterlife Fic

Best Drama

Best Supernatural/Sci-Fi/Horror

Best Comedy Fic

Best AU - Original

Best AU - Based off OUAT setting

Best AU - Based on other media

Best Creature Fic

Best Unexpected Twist

Best Dark One Lore Fic

Best Bobby Squared (a fic featuring more than one Bobby character, including multiple instances of Gold and/or Rumple)

Best Trope

Best English as Second Language Fic

EVENTS

(All fics in these categories are limited to 2022 events only.)

Rumbelle Secret Santa

Fluffapalooza

Monthly Rumbelle (Non-smut)

Monthly Rumbelle (Smut)

CHARACTER AWARDS

Best Belle

Best Dark One!Belle

Best Lacey

Best Detective Weaver

Best Dark One

Best Mr. Gold

Best Spinner!Rumple

Best Wish!Rumple

Best Baelfire/Neal

Best Gideon

Best OC Rumbelle Child

Best (Worst) Villain

Best BFF/wingman

ART

Best Fan Art

Best Cover Art

Best Graphic Art

Best AU in Art (encompassing traditional art, gif sets, still photo sets, etc.)

Best Fluff Art

Best Angsty Art

Best Smutty Art

Best Comic/Graphic Novel

Best Use of Color

Best Video

SUPERLATIVES

-BEST ARTIST

-BEST NEW ARTIST

- BEST AUTHOR

- BEST NEW AUTHOR

- BEST RUMBELLE FIC

- BEST ANYELLE FIC

- BEST ANYEM FIC

- Rumbelle Fandom Lifetime Achievement Award

Awarded to a person who has done something spectacular in the fandom. Either by making people feel welcome, organizing events, or simply embodying the Rumbelle fandom as a whole.

- Newbie Spotlight

This award goes to people who began contributing to the Rumbelle fandom since the last T.E.A.s. Those eligible include new writers, artists, gif-makers, etc. Anyone who creates content for the fandom. This category is not voted upon - every newbie whose name is put forth is added to the Spotlight list so that older members of the fandom can get to know them and their work!

-Fic/Art Shout-Out

This is a brand new category where all participants get the chance to nominate up to three fanfics and three fanarts that they love. This work can be anything you want - finished or unfinished, a prior TEAs winner or not - but each one MUST be from different writers/artists. The idea of this is to call the fandom’s attention to works and creators that you feel deserve love from the fandom: forgotten favorites, hidden gems, or that one work you keep coming back to years later. This is your chance to spread the love and encourage others to do the same!

#chipped cup awards #rumbelle #rumbelle fic #rumbelle art

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memoirofanowl · 4 years

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[Tags]

My Tagging System is a Mess™ on this blog so I’m going to work on spiffying it up!

Tagged/ Not really ⤜ Marked for Trouble (Tagged)

Mun Speaks ⤜ A Rambling Foreword (mod)

OOC ⤜ Loose Leaf Parchment (ooc)

Blog Status ⤜ Makeshift Bookmark (Blog Status)

PSA ⤜ Underlined by Talons (PSA)

RP Wishlist/ Wishlist ⤜ Ventures not yet had (wishlist)

Asks/Threads/Drabbles ⤜ The Budding Anthology (Asks)

Memes/Dash Games ⤜ Fresh Ink (Games & Starters)

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askyuivalanaki · 5 years

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[I have just met her and I love her!!]

((OOC)) OMG I was so excited to see this beautiful artwork from @asktheseawitch of my original idea for Slime!Val. You spoil me too much and I love it! Thank you! Thank you so much!!!!

#Monster!AU #Woven from Words (Supernatural!AU)#valerie #my apologies that her design is a bit off;;;#slime #monster meme #monster girl #she is just so precious #submission

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ragingbookdragon · 3 years

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Of Nights So Hollow, Of Legends So Great

Night Culture AU!Batfamily One-Shot

Word Count: 1.8K Warnings: Angst, Uh..Scary? I guess?

Author's Note: This is based on the wonderful @bunnvoid Night Culture AU and I felt compelled to write this at midnight because I couldn't stop thinking about it. Bunn, I hope I did your ideas justice! Honestly, I keep going back and forth between the drawings to make sure! I had fun writing it! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

It was said that at the heart of every legend there was a grain of truth. Legends are just pieces of history fabricated beyond wildest belief, built upon by centuries of retelling, each story sewing a new thread into the tapestry from whence it came. But that’s all that legends are. Threads twined together, woven greater and farther than the original fable.

***

The old castle was a legend. Perhaps not the castle itself, but what supposedly resided inside. Supernatural creatures that skirted down cobblestone alleys and between taverns, seeking out fresh blood in the night. That was one form of the legend, if you believed it. The other form was that of creatures who skirted down cobblestone alleys and between taverns, seeking out evil and destroying it where it plagued innocence.

The chateau lied in the midst of the Devilwood Wilds, just outside the City of Old Gotham. Even during the days when the sun would peek through the gray clouds, it appeared gloomy, blackened stone walls, charred shingles and shutters. The giant Devilwood and Shadow trees prevented sight of the doors of the castle; only the top could be seen, to get the real view, one would’ve had to go into the forest. There was another legend: the horrors of the Wilds.

Whispers on the school-grounds told of a creature, big and terrifying that could be summoned with ritual stones and fresh bat blood; those that summon the beast are never seen again. The adults were less convinced of the idea, though they still forbid their children from reaching even the edges of the forested area. Whilst they believed those that went in were never heard from again, it wasn’t from a creature eating them, but a lack of guidance. Starvation. Wild animals. The freezing fog that made your breath turn to frost.

Timothy remembers hearing those whispers when he passed the old schoolhouse. His mother and father didn’t let him interact with the common children, instead his lessons were taught by private tutors from the wealthiest lands, paid for with the Drake treasure of gold and gemstones.

What more so Timothy remembered was the inhuman being that appeared in his father’s manor, striking down his mother with a slash of black magic, his father following. He remembers the way his father’s eyes rolled back in his skull, fear spreading through his body as he hid in the corner of the room, whimpering and crying. And he most certainly remembered the cold hand of the demon sliding between his shoulder blades before it dug into his skin, piercing his flesh, laughing as he cried out in pain as pricks spread out along his back and down his arms.

Warmth bled down his back as black feathers pushed from his skin and Timothy panted as his fingernails grew in length, sharpening as they darkened. He remembered scrambling to his feet, darting away from the creature as he ran. Forgetting the corpses of his family and staff around him, throwing the door open, bursting into the night, and sprinting down the street, leaving a trail of bloody, black feathers in the direction of the Devilwood Wilds.

***

The first night was the least remembered but the darkest. Violent and corrupting nightmares slithering inside his head as he tossed and turned along the frigid ground in a feverish deathlike state, the wings at his back only growing in size.

The second night was less nightmare-ridden, but much more painful. Timothy had pierced a wing on a stray Devilwood tree, the syrup like poison only infecting the wound. He was hungry and cold. Exhausted and scared. He tried to remember all the books he read as a child of the knights facing the elements for a week in order to ascend knighthood; he couldn’t seem to recall a thing.

The third night seemed to be his last. He lay huddled up against a raised Shadow tree root, the ebony wood providing stability for his wounded wing. Timothy sniffled, dragging his knees to his chest as he lay his chin on his arms, ignoring the grumbling of his stomach as it ate itself in hunger.

A tree branch creaked above him, and he craned his neck up, eyes widening when he saw the glowing eyes of the masked creature. The legends were right. The creature’s head twisted sideways, reminding Timothy of an owl, then the other way, like it was observing him. It made a noise and he scrambled to the floor of the forest, curling his injured wing above his head and over his body to protect himself.

THUNK!

Timothy whimpered, ready to be torn to shreds, but when no vicious claws or snapping teeth came at him, he carefully peered between his open wing. There lie a satchel, as long as his forearm and as wide as his middle was. He looked up towards the tree branch to where the creature had sat, but there was nothing there anymore; he glanced around, it wasn’t in sight.

He blinked and shuffled towards the satchel, untying the drawstrings with fumbling clawed hands. Inside lay a pair of thick wool socks, a small blanket, and another small bag. Timothy pulled it from the satchel and opened it; half a loaf of bread and a chunk of meat the size of his hand were stowed inside.

Timothy forewent the etiquette he was taught as a child, giving into his ravenous desire as he devoured the meat. It was tender and juicy, the glaze a mixture of honey and cinnamon.

A memory flowed to his mind, the dinner after the rising of the first star, his family and staff all surrounding the dining table, a divine feast laid before them. The smiling faces of his mother and father stilled his hunger and he placed the food back in the satchel, uncurling the wool blanket. Timothy lay underneath the raised Shadow tree roots, one wing curled around him, and he fell into a restless sleep with tears frozen on his cheeks.

***

When he awoke the next morning, his wing was no longer torn and infected. A new feather had appeared where the wound had been. Timothy wanted to learn to fly. He’d owned a bird once. A Ruby Firebird, with long, crimson-colored feathers and big ruby eyes. It had been his only real friend and he’d watched it a lot. It couldn’t be that hard.

He stretched his wings out, unable to fight the urge to touch them with a single black claw. It tingled. Timothy blinked and beat them, unsure. He beat them again, this time a little harder, keeping at it until with each beat he was able to blow the long grass flat against the ground. A giddy smile came across his lips when the tips of his toes grazed the ground.

What he had not counted on was how tired he was going to get after only a few brief minutes of trying. His wings felt sore. Timothy would try again tomorrow to rise above the tall grass.

***

The creature would appear at odd times during the night and Timothy had stopped feeling the cold fear in his gut when it did. It never came near him; it just watched with the cocked head, back and forth, then would drop the satchel again and disappear. Sometimes there were scribbles inside. He didn’t know what they meant; but he knew the language. Thaatisgani. An old language his writing teacher had shown him one day. A language long died out amongst the common and even the elite folk.

Timothy wanted to know what it meant. He wanted to know what the creature was. His determination drew him to the front of the castle during the night of the harshest season storm. Lighting crackled across the sky, the thunder rolled along the clouds and the rain came down in torrents. He was freezing and soaked to the bone and the weight of his wings had him crawling up the steps, collapsing at the door.

He weakly raised a clawed hand, one nail scratching the black glazed door and he descended into darkness.

***

His mother liked to wear scented oils. They smelled of Queen’s Briar and Golden Belladonna. Before he was older, she used to let Timothy sit beside her when she would apply them to her wrist and ears. She would smile at him and tell him stories of far away lands.

Warmth spread across his eyes, and he rolled over in what he thought was his dream, only to roll onto the ground, landing awkwardly on his wings. Timothy whined and unfolded himself off the ground, rubbing his eyes, only to see the creature a hair’s breadth away from his face.

Timothy choked on his fear and scrambled away, only for the creature to grab his shoulder.

“Stay.”

He halted, looking back at it. “You speak the common tongue?”

The creature stared at him. “You are Timothy Drake. Son of Earl Drake.”

“I am,” Timothy responded, then looked at his hands. “But my family is…is dead.”

“Killed by a slithering demon from the Farstead realm.”

Tears prickled Timothy’s vision. “It killed my parents and cursed me.” He looked at the creature. “I’m a monster.”

“You’re cursed to believe what you think you are.” The creature waved a glowing hand and Timothy blinked in shock as the wings disappeared and his hands turned to normal. “It’s merely an illusion. You’ve only been tainted with cursed magic.”

It was much too complicated for Timothy to pull apart now. “Can I be healed?”

The creature blinked its glowing obs. “Cursed magic cannot be healed…but it can be trained.” They leaned forward, getting in his face. “I can teach you to control and transform.”

“You’re not going to eat me?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“…Yes.”

“You hesitated just a bit right there.”

A bottle rolled out from the corner of the room and the creature sighed, turning its head to it. “Richard. Jason. Come here.”

Two young boys, not that much older than Timothy appeared from behind a corner, guilty looks on their faces as though they’d been caught eavesdropping.

The creature nodded to Timothy. “Take him upstairs. He is dirty and tired.”

The tallest one, Jason, crossed his arms over his chest. “Just like that, Bruce? You’re going to take the witch boy in?”

“Pot-kettle,” Richard coughed, smiling when Jason elbowed him.

The creature, now known as Bruce, sighed. “Take the boy. He is tired.”

Jason and Richard obeyed, each hauling Timothy up under the armpits, leading him to a dimly lit staircase.

“Are you two going to eat me?”

“Yes,” Jason replied without hesitation.

“Jason!” Richard barked. “Stop.” He looked down at Timothy. “We’re not going to eat you Timothy…we’re going to help you. And that includes having a warm bed to sleep in and hot food to eat.”

Tears once again gathered in Timothy’s eyes, and he lowered his head as he sniffled. For once since that night, he felt safe.

These were the legends that prowled the city streets. They were supposed to be vicious and dark, evil and bloodthirsty, not ribbing and warm.

But then again, what are legends, but threads twined together, woven greater and farther than the original fable?

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exosmutfactory · 3 years

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Double Trouble (21+): MESMERIZING

{ Double Trouble: Double STUFFED Snacks Edition }

✯♛❀Mature Drabbles❀♛✯ Come get a mouthful 🔞

Full story masterlist

networks — @superm-net @/bbh-net @/exowritersnet

pairing — Hyun & You

word count — 4.2k (YIKES)

genre — supernatural, (and a bit of comedy; my finger slipped,) royalty!au, fairy! Hyun

category — fluff, mutual pining, Soft dom! Hyun

A request? Yes ^-^

Dedicated to: 💜 Purple 02 anon 💜

[ This chapter contains: pure smut and romance. Smut details under the cut 🌹 ]

A/N: I love this character too much. Excuse me, fluffy/smutty Hyun appreciation drabble coming through! 😄✨

⏰�� Double Trouble Tag List: ☀⏰

@to-all-the-stories-i-love @insta1010 @bellamendoza @weirdoome@geniusloey @pvtbbh @baekyeonoreo @soonvivi @you-n-me-e-e @bigbobohu @bubutaeyongie @maijinki

The smut contains: breeding kink, creampie, overstimulation, public

✴-☀-✴-☀-✴-☀-✴-☀-✴-☀

You love this time of year, where the days get shorter and the summer nights turn cooler. It’s the perfect weather for you to go out for a stroll without worrying about freezing to the bone or fainting from the smothering heat. Some may say they prefer the Spring for its warm sunshine and flowers ready to bloom, but you’ve always preferred the opposite. The distant sun that watches over you as you go about your day, waiting patiently for the colorful leaves to cascade down from the trees around you.

Colorful leaves, cool temperatures, and the best part of all. While you rake up the leaves in your garden at your leisure, you have more peace, for one reason and one reason only:

The lack of insects.

Fall is the time of year where the world slowly turns into the snowflake sparkled days of winter, and you are forever grateful to get a break from the pests that roam around your home. Seeing bugs on the sidewalks in the city is one thing; encountering them on the ceiling of your bathroom in your little cottage is another.

If you knew trading the hustle and bustle of the big city life in exchange for your humble peace and quiet would result to this, you would have thought longer on accepting a random little old lady’s offer to take this property off of her hands. At least she left all the insect repellant she had behind for you. But no matter how “well equipped” you are to battle the intruders of your home, you’re never fully prepared to deal with them.

Which is why when you flick on the lights in your bathroom at 3am to find an exceptionally large spider web covering the entirety of the mirror, you scream. To your horror, one of the silk-woven cocoons on the web wiggles around, prompting you to grab a trashcan and a brand new can of heavily enchanted spray. You may have gotten used to seeing the tiny, creepy, crawly and jumpy creatures every now and then, but you are not about to battle its hundreds or possibly thousands of offspring.

You slowly step closer, holding out the can in front of you when a small noise reaches your ears. A familiar noise, like the high-pitched chirp baby birds make from the tall treetops surrounding your home. You approach the mirror with caution, your finger ready to unleash the spray at any moment.

