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blackicephantom · 2 months

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A Divine Taste IV

Almost two weeks passed since that “incident” in his apartment and not even a single word from the one involved. It was as if said male was….. avoiding him, which made something in his chest hurt. HIs actual wound healed nicely, almost completely gone now, and Gepard was FINALLY allowed to start work again. Even if it were just light tasks for now, it was way better than sitting alone in his home and wallowing in missed opportunities and missing a certain blue haired scammer.

Being back on patrol gave him the time to think about whatever has happened there. Yes, Sampo had been a little forceful, but he had not hurt him, not even once! Neither his hand that pinned his own, nor the one that had been around his thigh had caused him any pain. So why did he suddenly keep his distance? And it didn’t help that he always saw flashes of blue and green in the shadows of the alleyways or just around the corners of the buildings. The first few times he tried to chase these flashes, only to come up with nothing, no footprints, no traces. Nothing. Just like always when it comes to Sampo.

So he gave up after the fifth time this happened. It was unusual for him, yes even unheard of, but he just couldn’t keep this up. For once in his young life, he couldn’t take the feeling that welled up inside him: something sharp and yet hollow, something that borrowed deep and refused to let go again. It suspiciously felt like a rejection…..

Lost in his tumultuous thoughts the blond just walked ahead, knowing that his fellow soldiers were under strict orders from Bronya to keep a close eye on him. Ridiculous in his opinion, but his men took pride in this opportunity and were even more vigilant than usual, so he let them be. It was even quite amusing on some days if he was honest. A spark from the right caught his attention, somewhere right between two buildings of the Administrative District. It was the same as all the other times, the feelings of eyes that followed his every movement only noticeable due to their unique color. Clenching his fists he swallowed the impulse to turn completely and looked straight ahead. If the criminal wanted someone to play with he would have to look for someone else, because Gepard had thought they had left these little games behind after all these years. `Guess I was the only one….´ Ignoring the disappointment he shook his head and just kept marching forward, not even the lively chatter and jokes of his soldiers able to quell the creeping loneliness and that feeling that he had done something wrong.

Hidden in the shadows the lean figure of Sampo Koski lent against the cold brick wall, his head hitting it with an audible thud. In all of his years he had been many things, yet he never knew himself to be such a coward. He has learned to be almost anything he needed to be, did everything just to blend in, only to falter when it comes to one very pretty Captain of a hopeless and icy planet.

After his absolute loss of control he was afraid of facing the blond again. Too deep sat his shame and too real the chance of it happening again. Not even locking himself away in one of his more secluded hideouts had doused the flame Gepard had lit inside him. And just like the first time, he couldn’t forget what he felt like: solid muscles and soft skin, all so very warm to the touch. The rich and fulfilling taste of his red flowing ambrosia, not to mention all the sounds…. Groaning at the memories, Sampo looked one last time around the corner, guilt eating at his rather dubious consciousness. He may be a vampire and a Masked Fool, but he was neither blind nor stupid, thank you very much. He saw the longing gazes, that brief glimmer of hope when he was spotted, as well as the disappointment and frustration everytime the younger found nothing but a deadend. But no matter how much he loved the attention and their regular cat-and-mouse game, he refused to be the cause of any kind of pain for the captain. `Oh, what hypocrisy. You don’t want to hurt your precious little human, but what about the pain you see in his beautiful eyes everytime you run away?´ Ignoring the annoying little voice in his head, he stepped away from the wall and went in the opposite direction of the guards. There are still deals to be made and people to scam after all.

Walking away he still tried to tell himself that it was for the better, no matter what his instincts and his poor heart were telling him.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Another two weeks went by without even a single interaction between them. Sure, Sampo was still very active in his business, still leading them on and fooling them, but even his men had noticed that something was different. While the usual patrol would at least catch a glimpse of the merchant, there was not even a single trace of him when their captain was even remotely close to the area. But no one was brave enough to actually ask about it, not even Dunn or Serval.

It’s not like they haven’t tried, because they did. But Gepard’s reaction had been….. a little far to the negative side of things. To say the least. Dunn refused to talk about what happened, his eyes slightly haunted, scaring the rest of the force. And the older Landau was simply shot down before she could even properly ask. `Everything’s ok Sis.´ or `Nothing happened Serval.´ It irked her to no end, but if she tried to force an answer her little brother would simply shut down, which would be counterproductive. So the only choice was finding the one responsible, which was no less difficult. So the older blond just kept on watching, mumbling something about stubborn idiots with a wide variety of curses.

This damned charade kept going and going, slowly driving both parties mad and insane:

Gepard, the ever steadfast and unbreakable shield of Belobog, the esteemed Captain of the Silvermane Guards, grew restless and cold. He was still polite and professional, as was expected of him, but there was less light in his eyes and he was visibly exhausted from days upon days of neverending work.

Sampo, self proclaimed merchant, professional scammer and unofficial member of Wildfire had trouble containing his bloodlust. If a deal went south he drew more blood then a few weeks ago and his thirst could not be quenched, no matter how much water, wine or blood he drank. The blood of the faceless strangers smelled disgusting and tasted even worse, he was not as careful and not nearly as gentle.

But while the Captain was kept in the dark, the vampire knew exactly what was going on, having informants in the fort and in the guards and all that. And that made his guilt and worry grow. The worst days were the one the younger returned from the snowplains and the frontline: obviously exhausted, no surprises there. But ever since returning to duty he got hurt more often than before. And everytime he would look around, as if looking for someone, only to shake his head and march off to the medics.

You don’t have to be a genius to figure out what’s going on, yet the blue haired male did not reciprocate.

He would watch the wounds bleed, would follow the blood's path greedily with burning eyes, but would not approach. Close, yet ever out of reach.

A whole month after everything, another return from the endless battle that still raged outside of Belobogs safe walls and Gepard had enough. He was tired, frustrated, sad, confused and so much more, slowly drowning in the monotony of his duty and of blaming himself, fed up with all the questions everybody was asking him. Yes, he knew that Bronya, Pela and Serval were merely worried for his well being. But that didn’t mean he had to like their attempt of meddling in his personal affairs. Just after another bout of questioning from said females, Serval still screaming for him to `Wait a second Geppie!´, he just stormed off into the cold waiting outside the fort. No matter how gentle the questions were asked, they were getting rather intrusive, even if the Supreme Guardian herself was the one to ask. And he made that fact known:

“That is a very private thing to ask, Madame Guardian.” He knew that his tone was not really appropriate, but there are still some limits, especially after the whole thing with Cocolia.

Pissed beyond most reason, Gepard just kept on walking without any destination in mind. The crisp and cold air bit into his face and the still falling snow started to obscure his vision, yet he still kept going, wanting to be away from everything, if just for an hour or so. And so his trained legs took him to one of the Silvermane camps just outside of Belobog, not quite on the frontlines but also not quite in the safezone. Another plus was the fact that there was almost no one there and that his presence was nothing unusual either.

Exhausted, the blond sat down on the first space available, not caring that the snow would slowly soak through his uniform pants and even the thermal wear underneath. Leaning forward he put his elbows on his knees and just……breathed. For this short moment he just wanted to exist in the quiet that surrounded him, for once not bothering to put up the facade of the ever perfect Captain. One deep breath, two deep breaths, three, four, five….. In and out, in and out. Again and again and again. He ignored anything around him for the moment, even the light crystals starting to crawl up his boots as well as the white mist he started to breathe out. He was an ice user, his shields the most solid ice one could find on this planet, and he was used to the cold anyway.

The blond didn’t know for how long he just sat there, did not really care about it either, just that it was long enough for a light sheen of frost to cover his hair and parts of his uniform. Sighing he finally sat up straight, frost flaking off of him, aware that there was another presence in his vicinity. He knew that looking around was unnecessary, for the one hidden in the shadows would not step out of them, so he didn’t even try. Still…… Those eyes bore into him, rekindling the irritation he wanted to leave behind in the first place.

“Not out scamming innocents today, Koski?” was the first thing out of his mouth. Sure, it wasn’t even close to what he truly wanted to say to the other male. But he was just so done with this shit. And, like every other time nothing came back, even after another few minutes. Snorting at his own desperation he looked up into the gloomy sky, ignoring the single wet trail that slid down his cheek. “You were oh so worried for me just weeks ago. And now? Now you wouldn’t even approach me.” The last part was whispered, yet rang unbearably loud in the stillness around him. Another sigh and the blond simply deflated. He was angry, he was frustrated, he wanted to see Sampo, banter with him, laugh at his stupid antics. But most obvious: he was just bone deep exhausted. So his brain started to shut down, only leaving him with all of his raw emotions and no filter. “Had I known this would be the outcome, I wouldn’t have asked you to visit me that day. I should have taken Serval's word for your well being, instead of following the selfish urge to see for myself.” The following chuckle sounded hollow and carried an unhealthy amount of self-loathing.

Unseen in the shadows the vampire clenched his fist and his teeth, trying to keep in control and not to fall on his knees before this beauty of a human and beg for forgiveness. Sampo knew that Gepard rarely wanted for anything, being raised in one of the biggest and well known noble houses of Belobog one reason and being unbelievingly duty bound another. He knew enough about the Landau siblings' circumstances to realize he had said that last part deliberately, which tugged on his heartstrings. But what the other said next pulled the rug out under his feet. “Not even that new little tic you found so amusing comforts me anymore. I’m not the only one after all, am I? Nothing special, just one of many to fall for Sampo Koskis many charms.” Another little laugh, even more bitter than the last and slightly choked.

“Just one of many-” echoed in his head and left him frozen in place. Was that truly what the blonde thought? `Of course. You have done nothing to prove him wrong after all.´ Sampo really, really started to dislike his own inner voice…. As well as the sound of Gepard’s soft sobs. And yet he still didn’t move, leaving his beloved soldier alone with his despair. He waited till the sobbing turned into gentle sniffing and turned around to finally leave, again, only to stop at the others final words. “I’m so fucking pathetic. First I fall hopelessly for the bloodsucking scammer, hoping for something more only to get those hopes cruelly crushed. And then I start to talk to myself.”

Wiping the remaining tears from his cheeks Gepard stood, waited just another second, the last glimmer of hope dying in his chest and went on his way home. This night, he would wallow in his misery and embrace the pain of the blatant rejection. He…..didn’t know what he was hoping for. But whatever it was: it had to be something more than this damned silence. It hurts so deep, even worse than the injury that had started all this. Remembering their closeness of that day almost made him cry again. He wanted to claw the skin open again, wanted to see if that would change something. But he was a grown man, he would NOT go down that very dark path and he could take Sampo’s decision with dignity. SO he took one step after another and hoped that his final whisper was not heard at the end.

“How about we just go back to the beginning? Back to just being a criminal and a captain? Would you talk to me then?”

Again, no answer.

Just the clinking of his armor and the rushing winds accompanied him on his way back. Desperately trying to ignore the agonizing pain of his broken heart, Captain Gepard Landau mourned a relationship that was never meant to be.

#fanfic #hsr #sampard #sampo x gepard #divine taste #i dont know why

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thecasualfkfan · 1 year

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As the Red,White and Royal Blue movie is released,here's an email from the book which I really really love-

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A <[email protected]>

9/4/20 8:31 PM

to Henry

Fuck.

I’m so sorry. I don’t know what else to say. I’m so sorry. June and Nora send their love. Not as much love as me. Obviously.

Please don’t worry about me. We’ll figure it out. It just might take time. I’ve been working on patience. I’ve picked up all kinds of things from you.

God, what can I possibly write to make this better?

Here: I can’t decide if your emails make me miss you more or less. Sometimes I feel like a funny-looking rock in the middle of the most beautiful clear ocean when I read the kinds of things you write to me. You love so much bigger than yourself, bigger than everything. I can’t believe how lucky I am to even witness it—to be the one who gets to have it, and so much of it, is beyond luck and feels like fate. Catholic God made me to be the person you write those things about. I’ll say five Hail Marys. Muchas gracias, Santa Maria.

I can’t match you for prose, but what I can do is write you a list.

AN INCOMPLETE LIST: THINGS I LOVE ABOUT HRH PRINCE HENRY OF WALES

1. The sound of your laugh when I piss you off.

2. The way you smell underneath your fancy cologne, like clean linens but somehow also fresh grass (what kind of magic is this?).

3. That thing you do where you stick out your chin to try to look tough.

4. How your hands look when you play piano.

5. All the things I understand about myself now because of you.

6. How you think Return of the Jedi is the best Star Wars (wrong) because deep down you’re a gigantic, sappy, embarrassing romantic who just wants the happily ever after.

7. Your ability to recite Keats.

8. Your ability to recite Bernadette’s “Don’t let it drag you down” monologue from Priscilla, Queen of the Desert.

9. How hard you try.

10. How hard you’ve always tried.

11. How determined you are to keep trying.

12. That when your shoulders cover mine, nothing else in the entire stupid world matters.

13. The goddamn issue of Le Monde you brought back to London with you and kept and have on your nightstand (yes, I saw it).

14. The way you look when you first wake up.

15. Your shoulder-to-waist ratio.

16. Your huge, generous, ridiculous, indestructible heart.

17. Your equally huge dick.

18. The face you just made when you read that last one.

19. The way you look when you first wake up (I know I already said this, but I really, really love it).

20. The fact that you loved me all along.

I keep thinking about that last one ever since you told me, and what an idiot I was. It’s so hard for me to get out of my own head sometimes, but now I’m coming back to what I said to you the night in my room when it all started, and how I brushed you off when you offered to let me go after the DNC, how I used to try to act like it was nothing sometimes. I didn’t even know what you were offering to do to yourself. God, I want to fight everyone who’s ever hurt you, but it was me too, wasn’t it? All that time. I’m so sorry.

Please stay gorgeous and strong and unbelievable. I miss you I miss you I miss you I love you. I’m calling you as soon as I send this, but I know you like to have these things written down.

P.S. Richard Wagner to Eliza Wille, re:

Ludwig II–1864 (Remember when you played Wagner for me? He’s an asshole, but this is something.)

It is true that I have my young king who genuinely adores me. You cannot form an idea of our relations. I recall one of the dreams of my youth. I once dreamed that Shakespeare was alive: that I really saw and spoke to him: I can never forget the impression that dream made on me. Then I would have wished to see Beethoven, though he was already dead. Something of the same kind must pass in the mind of this lovable man when with me. He says he can hardly believe that he really possesses me. None can read without astonishment, without enchantment, the letters he writes to me.

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- Ch 11, Red white and Royal Blue, Casey McQuiston

#this email was sent after Henry's coming out to Philip email #you all can imagine what Philip's reaction was #thats why alex starts off with sorry #i love this email wholeheartedly #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #red white and royal blue #casey mcquiston #taylor zakhar perez #nicholas galitzine

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mopeymi · 1 year

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You Have Terrible Morals and Obligations - Ghost/Soap

Official Part 5

TW: Cursing, mentions of blood and violence

John kicked rocks into the brook, watching them splash and then disappear into the bubbling water. His hands were shoved carelessly in his pockets, frown evident on his dirtied face. His eyes stung with tears, nose burned where it was broken and bleeding.

He ran when his mother screamed his name, the little boy beneath him sobbing for him to let go. John knew he’d be in trouble, could hear his mom saying “Just wait till your father gets home” before she even walked up to them, so he bolted.

Now he slumped down onto the Sandy bank, hot tears falling down his face from the throbbing in his injuries. He could hear crunching behind him as someone approached. John quickly peered over his shoulder to see his mother approaching him, her skirt fisted in her hands as she tried to keep it as clean as possible.

He abruptly stood, moving to run, when the woman’s calm voice called to him.

“John, it’s alright. Esme told me what happened.” Esme was the sister born a year before him. She was the sweetest one, quiet and shy. She never defended herself, always holding her tongue, which is how John found himself in the predicament he did.

His mother stood next to him, looking at the water as it flowed smoothly. It was peaceful here. The sound of the babbling brook, birds singing, and the occasional frog croak was serene.

She placed a firm hand on his shoulder, slowly reaching up to grab his chin and survey the damage to his face, “That lad, really did ya in.” She said, sympathetic smile on her face.

“You should see the other guy.” John mumbling, scowling a little at the scrutiny.

“I did. I especially saw him as his parents carted him off to the hospital.” There was a scolding tone in her voice, eyebrows knitted. John looked away, “John, I understand why you did it but-“

“Didn’t you hear what he was saying to Esme?! The names he called her? He was about to-“

“Och!” His mother exclaimed, covering his mouth with her hand. It was a tactic she used when they were young, usually it worked to shut them up, “You come tell me! Don’t take matters into your own hands!” She fully scolded him, removing her hand and immediately covering his mouth once more as he went to speak.

“John.” Her tone was stern, harsh. His eyes stung more as he wanted to cry, but did his best not to. She sighed, gently using her sleeve to try and wash away the dried blood and dirt, stopping when he winced.

“I know why you did it. I understand that. But please, let me handle it.” He nodded, turning his gaze away, “Love is a wonderful thing. Love makes you act stupid. Love makes you say things you don’t mean and do things that hurt others.”

She gently grabbed his face, his glossy eyes staring at all too familiar blue ones, “One day you will find this person that wants to protect you; To love you. And they will do something that hurts you.”

Her words rung in his head as he stared at his bare barracks wall. He holed himself up in his room, tears falling silently as anger pushed his thoughts. He understood why. Knew it was a valid reason, but did they really not trust him enough to tell him?

Both Gaz and Price had knocked on his door after awhile. He kept silent, his lights remaining off, and they left soon after. They most likely assumed he was somewhere else on base.

He heaved a sigh, throat tight as he realized how ridiculous he was being. It was for a mission. He needed to respect the decision for the mission. He balled his hands at his side, bedsheets crumpling in his grasp.

Soap knew he shouldn’t have said what he did to Ghost and Price. It was wholly unfair. He needed to be an adult; a soldier broken and re-bred to serve. His emotions were getting in the way and he was trained better than that.

He stood; eyes red and cheeks flushed but face stoic. He needed a shower, to wash the days stink off of him and work on his approach for tomorrow. He needed to apologize and get over himself. But that was tomorrows worry.

Soap took a deep breath and began grabbing clothes from his closet. Just a simple pair of sweats and a long sleeve shirt; he was craving comfort. Speaking of comfort, he quickly remade his bed so it would be perfect when he got back, even going as far as cleaning up his space a little bit.

He felt accomplished as he pushed open his door, a self satisfied smile emerging on his face. The door clicked behind him as he adjusted to the bright fluorescent lights of the hallway.

Soap blinked as a figure loomed in view, he nodded to the man and went to walk past when a firm hand landed on his shoulder.

“Johnny.” The Manchester accent made his name sound so delicious, Soap flinched as he heard it said so gently. He looked up to Ghost, feeling his eyes burn a little from more tears.

“Can I talk to you? Please?” He was simply wearing a black balaclava, no eye makeup on. Johnny could see the slight sadness in his eyes, apprehension evident in his tone.

John needed to realize that underneath that mask was still a man. A man who was only doing his job. But Soap felt betrayed, like he wasn’t trustworthy enough and that shit really hurt.

“I can’t.” He pushed past him and headed towards the showers, hearing a small sigh behind him as he continued walking. Not looking back.

I have finally finished exams!!! (I only had one and I’m pretty confident abt it 😌)

I hope this was worth the wait, lemme know how you feel!!

I love youuuuu all of youuuuuu (DRINK WATER! 💕💦)

#ghostsoap #soapghost #ghoap #ghostsoap fanfic #ghost mw2 #john soap mactavish #mw2022 #simon ghost riley #soap mw2 #soap x ghost #light angst

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liquorisce · 2 years

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scarf girl & idiot boy

pairing: eren jaeger x mikasa ackerman

rating: t | read on ao3

summary: [Reincarnation AU. crackfic]

Eren is in his final year of high school. He's always been an imaginative kid but now his imagination won't seem to give him a break. As a result of intense flashbacks / dissociative episodes his therapist advises him to keep a journal, to get in touch with his emotions and let them all out.

Except it wasn't his imagination, these were his memories. Why doesn't anybody understand?!

…

“So, what about this girl?”

Right, Eren. What about this girl? As my mother asked me that, I was struck with this ridiculous urge to prattle on about how she had a scar on her right cheek, a mole right beneath that, and even though she usually kept her hair short, long hair was simply gorgeous on her. She was humanity’s strongest, and so fucking smart, she was incredible. She could do anything and excel at it; she was one of those people that you could trust with your life.

And how is it that despite not really knowing this girl, I knew so much about her? Fuck if I know. The only thing I did know, however: “I think she’s my wife. Sort of.”

Day 1

Mom bought this notebook for me and told me I’m supposed to write in it every day. Journaling, she said. It’s good for you, Eren. It’ll help you sort out all those thoughts in your head.

That’s what she called it. Thoughts in my head. That’s what she told the doctor the first time she brought me in. My son, you see, he’s a good kid. He’s got a lot of spirit. He’s very intelligent. But. And here was the kicker, there was always a but. He gets lost in his thoughts, sometimes. And then he doesn’t come out. Even if I shake him. I feel like he’s someplace else, you know.

Well, yes, it turns out the good doctor did know. Or he had some theories, anyway. ADHD was the top favourite, it was an easy one for Mom and Dad to digest. Tons of kids have it. It was one of those disorders that parents could swallow because it didn’t mean their kid didn’t have potential. It was a better alternative than plain delusional, I suppose.

I’d heard it my whole damn life.

Eren, you’re distracted.

Eren where’d you go off to?

Eren.

Ereh.

I had one of those short names that people liked to use like punctuation. But nobody said my name right. It’s a peculiar thing, but I was convinced my name wasn’t meant to be pronounced with the full N, it was meant to end on a faint sound, somewhat breathy, somewhat feminine…

Ugh. This is the problem. None of it feels right, because I already know what is right. I’ve experienced it before. It’s in my memories. But nobody understands that. They say I have an active imagination. When I was a kid apparently I had an imaginary friend, too. A blonde wimp named Armin who needed my help to deal with bullies. When I was younger I believed it when Mom gently broke it to me that he wasn’t real, but now I’m not sure anymore. Sometimes when I stand in a group of friends, his sparkling blue eyes and his golden bowl cut feel more real than the faces in front of me.

But this is all I’ve got to figure it out. It’s you and me, motherfucker. So go on and do your Tom Riddle thing where you make sense of things to me, because I’m dying to hear it.

Day 3

I forgot to write yesterday because I’m not really good at keeping up with a habit. Or writing for that matter. I’m okay at school essays and like, some short stories I wrote as a kid were decent, but I never really thought of making a hobby out of it. And writing about myself too, why would I do that? I have to spend enough time inside this head of mine feeling absolutely crazy and out of control, I don’t know how writing down what’s in my head is supposed to make it any better.

But mom yelled at me to journal, so here I am.

She’s pissy because I turned up today with godawful marks on my french test, ten out of forty scribbled in big red letters. In my defence, I only attempted the first thirteen questions, because my brain kind of froze up mid-test when I got these weird flashes of sitting in a classroom with wooden desks and a crazy brown-haired person with goggles on their head trying to teach us about human-eating monsters. It sounds wild to me even as I write it, but trust me that shit was real. They were big and red and butt-ugly and I’m convinced that I’ve repressed some particularly traumatic memories of them breaking people in half like Twix and popping them in their mouths. I think the feeling of watching something like that never goes away, no matter how many lives you lead.

I’d like to imagine that if these really are my memories— because sure, I may be a visionary or whatever, but these visions were too clear— I was a badass hero leading the fight against these monsters, and eventually, my side won. Otherwise, what even was the point?

Day 4

I keep thinking about those fucking monsters. Journalling is doing something to me. It’s making me think about these things more and more. How else do I explain the pit in my stomach that’s refused to go away ever since I finished last night’s journal entry?

Why can’t I shake the feeling that I was so so wrong about something? What if I wasn’t the hero? Maybe I was just a massive fail and my dwindling grades are like, a mirror to the events of my past life or something.

Day 7

Whatever, I know I didn’t journal for two days and my last entry was just a pathetic scribble but I needed some time off. My therapist said this was supposed to help me get in touch with emotions not stress me the fuck out and make me never want to confront them again. Anyway, I took the weekend off, and actually spent my time trying to clear my head in more effective ways. Like smoking weed with my friend Maks.

Mom, if you’re reading this (I know you are, I saw you combing through my journal just yesterday, you’re so obvious) then please for the love of God, don’t get all weird and make passive-aggressive comments when you know already that I smoke. And don’t pretend that you don’t because you totally did. Why else would I eat that much? No teenage boy needs five helpings of your curry no matter how good it is, it’s because of the munchies. Now read further at your own risk, that’s all I’m saying.

So yeah, back to Maks. He always steals weed from his sister Laura, and wades straight into her bag without any concern for her privacy. I don’t know, but I always heard you aren’t meant to be rummaging in a girl’s bag (or anyone’s for that matter), so I just, like, stand outside and make polite conversation with her while he’s flicking her goods.

I guess that sounds bad, but you get it. Laura’s pretty and to be honest, I think she’s kind of sweet on me. She’s always kinda blushy when I talk to her and there’s no need to be, she’s twenty years old and I know she’s had boyfriends before. But she always gives me way more attention than what her idiot brother’s friend deserves. I’ve thought about asking her out on a date, but it seemed like a lot of effort when all I really wanted to know was if she kisses nice.

I thought about it a little more today when we were smoking with some of the other guys, on the rooftop of Peter’s part-time job. I couldn’t really discuss it with them openly because I didn’t think honesty was the best policy when it concerned getting into Maks’s sister’s pants, but I wish I could, because I was still a fucking virgin. I wanted to get laid and I think if I asked, Laura might say yes. I just didn’t know how.

And then I thought about it some more when I came back home and sank into my bed, stoned as fuck. I undid my jeans and opened up pornhub and scrolled through a bunch of thumbnails that all looked so fucking similar. And then, weirdly, I just shut my phone off and stared at the ceiling.

I think all the dilly-dallying about Laura stems from the fact that I wasn’t really sure if I wanted to fuck Laura. Maybe I was a virgin loser, but I was pretty certain I didn’t have… feelings for her. Like, she was nice and everything, but I didn’t like her. I know what it’s like to like somebody, I think. It’s crazy intense and kind of one-dimensional and a little bit like black hair and pink lips and a dark red scarf.(????)

What the fuck. Did I just write. Where did that even come from.

I’m done with this journalling thing, man. I’m out.

Day 9

I’m not happy about this, you know. I just want to be a normal teenage kid who jerks off to porn and maybe sleeps with his friend’s sister so he isn’t a virgin when he goes to college. That’s it. I have simple desires.

LEAVE ME ALONE SCARF GIRL.

Day 10

I can’t stop thinking about her. I wish I could think about the human-eating monsters again. At least that was morbidly fascinating. This just gives me a clawing, uncertain sensation in the pit of my stomach and doesn’t let up until my thoughts are filled with some Japanese girl with the prettiest eyes I have ever seen, and a body like I hadn’t even thought of fantasizing about. It’s crazy, I feel obsessed with somebody I haven’t even met. And I know this for sure because I went through all the class photos and I know nobody who looks like that.

Maybe I should talk to the doc again. I’m definitely delusional.

Day 11

I saw the doc again. He isn’t convinced that I’m having delusions despite my twenty-minute spiel about the biology of ugly monsters I keep dreaming of. I explained in great detail that they were weird as hell: They had this weird human anatomy but none of the fun bits, and they kept eating humans but they couldn’t digest them for some reason. So they’d keep eating people and then get too full and puke ‘em all out into a disgusting ball of human glump and continue their binge. It was like a bizarre take on the Capitol citizens from the Hunger games.

At the end of it, all he told me was that I should journal more and referred to me some creative writing workshops at the community college. And this was even before I even could tell him about the insanely beautiful girl with the red scarf that I haven’t stopped daydreaming about for three days now.

After coming home I got a little crazy and had a little meltdown about how nobody was taking me seriously which Dad thought was par for course for a seventeen-year-old, but Mom got a little snivelly. She came to my room later and gave me a hug and asked if I was acting out because I missed my birth parents. I didn’t know how to react to that so I just hugged her back and told her that I haven’t thought about them in years. Although now I wish I knew them a bit better, because maybe then I’d know for sure if I’m delusional or not because psychiatric disorders usually have genetic history.

The truth is, I don’t remember much about my birth parents. Mom and Dad have taken care of me since I was three, and apart from the fact that I’m a little weirdo in a family of two very normal, high-functioning adults, I’ve never felt like I didn’t belong here.

Mom, I love you even though you never respect my privacy and are currently reading this journal.