“Help me!” A little voice yells, the bundle of webs moving relentlessly. “Please!”

You squint your eyes and gasp at the golden sparkle that floats up out of the cocoon. Pixie dust.

With the speed that would leave a vampire impressed, you grab a paper towel and carefully pull the silk bundle away from the flowy web. Setting it down on the counter, you look around for anything you can use to pry it open, but everything is too big or sharp. From your packet of toothpicks on the shelf to the plunger tucked away in the cabinet under your sink, you have little options left.

Faced with the possibility of hurting the little creature in your hands, you sigh in defeat and close your eyes, gently peeling the silky web apart with your fingertips. The moment you feel a little flutter against your skin, your eyes snap open, landing on a tiny human-like body that’s the size of your thumb. You let out a sigh of relief when they move their wings. Freeing them completely from the sticky strings, you set them on the warm washcloth that you had set aside in your haste to get rid of the spider web. The white material is soft, fresh from the dryer, perfect for your new little friend. You quickly move to wash your hands and throw the rest of the cocoon away.

Feeling a whisper of something soft brush against your cheek, you look down again, smiling at the golden pixie dust that flies over your face and fades away when it reaches your forehead. “Hello, little guy,” you greet sweetly, chuckling as the fairy shakes more webs out of its blonde hair.

Fairy. You distantly remember the old lady telling you about how the forest was full of them, but even in a world full of werewolves and witches galore, you still thought of fairies as an old folk tale. They are the rarest supernatural in the world, known for blending in with fireflies at night and tending to gardens at the break of dawn. Spotting them with your own eyes is a ‘once in a lifetime’ type of deal, let alone experiencing the ticklish sensation of their pixie dust against your skin.

“How did you get tangled up in a web, hmm?” you inquire, carefully lying your hand down next to the cloth while the fairy stretches and flutters its golden wings. “Do you remember?” you tilt your head, watching him stretch before climbing onto the palm of your hand. His little outfit made of flower petals and carefully woven leaves has you smiling fondly, even the golden tips of his little ears are cute. The fairy’s cheeks turn a pretty pink hue before you slowly bring him closer to you, listening while he tells you his story.

His name is Hyun, reminding you of honey with the rich color outlining his glittery wings. Apparently he was tending to the vegetables in your garden last night, but grew very fatigue and accidentally snoozed on a soft petal of daisies. The next thing he knew, he woke up to a piercing scream that shook the world around him, and that will forever be his first impression of you. You. Screaming at 3am. At a spider web with a fast asleep fairy hidden within.

You don’t know whether to laugh or cry over how ridiculous it all is, but there’s one thing you know for certain: you are so glad you listened before spraying him. One too many drops of that witch enchanted bug repellant and he would have perished into the very dust that keeps floating up from him while he cheerfully chatters away.

The sun is just starting to peek over the horizon when Hyun’s little wings droop, his eyes fluttering while trying to fight the urge to sleep. You carefully step out of the lit bathroom and gently lay him down on your pillow before going back to take care of the spider web. A thought occurs to you while wiping down the mirror: has Hyun eaten yet? Does he even eat? What do fairies do besides float around and help plants grow 24/7?!

Wait - the garden, you snap your fingers and hurry to the kitchen to open the fridge, taking out all the carefully packed fruits and vegetables that you have. Since you don’t live close to any supermarkets for miles upon miles either way on the old dirt road leading up to your house, you have taken a liking to growing your own produce. And apparently, you’re not the only one who loves taking care of them too.

Smiling to yourself, you set out a few different veggies and fruits on the counter, looking them all over. Unfortunately, through your hours of talking, you never found out what was Hyun’s favorite food. Fairies do eat like humans, right…? Maybe not fast food and such, but they have to have healthy diets from things grown directly from the earth right? Right?

Huffing, you blow your hair out of your face, staring determinedly down at your options. Peppers? No, the seeds alone are a choking hazard. Blueberries? Eh, who eats those when they’re ravenous? Cucumbers? Carefully inspecting the ones you have, you can see an obvious lack of color in them. Someone doesn’t like tending to cucumbers, hmm? you chuckle. That leaves you with your final option: strawberries.

You thoroughly wash the biggest one you can find, cutting off the stem and slicing it in half. How much do fairies eat? You wash and slice 2 more just in case, putting them on a special flower-painted plate before tiptoeing back to your room.

Slipping through the open doorway, you find Hyun fast asleep, his little wings twitching every now and then. You swear his pixie dust forms little letter Z’s while you quietly set the plate onto the nightstand, smiling at the peaceful look on his tiny face.

“I guess you wore yourself out, hmm?” you chuckle, gently tucking him under the soft, blue hand towel that you like to keep next to your bed. You turn off your lamp just as the first rays of sunlight flutter through the open windows and settle down on the other side of him, his tiny chirps and soft snores quickly lulling you into dreamland.

The next time you open your eyes, you find your pillow empty, like the budding ache in your chest. But the tiny bite marks left in the strawberries on your nightstand and golden sparkles hovering by your window let you know that he really was there.

✨☀✨

Fall melts into the early days of winter, and you really start to wonder if it was all a dream. Maybe you shouldn’t stay up until 3am anymore, even if you’ve done it for the past few weeks in hopes of seeing him again. As if he’d willingly take the risk of being wrapped up in a spider web.

You’ve just begun to let the memory of him fade when an unexpected guest comes your way.

It’s particularly windy tonight and the weather forecast had called for heavy rain in the morning, so here you are, walking back down the old dirt road that leads to the cottage with a tarpaulin tucked under your arm. Since you moved out here in the beginning of Fall and haven’t had the chance yet to go looking for a car, your trips to the nearest store take all day. Thankfully you headed out as soon as sunlight broke through the clouds this morning or you’d have to stay the night at some dusty motel. In a world like this where supernatural creatures live alongside humans, no one is safe under the light of the moon.

Quickening your steps, you hurry down the dirt path, the fatigue in your legs will be nothing compared to the pain you’d be in if a feral werewolf or thirsty vampire caught you out here. According to the law, the forest is free for them to roam around at night. Anything that happens in the forest, stays in the forest.

A thud catches your attention, making you pause. Is someone out here with you? No, your distant neighbor passed by you a few miles back. No one else would be out here at this hour… unless-

Someone calls your name and you slowly turn around, dropping everything in your hands when your eyes meet two familiar brown ones. “H-Hyunnie?”

A man stands before you, hesitantly stepping out from the shadows, with droopy brown eyes, pouty lips, and a cute button nose. But nothing gives his identity away like his blonde hair and the mesmerizing constellation of pixie dust sparkling around him. You look him over from his fuzzy coat, to his fancy white dress shirt and his dress pants that blend in with the night around you, a smile forming on your face when you see his cheeks turn a pretty pink hue. “Hi,” he says softly when you cut the distance between you.

“Are you real?” you breathe, reaching for his hand, the pixie dust floating around his fingertips tickling your skin all over again.

“As real as I’ll ever be,” he whispers back, staring into your eyes and holding the back of your hand to his cheek. The twinkling golden lights reflected in his brown eyes tell of so many stories that you want to uncover, even if just for one night. Hyun holds your hand securely in his, and steps back under the shadow of the trees, pleading with you wordlessly to follow his lead.

He takes you deeper into the forest, passing by endless rows of autumn-colored trees, their fallen leaves crunching under your feet. He brings you to a spot in the middle of the forest that you’ve never seen before, the canopy of treetops opened up to show the fullness of the moon.

“You’ve been gone a long time,” you can’t help but point out, kneeling beside him in the tall grass.

“I know,” he mumbles, not letting go of your hand for a second. He turns to look at you then, his blonde hair ruffling in the cool wind. “I’ve been so busy, I’m sorry.”

You raise a brow, not sure if you can ask him what it was about. If there’s one thing you’ve learned from the dusty books on the far shelves in the back of the library, it is how secretive fairies are. One wrong move and Hyun could spread his wings and fly away.

“My mom and dad held a banquet,” he begins, immediately grabbing your attention. “It went on for ages, I swear I was never going to get away.” Hyun ruffles his hair, staring off into the distance, the pixie dust around him sparkling in an almost agitated manner. “They’ve done it every year since my coming of age.”

You look at him - really look at him, watching how the scattered golden freckles across his glowy cheeks and ears turn into the pretty pink hue you adore.

“It’s been 100 years,” he murmurs, slowly looking at you. “You’d think they’d get tired after the 50th.”

“What…” you start, meeting his sparkling brown eyes, “what kind of banquets do they host, Hyun?”

“Um-” Hyun clears his throat, the pink on his cheeks turning a scarlet red. He looks at you, the forest around you, the ground, and then back at you again, his face growing redder by the minute. “They…” he trails off, his pixie dust covered fingers softly playing with your hand. “They want me to find someone,” he mutters, shyly meeting your eyes again.

Your heart pounds a mile a minute in your chest, a soft smile forming on your face. Maybe it’s the way Hyun’s cheeks glow more red or the way he wiggles nervously, but you’ve never found him more adorable than he is right now. “And why haven’t you found this ‘someone’?” you ask softly anyway, already finding the answer in his warm brown eyes.

Hyun smiles sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck and looking away, the freckles on his nape turning a bright red hue. “I just- I’ve been busy getting everything settled and taking care of things and then I found your garden and I-”

You silence him with a kiss, cupping his cheek in your hand. His little gasp against your lips makes your own curl up into a fond smile. You pull him closer as he melts against you, parting his soft lips and running a hand down his firm chest. The warmth radiating from him has your skin buzzing, filling your body with a steadily building haze as you rest a hand on the back of his neck.

Hyun hums deeply, taking hold of your hand on his chest. “Is this what you want, baby?” he murmurs, his eyes fluttering open to meet yours. The sheer amount of desire swirling within his brown irises has your breath hitching, your heart skips and stops all together when he presses a firm kiss to the back of your hand, his eyes staring right into yours while caressing your skin with his lush lips.

That wicked tongue…

You don’t miss the way he licks his lips with an endearing little grin on his face. Relishing in his close proximity and the warmth of his hand resting on your waist, you stare right back into those mischievously twinkling eyes of his, “you bet your sweet ass I do.”

Hyun chuckles, shrugging off his coat while you work on unbuttoning his white dress shirt. The material looks as if it will burst until you make your way to the third button, drinking in every inch of his honey-toned skin. The freckles scattered across his broad shoulders and chest flash a golden color before matching that pink hue painted all over his handsome face. You’re starting to get an idea of what that color could mean with the way he looks at you.

He spreads out his coat on the grass behind you, gently laying you down on it and settling between your thighs like it’s the most natural thing in the world. With his body pressed to yours, warming you up and tickling your senses with floating pixie dust at the same time, you can’t help shifting under him when you feel his cock pressing against your thigh.

Hyun takes a deep breath, worrying you for a moment until he smiles sweetly at you, softly cupping your cheek before uttering his next words. “You’re even more beautiful than I remember.”

He chuckles when it leaves you flustered, gently caressing your heated skin with his thumb. His skin glows beautifully under the moonlight, the pixie dust blending in perfectly with the fireflies above you while he slowly unbuttons your flannel shirt, exposing your chest to his eager eyes.

Hyun tucks his fingers under the strap of your bra, pulling it down before leaning close to pepper kisses over your skin, leaving a tingly trail of his lips from your shoulder to your jaw. The quiet smooches and little sighs he makes have you feeling flushed, and you can’t forget his other hand tiptoeing his fingers up your inner thigh. He grabs your thigh firmly, pulling it around his waist before dipping his hips down into yours, silencing your loud gasp with his lips.

He lifts up for a moment to remove your bra and both of your shirts, pressing you down onto his coat again. The warmth coming from his chest and his nipples rubbing against yours has your head spinning. You slide your hands down his back, mapping out the dips and curves of his smooth skin while his lips brush over your cheek in search of yours again.

Your breath hitches when he grinds against you again, already feeling an unbearable heat building between your legs with every move he makes. You moan when his lips slide down your neck, tangling your fingers into his hair. “Hyun, please.”

“Hmm?” his lips venture lower, his bottom lip brushing over your nipple when he looks up at you. “Yes, Princess?”

“Hyunnie,” you moan, tightening your legs around him as he grinds harder against you, sucking your nipple between his lips. The way he rolls it around his tongue inside of his mouth has you crying out, tugging hard onto his hair.

“So responsive,” he murmurs, stealing your breath away with another kiss. You’re so busy whimpering under the mercy of his lips that you buck your hips in surprise when you feel his hand slip under the waistband of your pants. Hyun tentatively rubs his fingers over your clothed folds, humming at the wet spot he finds there. You’d feel embarrassed if your eyes hadn’t caught his again, finding all the reassurance you need in them.

You relax against his fluffy coat, smiling softly up at him while he struggles to help you out of the rest of your clothes. Your amused chuckle gets cut short when his lips land on your navel, his tongue swirling around your belly button and down to your core in a manner that you are in no way prepared for.

Hyun’s playful brown eyes meet yours under the hundreds of pixie dust and fireflies, the sparkle in his eyes brighter than the full moon itself. The moment you once again tangle your fingers into his hair, his wicked tongue presses wetly against your clit.

You shudder and relax under him, your thighs twitching uncontrollably as Hyun practically French kisses your lower lips. His tongue swipes up between your folds, settling on your clit. The light suction of his lips and the fast flicks of his tongue put you in an aroused haze, just enough to get you riled up without pushing you over the edge. When he adds his fingers to the mix, you gasp out his name, pulling him closer as he sucks harshly onto your sensitive bud.

“Come on, sweet love,” he murmurs when you start to shake, the sloppy sounds of his slender fingers pounding into you echoing throughout the forest. “Come for me; I want your cum in my mouth.”

When he crooks up his fingers and they slam directly into your sweet spot, you succumb to the pleasure of his mouth. Your back arches entirely off of the ground when he quickly replaces his fingers with his tongue, sucking loudly on your entrance and sticking his tongue into your clenching hole, burying his nose in you.

“Fuck,” you moan, throwing your head back into the grass as he fucks you sloppily with his tongue, holding your hips down. His lewd slurps and little breathy moans bring you to another peak at lightning speed. Hyun doesn’t pull away until your thighs tremble from oversensitivity.

“Perfect,” he breathes heavily, parting your folds with his thumbs to admire your swollen pussy. His eyes slowly drag back up your body to yours. He leans down to you, cupping your jaw and kissing you unhurriedly.

“Mmm Hyun,” you murmur against his parted lips, not minding your own tangy taste on your tongue while sliding your hand down his chest, tugging at the waistband of his pants.

“Oh,” his cheeks flush pink again as you gently wipe them with your fingertips, finding it endearing how he can get so flustered in this moment with your cum smeared all over his mouth. “I-I’m okay, don’t worry about-”

“Hyun.” You grab him firmly through the tight material of his dress pants, goosebumps covering your skin at the low groan it coaxes out of him.

He gulps as you continue palming him. He sits up and runs a hand through his hair, revealing his dewy forehead. “A-are you sure?”

“Yes. I want this.” You rest your hand on his nape, pulling him close until his lips brush against yours, tangling the tips of your fingers in his damp hair. “I want you,” he gasps when you sneak your hand into his boxers, wrapping your hand around him, “inside of me.” You swear you see Hyun’s brown eyes dilate before he moves to unzip his pants at lightning speed.

“I have to warn you though,” he murmurs between heavy breaths, revealing his stunning cock to you.

“What is it?” you ask distractedly, busy watching him tease his cock between your legs.

“Us fairies are very…” he clears his throat, slowly sliding his cock over your clit, “fertile.”

You pause for a moment, dragging your eyes up from the arousing sight to the flushed man in front of you. “Are you saying you’ll get me pregnant, Hyun?”

“No-” he immediately shakes his head, “not if I don’t-”

“Come inside me?” you tilt your head, wrapping your legs around him when his cock twitches against you. “Fill me up with your cum until I have your baby?”