Day 12

I was googling “memories of past lives” and I somehow found myself on the Wikipedia for Hinduism. It’s a religion where people believe in having many lives. Everybody goes through birth, life and death and then rebirth again because this torture isn’t enough the first time apparently.

Is that what this is? I’m a cat with too many lives, now?

Day 13

I thought I’d found religion but I spent one day listening to a guru with 9.6 million Instagram followers and I’m convinced this shit will only make me crazier.

Anyway, midterms start in three days, and I know more about “samsara” than I do about Kirschoff’s laws, so see you later.

Day 20

I’ve hidden this stupid diary away and planted a fake where my mom keeps looking. I need my privacy, for fuck’s sake.

I had History today and I swear to God, I almost threw up when it came to answering the final question on the Holocaust (Ten fucking marks!!!). I started writing it, felt nauseous, excused myself to the bathroom, stared at myself in the mirror, came back only to ask to be excused all over again. Miss Jenny definitely thought I was cheating. She kept hovering over me after I came back, when I was too busy trying not to throw up on her.

It’s as if, every time I began to write about the Genocide of WWII, I could almost picture the innocents walking to their death. This is not to say that I don’t think what happened was absolutely terrible, but I cannot afford to get emotional during a fucking history exam.

What’s worse is every time I kept picturing this one boy… this tiny boy with an interesting cap on his head, who looked in my direction with the most puzzling expression. A smile, that then turned into confusion, which then turned into fear. As if I was the one responsible for not only his misery, but that of his entire people. I know it sounds absurd but I really wanted him to know that I felt terrible about what happened. I mean, I had nothing to do with the Holocaust, obviously, but I’m sorry he had to go through it. That anybody had to go through something as terrifying as being persecuted and demonized for something they had no control over.

I keep thinking about that boy. I wonder what his name was. I wish he could experience the world like I do, now. I wish he could be free too.

Day 25

I had math today and it was alright, I suppose. I’m not very good at it, so I can’t judge if I’ve done okay or not. I was more interested in History and Civics, Languages that type of thing. Right on my way to a life of making no money.

While walking back, I tried asking Maks what he thought about the History exam, and more specifically all our tutelage about the Holocaust.

“What do you mean, how do I feel about it? It’s all bad, obviously, you know that.”

“Right,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Of course it’s bad. But about why it’s bad. Do you ever, just, you know, feel really terrible about it? That so many people thought it wasn’t bad when it was happening?”

“I mean,” he said. “Not really. Because it’s not really something you have to think about. It’s obviously bad. We’ve been learning how bad it is, ever since we could read our ABCs. Why would I waste my time thinking about something that I already know is terrible? I already know it!”

I couldn’t argue with that logic anymore. I don’t know why I even bothered with Maks, because I already knew not much went on inside his head, but I didn’t have anyone else I could talk to. At times like this, I really miss Armin, the wimpy blonde in my head that I used to hang out with because I knew he would engage in meaningful conversation about this. He’d probably say something smart about propaganda or the power of narrative or something.

When I was a kid I was convinced that he was the smartest person on the planet (when he wasn’t even on the planet), because he knew all about Volcanoes and the Mariana Trench and the Sahara and all I knew was the Pokemon type chart. I knew it by heart, by the way. I still do.

I came home and my over-perceptive parents exchanged glances, probably signalling to each other that their kid really was a loser and that there wasn’t much hope. Then Mom hovered over me to an uncomfortable degree, making me want to scream. The thing is, I don’t even know what to tell her. Wasn’t I too old to be discussing feelings with her anyway?? How am I supposed to tell her with a straight face that I was bawling in the toilet after my exam because Ramzi was just a poor kid in the wrong place at the wrong time???

… Ramzi.

Who the fuck is Ramzi?

Day 30

Exams are over. I went with the boys for burgers after school, and we all hotboxed inside Peter’s car before heading over to the restaurant.

Maybe it’s the mood I’ve been in for the past couple of weeks, but I’m starting to realise that my friends are idiots. And I don’t mean that in the affectionate sense. Peter wants to go into Investment Banking but can’t pass math. He’ll probably keep working at the Mobile store.

Maks wants to be a cop. In this neighbourhood. I think the only crime we have around here is bicycle theft and no cop ever helps you get your bike back. You just fork out twenty bucks to buy somebody else’s stolen bike from the shady dudes near the central station. The same ones that lurk in the shadows asking if you want a bike, the same way thugs ask if you want drugs. Bikes are like a community commodity around here. It all goes into the same pool and everybody dips into it.

Hamza wants to help his dad out at his falafel shop and to be honest, that’s the most honourable thing to come out of the lot of us. If you ask me, it’s the best food in town.

But they’re all just so…!!! They make me want to tear my hair out. They seem so okay with everything. With themselves. With their families. With this silly little town. Nothing will change for them after they finish school, and they’re perfectly content with that.

When I was ranting about this to dad over dinner, he asked me, with his little indulgent smile, “Well then, what do you want to do Eren? How are you going to make your life more significant than your friends?”

I was stumped. The truth is I’ve never really pictured anything beyond this, beyond my teenage years. I’ve never once thought about what it would be like to be an actual adult. Huh.

Day 31

I can’t sleep. I keep dreaming. My dreams are flashes of people’s faces, blood and large horrifying caricatures of human beings whose faces are stuck in a terrifying smile. It’s 3:23 and I woke up crying because my mind seemed fixated on this one woman who was struggling in the monster’s grasp before she was broken in two and tossed in its mouth.

And when I woke up, I felt the wisps of a soft feminine voice ask me, “Why are you crying, Eren?” I wanted to reach out and hold on to her, beg her to tell me what was going on. But the more I rubbed the tears from my eyes, I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was scarf girl.

Why? I couldn’t tell you. Once I wake, my dreams slowly begin to lose clarity, fading into the noise of the real world and making me doubt my sanity more than ever. But this time when I woke, I felt the lingering sensation of long tresses brushing my face as somebody loomed over me. The strings of wool from a fluffy red scarf. The voice of somebody I was dying to hear.

Day 38

Yo. it’s been a while. Lots of things have happened since I last wrote here.

We had term break and I’ve been working on the Weber’s shed (they’re paying me for the help). Honestly, the last set of dreams I had really fucked me up, so when Maks asked me to help with sawing wood, hammering things into place and just in general, not think, it sounded like a great plan.

And if I had to stand in the sun without a shirt on when I knew Laura would be looking, I didn’t mind. Well, actually, I hadn’t really thought about it until I saw her staring out her window, right at me.

I suppose I could write a whole story about how we had conversations with our eyes and licked lollipop ice candies on her porch together where I saw a little drop of candied water fall onto her chest and in between her cleavage, thereby making me want to lick it off of her skin, etc, but it really wasn’t that poetic. I was shirtless, and she was wearing her tiny warm-weather shorts, lips purple from the ice candies we had just gobbled down, and I guess she just asked me one time why I’d never made a move. I didn’t have an answer for her apart from making a move then and there, and some minutes later we ended up in her bedroom with me on my back and her tits dangling in my face.

Tl:dr; I slept with Laura. I know it’s something I said I wanted some time ago, but as soon as we were done, I couldn’t separate our bodies fast enough. Brown hair matted across her forehead as she looked at me with expectation in her eyes. I couldn’t even look at her. The general public might crucify me as an asshole, but I just felt weird inside. She kept looking at me the entire time, large, soft brown eyes staring into mine as her hair spread all over me as she rode me.

I suppose I did alright for a first time; I got off, she orgasmed first so I guess that’s a success. Laura was quite self-sufficient at the whole sex thing, honestly, it was as if she used me to get off and I let her. It all felt like a scam to me, instead of being excited about grabbing my first pair of tits all I could think was that this wasn’t right. There was an unfamiliarity about Laura that unsettled me, and I’m not sure what it was. But every time she scolded me affectionately, or brought my hands to her body to show me what she liked, I felt a little bit nauseous.

And when she scrambled for the bedsheets after and asked if everything was alright, I had never felt like a bigger fuckup.

“I thought you enjoyed it,” she said, her voice getting a little bit high and somewhat accusatory. “You came right? I was pretty sure you came.”

“I did, yeah. It’s not that, Laura, the sex was… you were, I mean, it was all very nice. I just… maybe I don’t feel well. I’m sorry.” (NICE!! God, I’m such a fuckin idiot)

“You seemed pretty well when you stuck your tongue in my mouth and felt me up over my bra.” Every word she said just made me feel worse.

“Do you have a girlfriend or something?”

I pinched the bridge of my nose while I struggled with the most obvious, factual answer. But instead, with guilt burning my cheeks, all I said was, “... or something.”

Day 39

After telling Laura that the sex was “nice,” I’ve been holed up in my room wondering, not for the first time, what the fuck was wrong with me.

When I went down to have my muesli in the morning, Mom trapped me into a conversation. “You’ve been so dull lately, sweetheart,” she said, with her usual concern. It’s at times like this that I wish she would stop piling on the verbal concern and just bully the doctor into giving me some medication. Surely I could get some good ol’ pills for these hallucinations and I’d be okay.

Instead, in keeping with my latest tradition of saying things I have not thought through, I blurted out, “Mom, did you always know you were going to be married to Dad?”

She looked taken aback for a second. “Is that what’s got you down? Love problems? Oh, honey—”

“Just answer the question, Mom. Don’t psychoanalyse.”

“Well, not really, Eren. You see, I love your father very much, but I met him only when I was twenty-seven, and I’d had my fair share of experimentation and mistakes by then.”

I nodded vigorously. See, this was normal.

“Is there somebody on your mind?”

I debated telling her for a split second, but my impulsiveness got the better of me. “I suppose there is, yeah.”

“Is it somebody I know?” Mom probed gently. She probably expected a different answer, because she’s been giving these sly smiles wherever Laura was concerned for a while now, so when I said, “Not really,” she blinked at me in surprise.

“The thing is, even I don’t really know her. Not exactly in the way you would usually know somebody, I mean.”

She blinked at me some more, looking as confused as I sounded. “There’s this girl,” I told her, my voice dropping down to a whispered mumble, “... this Japanese girl, I think, she keeps showing up in my dreams.”

“You mean the same dreams as the one with the monsters…?” She asked, carefully keeping her voice neutral.

If anything, my mother has always listened to me, I’ll give her that. “They’re called titans, apparently.” Crucial information from my last night’s terrors. “And yeah. The same ones. I think. I really do think they’re all set in the same world.”

The more I listen to myself, the more I feel like I’m describing some kind of fantasy role-playing game.

“So, what about this girl?”

And how is it that despite not really knowing this girl, I knew so much about her? Fuck if I know. The only thing I did know, however: “I think she’s my wife. Sort of.”

Mom was speechless. “I know you think I’m crazy, Mom,” I told her. “But I just. I know it. Inside.” I sounded crazier with every word I said. Mom’s expression grew more pitying by the minute.

She caressed my hair with a sad sort of affection in her eyes. “You’re really struggling with this, aren’t you, Eren?”

My shoulders slumped; I felt defeated. I could see that she wasn’t taking me seriously, again. Well, what did I expect? If a seventeen-year-old told his mother that he was dreaming about a girl he didn’t even know, but somehow knew that she was his wife?? Man, even I couldn’t take myself seriously.

Day 41

Aside from being totally mortified, that conversation with Mom did bear fruit. I don’t know what she told the doc, but when I went for my appointment today, I left with an assortment of pills that were supposed to make me “feel better.”

I wanted to tell him that I wasn’t feeling depressed, just crazy, but by this time I’m willing to try anything. So here goes nothing!!

Day 46

I’ve been taking the pills for five days now, but nothing feels different. The doc says it takes some time for my body to react. I don’t really understand it because I’m usually the impulsive, reactionary type, but okay I guess. When it comes down to it, your brain just runs on a bunch of chemicals and these medicines are supposed to help me balance out the equations. (Doc's words, not mine.)

Today when we walked back from the grocery store, I saw an Asian family loading their trunk with groceries. There was an elderly couple and a woman (I think), who was doing most of the heavy lifting. Mom was grumbling about how chickpea pasta wasn’t a good enough way to boost her protein, but for some reason, that family caught my attention. I found myself craning my neck to get a look at the woman whose back was all I could see (a nice back, if I must say).

Mom thumped me lightly on the shoulder and asked what the hell I was doing.

It was kind of embarrassing because I know what it looked like. That I was busy checking out some woman’s ass with my mom right next to me. But it wasn’t that, I promise.

I mumbled an apology. But when we went further Mom suddenly looked at me all funny and was like, “Eren. You shouldn’t fetishize people, you know.”

Naturally, I was gobsmacked?!??!???

Turns out, Mom put two-and-two together; first my “imaginary” (I didn’t like it when she said that, by the way. There was nothing imaginary about this woman. She was real. Our relationship was real.) wife, and then this Asian-looking family. Ridiculous! I did not think today was the day I’d get schooled by my mother about having an Asian fetish!!

Anyway, school starts tomorrow and I’m nervous because we’ll be getting our grades and term papers back. (Blegh)

Day 47

I feel like I’m about to explode. I have so many feelings, holy shit, I’m literally in the middle of class as I write this, I don’t even know where to begin.

In an effort to start at the beginning, here goes:

I THINK I’VE FOUND SCARF GIRL.

AND SHE’S MY FUCKING MATH TEACHER ASLFADFKDSGL

I walked into school expecting the same old boring drivel as every other term, and mostly the morning had implied exactly that. Kris complimented my hair (I’d grown it longer despite my father’s insistence about cutting it, simply because I felt I wasn’t rebelling enough. I was a teenager after all, I’ve to pay my dues.) and it felt nice, because at least something was different.

We had different classes and got back papers in each class, and my eyes glassed over pages and pages of mostly ok answers, but largely silly mistakes, and the big red circle indicating my very average grades. My classmates queued up to the teacher’s desk to try and get a better grade but I didn’t really care much for it.

History, as I predicted was a shitshow thanks to my brain, but I seem to have made up for my earlier performance in French, thanks to a solid hour of concentration in the exam.

Math was the last class of the day, and predictable Mr Hofferman, our grumbly old Math teacher was late. He was never late. He was one of those annoying teachers who was five minutes early, and would start his lesson as soon as the clock allowed him to, whether the rest of us had even sat down or not.

Ten minutes later— when the class had dissolved into little groups, girls sitting on the desks with their skirts bunched up high, boys chewing gum loudly even though we weren’t allowed to, complaining about how Mr Hofferman was for sure going to fuck all of us up with a ridiculously harsh marking scheme— a lady stumbled in, her hair looking wind-worn, in a pretty pink sweater and grey slacks. “Is this 4B,” she mumbled mostly to herself, craning her neck to see the door and confirm that it was, indeed, 4B. “Right, it is.” And then, in a most unusual turn of events, she set her books down and looked at us straight in the eye, and gave us the most gorgeous smile I have ever seen.

I don’t know about the others, but it took me several moments to recover.

She gave us a small, shy wave, and a little bow, and introduced herself as Mika Akkerman. Her mother was Japanese and her father was Japanese-German, and after retiring, her father wanted to come back to the little town where he was from. She told us she was very excited to teach us from now on, and in an absolutely adorable accent asked us to “please treat me well.”

There was such a violent shudder in my heart at that moment, I swear to God that I thought I was going to die.

After that, she gave the sweetest little laugh, pushed her hair back behind her ear and said, “Although, giving you your test results is probably not the best way to start a good relationship.”

As if I weren’t absolutely decimated by her beauty alone, what I saw at that moment threw me for a loop.

There was a scar. On her cheek. And a little mole right underneath it.

As I lay stumped in my seat, my mind racing a million miles per hour, trying to even grasp the implications of everything that lay in front of me, Miss Mika took her seat and began to go through our term papers, one by one. She decided she would call us all to the front, to introduce ourselves, so she could more personally explain her assessment.

“Eren,” she said, when it finally came to my turn, “Jaeger?”

Idiot that I am, I stayed motionless until Maks ribbed me and said, “Stop spacing out, Jaeger, it’s your turn.”

But I wasn’t spacing out. I don’t think I was ever more aware, or more present than in that fucking moment. The way she said my name, it finally felt right. Not Erren, Or Erin, Or Erain, But Ereh, kind of with the n a little bit silent, just a little breathy noise from her tiny nose, sounding kind of intimate like she’d spent a lifetime saying my name that way.

She shook my hand, as she seemed to have done for every student, and fixed me with those gorgeous grey eyes. I was probably trembling like a fucking loser. (This is not how I wanted to reconnect with my wife!!!!)

“You have a nice name,” she said, thoughtfully. “It’s interesting that you have styled it in the American way.”

That’s when I looked down at my paper. I’d signed it Eren “Yeager”. Which I never do, usually. My name is Eren Jäger; we usually understand the umlauts around here. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me,” I told her truthfully. It was the understatement of the year.

She then gave me a polite smile (it was so pretty, I swear, every time she smiles, I feel like a character straight out of a shoujo manga replete with heart eyes), and proceeded to walk me through my math paper.

I have no fucking clue what she said because all I could think about was that her voice was so nice. And every time she said my name I felt my cheeks grow hot.

In the end, she looked at me sweetly and said, “Well, don’t be discouraged, Ereh. Math is all about learning a few tricks and then you’ll master it, no doubt.” Which was excellent because now I was certain that I hadn’t left a particularly wonderful impression with my paper. Despite that, it appears my shamelessness reached new heights when she asked me if I had any questions, and all I felt compelled to ask was, “How old are you, exactly?”

She blinked at me, and then stuttered a nervous laugh. “I always forget how direct everybody is around here. I’m 23.” And then, as if that was the real problem here, she said spiritedly, “But don’t underestimate me! What I lack in experience, I make up for with enthusiasm!”

Oh boy. I didn’t doubt it.

Now I’m back in my seat, barely acknowledging my dismal performance both academically and socially. My brain is buzzing restlessly. I can barely pay attention to anything that is being said to me (because, Mikasa wasn’t talking to me, it was mostly just Maks and Peter grumbling about their grades).

All I can think is… What the fuck?

I’ve never had a fully clear picture of the woman from my dreams but I know with startling clarity that this is her. I know it with my whole being. I knew it when she walked into class, when I saw her scar, when I heard her speak, when her eyes met mine. It’s like a flash went through my body, when we shook hands.

This isn’t normal. But does it really matter?

Because I think I’ve found my wife.

Day 46 contd

I have more updates.

As class ended, Mikasa piled up her books and then embarrassedly mumbled that she was still new here, and that perhaps she would get lost and in a twist of what is surely fate, she called out, “Eren Jaeger, do you think you might be able to help me find my way to the Teacher’s lounge?”

Of course, I would. I would do anything for her, she just didn’t know it yet.

As we walked there, I learnt some things about her. She didn’t like silences, she found them awkward. Which was just as well, because after she broke the first one with some polite comment about what a lovely school we had, I couldn’t hold it in any longer. My only exposure to Japanese culture is from my interest in anime, and from what little I know, I’m pretty sure she thought I was completely rude and out-of-turn.

In a span of a few minutes, I asked her how long she’s been in town (just a week), where she came from (Kyoto), and whether she’s already settled (if she needed any help, she could feel free to ask me, you know). I tried my best to get a glimpse of her fingers but couldn’t, but I was pretty sure when we shook hands that I didn’t feel any rings. So she wasn’t married.

But that didn’t mean she didn’t have a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend. Or a partner. Or a fucking dog, that took up all her attention, I don’t know.

As I stood near her little desk in the teacher’s lounge as she talked about how different the weather was here compared to Japan, I felt fucking crazy. It’s only been forty-five minutes since I’ve seen her, but I want to know everything about her. I want to know what I’ve missed out on for so many years, and I want to make up for the fact that she was brought into the world five years too early.

I had this creepy desire to tell her that nothing mattered anymore, because she and I were meant to be together. Eventually, I got out of my head, and as I began to walk her to the school gates, I realised that this was the end of our time together today. She would go home, and probably not think of me for the rest of the evening, while I spent every waking moment (and probably my sleeping ones too) filled with thoughts of her. “Why did you come here, Mikasa?”

“Ah, like I said, my father was born here and wanted to come back, so—“

“But why now? Why to this school? Why did you decide to come with them?”

She stuttered an answer at first, but then slowly her eyes narrowed at me. She watched me silently for a moment before she murmured, “Ereh, I never told you my name was Mikasa.”

Shit.

“My name is Mika Akkerman. And I’m your teacher,” she said, her voice strained. There was an antsy, faraway look in her eye, as she spoke. “… You should talk to me with respect.” And then she turned around and left.

I ran back home, straight to my room and as I write this, I’m still shaking.

I don’t know why I called her Mikasa.

I don’t know why I spoke to her in such a familiar way.

I don’t know why when I look at her I felt like I’ve been waiting for so long, and that she has finally returned to me.

All I know is that I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’ve memorised that face, and I’ve listened to that voice so often, I would know it even as I lay in my grave. I’ve felt that skin against mine before, the same skin that held my hand so firmly today.

More than anything I knew that this was scarf girl. And the universe had finally brought us together.

#eremika #liquorisce fanfiction #eren jaeger #mikasa ackerman #aot

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mollypaup · 9 months

Text

(hi please read this collection of side stories from Fragile Dreams: Farewell Ruins of the Moon, one of my favorite video games ever.)

Seven Colored Bells

I looked upon those seven girls no longer breathing.

I recalled the word “deathbed.”

In that bright white alley, they lay there lifeless. I didn’t think to explore the cause behind it.

Death cannot be overturned or reversed. It stays right where it is. It doesn’t go anywhere.

The only reason I spilled tears was because of the wretched shape I was in.

I had no memory of being loved.

Especially not at first glance.

The day they were welcomed into their homes, they were given heirloom bells. It proved that they were loved like family.

In all my days, I’d never been given a bell.

And yet here I was, alive, while these girls, who were supposedly loved unconditionally, were dead.

It might have been poison. Perhaps even disease.

Maybe I, too, would be whisked off by the cold wind of death.

Either way, I was alive.

A part of my heart scoffed, ‘Served you right. Just look at the evidence. You ridiculed me, and I survived. You paid the price of cruelty with your lives. Behold! I’m alive!’

But no matter how much I yelled, none of them opened their eyes.

And my tears didn’t stop.

As I picked up one bell after another off the floor, I swore to myself that I wouldn’t grieve over them.

Not after I’d endured such suffering my whole life. I had the right to mock their life and death.

The sound of the bells that were not mine echoed in vain through the air like the tolling bells of a funeral.

Red Bell Anri

Cough! Cough cough cough!

From beyond the tiny window, fitted into the side of the tiny house, a raspy cough could be heard.

There was a tiny bed in the room, where a tiny human child’s body lay resting.

"Honey, you know you have to get some sleep."

The scolding came from a tall woman who entered the room.She’d come to put out the lantern as she rubbed the boy’s back.

"No." he replied, shaking his head.

"I’m not sleeping. Anri might come back home."

"Oh, sweetie…"

The mother’s face was troubled. It was easy to see she knew something. She knew that the “Anri” the young boy was waiting for was not coming back.

"Anri’s coming back, I know she is! She always comes home. I gave her a red bell. She’s my little sister.”

Ah! So evidently, Anri was this little boy’s sister.

I continued to watch them in silence.

Thinking about the boy, I was reminded of Anri, who was even tinier than her poor, sickly brother.

Once, she came to visit her big brother.He was so pleased and overcome with love for her, that he gave her a red bell.

Although I was not there, I could picture the scene already.

"Well, if Anri does come, I’ll be sure to wake you."

"I know the sound of Anri’s bell better than anyone!"

Anri’s bell was small and red, but she was no longer with us.

Her red bell was only here because it had been stripped from her dead body.

As I looked up at the moon, I recalled the words "desecrating the dead."

What I was about to do was the epitome of spitting in the eyes of the dead.

That was exactly what I was doing.

I had already abandoned her corpse, and now I was adding another sin to my list.

But this was my revenge. It was the perfect thing to do. This was my revenge on her for calling me mangy.

I called to the boy in a delicate voice.

I rang the bell, the sign of his little sister that the boy claimed to know so well.

The window opened.

"Anri?" The boy called to me.

Yes! It’s me!

It’s me, Anri!

He stretched out his arms to embrace me.

"What happened to you? You’re all scruffy." he asked.

I looked nothing like the beautiful little girl he knew and sounded nothing like her either.

Only the red bell remained the same.

My revenge was secure.

I’m Anri. Anri, with her red bell.

The youngest little sister embraced by her brother’s small arms.

Blue Bell Fleur

"I just don’t get the boss these days."

Behind the mill, I heard two men talking. They wore matching white uniforms smeared with soot, while smoke seeped from the mouths on their young faces.

I snuck up to where their shadows touched the earth and eavesdropped from behind a pole.

"He missed the deadline again."

"And he smacked me just yesterday. Said I left the ashtray full.”

"Huh. If he didn’t dog us like that, he wouldn’t have anything else to do.”

"Heh, he said all we do anyways is smoke cigarettes."

"I just don’t get him."

"Boy, you said it."

There was the banging sound of a mallet.

Word had it this mill was built by the skilled, but eccentric, foreman.

He’d since taken on two assistants to make furniture around the clock. But the two men just idled their days away, breathing out an endless stream of white smoke.

"It must be you-know-what."

"Wouldn’t be surprised."

"Ask him."

"You idiot. He’ll do more than just box your ears if you do. I wouldn’t complain even if he ran me through the sander alive.”

"Ugh, you just can’t win with him."

"Boy, I’ll say."

And with that, they let out white sighs.

"It’s seriously been a month since Fleur went missing? Huh, I guess she’s not coming back."

"She probably finally had it with that barbarian, but I’m gonna miss how one look at her kisser and the boss’ mood would do a 180.”

That was as far as I overheard.

Stealthily, I did an about-face and skirted the wall of the mill. From my neck now dangled a blue bell. The symbol of this mill.

Today, I had come to be the boss’ Fleur.

Approaching the window, a loud voiced boomed from inside.

"I told you, it’s just not possible! You’re not making any sense, you dimwit!”

The sound of the receiver slamming down was coupled with wood being shaved.

My ears stood on end and trembles racked my body.

The words “run through the sander alive” danced in my head.

No doubt it’d hurt like mad.

I imagined it, looking down at the blue bell.

Does it hurt more than death?

Not having experienced either, I didn’t know, but dying probably hurt more.

At that thought, the trembling stopped.

It must’ve hurt Fleur a lot.

"I can’t do this anymore!"

This time, a piece of furniture flew out the window. Things were taking a turn for the worse.

I couldn’t control my shivers and the blue bell let out a ring. The boss turned his wrinkled, brown face in my direction and scowled.

I thought he’d look right through me with his muddy gray eyes. I didn’t have the beautiful body of Fleur at all.

I was terrified he’d say I wasn’t his lovely Fleur and would run me through the sander right then and there.

He suddenly swung his hand high.

The palm of his weathered, old hand was blistered, the skin like bark. I was sure he’d strike me, but instead his hand came up to cup my face.

His rough and powerful hand stroked my head so softly.

"You scrawny little thing."

His gruff voice was more like a groan. The way it trembled struck my heart.

Didn’t he doubt me?

Didn’t he see right through me?

Should I really let him continue stroking my head like this?

I was speechless as he took me in his arms effortlessly.

"Boys, get in here!" He yelled behind the mill.

"Quit your grumbling and get back to work! If you don’t want me to wax your heads, then polish me some new wood! And step on it!”

Despite being yelled at, the two men had twinkles in their eyes.

"The boss’ Fleur is back!" They hollered, hands in the air.

Unable to speak, the blue bell spoke for me with a tinkle. At that moment, I had won over her name.

I am Fleur.

Fleur, with her blue bell.

Petted by a hardheaded boss, I am a furniture maker’s beloved daughter.

Purple Bell Silvia

Dawn was just about to break and the subdued rays of morning light were finally spreading across the sky.

I was taking my time, strolling through the bustling scene of the early hours. The clamor hurt my ears.

Angry shouts rang from the main street, while flirts could be heard in the alleys. I avoided the hubbub on my way.

Just being in a foul place like this made me remember the life I’d led.

There was a shop with its door propped open. The music that wafted from within was not what you’d consider uplifting.

The sign by the entrance was half-shrouded in dark. The world “Silvia” adorned it.

"Boss, I think you’ve had enough." A sweet voice said from behind the bar.

The bartender was a long-haired woman in a sleeveless dress who was leaning against the wall.

"I know it’s up to you, but I think you’ve been hitting the bottle hard lately.” The voice was young and lilted, like that of a male cat calling to a female.

"I think it might not-"

"Rika."

A glass clattered hard against the bar’s surface, cutting her off.

Silence followed.

"Fine… Don’t listen to me, then…"

The girl behind the counter took the glass to fill it, but grumbled in disapproval.