Hyun breathes out your name, his hips stuttering when you reach down to slowly stroke his cock, spreading his precum over his tip at a leisurely pace.

“You’d love that wouldn’t you?” you purr a little breathless, pressing him against your entrance, moaning softly as he slides in. “Making me all yours?”

Hyun watches you take his cock before his dark eyes meet yours again. “Mmm,” he jerks his hips, grabbing your waist as you gasp, taking him to the hilt. “You’d look perfect with your belly swollen with my kids,” he murmurs roughly, caressing your stomach with every deep thrust into your core. “Letting everyone know who this pussy belongs to.”

You gasp when his lips crash to yours. His hands gently take hold of yours, placing them above your head and interlocking his fingers with yours. “So good,” he murmurs lowly, his puffs of breath fanning over your lips with every swirl of his hips. The slick noises of your bodies slowly colliding together echoes louder than the singing crickets. You dig your nails into the back of his hands when you feel yourself getting close again, tightening your legs around him.

“Are you close?” he murmurs into your ear, nibbling your earlobe as you nod, arching your body into his. Hyun’s hips are rocking into you at the perfect angle to stimulate your clit. He pulls another gasp from your lips when he shifts, thrusting right into your g spot. You need no coaxing to be sent over the edge.

Hyun’s steady pace falters when you clench around him. He hides his face in your neck with a groan, making your breath hitch when he jerks his hips, his cock pulsing inside you and feeling you with a kind of warmth that you dare say you’ve felt before…

Looking up at him, you raise a brow at the flustered look on his face, noticing how the pixie dust around you has turned into a pink hue as well. You tuck his damp hair behind his ear and cup his cheek in your hand, smiling at him. As long as you have your blushing fairy by your side, you know you’ll be alright. There’s no place you’d rather be than with him.

✴-☀-✴-☀-✴-☀-✴-☀-✴-☀

A/N: Forgive me if there are any typos, I’ve been at this all day. A b*tch needs sleep xd thank you for reading!

#baekhyun smut #exowritersnet #supermnet #bbh-net #baekhyun fanfiction #baekhyun romance #baekhyun fluff #Double Trouble #baekhyun scenario #baekhyun x reader #baekhyun x you #exo scenarios

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elia-de-silentio · 3 years

Text

Recap on the Book (+ a theory on Atsushi)

The Book is an element that received little attention compared to the character drama in Bungo Stray Dogs, but it's actually the element instigating it, as the thing almost everyone desires. This time, I want to make a recap on it, and take a look on an interesting theory regarding the connection between it and Atsushi.

The first one to mention it is Fitzgerald. He describes it as pretty much Aladdin's lamp from the original fairy tale: something to make all wishes come true, in his case the resurrection of his daughter. Appearently, Atsushi is the 'guidepost' to the Book, and that's why there was such an hefty bounty on him at the start of the series. Whatever that means, we are all still waiting to know.

It also mentions that it is 'impervious to fire and all abilities'.

But Fitzgerald was in cahoots with two other amiable fellows who were after the same thing: Fyodor Dostoevsky and Agatha Christie. While the latter has not appeared since except for Dead Apple, the former has given us new infos on the prized Book.

He too wants to use the Book, but in his case, the goal is a little more lofty: he wants to recreate the world, one without the 'sin' of ability users. So, the Book's powers aren't limited to just bring back the dead, they really have a reality-altering scale.

(translation by @akai-koutei)

At the start of the Decay of Angels arc, Chief Taneda gives Ranpo a few more informations about our object of interest.

It is in the hands of the government, and it has been studied, via a single page extracted from it, that holds the same power as the whole Book (like a Death Note).

Moreover, we find the first limitation to the power: 'the written content must conform to the rules of karma'. In other words - and we're going deliciously meta here - it must have narrative consistency, unlike the 'real world' in which accidents of any kind and without any meaning happen all the time. Of course it does! If a book had inconsistent plot development and characterization, wouldn't we all be complaining about bad writing?

Lastly, it's suggested that it was created by an ability user, which set its rules to prevent excessive and senseless destruction.

This rule begs the question - do Fitzgerald or Fyodor know about it? 'A girl suddenly springs back to life' doesn't have much narrative consistence, and neither 'all Ability users suddenly vanish'. A way to work around this limit would be rewrite history itself: Fitzgerald's daughter never died/Abilities never existed in the first place. It would erase the timeline in which these events would be impossible, and create another in which they have consistency.

This would also be the reason for the initial plan of the Decay of Angels, using the page to depict the ADA as terrorists ... but before that, they had to 'create' their crimes by killing relevant people that had spoken against the Agency, giving them plausible actions and motives.

It also fits with the Sky Casino: a building that was woven back in time with a complete backstory, instead of just popping out from nothingness. Still, this also show us that there's no need for the details to be absolutely accurate: Dazai managed to figure out that the building had been written from the Book because the 'top secret' details of its creation didn't exist in the first place. Still, these details are ones that do not 'disturb' the flow of a story: it's a freaking flying casino, who is going to think about the funds? Just enjoy the story!

But then we find an outstanding exception: Sigma. A whole human being brought into existence by the Book, without any past that he can remember. He appeared three years ago, in a desert, with only the clothes on his back and a train ticket. No backstory from him.

How was this possible? It's not very narratively coherent, a person popping into existence.

Well, we must consider that we know only what Fyodor says about it. He might be withholding information from Dazai and the audience, or even lying to confuse his opponent; or maybe he doesn't know the answer himself. He recruited Sigma, likely after hearing about his Ability, but did not create him personally.

Maybe Sigma's 'parent' actually did have a backstory and purpose planned for his 'character', but for some reason, they weren't received. Or maybe they knew some trick to circumvent the limitations of the Book. Maybe the government was experimenting with it, and for some reason someone was like 'hey, let's see if we can make a person pop out in the desert, without anyone being around to check if it happens or take care of the eventual human being!'.

Yeah ... this part is rather confusing. I look forward to an explaination on Sigma's origins.

The last time that the rules of the Book are mentioned, is to show us a way to circumvent them. Fyodor had written that 'no police officer will believe the Agency's innocence' ... but he didn't factor Tachihara in. As a member of the Hunting Dogs, he is a police officer; but during his infiltration of the Mafia, he acquired this second identity. He is an officer, and at the same time, he is not. As soon as he inquires other mafiosi on the matter, he becomes clear to him the ADA's guiltlessness, in which he couldn't believe when talking with the othe Hunting Dogs.

And Ranpo in later chapters used a similar strategy, bringing his proofs to a group of journalists to make the masses think; and in turn, this divided the police between those who still obeyed the rule and those who adopted a new perspective.

The human ability to put ourselves in other points of view is the uncontrollable variable that can break the Book's powers.

(By the way, I wonder if that was actually Fyodor's plan. He seems too smart and well-informed to not take this possibility into consideration. Considering that the clashes among the police resulted in riots and chaos; and he commented earlier, talking to himself, that he didn't create the 'perfect' plan his colleagues required because that would be boring ... maybe this is his own plan to undermine Fukuchi's power and get him out of his way, to be the one who will actually puts his hands on the Book?)

After that, an interesting comment was made: the Decay of Angels planned to use the Book 'the next full moon'. It's uncertain if it's because it can only be used in this time frame, or if it can be just be found (in both cases, the Book has another rule that limits its use)

The last time any piece of the Book made an appearence, it was with Fukuchi dangling the famous page, and the possibility of rewriting it, in front of Atsushi and Akutagawa; but that was also the first sound defeat for the Shin Soukoku. Fukuchi still has the page, and now our hopes reside in Tachihara, currently about to face him.

Then, there is supplementary material: the BEAST AU. I haven't read the light novel or manga, so any information I can provide is from the wiki and @looking-for-stray-dogs 's summary.

In this AU, Dazai has managed to obtain the Book, but thanks to his Ability, he retains his memories even in different universes. But didn't Fitzgerald say that the Book is immune to all Abilities? Or only those which try to destroy it?

Still, Dazai used the Book to create his own pet universe - kind of like Fyodor wants to do, but with a much more personal goal: creating a universe in which Odasaku lives. This appearently can happen only if he never becomes Dazai's friend.

However, the definition of 'make what is written in it into reality' is not exact: it is more like a 'container' for every possible universe in existence, and what is written in the pages will not 'rewrite reality', but 'call forth the universe in which it happens'.

Think of it like Michelangelo's ideas about sculpting: the statue is already in the block of stone, the artist merely brings it out.

Beast!Dazai then mentions another clause: if three or more people know the truth about a world created by the Book, the stability of said world gets compromised, and it gets higher possibilities of ceasing to exist. Which is pretty much what is happening in the canon manga.

And this is all we know insofar. Is it enough to make theories? Of course! Anything is enough to make theories!

One I've seen circulating, and that I really like, is 'Atsushi is a creation of the Book'.

Supporting it:

• Atsushi is considered so valuable because he is a 'guidepost' to the Book; it would actually make sense that someone created by the Book mantained some connection to it.

Contradicting it:

• There already is someone who was for sure created by the Book: Sigma. And he is already in the Decay of Angels: if all sentient beings created by the Book mantained a connection to it, wouldn't that mean that they don't need Atsushi? Instead, not only they are still looking for tiger boy, but Sigma needed to threaten and use his Ability on Taneda to find out just where one page was.

Solution: maybe Atsushi was specifically written to be a 'tracker' for the Book, while Sigma wasn't?

Supporting it:

• Atsushi doesn't have any certified past, someone threw him on the streets without giving him anything that could lead back to a birth family. And appearently, nobody noticed someone had a suddenly missing child, or tried to investigate on the abandonment of a toddler.

Contradicting it:

• Who the hell creates a supernatural being that can lead to an even more supernatural book and then throws him in the trash?!

Solution: who the hell creates a supernatural being who can exchange informations and throws him in the desert?! Whatever the keeper of the Book is on, it can't be legal, or even well-cut for the matter.

More seriously, we are told that Atsushi's parents abandoned him, but it was the Headmaster that said it, and he's not the most reliable guy around. Atsushi not only does not have any proof for that, but he also has a faulty memory due to trauma: if he forgot Shibusawa, what else could he have forgotten?

Supporting it:

• The Book can appearently be used - or maybe retrieved, the phrasing is a bit ambiguous on that - under the full moon. Atsushi's Ability is called 'Beast Beneath the Moonlight', and he himself is called a 'weretiger', derivated from 'werewolf', a creature that has a traditional connection to the full moon.

Contradicting it:

• It might be a coincidence?

Supporting it:

• Shibusawa took a very specific interest in him, even going to the point of torturing him to make the 'Beast under the Moonlight' manifest

Contradicting it:

• Shibusawa was obsessed in finding the 'ultimate ability'. The fact that appearently Atsushi has it does not mean that it is related to the Book, or even that it is an objective statement.

Supporting it:

• Fyodor took a very specific interest in him. He was the one who directed Shibusawa to him, as far as six years ago, when Atsushi likely hadn't manifested his Ability. So, how did this rat, who is very interested in the Book and probably spent a lot of time finding ways to get it, know about him?

Contradicting it:

• Dazai appearently knows nothing about it. Considering how smart and careful he is, it would be expected that he did his research on why everyone was so fixated on the Agency's newest recruit. Instead, he looked genuinely shocked when he's told about Sigma's birth. So, whatever Atsushi's connection to the Book is, it's not of that kind. Moreover, Fyodor hasn't had a single interaction with Atsushi insofar. Wouldn't be more logical trying to somehow secure his willing cooperation if he needs it? From his side, Atsushi doesn't seem to know how he looks like (when he thinks about him, the face is always obscured), nor he acts like he vaguely recognize the name before - something that instead happened with Shibusawa

Possible solution: maybe Dazai isn't God the All-Knowing for once in this manga?! Or maybe he was lying to keep a margin of advantage. And Fyodor rarely acts in a very direct way, usually putting other people and convoluted plans between himself and anyone who could be involved. Sending Shibusawa to Atsushi might have been such a case.

Contradicting it:

• Fukuchi has no problem attacking Atsushi. The whole Decay of Angels's plan put the life of Tiger Boy in danger multiple times. An odd thing to do, if they goal is something that can be reached only through him.

Possible solution: they know he has regenerative abilities on a nearly Koro-sensei level? I admit, I'm not very sure on this point.

All in all, I think it's a very plausible theory. And do we want to talk about the drama character development it would bring about? Atsushi already questions his right to live, how would knowing that he had been created for some purpose decided by someone else impact his worldview?

In conclusion, I think that the Book is a very interesting, mysterious element, and I really look forward to see if it will be used, by whom, and why Atsushi seems so connected to it.

Thanks to anyone who bothered to read my ramblings!

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd the book #bsd atsushi #bsd sigma #bsd tachihara #bsd fyodor #bsd fitzgerald #bsd shibusawa #bsd meta #bsd theories #bsd spoilers #elia's recaps

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spnfanficpond · 3 years

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October 2021 Angel Fish Awards

(Angel Fish design by @slytherkins!!)

Welcome to this month's Angel Fish Awards!

Every month all of you fantastic writers work your asses off to post some truly incredible stories. Our Angel Fish Awards are the way for all of us, as a community of writers and readers, to lift each other up and give praise to those who have captured our attention and deserve a few kind words.

The monthly Angel Fish Awards are peer-nominated, meaning ANYONE (you don’t have to be a member) CAN NOMINATE ANY POND MEMBER’S FIC. Everyone in this community deserves to be showered with love and feedback, and we hope that this fun, thoughtful award will do just that.

Be sure to read through this whole post as people who were nominated more than once only had one tag activated for Tumblr tagging purposes!

WITHOUT FURTHER ADO, HERE ARE THIS MONTH’S ANGEL FISH AWARDS!

Nominated by @mrswhozeewhatsis

Beneath the Oak Tree (series) by @waywardnerd67

There are a couple of reasons why I wouldn't normally like this (RPF but not an AU and high school setting are two things I just don't get into), but I am really digging this series! I can't wait to see where it goes!

Running Blind by @rockhoochie

Holy moly, this is just so BEAUTIFUL! I mean, it takes a truly angtsy premise and makes it still feel fluffy and wonderful, sometimes. I wanna wrap myself up in this on a comfy couch, drink some cocoa, and take a nap. ♥

~*~*~

Nominated by @raidens-realm

Under His Care by @ioascc

This story is so full of longing and desire not only between Dean and Cas, but Sam and Gadreel as well. It's rare to capture readers with the side pairing of the story just as much as the main, and yet she's done that. I could also read 500k more of the magnificent Sam and Cas bonding she's woven as well. Over all it's such an incredible joy to read!

~*~*~

Nominated by @firefly-in-darkness

Innuendos by @bccky

I couldn't stop laughing at the innuendos and the results with Dean were worth the giggles in the end!!

Fifty States by @negans-lucille-tblr

I love the chemistry and banter between this pair! The teasing, Dean being all flustered - just adorable!!

The Proposal (series) by @supernatural-jackles

A fab series based on the film with a few twists.... I loved every second of reading this, I was fully immersed into their story!

Busy by @negans-lucille-tblr

I don't usually read Sam Winchester but I was intrigued by the audio porn element and then Bee went and pulled that twist off deliciously!!

Guilty Pleasures by @pinknerdpanda

This is one of may favourite things to do and Dean is great! I loved this silly moment between them for sure!

~*~*~

Nominated by @mariekoukie6661

A Case of Blue Balls by @cloverhighfivewritestoo

This was so cute and funny!!!

The Aftermath of Having a Threesome by @supernatural-jackles

Jen always deliver on the angst!

~*~*~

Nominated by @deanwinchesterswitch

The Midnight Ride (series) by @alleiradayne

A 4-part series full of rich detail and history surrounding the urban legend of the Headless Horseman. Full of action it will keep you on the edge or your seat until the heart-stopping conclusion of the case.