"I’m just saying this out of concern for you. You look exhausted these days. And the last lady to run this place… Well…you know…”

"Rika."

Again the glass hit the counter.

A cigarette was lit.

"Once you’re done, you can leave for today."

"Whaaat?"

"Do you want me to fire you?"

The woman bristled with anger, but the girl named Rika only shrugged her shoulders.

"Don’t say that. If you deserted me, I’d be all alone.”

The glass she placed on the bar didn’t smell of the pungent alcohol. It was a white liquid.

"The last owner of this place died from alcohol poisoning. I don’t want that to happen to you. See you tomorrow.”

There was the sound of high heels approaching. I darted behind the sign.

"Huh?"

Rika looked up and down the alley bathed in morning light.

"Silvia…?"

I already knew who she was calling to by that name.

Rika gave a heavy sigh for the first time and dragged her feet down the dirty street.

It was only when she was finally out of sight that I made up my mind.

I’d never heard how Silvia had been brought up before she died. She was so shy and quiet, there wasn’t much to say about her. She was the one girl I didn’t hate.

But now I was going to steal her name.

At first, I thought it was revenge. It had to be.

Revenge against them for living better lives than me.

And it was revenge against my own cruel fate.

Step by step, I made my way through the half-open door into the shop and whispered, “Mama.”

The woman was slumped over the bar, the same as when Rika first left. She sluggishly hoisted herself up to look at me and shook her head as though she wasn’t sure what she was hearing.

I whispered once more.

"Mama."

That’s when her barren eyes, laced with crow’s feet, wrinkled in a squint.

"Oh… so it’s you." She laughed with tears in her eyes.

"You poor little thing… You look just the same as when you first came here.”

Something about how she said that made her sound like Rika.

"Where have you been? You’ve been gone for so long… What have you been doing with yourself?”

"Here, drink up. You can have this, it’s your favorite. I’ll give you whatever you need. Anything at all.”

"There’s a good girl," she cooed in a slow drawl, offering me the glass.

I wonder if Silvia was also served warm milk like this the first time she came here.

"I’m sorry," I whispered for the first time to myself.

I am Silvia.

Silvia, with her purple bell.

The little girl who was held close by Mama in a small downtown bar.

Yellow Bell Lotte

A tall human was watering the garden. His white shirt and black slacks were simple and clean.

"Teacher!"

As the two young children called out, a man who was watering the grass raised his head.

"Yes? Anything the matter?"

The man they called “teacher” kneeled down to peer at the young boy through his glasses.

"Teacher, when’s Lotte coming back?" The question came from the little girl.

Even from a distance, I could see the man’s face grow dark.

"Teacher, will Lotte ever come back?"

The little boy looked up expectantly, but their teacher could only furrow his eyebrows and purse his lips.

More children gathered, questions alight on their small faces. Their matching white shirts were tattered with use.

I could imagine that Lotte, too, had joined this circle with her signature yellow bell.

The young children didn’t appear to have parents. They lived in the big, plain house with the man they called "teacher."

"Well, what’s taking her so long? She’s gone away before, but…”

The teacher murmured and excuse, but the children wouldn’t be soothed.

"We wanna play with Lotte again."

"M-Maybe Lotte’s sick."

"Maybe she’s hurt."

"I bet she misses us."

"She must miss us!"

As worry spread among the children, the teacher asked them a question.

"Let me ask you. Does it make you sad to think that Lotte’s lonely?”

"Of course."

"We miss her!"

The teacher nodded and continued. "Then, if Lotte knew how you missed her, it’d make her sad. Right?” His voice was gentle.

As I watched from a distance, I hesitated momentarily.I knew that the yellow bell that Lotte possessed was from this orphanage, which was why I’d come. But I couldn’t imagine that she really had a family in this place.

Would anyone care if she were gone?

Their worries now put to rest, the children returned to their games. But one girl lingered behind. A freckled girl with curly hair.

"But…we’re all…" The girl mumbled, looking down at her feet.

"We’re all still sad even if Lotte isn’t lonely."

The teacher put his hand on top of the girl’s head.

"I supposed there are some things that can’t be helped."

"I know what you do at night!" The girl blurted, looking at him hard.

"If you really felt it couldn’t be helped, then you wouldn’t be out searching for Lotte every night after we’ve gone to sleep!”

The teacher quickly put a finger to his lips. "Everyone’s worried enough as it is."

"But now I’m more worried about you, Teacher!"

The man simply nodded with a sad smile at the girl’s words.

"I know that. And I’m sorry."

Then, with the hose still in hand, he looked at the sky and spoke aloud. "Between you and me, I’m not all that worried about Lotte. I’m sure she’ll survive outside these walls.

"All that matters is that we all considered her family. I’m sure she wants to treasure those words too, because the family we made here is the only one we’ve ever had.

"As far as I’m concerned, we’re Lotte’s family, and as long as she knows that, everything will be okay.

And to be honest, I believe that Lotte will return someday.”

Night came and the lights in the orphanage winked out. I slowly crept out from the shadows that spread before the orphanage.

The moment the teacher saw me, he stopped in his tracks.

The light from the full moon completely transformed me.

I rang the bell, knowing it was all I could rely on.

"Lotte… Is that you?"

Yes, yes. It’s me, Lotte.

"So then, does this mean you’re ready to come back to our home?”

But of course. If you’ll have me, that is.

Back at the orphanage, the freckled girl was trying her best to calm the children who were crying from the teacher’s absence. For days now, she’d taken his place guarding them at night.

Holding the young girl to him, the teacher announced my return to all the children, to all the family.

I am Lotte.

Lotte, with her yellow bell.

A gentle member of this orphanage with a bigger family than anyone could ask for.

Orange Bell Bisque

Everyone in town called the old writer who lived in this house a weirdo.

The house was old-fashioned, and the walls seemed weighted with history. So little care and upkeep had been done to the place, it wouldn’t be a stretch to call it a dump.

The front door was always open, and not because it wasn’t locked, but because there was no lock at all.

Some would think that an invitation to burglars, but the place was such a mess that you’d lose all interest in stealing the moment you stepped inside.

The house reflected its owner; an oddball, aged and in disarray.

And this day, that oddball writer was laying in the middle of his hallway.

For a moment, I thought he was dead, but every once in a while his finger would twitch, betraying signs of life.

The bones in the back of hands stood out, gnarled under paper-thin skin, but his slicked-back hair looked young. The black-framed glasses he habitually wore had stayed on, even after his fall.

He’d probably worn those glasses so long that they were a part of his very being.

And there he lay.

Weaving my way through the filth and the clothes and the furniture, I entered the house, and he didn’t even notice.

"Bisque…" He called my name in a gravelly voice.

With each call, my body would shiver with surprise and the bell would ring.

It was a refreshing sound. The old man must’ve heard it, too.

He immediately leapt off the floor and turned his back to me.

"Not another step!" The man almost spat out.

"I don’t want you coming near me!"

And with that, he went back to the mountain of papers that buried what might have once been a desk. His hand never stopped moving as he scratched at his head.

Believe it or not, he’d call out, drop to the floor and do it all again.

I was thoroughly baffled, and so I sat in the corner of the writer’s room until night fell. The bell at my neck continued to tinkle lightly as I tilted my head.

Can this man truly be Bisque’s family?

I came to check up on him every few days, but each time he’d act just as wild and nonsensical.

When he wasn’t throwing himself on the floor, he was completely immersed in his writing. Disturbed by his unnatural behavior, I tried my best not to allow my bell to ring.

And so I stayed nestled in the corner, until I finally heard the sound of a pen sliding across the desk.

"Phew…" A loud sigh was immediately followed by a loud thud.

He’d fallen backwards off this chair.

"Finally. Finished."

The way he breathed those words sounded so unlike his usual crazed tone.

I lifted my head and the bell chimed to him gently.

With his back still on the floor, he let out a low moan.

"Oh, Bisque. Bisque, my dear…"

I was sure he’d yell at me to stay away again today, but instead he just lifted his thin, ghost-like arm and gestured to me.

Just as neared him with my careful, steady steps, he suddenly grabbed me by the scruff of my neck and dragged me down with him.

At first, I went stiff with fear, but then I heard the beating of his heart.

He gently closed his eyes and petted me.

"Ah, Bisque, is that you…? You’ve gotten so much thinner…since I last saw you.”

His bony hands were rough, but he petted me softly.

As I sat there, unable to answer, the beating of his heart became softer and softer. He continued to coo at me gently.

"Phew… Finally, I’m able to sleep…"

His last words sounded more like he was speaking them from a dream. As the hand on me never wavered, I finally realized.

My doubts were cleared.

I understood now that this was the orange-belled Bisque’s family.

And as I gently closed my eyes, I could feel the sound of my own heartbeat slowly melting free of its ice.

I am Bisque.

Bisque, with her orange bell.

The foster child who brings peaceful slumber to the master writer, whom everyone called crazy.

Silver Bell Chris

The silver bell wasn’t a particularly outstanding decoration, but it did ring the most beautifully.

I’d always wondered what kind of home such a lovely bell had come from.

It belonged to an old woman who lived alone without relatives, in a large mansion I’d never seen before.

"Madam, it’s time for supper."

"Thank you, dear."

"Madam, the lillies in the garden have bloomed. I’ve put them in this vase.”

"What a lovely scent."

"Madam, it’s started raining. Allow me to close the windows.”

"Yes, and draw the curtains, too."

The old woman was waited on hand and foot by her servants. She’d rely on their help as she sat idly in her chair, listening to her favorite music.

She’d even ask them to change out the records, but most of the servants seemed to genuinely adore their employer. But there was one thing the old woman would ask several times a day:

"Excuse me, but could you call Chris here for me?"

Later that same day…

"Oh, where is Chris?"

And again, even later…

"Please find Chris for me."

Though normally obedient, this one request was always met with hesitation.

"Madam, Chris is already…" The maids would start cautiously.

”Oh. Yes, you’re quite right.” the old woman would say, cutting them off.

"She’s not with us anymore, is she? Hmm… I’d nearly forgotten…” She’d murmur with a nod, but not a few hours later, she’d ask the same questions again.

She had them stop her favorite record. "Oh, wherever could my darling Chris be?"

One rainy night, the mansion was in an uproar.

"Madam?"

"Madam!"

The servants dashed through the halls in a frenzy. Finally, one of the maids shouted in despair.

"Why can’t I find her cane?!"

Though it wasn’t too cold outside, the sheets of rain continued to pour relentlessly.

"She couldn’t have gone outside, could she?"

A chill passed over the gathered servants before they set out. They put on their coats and called for help outside.

I tore my eyes from them and made for the rain-drenched town.

Amidst the downpour, I smelled the sweet fragrance of lily. In the back lane of a park, far from the mansion, I made out the figure of the old woman.

She was surrounded by a crowd who moved and gabbed around her.

"C’mon, lady, you’ll catch your death out here. Maybe you should see the police.”

The old woman’s shoes and designer clothes were soaked through.

A man tried taking her by the hand, but the old woman refused to budge, her face adamant.

Fed up with her antics, the men finally left, leaving her behind.

I cautiously stepped just into her field of vision and without saying a word, rang my silver bell.

It rang clear through the rain.

The old woman raised her head sharply in surprise, her blurry eyes looking at me.

"Chris…?" The old lady rasped. I rang the bell again in a nod, and then turned around.

"Chris, wait! Wait for me!" Her cane clicked as she followed me.

I may not be able to carry her all the way to the mansion, but it’d be enough to bring her to her servants.

I stopped often to look over my shoulder, to make sure I didn’t lose her. The sound of that beautiful bell was a beacon.

At last, one of the servants noticed the old woman and shouted, “Madam!”

As she ran towards her, the old woman bent down to scoop me up and held me, trembling.

The servants weren’t able to hide their surprise, seeing how much the late Chris had changed upon her return.

Not one of them said that I wasn’t Chris.

Because the old woman called me so, the maids nodded in obedience, just glad that their beloved employer had returned home safe.

I am Chris.

Chris with her silver bell.

I’m the tiny, adorable Chris, loved by her grandmother in this grand mansion.

Pink Bell Maria I

I’ve gained so much.

Gentle hands and many, many new names.

Monday’s Anri.

Tuesday’s Fleur.

Wednesday’s Silvia.

Thursday’s Lotte.

Friday’s Bisque.

Saturday’s Chris.

And for just one day, I’m no one else but myself.

It was supposed to be revenge.

Revenge for the deceased girls who’d led a better life than I. With vengeance and blasphemy laid to rest, all that’s left is me.

A lie.

Before I knew, I began wondering about the future.

When? Tell me, when?

When will I fall in love?

Once I find someone who loves me, I’ll finally be given a name. Not just someone else’s substitute, but a name all my own.

That’s what I decided.

So then, why?

Why did I have to meet him?

He lived on a cliff face that looked down on the town. His features were considered striking, his posture regal. But those weren’t the only things that made me stop in my tracks.

I didn’t really need a reason.

Because to him, it didn’t matter what bell I put on. Nothing would change the fact that I was nothing.

A bell with two stripes of light pink lay at his feet.

It didn’t belong to him.

The bell, like his love, was waste on the street. His features knew despair.

You could see the hollowness of death in his eyes.

No matter how much I stared or spoke, he never once looked back at me.

I gingerly pick up the rosy pink bell. Its soft sound should be enough to reach his ears, stir his heart and open his eyes.

Then, in a husky voice, he will speak in a tone drowning in emotion. He will call out the name of his past love.

"…Maria?"

And I’ll choke up with emotion, and smile as I say,

"That’s right. I’m your Maria."

And then, there won’t be any real “me” left in this world.

"Please. Tell me your real name."

I giggle softly and answer again.

"I’m Maria."

His brow will surely furrow as he snuggles close.

"That’s not your name. It can’t be."

But that’s the name of your beloved, right?

I loved you.

But the one that you loved was never me at all. You loved the real owner of this pink bell.

Imagine it, a rival whom even death couldn’t kill. The one woman he really loved.

I hated her, cursed her and stole her name and identity. And I’d do it no matter how miserable it makes me.

"Oh Maria! If we’d never met then I’m sure I’d have rotted away right on the spot!”

Those are the only words that can bring me salvation now. As long as you’re happy, then I’ll never need a silly name.

A storm was brewing.

The high winds that had been beating on the windows since morning gathered dark clouds and pelted the forest trees.

I leapt from the safety of the old woman’s blanket, raced through the town, and headed for the mountain cottage.

My old hideout.