Save Yourself by @muchamusedaboutnothing

A heartbreaking fic inspired by a fantastic song and written from Dean's POV. I've said it before, but it bears repeating—Heathen is a genius at finding the essence of a song and turning it into a poignant masterwork that seeps into your heart and soul.

~*~*~

Nominated by @negans-lucille-tblr

I Dream of You by @sammysmaddy

This fic is VERY dark so please heed the warnings before reading. Maddy is fairly new to writing and posting on tumblr and I am in awe of her talent. I was so invested in the story and loved every second! If you’re into darker fics, you need to check her out ❤️

THANK YOU ALL FOR THE AWESOME WORK AND GREAT FEEDBACK!

These are not actual awards! This system is set up so everyone in the Pond has a chance to share the love and promote a fic/author that has grabbed your attention. The more people that participate, and the more everyone remembers to submit their own fics after posting, the better this will be :D

THANK YOU ALL AGAIN, KEEP UP THE AMAZING WORK, AND AS ALWAYS, HAPPY WRITING!

#angel fish awards #angel fish awards masterlist #spnfanficpond #fan fiction #fanfiction #fan fic #fanfic #spn fan fiction #spn fanfiction #spn fan fic #spn fanfic #supernatural fan fiction #supernatural fan fic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #fic rec #spn fic rec #supernatural fic rec

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xuchiya · 5 months

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so innocent; so not pure

—-------------- ₊˚.༄ [chapter: 02] ₊˚.༄ —------------------

[i decide to not make it supernatural au, i'm sorry] words: 1.3k warning: just fluff, mention of wealthy families but not toxic, wholesome this chapter is full of fluff !! ₊˚.༄ [chapter: 01] ₊˚.༄ - ₊˚.༄ [chapter: 03] ₊˚.༄

two figures leave the premises of their school, bidding goodbye to the guard before turning to a corner. the sidewalk whispered beneath their footsteps, a soft crunch accompanying the gentle patter of cherry blossom petals showering around them. the air, infused with the sweet scent of spring, held a crispness that nipped at exposed skin. yeosang, lost in the animated cadence of moonjin's voice, didn't notice the slight tremor that ran through her shoulders until a sudden gust of wind sent a shiver down her spine.

"wah~," she mumbled, pulling her cardigan tighter around her, her uniform blazer failing to keep her warm. "didn't expect it to get this chilly."

yeosang stopped, his gaze shifting from the playful dance of falling blossoms to the goosebumps prickling moonjin's arms. without a word, he shrugged off his dark grey uniform blazer, the warmth still trapped within its folds. with a gentle smile, he draped it around her shoulders, the familiar scent of fabric softener along with his usual cologne and sunshine enveloping her like a hug.

yeosang grip the collar then trails down to the buttons, resting his hands there. moonjin, who watches his hands, questions why he stops but when she looks up, his gaze was already on her.

moonjin's breath hitched, a kaleidoscope of memories flashing through her mind. they were younger then, scraping their knees on the playground, two tiny figures dwarfed by the towering canopy of cherry blossoms. the air, fragrant and crisp, had echoed with their childish promises, whispers of forever etched beneath the falling petals.

"we'll grow old together, under these same trees," yeosang had declared, his eyes mirroring the soft pink of the blossoms above. "even when our hair turns grey and our skin wrinkles, I'll be with you."

moonjin, back then, had giggled, her small hand nestled in his. "always," she'd promised, her voice a thread of unwavering certainty.

the weight of the blazer, both literal and metaphorical, grounded her in the present. yeosang's gaze, warm and familiar, held a hint of something deeper, a question hovering unspoken in the space between them. the years may have changed them, etched new lines on their faces and painted different dreams in their eyes, but the echo of their childhood promise lingered, a silent thread weaving through the fabric of their lives.

as they resumed their walk, the silence held a new rhythm, a melody played on the strings of memory and unspoken yearning. the falling petals, once a backdrop to carefree laughter, now became a symbol of their shared history, a whisper of the future they'd once dreamed of, blossoming anew beneath the canopy of hope.

when they reach home, they were greeted by a commotion at yeosang’s place. it was not an open fight but rather, cheers– happy greetings even popping bottles were heard and soft music playing at the background, leaving yeosang and moonjin clueless.

moonjin’s eyes trailed to her house when she found the lights to the living room off and seemed like the gates were closed–locked. yeosang saw 2 cars park on the vacant garage space and his mind immediately clicking, “they’re home.” yeosang and moonjin both glance at one another before their smiles break into big grins, racing to yeosang’s backyard.

the laughter crackled like flames licking at the barbecue grill, woven between the gentle clinking of silverware and the murmur of contented conversation. moonlight splashed through the swaying leaves of yeosang's sprawling backyard, but this wasn't a feast of caviar and truffles, not a symphony of white tablecloths and polished silver. instead, it was a melody of laughter and warm embraces, played out on plates piled high with homemade kimchi pancakes, sizzling skewers of marinated meats, and bowls overflowing with vibrant salads kissed with garlic vinaigrette.

moonjin, nestled between yeosang and his grandmother, watched the scene unfold with a contented smile. despite their families' immense wealth, this annual backyard barbecue remained a cherished tradition. no fancy restaurants, no elaborate set-ups, just the simple joy of gathering under the open sky, the air thick with the scent of grilled pork and sizzling onions.

yeosang's father, usually clad in sharp suits and wielding million-dollar deals, was now in worn-out shorts and an apron, tongs flying as he flipped burgers with the finesse of a seasoned chef. his mother, a queen of boardrooms in tailored power suits, sat beside him, hair loose and laughter lines deepening with each shared joke.

across the table, moonjin's parents mirrored the relaxed joy. her engineer father, usually buried in blueprints and equations, was teaching her younger brother the art of building the perfect s'mores over the crackling fire. her mother, a renowned architect, sketched playful portraits of her family in the margins of an old notebook, her laughter like sunlight catching on dewdrops.

in this backyard filled with laughter and the sizzle of grilling meat, their wealth became invisible, a mere footnote in the symphony of happiness. family, not fancy restaurants, was the true currency of the day. every stolen glance, every shared joke, every crumb licked off a finger was a testament to the simple truth that love and joy often bloomed in the most unexpected places – like beside a barbecue grill, under the shade of a cherry tree, or in the shared silence between two hearts beating in tandem.

with the battle of who finishes the bottle of beer first between moonjin’s and yeosang’s father, her eyes trailed to yeosang, who was encouraging his father to finish the bottle faster. her heart raced, beating wildly not just at the sight of their fathers' lighthearted competition, but at the way yeosang's laughter filled the space, washing over her like a warm summer breeze. et, doubt coiled like a vine around her heart. did he see her the way she saw him? or was this friendly camaraderie, nothing more?

after a long barbeque meal with the whole kang and yours’s, it was time to call it a night and under the quiet hum of fairy lights, they sprawled on yeosang's bedroom floor, dissecting the latest school drama like seasoned detectives.

“wait– did you hear about this rumor that jongho has a “magical” friend?” moonjin’s eyebrow frowned, shaking her head, “no? And what’s that magical word for?” yeosang shrugs not even knowing the full story of the rumor about his junior friend, “maybe because their touch is magical~” yeosang wiggle his fingers to add an effect to his story, moonjin’s head throwing back in a fit of laughter. as her eyes slowly open from the fit, her gaze drifted on a galaxy of glowing stars plastered on his ceiling. "whoa~" she breathed, tracing a constellation with her finger. "i never noticed these before. how long have they been here?"

a flicker of something crossed Yeosang's face, a fleeting hesitation before he shrugged. "oh, you know," he mumbled, avoiding her gaze, "just few days ago to -- to makes the room less...scary when it's dark." moonjin arched an eyebrow, a playful smirk dancing on her lips. "scary? this place is a haven compared to my brother's room, which might as well be a black hole."

but the lie hung heavy in the air, leaving a bittersweet taste in her mouth. she knew there was more to it, a secret hidden amongst the twinkling constellations. yet, she didn't push, content to let the question simmer between them, like a promise waiting to be whispered beneath the painted galaxy.

but for yeosang, each glowing star whispered her name, a secret language only he understood. each one, a silent testament to the way her laughter illuminated his world, her eyes sparking galaxies within his heart. he watched her now, lost in the quiet hum of a shared moment, knowing that one day, he would gather the courage to paint her name across the canvas of his sky. until then, the stars would keep their secret, a constellation of yearning waiting to bloom into something more.

as the night draped its velvet cloak over the town, yeosang found himself adrift in a sea of thoughts, each wave carrying the image of moonjin. the playful glint in her eyes, the way her laughter trilled like wind chimes, her smile blooming with the warmth of a thousand suns – these were the treasures his mind hoarded, revisiting them in the quiet sanctuary of his room.

he traced the constellations on his ceiling, each pinpoint of light echoing the countless stars sprinkled across her irises. they had become his secret map, guiding him through the labyrinth of unspoken feelings. would she ever see what he saw – a universe swirling within him, held captive by her gravity?

he replayed their conversations, dissecting each word, searching for hidden meanings in her amused glances and lingering touches. had she dropped a hint, a comet streaking across the twilight of their friendship, hinting at a world where their hands intertwined not just for comfort, but for the promise of something more?

he closed his eyes, the darkness painting vivid portraits of moonjin against his lids. he could almost feel her warmth beside him, the scent of her laughter lingering in the air. the desire to unravel the tangled knot of his emotions, to confess the symphony playing only for her ears, threatened to burst forth.

but the fear, a cold serpent coiled around his heart, held him back. what if his whispered love story met with her silence, extinguishing the stars he'd painted on her behalf? could he bear the darkness if the universe he'd built around her crumbled to dust?

the night deepened, the crickets chirping their melancholic chorus. sleep, usually a welcome sanctuary, remained elusive, his mind a battlefield between hope and doubt. as the first sliver of dawn peeked through the curtains, yeosang made a silent vow. he would hold onto his secret universe, nurturing it with stolen glances and unspoken dreams, until the moment he mustered the courage to paint his love across the sky, hoping, with every beat of his heart, that moonjin would recognize the constellation he'd built just for her.

taglist: @jonghostie, @tigressnamsoon

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lordjohngreyreadingnook · 3 years

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Lord John AU Event Master List

A very special thank you to all of the writers, artists, and readers who helped make the Lord John AU Event a success! All good things must come to an end, and the body of Lord John fanworks has grown immensely during this event.

Because Pan is still a geek, here’s an infographic with some of our stats.

Below the cut, you’ll find a masterlist of all of the art and fics submitted for the event. Most of the fics can be found in the AO3 Collection, and all titles in the master list below are links to the original work posting (AO3 or Tumblr).

Here’s how we did!

Master List Below!

Art Links

“E-girl Claire and her boyfriend John” by @deanwinchesterangelfucker

“Gender-swapped, established relationship John and Jamie” by @deanwinchesterangelfucker

Fic Links

Title: extra credit Author: @iihappydaysii Rating: E Ship: Brian/John AU Category: High School Word Count: 2,532 Summary: Brian Randall (Jamie Fraser's gay son, of course) needs to get his grade up in his trig class taught by who other than his father's friend, John Grey.

Title: Die for this Kingdom Author: @mistresspandorawritesthings Rating: M Ship: Jamie/John AU Category: Mob Word Count: 45,255 Summary: All Jamie “Fortnight” Fraser wants is to provide a good, safe life for his family in Chicago. But with tragedies keeping him tangled in his uncle’s deadly schemes and one tenacious—and handsome—police officer determined to bring him in, Fortnight Fraser has a choice to make. Bend to Dougal’s will… or burn it all to the ground.

Title: Remember Hawaii Author: @mistresspandorawritesthings Rating: E Ship: Hector/John AU Category: Semi-Modern Word Count: 5,119 Summary: The chances of John Grey unexpectedly seeing Hector Dalrymple in a group of Marines was always small but never zero. In the vastness of the Pacific Ocean, Hawaii is tiny. What are the odds they'd both be there at the same time?

Title: Tasting Sunshine Author: @andhopethatsoon Rating: E Ship: John/Stephan AU Category: Supernatural/Fantasy Word Count: 6,421 Summary: Every fae and their godmother knows that you DON'T eat the oranges from THOSE trees or you will summon the Summer King who will demand your heart’s desire in return.

Title: At Operator’s Discretion Author: @mistresspandorawritesthings Rating: E Ship: Jamie/John AU Category: Assassins Word Count: 6,210 Summary: John Grey is an operator specializing in surveillance and termination--that is, spying and murder. He keeps all this a secret from his husband, Alex Malcolm, for Alex's protection. But when a contract comes in for one James Fraser, Grey's life gets all kinds of complicated.

Title: Theatre Masks Author: @faeriesfanficblog Rating: G Ship: Jamie/John AU Category: Modern Word Count: 1,238 Summary: A modern AU. Jamie Fraser is an autistic playwriter attending a theatre premiere with his husband Lord John Grey.

Title: The Wild Hunt Author: @mistresspandorawritesthings Rating: E Ship: Jamie/John/Tom AU Category: Supernatural/Fantasy Word Count: 8,033 Summary: The Sorcerer is rumored to be the only being able to influence the Wild Hunt, the same Wild Hunt hell-bent on destroying the world to get to John Grey. But the Sorcerer's aid comes with stipulations.

Title: The Right Tool for the Job Author: @iihappydaysii & @mistresspandorawritesthings Rating: E Ship: Jamie/John AU Category: Modern Word Count: 5,825 Summary: Jamie makes an embarrassing emergency call after a sexual mishap, and John Grey is the paramedic who shows up to help.

Title: gotta listen when the devil’s calling Author: @narastories Rating: E Ship: BJR/Jamie/John AU Category: Modern Word Count: 6,105 Summary: John wasn't looking forward to his birthday. Aberdeen was cold and bloody far away. This year they also got a surprise travel companion last minute and John is convinced, it couldn't get any worse. But perhaps, it's not so bad after all.

Title: Off the Only Path I Knew (WIP) Author: @jesuisprest747 Rating: M Ship: Jamie/John AU Category: College/University Word Count: 8,920 Summary: Nothing about University is going as Jamie Fraser planned. He misses his family and friends back home, and the friends he's made at University don't feel quite right. Under pressure from his father, he is studying business instead of his true passion - Classics and Literature. To top it all off, his roommate barely speaks to him. A story about friendship, love, and following your heart.

Title: And Say We’ll Never Part Author: @mistresspandorawritesthings Rating: E Ship: Hector/John AU Category: Semi-Modern Word Count: 6,872 Summary: The war has been over for months, and the Allied forces are slowly demobilizing. With the help of his friend and battle buddy Harry Quarry, newly-discharged John Grey ensures that Hector has a home waiting for him.

Title: Lemon Drop Author: @mistresspandorawritesthings Rating: E Ship: Hal/John/Percy AU Category: Modern Word Count: 6,335 Summary: Weeks into their mother's engagement, John and Hal still haven't been formally introduced to their soon-to-be step-brother. So Hal suggests they take matters into their own hands. And if it turns out Percy is up for a little fun... all the better.

Title: A Pocketful of Posies Author: @levisqueaks Rating: M Ship: Brian/John (end game); Jamie/John AU Category: Modern Word Count: 3,483 Summary: Jamie breaks up with John a mere week before his wedding to a girl John knew nothing about. 20 years later, John finally gets a little bit of closure.

Title: London Calling - Come out of the Cupboard Author: @angstosaur Rating: E Ship: Claire/Jamie/John AU Category: Semi-modern Word Count: 24,337 Summary: Setting – Bloomsbury, London, early 1980’s John is a newly qualified solicitor and is working in Holborn. When he was studying law in London his mother insisted he stay in her apartment in Bloomsbury. He agreed as long as he could share with his old school friend, Claire Beauchamp. Claire has just finished at medical school and has a post as a junior doctor at a large London Hospital. They’re just good friends. That’s all. Really. After all, John is gay. Then, Jamie Fraser enters their lives and suddenly all that was taken for granted is called into question.