I’d take a bell and think about the past each time I came here.

I go by many names now.

So whose ghost remains in this dreary mountain hut?

A brilliant flash of light, coupled with thunder, filled the sky. Every hair on my body stood on end. There was a tearing sound of wood splitting. Chills ran down my spine.

I quickened my pace without thinking.

A tremor crept down my back.

The scene that greeted me as I reached that hut was indescribable.

A massive cloud of smoked clogged my nose and burned my skin. The mountain was on fire, and the gusty winds helped spread the flames quickly.

In my panic, I dove into the hut.

The heat was as hot as stoked coals. But through the burning and stench, I knew I had to salvage my bells.

They’d been proof that the girls had lived and now they were the one place I felt at home.

I gathered the seven bells and made for my escape, but the hut entrance was already engulfed in flames.

I leapt through a broke window, feeling as through I was being burned alive. I could hear the destruction all about me.

Just outside the window was the cliff face. I jumped down from my perch, prepared to take the dive. Through it all, I kept the seven bells tightly held in my mouth.

Pink Bell Maria II

After falling unconscious, I awoke to the pattering of raindrops. I could still smell the mountainside burning, but the rain was now falling harder than before.

I knew I was far from safe.

Nestled close against the ground, I’d already lost the sensation in both my arms and legs.

I asked the heavens if this was punishment. Was this what I deserved for having taken the dead girls’ happiness as my own, in a twisted and shameless act?

"…!"

Through the ash-ridden world, a voice was calling me. No, that’s not my name.

And yet…

"Maria! Maria!"

Yes, the one calling me was none other than my beloved.

"Maria, hang in there! Don’t die on me!"

"Oh, yes!

My love! My one true love!

Don’t give up!” I whispered desperately. "Don’t give into the despair, please! Live!"

I thought that if he lost me, he’d never see his precious Maria again.

And it wasn’t just him.

Anri, Fleur, Silvia…

Lotte, Bisque, Chris…

They’d all been beautiful.

"Don’t kill me!" I shouted. "Please don’t kill the ones you love."

Trembling, I handed the seven bells over to him. "If you can, take these in my place. Just don’t let their loving families lose all hope."

He looked at me as if wanting to speak. Then, taking the bells with him, he turned and ran.

As his figure became smaller and smaller, it was eventually washed away by the rain.

I tried calling his name but couldn’t form the words. If I managed to speak, I might make the mistake of telling him something I could never say.

As I thought about how the cold rain would sweep away the fire along with my soul, I thought of the last person who’d considered me family.

I may not have been the one they loved, but I certainly loved the warm and gentle hands that touched me.

I lied and desecrated the dead, all for my revenge. And yet here I was, crying.

Here, on the brink of death, I’d come closest to those girls and could finally, truly cry for them. After all, you know how it is.

You must know, right?

All you wanted…was to live.

The rain washed the mountainside grey, draining the light from everything. I was cloaked in darkness and rain.

Then I heard the faint sound of a bell ringing.

At least I could tell that my ears were still working.

I focused my senses on the source. Then, just behind the sound, I heard footsteps and voices approaching.

"C’mon, Anri!"

I thought I was hearing things. It had to just be a memory enclosed inside that bell. After all, no one would call for me.

"Fleur!"

"Silvia!"

It can’t be… My eyelids fluttered.

Why…?

From beyond the falling ash, I could make out figures.

They circled around me.

The boy, the boss, Mama…

"Lotte!"

"Bisque!"

"Chris!"

No. The children…and the teacher.

The master writer, and Grandmother!

"No!" I tried to scream but failed.

No, don’t look at me!

You’ll see through my lies!

Don’t hate me! I was never the girls that all of you loved.

"We already knew that." was the reply from the one who used the seven bells to gather everyone here.

You snuggled close to me as I was wrapped in a warm towel. As you kept me warm, you dropped the seven bells.

"Heh heh. We already knew that. All along." He sounded on the verge of tears as he kissed my cheek.

"Don’t you see? The ones we loved weren’t the ghosts from the past.” His words forgave me.

"We all know you made up those lies to try and help us. No one else but you could have made us feel so good, could bring us so much joy.

"It was all thanks to you and your seven bells.”

I closed my eyes, the tears still streaming.

I thought my life was just one lie after another.

But no longer.

I finally understood it now.

My name will be the seven-colored Bell. A name given to me by my loving family and friends.

I am Bell.

Carrying my seven colors, I was the most loved in town.

I am Bell.

And I was the luckiest cat in the world for having seven names.

#fragile dreams: farewell ruins of the moon #animal death #stories that make me cry one million times while reading it

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schneesisterss · 3 years

Note

Do you have any head cannons for the other Dimitrescu sisters? I loved your takes on Cassandra!

thank you! <3 and Of Course I have headcannons for the other two. (though not as extensive as the ones I have for Cassandra bc you know... brain rot) BUT HERE:

Daniela:

ADD/ADHD representation

stims include, but not limited to: jumping, hard blinking, leg bouncing, word/phrase/noise repetition, and fidgeting with her clothing

and i’m also CONVINCED she gets the zoomies at random times of the day

Alcina, hearing loud and fast footsteps up and down her hallway at 3am: *sigh* “Daniela! Take it outside!”

followed by a loud THUMP and painful groan (she definitely ran into a wall)

hates loud noises but simultaneously has no volume control

especially when she gets excited

Cassandra has to constantly remind her to lower her voice

“AND THEN I TOOK MY KNIFE AND STABBED THE LYCAN IN THE NECK AND IT WAS SO COOL—”

“Dani, i’m standing right here, why are you yelling?”

she loves play-fighting with her sisters

Cassandra is more willing to entertain her than Bela but the both of them like to see their sister happy. so whenever they recognize Daniela getting antsy they’ll wrestle with her a bit

(Cassandra gets way to into it sometimes and makes Bela be the referee lol. Cass always ends up pinning her younger sister with a proud, competitive smile on her face. Bela let’s Dani win, but we don’t tell her that)

has the keenest senses of the three which makes her the best at stalking/killing pray

and since she can hear the best out of all of them, she unintentionally eves drops on conversations

so Daniela, bless her, has all the tea

tactile learner

will just. touch things

“Life hard, Mothers gown soft”

can get trapped in her own head and doesn’t know how to express to her family what’s bothering her

this can make her very reserved at times and she’ll distance herself for days on end

her mother is really the only person who knows how to get her out of that state. Alcina walks up the long flight of stairs to the highest point of her castle. her youngest daughter likes to come here sometimes when she needs the quiet. “Daniela? Are you up here?”

“Hello, Mother.” Alcina looks up to see her daughter lounging on a banister high up on the ceiling.

“What are you doing up there, my love?” Daniela rubs the fabric of her dress between her fingers. “Cassandra and Bela were arguing again. I don’t like when Cassandra yells.”

Alcina shakes her head. Those two were always going at it. She’ll speak to Bela about it later. “I haven’t seen you in a few days.” Daniela then grabs a fist full of her dress and tugs at it, blinking hard. “Come down for a moment. Talk to me, baby.”

and Daniela simply rolls herself off the banister and into free fall. Alcina, already prepared, catches her with ease and holds her bridal style against her chest. Daniela runs her hands over the sleeve of her mother’s dress.

Alcina gave her youngest child time to gather her thoughts, knowing it sometimes takes longer for her to be able to understand them herself. Daniela finally spoke up: “It’s been very loud recently. Around the castle. Small things, like footsteps or glasses clicking, they sound so loud in my head.” She covers her ears with her hands. “Even now I can still hear Cassandras voice through the castle, it’s pushing in my ears. My head hurts, Mother.”

Alcina gave her daughter a quick squeeze before setting her down. “Follow me baby, I want to show you something.” Daniela followed her Mother through the twists and turns of the castle until they ended up at a door that was just like all the others. It blended in and maybe that’s why Daniela has never noticed it before. “In here.” her mother guided.

Inside was a small library and lounge room. A fire place tucked in the corner and, of course, a wall a wine next to it. Daniela looked at her Mother questioningly.

“Listen.” her mother said, and Daniela did. She heard... nothing. Nothing outside of the quiet cracking of the fire place. “This room is sound proofed. Come here whenever you feel overwhelmed.” She leaned down to stroke her daughters head. “Just don’t tell your sisters I showed you my secret getaway room.” and with a wink, the tall woman exited the room and shut the door behind her.

The next day Daniela was at breakfast like nothing had changed. She didn’t even mind when Cassandra yelled at a maiden for breaking a plate, it only made her laugh.

(if you get overstimulated you KNOW what i’m talking about)

personal space? never heard of her.

loves to cling to Belas arm and Bela let’s her bc she thinks it’s just. so cute.

will also sometimes just crawl into her mothers lap and fall asleep. then Alcinas like: “well.. i guess i’m not moving for three hours”

Daniela: “if I run an jump at Cassandra, she’ll most certainly catch me.” *takes off in a full blown sprint*

Cassandra: “NO IM HOLDING HOT TEA—” *drops tea to catch Daniela* *proceeds to cuss her younger sister out, all while Dani is wrapped around her like a koala*

(this happens a lot. Dani will just... climb on Cassandra. piggy back rides, getting on her shoulders, wrapping her hands around her neck from behind and letting her feet drag on the floor, etc. Cassandra complains adamantly but never once moves to get her off)

Cassandra: “hey Dani, I dare you too—”

Bela: “Mother said Daniela isn’t allowed to accept dares anymore.”

Daniela: “apparently I have ‘no regard for my personal safety.’”

it takes a lot for Daniela to get genuinely angry, but when she does, it’s.... bad.

Very Very Scary when mad

turns into a completely different person that you Do NOT want to fuck with

dangerous and violent

much more dark and sadistic as compared to her normal personality

came home one night covered in blood and laughing hysterically. it scared the shit out of her sisters bc if they would try and get close, she’d slash at them with her weapon.

(this was one of the only times Bela had seen Cassandra genuinely worried and afraid for their sister)

when Alcina came to see what was wrong, Daniela, still laughing madly, swung at her too. Cassandra quickly shot out her arm and grabbed Belas elbow to stop her from getting involved. Bela whipped around with a growl but Cassandras glare and squeezing nails told her to back down. Mother can handle it.

Insane Laugh™️

thinks it’s funny to intimidate the maidens by showing her fangs and snapping her jaw

she often likes to find Bela when she’s reading a book to convince her to read to her (Bela almost always complies)

that’s it for Daniela. just a hyperactive baby with a murder streak <3 ONTO THE FINAL SISTER

Bela:

Mama’s (and I cannot stress this enough) Girl

needs constant reassurance that’s she’s doing a good job and yes this reassurance can ONLY come from her mother

INSOMNIAC

this girl never sleeps, pls baby you need some rest

she spends the time she should be sleeping reading books or running errands for her mother (whether Alcina asked her to or not)

she has read almost every single book in their giant library

Cassandra doesn’t understand this at all

“Why are you always cooped up in here?” Bela glanced up over the pages of her book at her younger sister. “This is the library Cassandra. Take a wild guess.” her voice was completely level and had no inflection. Cassandra gritted her teeth, “You think your so much better than me.” Bela sighed and closed her book. She didn’t want to do this again. “No. I don’t.” she said seriously. Cassandra eyed her for a moment then looked away, Bela saw the guilt on her face before she turned on her heal. “You’re so boring.”

because she reads so much, she is incredibly smart and just knows facts about random things

Daniela, daydreaming: “I wonder why grass is green.”

Bela, immediately: “the pigment that most grasses produce, Chlorophyll, absorbs almost all blue and red light and reflects green light which is why we see green. so I mean, technically grass is every single color EXCEPT for green.

Dani, confused as fuck: ....

Cass: “Bitch, how do you even know that?”

Bela’s sisters just end up using her as Google

“Hey Bela, how far away is the moon?” “238,900 miles.”

“Hey Bela, how many different climates are there?” “Twelve”

“Hey Bela, what’s the worlds deadliest poison?” “Botulinum... why?” “No reason.” “Dani. WHY?”

“Hey Bela, how much can I sell a human skull on the black market for?” Bela, concerned: “Cassandra why would—” “HOW MUCH?” “Well... are all the teeth still in tact?” “...No.” “Than only about $500.” “FUCK.”

“Hey Bela, I have this weird rash on my back and—” “Daniela. Do not finish that sentence. Go ask Mother.”

she is so quiet

and not just because she doesn’t talk very loud or even much at all. she’s just So. Silent. when she moves

just pops up in random places without anyone hearing her approach

even Daniela can’t hear her coming, which is saying something

Cassandra, minding her own business, drinking blood tea: .....

Bela, suddenly right next to her: “Hey I was wondering if— stop screaming, it’s me— have you seen Mothers lipstick? It’s missing.”

refuses any type of help with anything or else she feels like she failed that task

Never asks for help, Never asks for favors, and Never Ever will burden her Mother with any of her problems. Ever.

(Alcina thinks this is ridiculous. her eldest daughter pushes herself too hard.)

Anxiety™️

sometimes when her anxiety becomes too much she shuts down and becomes very indifferent to things around her. this has caused many fights between herself and Cassandra because Cass will get really fired up when all Bela does is respond with a monotone voice and blank stare.

overthinks literally everything and is a perfectionist

this makes her prone to panic attacks :(

when this happens she shuts herself in her room, not wanting to bother her Mother or sisters

Bela closes her bedroom door behind her and stumbles to her knees. she can’t seem to get air into her lungs no matter how hard she tried. she had failed. Mother asked her to bring her the head of that stupid man-thing, but somehow he knew their weakness.

how could he know? are Cassandra and Daniela ok? where are they? where is Mother?

Belas breathing was shallow and short, her chest burns as she presses her forehead into the ground. She claws the skin of her chest raw, leaving angry, red marks behind, desperately trying to open her lungs.

she stays as quiet as she can, only gasping few and far between. she will not be a burden. she should deal with the consequences of her failure. alone.

a sudden knock on her door makes her scramble backwards on her bottom till her back hits the opposite wall. then Belas worst nightmare, her Mothers voice.

“Bela?! Bela, is that you?” Alcinas words were rushes and worried. the door handle jiggled. “Bela, baby the door is locked, please let me in.” Bela covered her mouth and cried silently while her Mother begged to be let in.

the sound of snapping wood had Belas eyes flying open, her Mother had broken down the door. Bela shrunk into herself. She’s going to be so mad. I’m a failure. the ringing in her ears became so intense she couldn’t hear anything else.

large, soft hands cup her cheeks and a muffled voice through the air: “Bela, my love, you’re alright thank god. Are you hurt anywhere? Let me see.”