Title: John Grey’s Anatomy (WIP) Author: @jesuisprest747 Rating: E Ship: Claire/Jamie/John AU Category: Modern medical Word Count: 25,452 Summary: When John Grey decided to move to America in early 2020 to escape his past and make a new start at Boston Memorial Hospital, he only wished to work hard at his anesthesiology fellowship and heal his broken heart. Little did he know that he would soon meet two people who would change his life forever, against the background of the world's first global pandemic in over a hundred years.

Title: Blood Bound (WIP) Author: @mistresspandorawritesthings Rating: E Ship: Jamie/John; Jenny/Minnie AU Category: Supernatural/fantasy Word Count: 2,862 Summary: Jamie Fraser grew up with the knowledge of the unholy evil that walks the earth. For more generations than his father could count, Fraser women have been the lone soldiers charged with keeping the evil things at bay. But when one wrong move on a haunted bog in Ireland transforms Jamie into the very thing he was taught to help his sister eradicate, he's forced to reevaluate everything he thought he knew about monsters.

Title: Love is a three-edged sword (WIP) Author: @angstosaur Rating: M Ship: Claire/Jamie/John AU Category: Authurian Word Count: 74,668 Summary: An Arthurian themed AU featuring characters from Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander series of books and the Lord John Grey stories. The enduring love triangle of Arthur, Guinevere and Lancelot retold with a different twist. Expect canon to be used and abused, mythology to be woven in as desired and for there to be scenes of an explicit nature.T his is neither Outlander nor Arthurian legend as you may know it, or accept it, but it’s a story that called to me many months ago and I shall endeavour to write it. The characters are fictional and I’ve put them in an indeterminate time, so there will be less historical accuracy than my previous long story.

#Lord John AU Bingo Event #Lord John Grey #Lord John #Rec List

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euphoricfilter · 2 years

Text

Devil That I Know (Part 5)

~ Dancing phoenix

Pairing: Demon! Jungkook x Human! Reader

Genre: (Inaccurate) Historical AU || Strangers to lovers AU || Supernatural AU || Smut || Fluff || Angst

Summary: Going home should have felt better than this.

Word count: 7.1k

Tags/ warnings: fluffy-ish, angst, mentions of weapons, blood, mentions of injury, mentions of death, Jk gets physical :(( minimal dialogue: it’s a lot of thoughts and feelings, if you know something is wrong in a relationship don't stay!! its unhealthy!! the end scene isnt too graphic i think…

Notes: feedback is always welcome! let me know what you thought of the chapter! i wouldn’t exactly call this a filler chapter, more of a transitional one to get us into the new arc of the story with yummy king yoongi <3

my full masterlist

series masterlist

part 6

+++

How Jungkook ended up giving you a piggyback up the mountain, you don’t know. All it took was you sighing, asking if the two of you could take a break for your friend to slip the backpack from his shoulders, crouching down for you, his lower pair of arms slipping under your thighs, while his first pair of hands easily picked up the bag, continuing the hike home.

Even in the blaring afternoon sun, Jungkook doesn’t break a sweat. You wonder if it’s because of his demonic genes or if his new habit of working out was paying off.

You could feel the muscles of his back flex through Jungkook’s woven shirt, a change from the silk hanboks he usually wore. And maybe you would have to ask him to wear less layers more often, the simple shirt and pants doing wonders for your eyes. (You could appreciate a solid set of muscles when you needed to). But Jungkook didn’t need to know about what you fantasised he would do with those muscles, more than content using him as a means of transport than boosting his already massive ego.

He doesn’t complain when you swing your legs back and forth, simply tightening his grip on your legs so you wouldn’t fall. And you wonder how he was so patient with you all the time. Sleepless nights spent by your side, with fresh honey sweet tea and his voice soft enough to lull you to a dreamless sleep. Tearful lessons on how to read and write. And if you threw a tantrum or two, you’re glad Jungkook never teased you about them later on, only promptly encouraging you to try again because he knew you would be able to do it.

He smiles when you rest your head on his shoulder, fidgeting finally calming down as you wear yourself out. He imagines you must be tired after the constant travelling, never really having time to recuperate before you were on the move again. You’d slept most of the journey home, splayed across his lap but he doesn’t think it was the most comfortable ride, the road rockier than he had remembered it to be.

“How did you like the trip? I’m sure we can go on another one soon” Jungkook asks, voice barely above a whisper, worried maybe you had drifted off to sleep again.

You hum, “I had a lot of fun, thank you kookie” your arms tighten around his neck, “I’m happy staying home for a while, travelling makes me sleepy”

Jungkook beams.

Home.

He doesn’t think you’ll ever fully acknowledge how much it means to him that you believe his run-down house on the mountain is home. For you, the word so simple, possibly meaningless, to Jungkook- it’s the final push he needs to eradicate any sort of guilt he had about keeping you by his side for the rest of time. Surely you wouldn’t be mad at him when you consider this place home, perfectly sat by his side as you both live your lives intertwined.

He tilts his head down to press a firm kiss on your arms hooked around his neck. Cheeks flushing pink as he fantasises about all the memories the two of you are going to make over the years, in your home. Suddenly all worries about money or lack of and the dangers of humans knowing he lived on the mountain were buried deep within the crevices of his mind. Measly worries that he would solve when the time came to it because you two were going home. Together. Just the two of you.

No Namjoon trying to sabotage his relationship, feeding you stupid lies, planting the seed of doubt into your mind that could spoil his plans completely. You didn’t need to know the troubles he has gone through, nor will you ever need to know of his plans for the next years ahead. So he’d rip the seeds from the soil before they could start to sprout.

Taehyung was a nice friend, but Jungkook was incredibly selfish. It had been convenient his long-time friend had contracted a disease. It would have been so easy to just feed Taehyung his blood and for his illness to disappear like it had never plagued his body in the first place. You’d healed like nothing had ever happened in the first place so he can only assume that a little of his blood would have taken Taehyung a long way; the affects of the disease reversing until he was as good as new.

But then Jungkook would have to share you. Have your attention divided, because you were just too kind for your own good and would never think to neglect Taehyung of your time. What if you fell in love with him? Decided that because he was human like yourself, he was a better match. The perfect love story, fate bringing the two of your lost souls together, fitting together like lost puzzle pieces. Leaving Jungkook to rot alone, forced into a life of solitude where he can only smile as you flaunt your love in his face.

Jungkook had never believed in something as trivial as fate, nor did he care for what destiny had in store for him. But he believes that due to lucifer’s luck, he was able to avoid killing Taehyung with his own four hands. Fate working in its own twisted way, easily mapping out a clear path for him to pull you down. He’s sure you would have eventually figured out Taehyung was killed by his own hands, and he couldn’t have you hating him after all he has done for you.

Jungkook was selfish—is selfish. You were like a beacon of light, drawing him in like a moth to a flame. How was he meant to let go of you when he loves you so much? He’d always believed love to be a trivial emotion humans felt, a shallow way to brag to others who hadn’t found their soulmate yet. But now he gets it. Love was warm, cocooning him in your soft embrace, unadulterated and precious. A constant pull to stay by your side, touch you, feel you, tell you all the little secrets he keeps locked up in his deranged mind, for him to be your safe space and for you to be his.

How could he give up such a nice emotion? Possibly feel the wretched heartache if you were to ever deny him of the love he craves so much?

Loving you was a drug. And now that he had gotten a taste, he doesn’t think he could ever give it up. An addiction with no plans of being sober. His plans of keeping you alive for the rest of eternity only providing him an endless supply of you to love.

“Staying home for a while sounds good” he hums, cheeks aching at how large his smile was.

+++

You stare up at the ceiling, clutching Taehyung’s blanket closer to your chest. The smell that you’d slowly starting to associate with Taehyung, comfort, slowly morphing into your own the more time you spent curled up in his bed. His room starting to smell stale as the seasons changed and no one inhabited his area of the hanok.

After some convincing, Jungkook had wandered off to run the two of you a bath while you slipped into Taehyung’s room. Telling him you wanted to tell your friend about your trip. (Which was partially the truth). You’d started to realise that Jungkook was always by your side, clung to you like a leech wherever you went. And if you wanted to figure out what exactly was going on inside that head of his without alarming him, then you’d need some time to yourself. Which was impossible.

There were fleeting moments where you could ask him to do something for you, but even then, the man seemed to move at the speed of light, raring to be close to you again. Like the very thought of not being by your side made his skin itch.

“Did you know Tae?” you ask, a small part of you expecting a reply from him. Maybe a way for you to know he was really there, a sudden gust of wind, or for him to knock over his paintbrushes. Anything to let you know he really had been looking over you this whole time. Your guardian angel just like he promised.

There’s a beat of silence before you exhale a large breath. Tense shoulders falling loose as you sink further into Taehyung’s pillows when nothing happens.

“It’s okay if you did, I won’t be angry”

Your eyes flit around the room, looking over the paintings you’d sat and traced with your fingers more times than you could count. Everything in the exact same place you’d left it before your trip.

“Do you think it’s wrong that I won’t say anything? Scared that if Jungkook were to know he would suddenly hate me?”

Your eyes fall onto a familiar painting of the courtyard. Fragments of memories drifting through your mind like the seeds of dandelions would in that very courtyard when the winds were strong. Taehyung having to hold your shoulders on more than one occasion before you’d fall flat on your face.

“Is it bad that I stay here because I know it’s safe? Am I a bad person for taking advantage of Jungkook’s kindness? Because I know he likes me enough to stay by my side”

Where you a bad person for ignoring the clear signs that Jungkook’s ideas of love were far from a regular person? You don’t kill a man for touching someone you love, even if it was harassment. And you know Jungkook did it, you’d heard the whispers around town on your way out about the four-armed monster that had murdered a man by Hope’s Inn. You’d heard Jungkook slink back into the room as the moon had started to melt into the horizon that night, you could practically feel the bloodlust coursing through his veins as he kissed your forehead; the same hands that had pulled a man limb from limb cupping your cheek so gently.

But when he said he hadn’t done it, that he would never kill a person, you accepted the lie with open arms. Because if neither of you addressed the issue then it never happened. He never killed a man and you never accused him of doing so.

And you both continued with your lives like nothing had happened; more than happy to bask in each other’s embrace like you had been all this time.

And maybe you should have left at that moment, aware that Jungkook isn’t a saint. He was a demon. A selfish, lying, deceitful demon who clearly had no care for morals. But you stayed. Clinging onto that last bit of hope, the last piece of knowledge; that Jungkook loves you.

You chose to stay when once again Jungkook had lied. You should have run when you’d found out he’d somehow kept you alive for 6 years while you were dreaming about golden glades that to this day you have hardly any recollection of. You should have known he was lying when he had brought an ominous book to the room of your inn, claiming it was a history book.

It wasn’t.

Far from a history book.

The contents of the book helping fill in a few holes in your life, memories that felt like a phantom dancing around your mind, but never a coherent thought of what had happened in those few days between you and Taehyung visiting the village to his unfortunate demise.

You believed Jungkook when he said that Taehyung had died from a disease, your conversation with Namjoon about a plagued town helping you with that. But now you knew you were never ill.

Small glimpses into a window of the past were presented to you upon reading Jungkook’s ‘history’ book.

You trip over the end of a blanket when you push yourself off of Taehyung’s bed, grunting when you stagger forwards. You turn towards his mattress on the floor, ready to push it back up against the wall when your eyes catch sight of something.

You drop Taehyung’s blanket, fingers digging into the worn mattress, lifting it from the ground.

You feel a rush of air escape your lungs.

Laid beneath Taehyung’s mattress was more notebooks. Ones he’d never told you about. Ones he didn’t keep stacked with the pile tucked away in the far corner of his bedroom. You try to balance the mattress on your shoulder as you kneel beside what you assume to be 15 or so worn and torn leatherbacks; some looked years old, while others looked almost brand new.

You pick up the one that had been peeking out from under the bed after you’d knocked it out of place. Assuming that it must be the most recent book Taehyung had been using as it lay under his head while he slept.

You drop the mattress back into place, wincing when the thud echoes off the walls. You bite your lip, turning towards the door.

You hold your breath, ears on high alert as you listen out for Jungkook.

Deciding that your demon friend was being a little too quiet you decide that this was going to have to be a speedy process.

You wouldn’t have enough time today to look through all of Taehyung’s stuff, but maybe you’d figure out if he had any knowledge of what Jungkook has been doing for years.

You still hadn’t fully been able to comprehend years of your life had been washed away in the blink of an eye. The world having changed so much in a mere 6 years as you lay stagnant, time for you freezing.

Carefully you peel back the leather cover of the notebook.

You swallow at what had been carved into the back if the leather sleeve.

‘a nightmare’

And as you turn the page, an image that you had become well acquainted with during the silence of the night greets you.

Taehyung had always been good at drawing, always had an eye for detail and you’re grateful for his skills in that moment.

A vivid image of a ritual, similar to the one you read in the ominous book Jungkook had bought. Similar to the jittery dreams you’d been having for the last few nights since you’d recovered part of your memories.

A figure that looks eerily similar to yourself lay limp on the bed, with a four-armed demon sat one side of the room that looked identical to Jungkook’s bedroom, a human against the adjacent wall. Both looking familiar. And messily scrawled on the floor is a circle, an intricate design painted in the middle, the same one you’d seen in Jungkook’s book. The black ink Taehyung used, smudged, over your chest and over the demon’s hands and clothes.

You’d never considered the dreams you’d been having as nightmares, everything too blurry to really mean anything to you unless you tried to piece the odd fragments together, like one would with a broken vase. And as soon as you’d wake, the awful pressure of a person pinning you to the ground would leave. Jungkook’s soft smile enough for you to forget the bone-chilling dream even happened.

“Thanks, Taehyung” you smile, softly closing the notebook.

+++

Jungkook hadn’t noticed you’d been a lot quieter than usual, assuming you were still tired from your weeks travel. You’d never been outwardly boisterous, often times happy to keep quiet. So, your sudden silence wasn’t all that alarming.

He’d helped you wash your back, taking extra care not to get soap in your eyes when he gently washed your hair. He treated you like you were a delicate piece of china, one wrong move and you would shatter into a thousand pieces. But you suppose if you were to break; Jungkook would just pick up the pieces and mould you back together.

And you were confused.

Completely and utterly confused.

When he kissed at your bare shoulders, you should have felt repulsed. Petrified, because you have an idea of what he has done to you. The drawing from Taehyung paired with the book Jungkook had picked up, enough evidence to give you a hint of the past.

He’s had— has, he has your blood on his hands.

You’d want to compare this constant push and pull between your own emotions to a prison, feeling trapped within the confines of your own mind. But you’d been locked away, locked behind steel bars with barely and food and water, standing in the sunlight nothing more than a daydream. Stripped of your freedom and treated as nothing more than a piece of meat to feed to a demon. The perfect sacrifice for selfish human beings. And the thought of Jungkook had never felt like being locked away; quite the opposite.

And said demon, has done so much more for you than your people had. A child, penalised for being different, shunned for standing out when you never wanted to. Why was it so hard to have a regular life? To not worry every time you were out, people of your own village wary of you because you didn’t look like them. The beady eyes that would follow your every move, upturned noses because you were less than a human in their eyes.

Jungkook had never treated you as anything less than an equal. Sure, he’d done a few bad things… but haven’t we all?

You don’t feel scared of Jungkook when he kisses your cheeks. You don’t feel the same fear you used to, wondering each night if someone would finally have enough and end your life while you slept. Because Jungkook sat beside you during the dead of night, and he was there in the morning. The promise of protecting you in your most vulnerable state unspoken, but guaranteed.

You don’t feel nauseated when Jungkook wraps you up in his arms after your bath, the same hands that had killed a man, had hurt you, as he runs the silky towel over your body, worried you would catch a cold as the evening temperature drops.