Bela pushed weakly at her Mothers arms and said between sobs, “I-I’m sorry, M-Mother.”

Alcina looked at her eldest daughter with confusion, she had no physical wounds, but the look on her face was heartbreaking. “What are you sorry for, my love?” this only made Belas breathing spend up even more, her face red from the lack of oxygen. Alcina quickly pulled her in close.

“Now Bela, listen to the sound of my voice,” she said it gently but just hard enough to grab her daughters attention. “I need you to copy my breath. Do it now, love, listen to me. Do what i’m telling you to.” Alcina took exaggerated breaths and noticed that instantly after her command, Bela had tried to follow, but the smaller girls breath was still choppy and small. Alcina rubbed a thumb across Belas cheek. “You’re doing so well baby. Keep going just like that. Good girl.” a smaller hand was placed on her arm and grabbed at her sleeve. “Good baby, use me to ground yourself. Keep breathing now, you’re doing so good.” Alcina kept whispering soft encouragements and praises until her daughters breathing was back to normal and she was laying limp on her chest.

Alcina moved the hair away from Belas face. “What a good girl, you did so well.” Bela squeezed her eyes shut and pushed into her Mother until her face was hidden. “I’m sorry Mother.” came a muffled apology, though her voice was much more steadier than before. “I failed you, I couldn’t stop the man-thing. He shot at the windows! He knows our weakness, Mother. What are we going to do? Where’s Daniela and Cassandra, are they ok? I should have stopped him for you I’m so sorry I—”

“Quiet.” Bela immediately seals her lips and looks away, already extracting herself from her Mother’s arms. She probably hates her. Alcina simple tugs her back and forces Bela to look in her eyes with a quick tap to the forehead. “Bela, I need you to listen to me very carefully.” Her daughters eyes go wide and she nods. “You have nothing to apologize for. This is not you’re fault and I will not allow you to think that way. Plus, the man-thing won’t bother us any longer, I took care of it.”

“But—” Alcina raises an eyebrow and Bela gives in, nodding hesitantly. “Good girl.” Bela exhales through her nose at the phrase and squeezes her Mother’s sleeve again. They sit like that for a few more moments, calming down.

Bela suddenly shoots up. “Daniela, Cassandra, are they—” “They’re fine my dear, Daniela got a little banged up, but Cassandra was already patching her up before I could even get close. We didn’t know where you were, that’s why I was so worried.” Bela relaxed and again nuzzled her nose into her Mother’s chest, took one more deep breath, then stood. “I’m going to go check on them.”

She steps through the now empty door frame and pauses. She spoke without turning around: “I won’t fail you again, Mother.” and shifts into a cloud of flies and disappears.

(am I projecting again? idk help)

can play the piano

no like you don’t understand, she is so good at piano

this girl has mastered songs by composers like Liszt, Beethoven, and Ravel

she’ll play for hours on end, if she starts a new piece she Will Not get up until she can play it through perfectly

she pretends not to notice Cassandra secretly listening to her play, hidden behind a nearby bookshelf

while her younger sisters always jump head first into a fight, Bela takes a more calculating approach. learning her enemies movements from afar before advancing and ending it in like 3 quick moves.

“Well Bela, if Mother asked you to jump off a bridge, would you?”

Bela, already climbing over the railing: “Hm?”

and there you go for Bela! my sweet child.. please learn self-care.

*ahem* I went overboard again didn’t I? WELP. I regret nothing. Give me more headcannons.

577 notes · View notes

yesimwriting · 3 years

Text

Dying Starlight

A/n: i dont think an audience for this exists?? ik it’s not shadow and bone related, but ive been reading red queen and i wanted to try writing maven and ive been playing with this idea. umm...on the off-chance that there is an audience for this i do think of this as more of a series but i’ll probably end up deleting this lol

(Series?) Summary: reader is a childhood friend of Mare’s who isn’t officially part of the Scarlet Guard but gets captured by Maven. As a prisoner, she feels like her mind is being messed with as she begins to see a more human side of Maven. The new King tells himself the only thing he sees in her is that she’s a way to get to Mare, but something about her genuiness is infectious.

Irony twists things. Right now, the irony that my last thoughts might be about how I wish I had been trusted with a suicide pill twist my impending doom into something almost comical. I’d laugh, but I’d rather not startle the rats in my cell. This has been their home for presumably years, but I’ve only been down here a few hours.

I scratch the back of my wrist, staring at tired stone walls like they’ve done something to me. I wish I knew what time it was. How long have I been down here? How long has it been since I was separated from Mare? An hour? Three?Each passing minute strikes me like a bullet, but I can’t count them. I’ve never had a talent for accurately feeling the passage of time.

My head aches, frustration and dread tangling themselves in the pit of my stomach. Mare told me the Queen can search through someone’s mind, seeing memories even they can’t remember. What will they do when they see I know virtually nothing? What will happen when they see how close Mare and I truly are? i can’t do anything and the unknown hurts more than my bruised rib.

The sound of the heavy door that divides the luxury of the castle from the wasteland of the cells creaks. I only let my arms flinch, moving from my side to wrap defensively around my stomach. Dull footsteps echo down the pathway that lead to the cell I’m in. I don’t cringe, not even when the sound of walking stops.

I was not born into a rich family, but I was born into a proud one. Fear was practically a criminal act in my household. I’ve been trained to suppress all signs of weakness. My eyes don’t leave the stone wall, I mentally trace the pattern of a long crack in a specific rock. It reminds me of the slope of the Big Dipper.

Will I ever see stars again? The answer leaves a sharp pain in my chest.

“Mare told me about you.”

The words jar me, my stomach dropping in revulsion. Mare had trusted him, and here he stands--successful because he’s a traitor. I know what it’s like to be the most overlooked sibling and to crave to change that. I know what it’s like to want to succeed more than you want air in your lungs, but I don’t think I’d ever betray someone. I like to think that there’s a line even the monster in me won’t cross.

I don’t look at him, partially out of an attempt to protest and partially because I’m afraid of what I’ll see. “She might have mentioned you in passing.”

His scoff is ridiculous. “She didn’t lie about your sense of humor.”

That almost makes me wince. His words are too close, too personal. It’s like he knows me. I turn my. head, ready to cut through the uneasy beginning to get to the miserable middle if it brings me to the end faster.

“You’re here to torment me, not make small talk.” Turning had been a mistake. I regret it instantly. His expression is unforgiving--cold, sharp, and made up of only angles. But that’s not why I stare. I did not expect him to be objectively attractive. The fine slope of his nose, the sharpness of his cheekbones, and the ice blue of his eyes. I need to snap out of this mindset. I’m sure his beauty will not be so distracting when he’s burning me. “Though some might consider that the same thing.”

He scoffs again, the sound dry. The sneer of his lips does not diminish his attractiveness. The fact makes me loathe him. “I wonder if you’ll still be so prone to humor after you’ve been broken--any information of worth extracted from your thoughts.”

“Let me save everyone the trouble and just tell you everything that I know now.” My back straightens despite the pain in my ribs. I look pathetic, dirty and in a torn dress. He’s regal, dressed in fine, all black clothing. “I know that Mare wanted to kill you today, I know that she needed a distraction and that her distraction needed to be expendable, which is why I’m sitting in front of you.” I squeeze my hands together awkwardly, a bit of genuine irritation rolling in my stomach. “That’s literally all I know, I’m not even part of the Guard.” I scratch the back of my wrist. If I were him, I wouldn’t believe that, but I’m being honest. How pitiful can one person be that they’re worth more disconnected from the group they work for than as an actual member? “You don’t take that kind of risk for someone that’s only skill set is in thought.”

I didn’t mean to say that out loud, but I don’t regret it. Maybe he’ll think that my story is so pathetic it has to be true. “You have to know more than that.”

“The Scarlet Guard only reaches out to me on a need-to-know basis, and anything worthwhile to you is something I clearly didn’t need to know.” In a way, I’m glad I can’t give him anything. “So are you going to kill me with a bullet or do you prefer more flamboyant executions?” My death should be plain. I am human completely--I bleed red and I have no powers. “I do think anything more than a simple death is more trouble than I’m worth.”

His lips press together oddly, something beneath his expression tightening. “You don’t think your dearest friend will return for you?”

The sarcasm in his voice sparks something in me I thought only my sister could. “I think she has a lot of responsibilities and I wouldn’t blame her for having priorities.”

His eyebrows draw together. “I think you’re painfully unaware of how attached to you she is.” I press my lips into a thin line. “She’ll come for you.”

Something selfish in me hopes that he’s right. No one has ever wanted me enough to come back for me. My mother wanted perfect daughters that knew how to only think in terms of trapping men with stable careers. My sister did it, but I could never manage, and to my mother that made me useless.

“If you believe it,” I mumble beneath my breath.

I don’t know if he hears me. I can’t bring myself to care if he did. “For your sake, you better not have lied to me.”

My back relaxes against the raspy wall, fighting down a grimace as the motion irritates my rib injury. “Cross my heart, Your Highness.”

I watch him carefully, his expression turning into something much more grim. “A King is referred to as His Majesty.”

“My father was a prominent war general and my mother only wanted daughters she could use to social climb.” I fight down a grin. “I know what I said.”

His expression darkens into something bone chilling. “I am the King and you’ll refer to me as such or deal with even less pleasant circumstances.”

I fight against the urge to cower, picturing Mare’s strength in my veins. There’s weakness in everyone, and if I squint I can see the thin cracks in him. “You have everything--the crown, the power, the support of the people, and it’s still not enough. You won and you still feel like you’re competing.”

“You don’t know anything,” he seethes, practically growling.

I shouldn’t press him, but the more he reacts, the more weaknesses are revealed. “I know what it’s like to have a sibling that’s the sun, and no matter what you do, no matter how hard you try, you’re always trapped in a shadow.”

The lighting makes his eyes look almost glazed over. “My mother will be here soon and the truth will be revealed.”

He can run from me, but not the truth. Cal has nothing, he has everything--the father that never cared for him is dead, and yet he’s still trapped. Our similarities hurt me more than my physical injuries.

Maven turns, his gaze moving off of me feels like the removal of heavy shackles. “It would do you well to not press me. You’re worth as much whole as you are broken.”

There’s the strangest hint of something more to his voice. I wonder if he’s speaking to more than just me. “You haven’t won until that voice in your head telling you that you’re not enough is silenced.”

“You’re a powerless girl who isn’t even wanted by a dying cause and couldn’t find a husband to drag her above the poverty line. You know nothing about me, and if you keep pretending I’ll slaughter you in front of your dear friend.”

He leaves without another word. I fall asleep with my back against the wall and my ribs aching.

#red queen #red queen x reader #maven #maven calore #maven calore x reader #maven calore imagine #red queen imagine #mare barrow #cal calore #bookboyfriend #book boyfriend x reader

415 notes · View notes

moonctzeny · 4 years

Text

love to hate me

request: celebrity! jaehyun + enemies to lovers + “don’t you want to know how i feel?”

pairing: friends to enemies to lovers! jaehyun x female reader

genre: smut, angst, fluff... this fic has it all folks

word count: 7.514k

warnings: toxic behaviour, public sex, light restraining, jaehyun pulls a ‘white boy punching the wall’ at some point

summary: “You and Jaehyun meet as SM trainees, developing a friendship until he debuts and you deicde to leave the company and pursue a solo career. When you reunite again in a music show and he acts like he barely knows you, you stubbornly begin a series of hate-brimmed sex rendez-vous. Your touch-and-go relationship continues on, until a song collaboration will force you both to deal with all your repressed feelings for each other”

a/n: this is the longest it has ever taken me to finish a fic.. I have a love-hate relationship with this (no pun intended XD). I hope whoever requested this likes it!

------------------------------------------------

Of-fucking-course you had to bump into him out of all people at the vending machine. All you wanted was a drink to refresh you before you got up on stage, and now you have to deal with Mr. Too Good For This World and his relentless teasing. His eyes, lit up by an amusement that was also evident in his smirk, stayed glued on your body, raking up and down at it for a second too long. Not that you didn’t like it.

“Stare much?”, you bark at him in hopes of snapping him out of his trance, and push through him to punch in the code of your favorite drink. But alas, he always had a comeback ready on the edge of his lips.

“You look ridiculous”, he states and you have to admit that your outfit, though fitting for the Halloween special of today’s music show, was way different than anything else he had ever seen you in. Reincarnated as Dorothy Gale for the night, your stylists had chosen a short, light blue checkered dress, with red stilettos that gave a sexy twist to the character’s ruby slippers. Hair neatly braided in two pigtails, decorated by ribbons and topped off by glittery pink makeup. The image of innocence. Jaehyun had to laugh.

“Says the man dressed up as Woody”

It was unfair, you admitted, how good he looked in that stupid outfit. His hair was gelled back, a few strands framing his handsome face strategically. The yellow shirt fitted him like a glove, its bright colour lighting him up as well. And those jeans, tight in all the right places, just melted over the muscles of his thighs. The ones that you’ve come undone on one too many times.

“So”, he lilts, giving you a once over before lowering both the volume and pitch of his voice, “want a ride?”

You scoff, sparing him an incredulous look, “on what horse, cowboy?”

He doesn’t reply, only points with his eyes to his crotch that is undeniably sporting a visible tent, and you gasp when you see the outline of his dick twitching under your stare.

“Jesus Christ, Jaehyun”, you mutter with a disgusted look on your face before picking up the almost forgotten beverage that the vending machine had barfed out for you. The boy mentioned, however, was unfazed.

“They don’t call me Woody for nothing”

Almost choking at the drink that was supposed to calm you down, you catch his eyes rolling at you through your third cough. Well, that ruins one of your favourite childhood movies. “Don’t pretend to be a prude. Now are we going to fuck before you get on stage of not?”

You can clearly remember the first time you met Jung Jaehyun alone. You always spotted him somewhere in the SM buildings, joking around with his future bandmates, barely ever without company. As a fellow vocal trainee, he introduced himself to you as Yoonoh, filling up the awkward silence while your vocal teacher prepared the music sheets for the both of you to rehearse.

You were thankful the two of you always got paired up together. Jaehyun was charming, easy to be around, funny. He was a model SM trainee with the otherworldly looks he possessed, almost impossible for anyone’s eyes not to follow him when he entered a room. Radiant porcelain skin, soft brown locks, and a dimpled smile that made your heart melt in seconds.