You couldn’t remember the pain he had inflicted on you.

You hadn’t watched him kill that snotty old man… so did those things really happen?

You lay in Jungkook’s bed, with a plethora of blankets neatly tucked up to your chin.

Your fingers trace the ridges on the wooden bunny you’d bought Jungkook in Namjoon’s village, and when you think back to then, and to you now; how much has really changed?

You’re still that same scared girl, the world too big for you to experience alone. Your own thoughts too much for you to carry, the anxiety weighing you down until you stand stagnant; unsure of what to do with yourself and your life. Constantly needing the reassurance of those around you, otherwise you might crumble. Spiral into an endless hole of self-doubt and hatred.

Nothing much has changed from when you were younger, still constantly in denial. Convincing yourself your life was worth living, that you were okay. That if you just woke up and prayed for the hours to feel like minutes, you’d be able to drift into your own little world while you slept, the perfect place where no one would judge you; only to wake up alongside the sun and pray for the day to end once again. Stuck in a sad, meaningless loop that you’ll never escape while alive.

The small wooden bunny serves as a painful reminder that you’re just as fragile as you were the day you’d gotten beaten up in the village, unable to defend yourself. Scared that if you were to fight back, you’d face potentially worse consequences. And now you face a similar dilemma, you suppose, fearing your own mind. A constant battle on what the right thing to do is. If you left, would Jungkook chase after you? Would he be the one to follow you around like a lost puppy like you do with him? If you were to leave and he follow, what was the point of leaving to begin with?

Your head shoots up to look at the door when you hear a loud thud from the courtyard.

After a beat of silence, you turn to look at Jungkook who looks just as confused as you feel.

He turns to look at you, both of you seemingly holding your breath. And then you flinch when a loud clatter sounds from another room in the hanok.

Jungkook hastily closes the book he was reading; one you’d seen him read over and over since you’d arrived; one where he would read you small snippets while you cleaned the courtyard with Taehyung.

“I’ll go and check what it is” he tells you, crouching beside your body. He pressed a firm kiss to the crown of your head, using one of his hands to lift your chin so you’d look at him.

“Stay here” is all he says before he’s pushing himself off of the ground.

The candle by the bed flickers when Jungkook slams the door, and you listen as his sandals clatter against the hardwood floor; slowly getting quieter and quieter as he wanders further into the hanok.

Something feels off.

The silence feels numbing, the sound of static crackling in your ears. And then you smell it, your nose scrunching up at the smell of wood burning.

Unfamiliar voices bounce off the walls, the pattering of footsteps outside being drowned out by the loud beating of your heart. A constant thump ringing in your ears.

It’s when you hear the voices right outside the bedroom door you throw the blankets off of your body, eyebrows furrowing when a thick black smoke starts to snake its way into the room under the door. You can feel the adrenaline course through your veins, body suddenly hyperaware of any sound that reverberates throughout the room, cautious of the loud chatter outside of the door.

“Jungkook?” You call out, wandering over towards the door, thinking maybe he had made his way back to the room.

You know he told you to stay put, but your lungs were starting to feel tighter as more of the thick black smoke started to permeate the air of Jungkook’s bedroom. Starting to panic when the air felt a little too thick to breathe properly.

You press an ear to the door, goosebumps prickling the skin of your arms when you hear laughter, the sound of the front gate being slammed shut, wood snapping as the voices grew quieter.

Your gaze falls down to your feet where you notice the wispy black smoke start to coat the hardwood floor.

You can feel your lung start to squeeze for air, your throat suddenly feeling ashy as you try to pull the bedroom door open, your arms yanking it.

You feel the panic start to set as the door stays lodged shut, your arms straining as you tug at the handle. Praying that it would open, the smell of burning wood and thick black smoke clawing into your airways, slipping into your lungs.

You stumble back when you feel the ground shake, what you can only assume to be the structure of the hanok slowly deteriorating as the fire swallows the dry wood of your home. You’d learnt from Taehyung that dryer wood is likely to have a more aggressive fire, and if it really was right outside your door then you worried for your life.

“Jungkook?” you shout, one of your hands scrambling to pull the door open as the other covers your nose and mouth, your lung constricting as you start to splutter, coughing as you inhale the smoke.

You slide down the door, and you wonder if you’re crying, or your eyes just sting. Both plausible options, but neither of them helping you in your escape.

“Jeon Jungkook” you cry, hands weakly clawing at the door.

Using the backs of your hands to wipe away your tears, your eyes scan the room.

You catch sight of the fresh bucket of water Jungkook had brought into the room incase either of you got thirsty in the night. You push your body off of the ground, biting your lip in thought as you eye the blankets on the bed.

Deciding they would be too big, you pull your pyjama shirt from your body, shoving the material into the bucket of water you cough, chest starting to hurt.

You cover your nose and mouth with the sodden material, pushing the small, round table against the wall under the window. Even with the extra leverage, the widow is above your head. You swallow thickly, coughing behind your shirt.

Your eyes squeeze shut when the roof creaks, and that pushes you to scramble and grab the bucket, turning it upside-down on the table.

You push yourself up onto the bucket, dropping your soaked shirt to the ground as you use your elbow to try and break the wooden blinds open. Uncaring as your skin splits, the thought of wood splinters piercing your skin the last thing on your mind as you make a large enough gap to escape through.

You start to cough uncontrollably as a wave of fresh air pushes into the room, and you take a moment to just breathe, arms aching as you hang onto the widow.

You wheeze as your head turns to the door, flinching backwards the walls start to crisp up, burning flames dancing like a phoenix as they wander into the bedroom. You feel the heat, hands shaky as it slowly slithers its way around the room, your skin starting to feel scorched as you just watched it start to chew at the floors, wide jaws opening to swallow Jungkook’s bed.

And you watch slowly as the flames lick at the wooden rabbit, you watch as its ears start to burn like candles until its whole body is engulfed into the flames.

It’s when you feel the fire slink too close to your ankles, you finally pull yourself up and out of the window. You ignore the sharp pain that shoots through your body as you land on your feet, stumbling around the side of the building until you’re stood in the courtyard. All the buildings around you burning, bright orange flames engulfing your home completely, dancing like flowers in the wind.

Your hand comes to cradle your throat, coughing as you fall back onto the grass. Your lungs greedily suck in as much oxygen you can take, making you feel lightheaded as your eyes adjust; watching the stars twinkle from the heavens.

You wonder if the stars were watching over you right now; laughing at a pitiful human who almost lost their life. The stars that once brought you so much comfort now felt a little mocking as you heaved to breathe a proper breath. You’d always wondered what it would be like to live among the stars, and now you think it would be better than living on earth, free of the torture that people have to go through; laughing as you watch humans look like insects, living day to day.

You push yourself to sit up. The skin of your ankle stinging as the grass brushes against where the fire had gotten too close to your bare skin, your elbow dripping with red that could rival that of the flames before your eyes; staining the land beside you crimson.

You don’t call out for Jungkook, simply staring at what used to be your home, the crackling of the flames filling the silence of the night. You wonder where he could have gone; not coming when you called out his name.

Your eyes flit over towards the stone path when you hear heavy footsteps, watching as Jungkook stumbles through the flames. Half of his clothes looking charred, the skin of his four arms looking raw and red, but you suppose demons have thicker skin than humans’, so he hadn’t gotten burnt. You don’t miss the blood that is splattered over his clothes either, the dark red looking almost black in the light of the flames.

His gaze instantly falls onto you, eyes trailing to your chest; the top half of your body covered in nothing more than your undergarments.

He falls to his knees besides you, all four arms reaching to pull you into his chest. You fall forwards, nose itching as you breath in a few of the ashes that had clung onto his shirt.

You hear the thud of his book falling to the ground as his hands roam your body, silently convincing himself that you were okay.

Grounding himself; you feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand when he lets out a shaky breath against the bare skin on your shoulder.

You don’t bother to ask what had happened, why he has blood on his shirt or why the hanok was starting to crumble before your eyes; you simply let a few tears stain your flushed cheeks. Jungkook slightly pulling you away from his body, one of his hands coming to brush the tears that shined like little pearls in the light of the fire.

Both of your heads turn when you hear the large tree in the courtyard crack, the fire clawing its way up the trunk.

Jungkook takes a hold of your wrists, pulling you from the ground. He crouches down, picking up the book he’d bought in the capital before he pulls you towards the gate.

You stare down at the busted wood, splinters scattered across the entrance. Clearly someone had broken in. As you step over the split wood, you trip; the offending item being the sign you’d first seen upon arriving all those years ago.

Somehow it looked worse than when you’d first seen it, mud smeared into the crevices of the shoddily engraved ‘Jeon’, a corner snapped off where someone too heavy had carelessly stood on it.

Both Jungkook and yourself turn back towards the hanok once you’d passed the fence; you feel his fingers slip between your own, sending you a reassuring squeeze you don’t turn to look at him. Both of you just watch as your home burns, the fire never-ending as it consumes what had become so familiar.

Jungkook licks his lips, all the years he’d spent there suddenly gone to waste. All the books he’d collected, the rooms he’d constructed himself, the house he’d built from nought amounting to nothing more than a pile of ashes and broken memories.

“What about Taehyung’s stuff? His grave?” you ask, hand coming to cover your mouth as you cough.

Jungkook hums, “I’d assume it’s all burnt”

The sigh you let out is shaky, hand coming to push the stray hairs out of your face; you suppose there was no point crying when the damage had already been done. You’d slowly come to accept that you had no way of changing the past, that you’d have to live with every regret and mistake you’ve ever made.

You knew none of this was your fault, but you couldn’t help but feel sorry for yourself. You hadn’t even been back for a day before something had gone wrong.

“Let’s go” Jungkook tugs at your hand, not daring to look at your face.

Maybe he would cry if he looked at you. How could he look at you when he had failed you once again?

Everything was meant to get better, not worse. You were meant to live your secluded life together; in the home he had built. He would have found you another pet, watched as you danced around the courtyard in the spring and during the winter months, he’d have an excuse to hold you extra close. You were meant to watch the world change together, laugh about the past and make plans for your infinite future spent together.

How was Jungkook meant to look at you when he clearly couldn’t give you the world?

“Where?” you ask, little resistance coming from you as he pulls you down a familiar path.

“We can’t live here anymore, my love”

You take one more glance, diverging your gaze to settle on Jungkook’s back as the two of you made your descent from the mountain.

+++

The village where you’d been kept prisoner for a year was a ghost town; the soil fertile where the livestock had decayed, bones of what you could only suspect were human laying scattered among torn clothes and steadily growing weeds.

“Did the people of Namjoon’s village do that?” you motion towards the mountain that loomed over the village you both stood in. Fire hidden behind the veil of trees and bushes.

“I think so” Jungkook briefly turns his head to look at you, “This village and Namjoon’s are the only two close to the mountain. I know my kind aren’t well liked anymore but I doubt anyone would travel more than a day just to do this”

You nod, feet bringing yourself to a halt when you both reach the centre of the village.

Jungkook turns to you with furrowed brows, opening his mouth to ask you why you’d stopped. You just tug your hand from his own, and Jungkook watches as you take a step towards a large wooden pole stood upright.

“Y/n?” Jungkook asks, coming to stand beside you.

You turn to look over your shoulder, the stone building where you’d been kept prisoner looking exactly the same as when you had left it.

“You remember I told you about a friend?” you say, a bitter feeling crawling up your spine.

Jungkook nods. An emotion akin to jealousy plaguing his mind at the mention of the friend you still clearly hold dear to your heart. Jungkook would just have to erase those insignificant memories from your mind.

“They killed him here, tied to that” you point to the thick pole, “And they locked me up in there” you use your thumb to point to the structure behind you.

“I’m sorry. This was the only place I could think would be safe for us”

You finally look at Jungkook, noticing the guilt that swims behind his eyes. You smile; albeit a little sad, you still smile. It was an honest mistake on his part, but you couldn’t help but how heartwarming it was for him to feel so bad about it.

“It’s okay” you wave him off, “They all look dead by the looks of things anyways. I know a good place we can camp out in”

Jungkook follows behind you, nodding in satisfaction as you open the door to the village chief’s house.

“This should be spacious enough” you nod, cringing as a spider scuttles across the room.

“What are we going to do for food?” Jungkook kneels on the floor, running a hand over his face, “And money”

You watch as he fiddles with the pockets of his pants, a few coins jingling as they knock against one another.

You drop yourself in front of him, “We’re really fucked this time”

Jungkook just watches as you fidget, the dusty floor less than ideal; “I’ll see if there’s anything we can eat”

…

Jungkook was panicking, what if you starved to death? He knew damn well that there wasn’t anything left in this town, he knew that no one had been here since it was overrun by the flesh-eating disease 6 years ago; so the likelihood of there being anything remotely edible was close to none.

A door creaks as he pulls it open, sneezing when the best he gets from the old home was a puff of dust smothering his face. He wanders into what he assumes to be the kitchen, frowning when he sees there’s nothing you can eat.

He pulls the top from a woven basket, nose scrunching up in distaste at the family of maggots that had found a warm home. He continues his search, hoping that at least one of the baskets had something edible for you to eat until he came up with a better plan.

He knows he could send you over to Namjoon’s village, the village boy and his mother more than happy to house and feed you; but that would mean leaving you out of his sight for too long, he knew he wasn’t welcome in that village. Presumably burnt at the stake if he stepped foot into the village on the other side of the mountain.

And Jungkook was selfish—selfish enough to possibly let you starve if it meant he could stay by your side.

He curses at himself when the best he can find is a handful of dried tea leaves. His gaze wanders down to the book he holds in one of his hands; was now really a good time?

He gazes back at the chief’s house as he passes by, easily slipping into the blacksmith’s workroom to grab a piece of flint and a slab of steel.

One of his free hands picking up a bucket, the river easy to locate with how quiet it was; the running water filling the silence.

+++

A weird sense of déjà vu settles over the two of you; both sat at a table with Jungkook reading while you were the only one with a cup of tea.

“Are you not going to have any?” you ask, watching as he simply shakes his head; eyes not meeting your own.

You slightly nodded, lips pursed at his dismissive behaviour. You carefully picked up the teacup before taking a small sip. It was bitter; no fresh honey to make it a little sweeter.

You made eye contact with Jungkook, “Is there something wrong? You’re acting weird” you ask him as he just shakes his head, eyes flitting down back to his book.

“Aren’t you going to sleep?” he asks after noticing you’d finished your tea.

You shake your head, “I’m not really tired after what happened”

“Pretty thing… you really should get some rest” he encourages, you flinch when he closes his book with force, the thud echoing off of the walls, amplified by the lack of furniture.

“I’m really okay”

“Y/n listen to me” sounded more like a command than a request and you swallow thickly, searching his eyes.

“Not until you tell me what’s going on” you argue eyebrows furrowing in confusion when he stands; long legs helping him saunter towards you, looking at you like a wolf would a deer.

“What are you doing?” you lean back when he crouches at your side.

Your eyes search his own, a shiver running down your spine when you don’t recognise the man stood before you. Sure, he looked like Jungkook, but Jungkook had never looked at you like that. Like his patience was wearing thin, jaw clenching like he was ready to snap.

“Can’t you just listen for once” his voice drops as octave, hand coming to hold your face.

You feel his nails dig into the flesh of your cheeks, wincing when the pain spreads through your jaw.

He pushes your face away, hard enough you fall backwards; head slamming against the hardwood floor.

“What is your problem?” you glare at him, trying to push yourself to sit up once again, utterly confused about his sudden change in behavior.

Jungkook straddles your waist, first pair of arms coming to hold your own hands above your head.

“Jungkook?” you wriggle, trying to kick your legs when the sun doesn’t shine just so he would get off of you.

“I’m sorry” he whispers, leaning down to press a kiss between your eyebrows, a stark difference from his previous actions.

You try to yank your hands from his hold, suddenly aware of what his other pair of hands were doing. The blade of the knife reflects the moonlight that spills in through the open door.

“Jungkook, please” you cry, his face looking like a mix of colours as tears start to paint the sides of your face.

You think his resolve breaks, the hands restricting your own loosening enough for you pull them from his hold. You scramble to find the pocketknife Jungkook had given you in the capital; anything to get him off of you. Because even through the veil of tears, this wasn’t the Jungkook you know.

The tips of your fingers graze the intricate handle of the pocketknife; a fleeting sense of hope washing over your body.

The relief is short lived, your limbs seizing up when a searing pain shoots through your chest.

You mouth drops open, a silent scream of agony. You think you can hear Jungkook muttering apologies over and over in your ear as he leans down to hold you, cautious of the knife still wedged into your heart.

You swallow thickly, metallic liquid bubbling up your throat and coating your tastebuds.

Jungkook cries; the tears making you look like a mess of red as you lay limp in his arms.

He tries to wait, hoping that maybe if he could let you rest for a moment moving you outside would be a lot less painful on your part. But from the sobs of pain, you let out, he doesn’t think waiting would do you any good. So, he picks you up, wincing at your cry of agony when he jolts you too much.

He steps into the circle he’d drawn out earlier before making you tea, his blood soaking into the dusty ground.

You don’t fully comprehend Jungkook flicking through his book, the throbbing pain in your chest enough of a distraction. You blink up at him when he positions himself over your waist once more, eyes bleary as you try to make out his face; his chocked sobs enough of an indication that he was crying.

And you briefly wonder, if he was going to cry for doing this to you… then why was he doing it? Surely, he couldn’t be that sorry if he knew it would hurt beyond belief.

“No no, baby. Don’t close your eyes just yet” he taps your cheeks, “It’s almost over just stay awake a little longer”

You can only grunt when he jostles your body, eyes closing as you pray the pain would just go away; both emotional and physical.

Maybe you should have run; if Jungkook had hurt you once what was stopping him from doing it again? You should have left once you knew what he planned.

But even if you knew—if someone had warned you of this exact moment, had shown you exactly how this day would play out. You wouldn’t have left.

Because even in this moment, with Jungkook looming over your tired body; pain turning your body numb. Nothing more than a pile of flesh and bones at that point, no coherent thought running through your shocked mind, you would have stayed. You’re still that same scared girl that you have been, scared to be alone, scared of the very town you lay in because of what they put you through; scared because what if you died?

The last thought running through your mind being how betrayed you felt in that moment mingled with the searing pain of a knife lodged into your chest, pierced right into your beating heart.

A small part of you hoped you’d die in this moment. If Jungkook really does love you, you hope he feels the heartache—worse than the current pain you physically felt with a knife lodged into your heart. A petty thought, but you really did hate him in that moment.

But was it really hate?

You hate the humans that kept you captive, you hate whatever disease took Taehyung’s life, you hate the bastards that killed your cat and got away with it.

You hated feeling hate because it was such an awful feeling, the ugly emotion burning like the flames that had destroyed the hanok; consuming your entire being until you had nothing to fuel the fire.

But even as you lay in a puddle of your own crimson blood, knife protruding from your heart with Jungkook holding onto you like you’d leave if he ever let go; you don’t hate him. You don’t feel that same ugly emotion, you don’t want him dead, you don’t want karma to bite him in the ass.

And even with a hazy mind, him being the reason for the excruciating pain you were experiencing; you just couldn’t seem to hate Jeon Jungkook.

So you let him hold you, muttering something in a language you don’t understand, the circle that you both sit in burning your back, adding to the torturous feeling in your chest. Your mouth producing nothing more than labored breaths as you try to endure it with fresh saline tears coating the sides of your head in glistening little pearls.

And you think as you lose consciousness, you hear Jungkook mutter a soft ‘well done’ into your ear.

And maybe you had lost your mind, because you felt the swell of happiness override the pain at his praise, content as you fall into the dark void of your own mind.

123 notes · View notes

hobeemin · 4 years

Text

Delightful Temptations: Desire

🌹 Genre: Smut, PWP, Supernatural AU

🌹 Pairing: Min Yoongi x (f) OC

🌹 Rating: 18+

🌹 Warning(s): Incubus!Yoongi, Dom!Yoongi, smoking, brief domestic dispute, insults, brief violence, threats, escort, flirting, seduction, teasing, unprotected sex (PDA: safe sex is the best sex), consent, fingering, dirty talk (Yoongi is filthy), oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, edging, biting, blood (?), some aftercare, alcohol, swearing

🌹 Inspiration: MB

🌹 Word Count: 5.4k

🌹 Credits: @yoongs-jeontae 💜 a special shout out for putting up with this sinful series...yeah it’s fluff for the remainder of the year 🤣😂

🌹 Summary: Three deliciously woven tales about a group of Incubi with a taste for something oh so sweet.

🌹 A/N: For the @bangtanshadowfamily Creatures of Moonlight Manor Halloween collab

“Min Yoongi!”

The cheers echoed into faint whispers from the stage as he walked down the corridor towards the backdoor of the theatre. Undoing his black bowtie, he let it hang around his neck. Pushing the door open, he stepped down the stairs and pulled a clove cigarette out of a small case. He lit it after struggling with the flame and inhaled deeply letting the smoke fill his lungs. He closed his eyes relishing the taste of cinnamon and nutmeg enrapturing him. His moment of silence was interrupted as his eyes shot open, annoyance read across his face.

“I know you’re there. Come out.”

Two men shimmered in front of him towering over him by a few inches. Slightly irritated he gave them each a curt nod.

“I can’t even have a moment's peace,” he muttered.

The male closest to him with auburn hair chuckled leaning on the railing. “Oh come on Hyung. Can’t we congratulate you on your performance?”

The tallest perched against the brick wall, nodding in agreement. His ash-brown hair bangs hanging over his eyes. “I think it was your best yet. You didn’t even give an encore.”

Yoongi shrugged, tapping the ash to the ground. “You know I like to leave them on edge Namjoon.”

“Pfft. Bullshit. You played the piano. The way they were acting, you would think it was a rock concert,” Namjoon said incredulously.

Yoongi shrugged. “Classical music has a way with women. Yall should try it sometime. What do you say Hobi?”

Hobi shook his head grimacing. “No thanks, I’ll pass. Do what works for you.”

Yoongi tossed his cigarette in the ashtray and blew out the remaining tendrils of smoke. “So why am I being graced with your presence? I thought you had women occupying your time.”

Hoseok smirked. “They have to rest at some point.”

Namjoon laughed, nodding an agreement. “Actually we wanted to take you out to celebrate.”

“Hard pass. I plan to hole up in my hotel room with a great bottle of bourbon,” he replied.

Hoseok’s lips formed their signature pout. “What? How lame is that? When was the last time you had a good time? Wait, don't answer that. When was the last you fucked...for pleasure?”

Yoongi’s eyes rolled upward. “That is none of you goddamn business.” He brushed his dark hair off his forehead giving them both a hard stare. “Frankly, this little bet we have going is asinine. I’m over it.”

Namjoon shook his head. “It was your idea in the first place, Yoongi. Gonna back out now on us.”

“Yall can suck it for all I care,” he spat angrily. With a sigh, he slouched against the building. “Screw it. I’m tired and all I wanna do is sleep. See you later.”

The pair watched their brother walk off just as a car pulled up.

---

Yoongi exited the car thanking the driver just as a valet walked up. “Evening Mr. Min. Staying with us again?”

“That’s right. Good to see you, Williams,” he replied pushing the revolving doors open.

Stepping into the lobby, he looked around at the familiar setting. The cream and gold colors stood out under the accents of ebony furniture. Fresh flowers lingered in the air. The enormous teardrop chandelier swayed above the front desk with the winding majestic staircase behind it. A baby grand piano stood near a roaring fireplace as small groups mingled about near the bar off to the far left, holding drinks.

Lovely, he was in time for cocktail hour. Something to do later after checking in.

Yoongi stepped to the front desk, unbuttoning his suit jacket. The front desk manager looked up from his computer and gave him a smile.

“Mr. Min! Welcome back!”

“Good evening,” he stated with a nod.

The manager typed a few keys on the keyboard. “Same room, alright?”

“Of course.”

The manager handed him his keycard. “For you sir. You won’t be disturbed–”

Out the corner of his eye, Yoongi could see a man and woman arguing near the foot of the grand staircase. From their body language, things were getting heated. He picked up a few parts of their conversation.

“You think I owe you something? You’re lucky I even considered giving you the time of day! You’re nothing without me, you hear?! Nothing! Just another pretty face with a mouth who can blow!” the man whispered angrily.

The woman didn’t flinch at his words. In fact, she seemed bored with it all and it probably wasn’t the first time she heard him say that or heard those things. This angered the man more and he slapped the purse from her hands, knocking it to the ground. As she bent down to collect the things spilled over the floor, he grabbed her up by her arm and shook her hard.

“Did you hear what I said? Bitch, answer me!”

She slapped him across the face making him step backward. He recovered quickly, stomping forward fist ready to swing when the hotel security appeared grabbing the man. The manager blushed in embarrassment.

“Oh my goodness! The vulgarity!” The manager gave Yoongi a pleading look. “I swear. Nothing like this happens around here, sir.”

Yoongi smirked, pocketing his room key. “No worries. Have a good night.”

Instead of going directly to his room, Yoongi decided to have one more smoke. Something caught his eye on the ground. One of the key cards laid on the floor where the woman had dropped her purse. He reached down and picked it up, flipping it around in his hands before sliding it into his suit pocket, and walked on.

To Yoongi’s amusement, the security guards stood glaring at the man trying to keep him from the woman. She held her purse, the clasp now broken, and looked smug at the man. He was livid, face blotched with red. “You can’t kick me out! I paid good money to stay here!”

One of the guards shook his head. “I’m sorry, but we don’t permit that sort of behavior. We’re gonna have to ask you to vacate the premises.”

The man sputtered in shock. “Vacate the–” He roared looking at each guard. “Do you know who I am?! I could have you all fired and this place condemned! If I had any–”

“Hey,” Yoongi slipped his cigarette between his lips and sauntered over casually. They turned to him curiously. The security guards gave him a quick look of understanding and backed away. Yoongi jutted his chin towards the door. “You’ve caused enough of a disturbance. Why don’t you leave while you still have some dignity?”

His face turned a shade similar to a beet as he stalked up to Yoongi squaring him up. His finger jabbed him in the chest making Yoongi stumble back. “Who the fuck are you? I’ll do what the fuck I want and I’m gonna stay here!”

Yoongi brushed the front of his jacket, adjusting it on his shoulders. He glanced over at the woman with a quiet smile. He pulled the key card from his pocket and held it out to her. “I believe this is yours, miss.” She stepped forward and took it from his fingers giving him a small smile before moving away from the group.

His expression darkened at the way Yoongi ignored him, he grabbed him by the front of his shirt bringing him to eye level. With a sly smirk, Yoongi’s eyes turned black letting the man see his reflection. “You don’t wanna fuck with me. Take your shit and leave. Got it?”

He paled as he dropped his grip on Yoongi and put as much space between them. He practically jumped into his car as the valet pulled it up to the curb and peeled off.

The woman had watched the exchange, far enough away to not hear the words, but she saw how quickly the guy left. The breath she’d been holding, escaped between her lips, and she slumped back against the wall with a sigh.

Yoongi noticed her body language and walked up to her, tucking his cigarette away. “Everything alright?”

She jumped with a startle staring at him. “Yes. Yes. Um...I’m fine.”

He hummed and pulled his loose tie from his neck and stuffed it in his pocket. “Cool. Have a good night.” He turned around and walked back into the hotel whistling to himself.

She finished picking up the fallen items, stuffed them in her clutch purse and walked back in. Her thoughts racing at what to do in her current situation. Should she leave? Stay? Drink herself silly at the bar? She sighed checking to make sure the keycard was secure in her purse and headed towards the elevator. A night alone seemed like the smartest choice.

Staring at her phone, she didn’t notice anyone next to her until the elevator chime.

“After you.”

She looked up in surprise to see Yoongi standing in the small lobby hallway.

“Oh, thank you.” She walked in as he followed, fingers extended over the buttons.

“Your floor?”

She looked up from her phone feeling dumb. The elevator had yet to move. “Oh...uh nine, please.”

Yoongi nodded and pressed the button. “Hm, same floor as me.”

She shrugged with a smirk. “Small world.”

Now that they were alone, Yoongi was able to get a better look at the woman. Not that he wanted to pass any judgment on her, but she looked expensive. The blood-red ruched dress with sleeves seemed like a second skin on her. A sleek leather jacket rested on her shoulders, dark hair pulled off her face and twisted into a bun, minimal jewelry–just a pair of ruby earrings and matching ring. Name brand clutch held close to her side, makeup strategically placed to accentuate her features. Ankle strapped heels tapping on the elevator. He admired her appearance with quiet precision, never letting his eyes off her face. She was beautiful.

As he watched her, she did the same with him. Was he her type? She wasn’t sure, but was anyone? Whoever could afford her services was treated like royalty for the night. Being worshipped until hours ran out. Still, even though they only spoke maybe a few words, she was intrigued by him.

“Thank you,” she said.

He raised his brow at her inquisitively. “For?”

“What you did back there,” she explained slowly. “That guy...he would have been a pain to deal with later on. I don’t know what you said, but it was well deserved on him.”

Yoongi snorted. “Just a bit. And it was no trouble, he won’t be a problem anymore. How’s your arm?”

She shrugged. “I won’t break. Been through much worse.”

“I’m sure you have,” he replied.

She caught herself staring at him. His eyes seemed to pull her in. Shaking her head, she wondered why it was taking the elevator so long to get to their floor.

“I’m Desi,” she said.

“Yoongi.”

The bell chimed, signaling that they had reached their destination. Yoongi waited for her to walk off first before exiting. They stood in the hallway as the elevator doors closed and lowered back to the main lobby. Desi pointed down the opposite end. “I’m over there.”

Yoongi jerked his head in the opposite direction. "I’m in that corner.”

“That’s the penthouse suite,” she exclaimed.

“I always stay there when I’m in town,” he responded nonchalantly.

She whistled low, clearly impressed. “Well, you’re full of surprises.”

“And so much more,” he hinted, a playfulness in his voice.

Desi chuckled softly looking away from his strong stare. “I won’t hold you up anymore. You probably have much better things to do than shoot the shit with me. People waiting on you and whatnot. Take care Yoongi.”

As she turned to walk away, Yoongi cleared his throat. “Actually, I’m just planning to decompress the remainder of the evening.”

Desi paused biting her lip but kept her back to him. “Oh, that’s a shame.”

He roamed her body momentarily before tugging at his earlobe. “I wouldn’t say no to some company.”

She turned back around giving him a smile. “I’d be pleased to join you.”

As the door beeped open, Yoongi pushed on it letting her walk in first. Desi looked visibly impressed by the suite. Wall to ceiling windows exhibiting the city’s skyline as the stars twinkled as a piano sat in the corner. Comfy leather couches circled a floating fireplace with a mini bar off to the side. A glass staircase led up to the bedroom that overlooked the entire suite with a glass divider.

Yoongi walked over to the mini bar and saw a bottle of Woodford Reserve wrapped in a bow. He smirked, removing the top and grabbed a glass. He looked over his shoulder at Desi and held the bottle up.

“Would you like some?”

She nodded walking in further and placed her coat over the back of one the couches. “Yes, please.”

“How do you take it?” He inquired.

“Just one ice cube,” she answered, taking a seat and getting comfortable.

Impressive. She knew how to drink her bourbon. He filled her glass and walked over handing it to her, opting for the couch opposite hers.

Desi took a generous sip, closing her eyes reveling in the smoothness of the alcohol. Finally, something seemed to go her way.

Yoongi watched her over the rim of his glass. She seemed more at ease now, though she piqued his interest.

“So...Desi, what brings you here tonight?”

Her brow quirked at the casualness of the question. How boring. With the faintest smile she sat her drink on one of the coasters. Legs crossed with her elbow resting on the arm of the couch delicately, she finally answered him after a long pause.

“I would think someone of your caliber would have guessed why I was in a place like this.” She ran a finger through her hair thoughtfully. “I cater to a higher breed of clientele.”

“Hard to tell by how that guy was down there,” he replied airily.

She smirked, grabbing her drink off the table and took a sip. “Touche.” Licking her lips, she looked him over with the same scrutiny he gave her. “So...Yoongi, what brings you here?”

Aw, how cute, she was deflecting. He tilted his head side to side, eye closed.

She noticed how long his eyelashes were. He almost didn’t seem human by his movements.

He got up and pointed to her almost empty glass. She nodded and he went over to the bar to pour another round for the two.

“Well,” he began letting an ice cube clink into each glass. “I come here to hide away. Alleviate what stresses I’ve accumulated.”

“From?”

He chuckled, returning back to the couch and handed her the glass. “People, life, responsibilities.”

Desi gave him an odd look. Usually, people would be intimidated by her aura. He seemed at ease. That was odd. Who was this man? Quiet, calculated, but still an enigma. Desi, due to her unconventional occupation, was able to read people easily. But with Yoongi, he was a blank slate. He only said what needed to be said in the moment. As much as it confused her, she found it oddly attractive.

Finally taking notice of the piano by the windows, she got up and went over to it. Lifting the fallboard, the ivory keys shimmered under the lights. She stared at it fondly and ran her fingers across the board in a crescendo.

“You play?” He asked, observing her from his seat.

“Something like that,” she answered, still looking at it.

Yoongi emptied his glass and crunched the ice slowly. “Play me something.”

She glanced over a shoulder at him with a frown. “Don’t patronize me.”

He met her gaze, eyes hardening. “I wouldn’t dream of it. I’d like to hear you play something.”

Desi stared at the piano ivories, gathering her thoughts. With a sigh, she placed her fingers over the keys and started to play. As she got more relaxed, her playing grew bolder. The melody grew, almost bringing out her inner thoughts.

Yoongi watched from afar. There was a sadness to it as she played, but an undertone of sensuality. Her technique more than intermediate, he could tell she had played for years. He set his drink down and walked over to her. Yoongi leaned on the piano just watching her.

Desi’s eyes were closed as she played, her body in sync with her piano playing. It became an extension of her body. Nothing mattered. To Desi, the only thing important was the symphony she created.

A yearning came over Yoongi. Something about her made him feel...infatuated. Still, while he was aware of what she was, what she did–that wouldn’t stop him from having her. Yes, that’s what it was.

He wanted her, in the worst way.

She finished in a flourish of notes ending with a decrescendo. Yoongi clapped softly as she opened her eyes. Her cheeks flushed now realizing he was standing so close to her.

“You’re talented,” he stated.

Desi rolled her eyes, but smiled. “It’s been ages since I played. I’m surprised I still remember that song.”

“What was that? I don’t believe I’ve ever heard it before.”

She smirked. “That’s cause I wrote it.” She sighed in longing. “I wasn’t always like this. I had dreams once upon a time.”

Yoongi drummed his fingers on the piano gently. “Shit happens.”

Desi let out a bitter chuckle and nodded in agreement. “Shit does indeed happen.” She raised her brow at him with a playful stare. “Do you play?”

“Hmm,” he glimpsed at her with a beguiled expression. “I dabble.”

She snorted scooting on the bench to give him room. “Bullshit. I wanna hear something. I’ve embarrassed myself enough tonight.”

Yoongi laughed, his smile spreading and he sat down beside her. “Fine. What do I get if I do?”

Desi poked his side. “Respect,” she answered coyly. That earned another laugh between the two of them.

He grinned rolling his shoulders. “Fair enough. Any requests?”

She gestured to the piano. “Whatever you feel like playing.”

He nodded, fingers poised over the keys. Starting the first new notes, the smile dropped from her face. He cleared his throat as he began to sing. “Makin’ my way downtown, walkin’ fast, faces pass and I’m homebound.”

Stupefied only momentarily, she swatted his shoulder making him stop his playing as he broke out in a fit of giggles. He snorted through the tears. “I couldn’t resist. Your face was priceless.”

Desi huffed crossing her arms over her chest. “You think you’re so funny.”

He gave her a gummy smile and winked. “I am. You just don’t appreciate my humor.” He wiped his eyes giving her knee a squeeze, surprising her by how warm his touch was. “Alright I’ll play you something for real this time. I promise.”

As if getting into the zone, Yoongi began to play. This time an attentiveness and a sprinkle of calmness took over him. The passion apparent on his face. Desi felt a burst of emotions take over as she observed him. He seemed otherworldly. The way his fingers danced across the keyboard was an art. It took her breath away. As he finished the last few notes, tears trickled down her cheeks as she let out a quiet sob.

“How did you know?”

“The River Flows in You is a favorite song of mine. I play it when I’m feeling down.”

“I love that song,” she whispered.

“I can tell,” he murmured looking into her eyes. His eyes searched hers with a tiny smile. “I’d love to kiss you right now,” he confessed, shocking himself with the comment.

“You wanna kiss this face with tears and runny makeup?” she asked incredulously.

Yoongi reached out and wiped them away with his thumb. Desi surprised herself, letting him wipe her tears. Such intimacy she wasn’t used to. “I wanna kiss...whatever you want me to kiss,” he answered, his voice husky.

She felt that through her core as she shuddered making her thighs clench together. Biting her lip, she leaned towards him, her eyes flicking to his lips. “Then kiss me.”

Yoongi licked his lips, his gaze lustful and he bent forward. Before their lips touched, Desi pulled back at the last second a mischievous smirk on her face. He shook his head highly amused with her antics. While he wasn’t one to play games, with her it didn’t seem foolish, although he had a feeling she was teasing him, making him work for it, and that suited him fine.

He got from the bench and held his hand out for her to take. Desi placed her hand in his palm and he helped her to her feet. Tugging her close to him, the heat radiated off their bodies. They stayed like that for sometime just breathing, bodies in tune with the other's. Yoongi reached out and curled her hair between his fingers moving to hold her face gently in his hands. The longing in his eyes made her almost weak.

God she wanted to kiss him.

What had made her pull away before? She hardly had time to think of a coherent thought before Yoongi gripped the back of her neck and crashed his lips to hers in an untamed, passionate kiss. She gripped the front of his jacket pulling him closer until their bodies molded into one another. Yoongi moved his hands to wrap around her waist. His tongue slipped past her lips, running it gently with hers. Her moans muffled as the kiss deepened.

Yoongi could feel his desire for her grow and knowing they’d need air, he pulled away. Desi wobbled from the force of the kiss. Lips bruised, cheeks flushed, the lust burned in her eyes. As she let out a needy moan, Yoongi kicked the bench of the piano out the way and pushed her against the piano. Her ass landed on the keys making her jump with a startle.

Eyes dark with yearning, he stepped forward only to have her leg lift up and her heel press against his abdomen. She wagged her finger while tsking. A playful smile on her face. This little tease. Yoongi took note of her dress riding up her thick thighs. Licking his lips, eyes narrowed, a snarl formed on his face.

“Take those off. Now.”

A shiver ran down her spine as she felt her body respond to his command. Desi dropped her foot to the floor and raised her hips, slipping her fingers under her dress, dragging the material from between her thighs. Once her underwear reached her leg, Yoongi took it upon himself to yank them down and off her, throwing them over his shoulder. He knelt down in front of her, never wavering his stare. He ran his hands over her skin, chasing the goosebumps as they formed.

“You really are beautiful,” he murmured. “I bet you get told that all the time.”

Desi mewled at his touch, watching his fingers tickle her skin as he pushed her dress up. “Not enough,” she said, letting out a needy moan.

The smell of her sex perfumed the air. Yoongi practically drooled at the sight. He nipped at her inner thighs, his nose grazed her outer lips. With a low, rough moan, he glided his fingertips against the velvety skin already coated in her arousal.

“I’m going to taste you,” he said, making eye contact. “Make you fall apart.”

Desi squirmed, her muscles clenching on nothing, but craving something more. “D-Do it.”

“Say please,” he hissed.

She let out a shaky breath and pleaded. “P-Please.”

Yoongi went at her like a man starved, devouring her. He attacked her clit relentlessly, sucking and nipping the sensitive bud as she writhed under him. The piano keys banged as her hips slammed into it. Her fingers grabbed his hair, keeping him immobile–not that he wanted to if he tried. Two fingers slid into her pussy curling downwards on her muscles fucking her slowly. He shaped his mouth over her clit like a suction coaxing her sweet little cries forth. It was music to his ears.

Desi could see stars from how hard her eyes were shut. Her orgasm built quickly–something that rarely happened, even in her profession.

“Y-Yoongi, I’m gonna come!”

He stopped his motions, removing his fingers. Desi drew out a whimper at the sudden motions of losing his touch.

He sucked on his fingers relishing her taste and closed his eyes in ecstasy. “Not yet. You’ll come when I think you're good and ready.”

She cooed watching him suck his fingers, her body buzzed in excitement. Her hand extended out to yank at his waistband before he slapped her hand away. He opened with eyes as they glowed. “No.”

She sulked at being rejected. Her lips quivered as her eyes softened. “But I want to make you feel good,” her voice subdued.

He snickered, bringing her up to stand off the piano. “Another time.” He gave her ass a squeeze as he kissed her lips. Nibbling on her neck to hear her gasps, he traced her pulse with his tongue. “All I want is to be buried deep inside you, fill you with my cock, and make you scream my name.”

Desi whimpered as a fresh wave of lust rippled through her body. Yoongi’s eyes burned with thirst. “Can I do that, Desi?”

She reached down and palmed the front of his pants, his cock straining against the fabric. “Fuck me. Now.”

Without any hesitation, he ripped her dress open like it was paper. Her breasts bounced out of their confines and he latched on to a nipple, suckling harshly. Desi threw her head back trying to not crumble to the floor. Yoongi let her nipple go with a pop and gave the other one equal attention.

When he felt her growing weak against him, he picked her up with ease and tossed her on the couch. Desi laid spiraled there looking at him with hooded eyes watching as he undressed.

“We’re not going to make it up to the bed,” he growled. “I need you now.”

She trailed her finger to her pussy lips purring as she drew small circles on her clit. Yoongi’s Adam’s apple bobbed staring at the sight. It was enough for him to step forward, closing the space between them. “Turn around for me,” he ordered. “Get your hands on the arm of the couch.”

Desi did as she was told, becoming aroused by how he was taking command. He fist his cock, running his hand up and down the shaft staring at how her pussy dripped. Grunting, he lined himself up, coating her arousal on his tip and shaft.

“Fuck Desi,” he croaked.

He almost cried out as he slipped past her folds. That warm velvety sensation gripped his cock causing his leg muscles to shake. Breathing out hard through his nose, he thrust in slowly taking note of her reaction. Desi was in a state of exhilaration. She engulfed his cock greedily, her breath hitched once he was hilt deep. They both exhaled, getting used to the sensation. He leaned forward kissing a trail down her spine causing her push back on him earning a slew of curses by him.

Yoongi waited until she gave him the cue to start and began to thrust. Slow at first, stretching her walls as she felt every vein in his cock rub her walls. She writhe, gripping the arm of the couch for dear life. Through gritted teeth, she looked over her shoulder at him.

“Go faster.”

His fingers dug into her hips getting a better grip and pulled his cock out, only leaving the tip. He leaned in to her earlobe, kissing and tracing the shell with his tongue. “You can ask better than that, kitten,” he drawled, moving one hand over her clit to circle slowly making her hips jerk forward. Desi keened into the touch as he went painstakingly slow. She clenched her teeth attempting to hold back her moans.

“Ah...fuck...Y-Yoongi...right there...please...please I want to feel you...all of you.”

Shit that was hot.

Yoongi wasted no time and slammed his hips into hers. The only sounds of their grunts and pants. He kneaded her flesh under his hands, almost bruising the skin. His free hand wandered back up to her neck, her hair cascading over his skin, he wrapped the strands around his fist and gave a sharp pull forcing her head up. The tingling sensation jolted to her core, arousing Desi. Her eyes rolled back as he pumped into her continuously.

That familiar feeling returned as he edged her closer. He could sense her body readying itself to climax. He slowed his movements, shuddering at the vice like grip around his dick. Arms shaky, Yoongi positioned them onto the couch cushions laying horizontal. There was enough room for both of them to lay against each other. His back against the backrest as she laid against him.

He turned her face to him and captured her lips, tasting her tongue in a slow sensual way. Desi moaned, wrapping her arm around his neck pulling him in more. Yoongi groaned, sucking her tongue as he moved down to nibble her neck.

“You’re going to surrender to me and come undone while I fuck you slowly.”

He lifted her leg and pierced her in the new angle. Desi cried out as his cock hit her deeper than before. Massaging her breast and he grinded her pussy slow and steady, eyes boring into hers. He couldn’t get enough of her.

“Do you want me?” he teased, breath tickling her ear. “Fuck. I want you kitten. I want you to be mine. Make you feel like this all the time.”

His words made her throb, she almost couldn’t take it. “Y-Yes Yoongi...I-I want you. I want to be yours!”

He smirked as his fangs slid into view. “Say it Kitten. Say it again!”

“I-I’m yours!”

Yoongi plunged his fangs into shoulder just as both climaxed at the same time. Her walls quivered around his shaft as he coated her insides with white. Desi convulsed against him riding out her high as Yoongi got his fill in two ways.

He tore away from her shoulder letting her essence drip from his lips closing his eyes in bliss. Desi went limp from the sheer force of her orgasm, her breathing uneven. Yoongi lapped at the trickle of her essence still flowing from the wound. He kissed it, making the wound close up and rested next to her, still impaled in her pussy.

Sweaty, but satisfied, he brushed the hair off her face and kissed her cheek gently.

---

He wasn’t sure how many hours passed, but Yoongi awoke still cuddled with Desi. He slipped from her pussy and placed a blanket over her body, grabbed his robe and went out to the balcony to have a well deserved smoke. He sniffed, taking in the scenery as he blew out some smoke. He sensed the air around him change as he leaned on the rail, a bemused look on his face.

“Get the fuck out here.”

Namjoon and Hoseok shimmered into view with smug expressions. Yoongi barely acknowledged them while he smoked.

“Say what you need to say and get those shit eating grins off your faces.”

Hoseok laughed, clapping his hands. “I have to say I’m impressed Yoongi Hyung.”

Namjoon nodded in agreement. “Damn, you put her to sleep too. Shit Yoongi.”

“Shut the fuck up,” he sighed. He glanced back through the glass doors. “She’s different.”

“I bet,” Namjoon chortled. He glanced at his watch and whistled low. “Speaking of that, I got an appointment with Naomi.”

Hoseok cursed glancing at his phone. “Shit. Yeah. I promised Zoe I'd stop by.”

Yoongi snorted in disbelief. “Who's the whipped bastard now?”

Namjoon waved him away, rolling his eyes. “Alright, you made your point. We’ll meet up later, yeah.”

“Sure. Night fellas.”

They shimmered away as the glass doors slid open. Desi, wrapped in the blanket wiped her eyes letting out a sleepy yawn. “Y-Yoongi?”

He smiled, took her hand and kissed her forehead. “Sorry didn’t mean to leave you alone. You looked so peaceful sleeping.”

“It’s okay. I thought I heard voices,” she said nuzzling against him.

“Naw was just people down below,” he explained, extinguishing his cigarette. He lifted her chin pecking her lips. “How about we go take a shower and get in bed? I think I have a few more ways to show you what I have to offer, kitten.”

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