You can also clearly remember the first time you had the privilege of hearing him sing. Jaehyun had a beautiful baritone voice, one that contradicted his flower boy image but matched his manly personality perfectly. The four walls of the small practice room resonated with his sound, that was stable and smooth like honey. The lessons were challenging but Jaehyun made them bearable through spending time with him. Maybe it was your shared struggles, or how you were always tired and vulnerable when you saw him. Maybe it was those damned dimples, but your heart always beat faster when you were around him.

“Sometimes I get discouraged”, he confides in you in that same room, hours later, early into the morning now. The vocal lesson stretched on longer than expected, leaving you two sitting on the floor, sharing a cup of lemon-honey tea to soothe your vocal chords. You let your head rest to the leather couch behind you as you stare into his handsome features one by one. What time was it? Shouldn’t you be back at your dorms by now? It didn’t matter, this was one of those moments when time seems to stop and life seems unreal. When the only thing that you care about is the person standing next to you, and whatever it is they have to tell you.

“I fear that I will never get to debut. There’s handsome guys all over the company. I just don’t know if my skills are enough.”

You thought he was crazy for thinking that way, wanted to scream at him that he’s just perfect and more than enough for the company, or for anything in this world for that matter. But Jaehyun was reserved, the type to always mask his true feelings behind a smile and you were more than glad that he finally opened up to you, that he saw you as someone trustworthy. You didn’t want to dismiss his feelings, so you just pet his hair while you listened to his concerns.

As you mindlessly gaze at the rainy weather outside, a couple of droplets following their own path down the froggy window remind you that time does run by. Even if every day seemed the same, following the same routine, going to the same classes over and over again.

Jaehyun had this sad look that contorted his pretty face and you hated it, reaching up to massage away the wrinkles between his eyebrows. You don’t know which godly creature made the hourglass of time freeze this moment, nor did you know why Jaehyun leaned forward to capture your lips into a kiss. Maybe it was his way of saying thank you for keeping your ears and heart open for him, for listening to him when he needed it most.

It felt so lovely while it lasted, two young people leaning on each other during an uncertainty that anchored them far away from their emotional shoreline. But life as a trainee isn’t a fairytale and falling in love can have serious ramifications. So you promise to each other that this will be a one time thing, and then you never speak of this night ever again.

Unsurprisingly enough, Jaehyun got to successfully debut, yet you didn’t have the same luck. The company had plans of focusing on their new boy group, thus postponing your debut for an uncertain amount of time. It was hard for you to decide to switch labels, to throw away the years of hope and dedication you had pinned on this company but the faith you placed on yourself was stronger.

It’s years later when you finally get to promote as a solo artist in a different company, and you are happy to say that the decision you made all those years ago was the right one. The exposure you got wasn’t the same as being in a Big 3 company, however leaving SM entertainment has its pros. Flexible schedule, less scrutiny, great creative freedom over your work.

This wasn’t the first time you have come across your old trainee buddy. Jaehyun had multiple comebacks in a year, so it was only natural that his group’s and your promotions would sometimes overlap. You were only a rookie, and NCT turned out to become pretty popular, so of course the wins were always tied to their names.

The first time you walked past him in the hallways, dark makeup and professional styling making you both almost unrecognizable, you expected a wave, small talk, maybe some reminiscing of the old times. Instead, you got a cold stare or at best, an arrogant smirk coupled with a “Do better next time”. It was shocking to you how much Yoonoh, the boy with the shy smile and awkward social skills, would turn into such a stranger.

How you always ended up sneaking out with him to have a quickie in one of the ready rooms, was beyond you. He rushed you inside before checking both sides of the hallway, cautious to hide from any curious eyes. The coast was clear and Jaehyun doesn’t like to waste time, so he pins you against the door he just closed behind him, face dipped in your neck. You can feel his fingers dancing on the skin of your thighs, eager to explore what is hidden under your frilly skirt, and their delicacy in contrast to his feverish kisses sends a shiver down your spine.

One pretty whine from your lips, then two, three and you can feel Jaehyun smile deviously against your neck. The softness is too enticing for him to resist, so he nips at it skillfully, trying to get a reaction out of you. He recognizes that you have plenty of talent as a singer, yet the symphonies you sing out for him in those little sessions seem to be his favorite.

“Jaehyun, cut it out. I’m going on stage in like, 20 minutes”

“Turn me on then”

Wasn’t he the one that basically flashed you in the middle of the cafeteria for just existing? Isn’t it his hard on that digs against your lower stomach? The demand made you mad, and you wanted nothing more than to entice him with a nice blowjob, only to take a big, strong bite off that cock of his. But see, you had a full face of makeup on and your career is way more important than a fuckboy, so you’ll have to get creative.

Flipping him around so that he’s the one trapped between you and the door, you start to suck on his collarbones , then nibble at the tender flesh. He seems distracted enough by it so that you open the button of his jeans and fully remove his belt from their loops with no objections. Palming him over his boxers to keep him entranced, you manage to bring his wrists together, wrapping the leather around them, then lastly fastening them in place.

His eyes widen in shock when he realizes that he’s too late, wiggling his hands in a futile attempt to free himself. Your laugh is sadistic, making the hairs on his arms stand on edge and you gloat in the effect you have on him.

Giving your palm a good lick, you form a ring with your fingers, wrapping them around the base of his member. He hisses and drops his head back, thudding loudly against the wall. His cock enlarges and reddens as you move your hand up and down, changing the pressure according to his reactions. Jaehyun isn’t one to express himself freely but there is not much he can do to stop the low moans leaving his lips. Not when you rub circles over his tip with the soft skin of your palm.

He looks so fucking good, all squirmy and desperate and trying to hold himself from saying ‘please’. You almost want to keep going, squeeze him more until he whines and begs to cum, and admire the white beads dripping from his slit and covering your hand. Almost.

You halt your movements with a last strong stroke, crossing your arms over your chest as you stare back at him. Jaehyun tentatively opens one eye to see why you have stopped, only to come across that bratty smile that he loves as much as he hates.

“You should have dressed up as a siren. Seducing people before they realize you are a man eating bitch”

“If you want someone to jerk you off you can go ask one of your little fangirls. I want to get fucked.”

“Let me go then. And you’ll wish you never did”

You scoff at his cockiness, nonchalantly freeing him from his constraints, and the way he immediately has a hold of your jaw reminds you of a predator eyeing its prey. His eyes have a crazy look in them, moving frantically over every part of your body like he can’t decide what to grab onto first. He decides on your hips, bending you over a table full of snacks and makeup tools and flyers of today’s schedule.

“You think it’s funny to tease me like that?”, he asks you with a peremptory voice that signifies you’d better shut up.

You hear shuffling behind you and assume it’s him slipping on a condom, so you make yourself more comfortable on the wooden surface. A hard slap on your ass jolts you alert.

“I asked you a fucking question”, Jaehyun presses brusquely and flips your skirt fully over your ass, pulling your panties down until they’re bunched up right over your knees.

“It’s fun”, you moan out, breathless both from the pleasure and the stinging feeling on your right cheek, “What are you gonna do about it?”

Was the room occupied by one of the artists that have already been on stage? Or will they barge in at any moment to find you bent over and pussy dripping for Jaehyun to finally dive inside you? He chuckled at the sight of you, eyes feasting off your naked body, your ass up just the way he likes it. Not so innocent anymore, huh?

He doesn’t reply to you, aligning himself against your slit and bottoming out in one go instead. Involuntarily, you let out a small screech, the sudden stretch catching you off guard.

“You better stay quiet, siren. Or maybe you would like it if people found us like this? Saw how good you take my cock whenever I ask”

You wanted to bite back at him, but the only sound you could make was a guttural moan. It was embarrassingly loud, and you fall forward to bite your fist and force yourself to shut up. It was effective, yet Jaehyun had other plans for you, pulling your pigtails towards him in a strong grip that has you against his chest in seconds.

“Nuh, uh, uh, siren”, he hums in your ear, his panting making his voice sound huskier and smokier than ever, “How about trying to stay quiet by using your willpower alone? That way it’s more- how did you call it? Fun.”

He slows down his pace momentarily, as if he’s giving you time to answer him. But the moment you open your mouth to talk back at him, he thrusts particularly hard inside you, forcing a whimper out of your lips.

“Fuck you, Jaehyun”

“As you wish”

Jaehyun was conceited and cocky and a dick, but he was also a good fuck. He kept at it with what seemed like all the energy in the world, fucking you against that table until you came all over him, and your legs gave out. It ended how it always did, with him moaning how fucking sexy you look and how much he hates you, and you swallowing your pride as you swallow his cum. You’d tell each other to fuck off and never bother the other again, until you meet up at the next comeback, to do this shit all over again.

And that’s how things would stay if it wasn’t for that goddamn phone call from your manager.

“...so we thought what better way to promote your new song by recording a duet with NCT’s Jaehyun?”

No, no, no this can’t be happening. No way. Anyone but him.

“Are you sure this is the only way we can promote me? Can’t I just go to variety programs like every other idol out there?”

“y/n, duets by different group members are one of the most efficient methods of promoting there is! And with NCT’s latest song topping the charts this will be a great opportunity for you. Taemin and Sunmi did it. Suzy and Baekhyun, Chanyeol and Punch-“

“Alright, okay, I get it”

“Besides, since you used to be an SM trainee they specifically asked for you. The directors made some pretty big compliments on your work”

Isn’t it a little too late now? Not like they didn’t have the chance to debut you, right? That being said, there isn’t much to oppose to decline SM’s offer; your manager is right and you know it. Saying no to Lee Sooman and giving up a popularity push like that is basically career suicide. Nor could you let your manager know about your and Jaehyun’s little adventures, minutes before you have to go on stage.

“Just send me the schedule. I don’t have to record with him, right?”

“Oh no, they’ll record his part first and then they’ll send it to us. But there will be a music video of course”

Oh for fuck’s sake.

There was this little monster of worriedness that was screaming inside your head, refusing to shut up. This collaboration isn’t going to be easy, but you didn’t want to let Jaehyun’s pettiness get in the way of your career. Fumbling with your phone in your hands, you kept removing and reinserting its case compulsively, over and over again, until you mustered the courage to take matters into your own hands.You knew his number was buried somewhere in your contacts.

you [16:35]: hey it’s me, y/n

Jung Yoonoh [16:50]: y/n who??

you [16:55]: y/n y/l/n? the girl whose guts you were inside in last week? we have a song coming up 😒

Jung Yoonoh [16:57]: oh y/n right

Jung Yoonoh [16:58]: thought you’d have deleted my number

Well you sure have deleted mine, you murmur with your blood boiling, regretting reaching out to him in the first place.

you [16:59]: i always hoard peoples contacts

you [17:00]: old habits die hard i guess

Jung Yoonoh [17:00]: like the habit of me being inside your guts?

You gasp out after reading his last message, hands awkwardly juggling your phone until you’ve forced yourself to calm down. After waiting for a while, until your face has reached its previous temperature, you feel focused again, and type out your original intentions for this conversation.

you [17:05]: this isn’t what i texted you about.

you [17:07]: we have this project coming up and while I know we aren’t exactly on the best terms, this comeback is very important for me

you [17:08]: and i don’t want to fuck it up

Jung Yoonoh [17:10]: kitty cat, relax. maybe this is a brand new word for you but i know what professionalism is

you [17:10]: don’t you ever and i mean ever call me that again

you [17:11]: glad to see we are on the same page

You didn’t expect a message back, nor did you get one. All you could do from now on, was pray that the promotions would go smoothly and Jaehyun wouldn’t do anything stupid that would jeopardize your collaboration.

------------------------------------------------------

And the day you dreaded finally came. The first day of filming for the music video.

You had already finished recording the song, a bittersweet balad about two lovers who lost their way, only for their paths to cross again. When you listened to the demo for the first time, it only took three notes from Jaehyun’s pre-recorded verse to spread goosebumps on your skin. His voice was deeper and even more developed than you remember. Long forgotten memories, shoved deep inside your brain so as not to leave a bitter aftertaste in your mouth, came flooding up again. But things have changed since then.

The sky was crying rain and lightning, fitting to the storm inside your head. Normally you'd be excited to film a music video, bubbling with energy and unable to contain a smile. Today, all you could do was let your teeth abuse the cuticles of your left thumb, until little drops of blood ruined the fresh manicure you got for the shoot.

Following your manager inside the studio, you take a quick glance at all the props the creative directors have prepared. They were very intricate, filled with all different types of flowers everywhere. Some of the fake rooms looked like classrooms, two others were decorated like teenage bedrooms. It was a lot more than you have anticipated.

“The song will be part of a drama OST, that’s why the budget is higher than usual”, your manager tells you as if he was reading your mind.

He leads you to the changing room, where you try on different outfits your stylist has chosen for you, while simultaneously being briefed on the concept of the music video. It’s kinda cheesy and cute, with you and Jaehyun posing as high-school students falling in love. Certain scenes of the drama, whose plot matches the music video’s, will intercept in between.

You’re seated on the makeup chair, sunk in the uneasiness caused by your co-star. Jaehyun had arrived a few minutes after you, his bare face more handsome than you’ve ever looked in your most glamorous state and you can’t help but stare at him. He is all polite smiles and bows to the staff, and even gives you a formal greeting.

You’re not sure why you just can’t bring yourself to stop your legs from shaking as the makeup artist patiently tries to apply a rosy blush on your cheekbones. It’s like you’re scared that everyone will see right through the both of you, somehow enter your brain and find out that you’re replaying your last encounter with Jaehyun in the music show’s waiting room in your head. As you try to read through his expression, to see if he’s nearly as nervous as you are, you defeatedly can’t decode what’s going on inside his head. Not like you ever could.

You glance at both you and Jaehyun through the mirror, admiring the youthful makeup. Blushy cheeks and innocent eyes of two teenagers in love, masking the raw lust between two nemesi. It couldn’t stray any further from the truth.

A staff member leads both you and Jaehyun (who is refusing to spare even one look your way) back to the main set. The director is passionately explaining what he wants to see from you in your first scene, but you can barely focus with Jaehyun’s eyes burning holes through your school girl outfit. You block him out and walk inside the ‘classroom’, spotting the cameras and sitting on your designated seat, while you wait for your signal to start.

Of course, you had acted before. Yes, you had expected for the director to ask you for some more intimate moments with your co-star. But when Jaehyun passed you a “love note” from the desk in front of you, looking all blushy and shy and with his dimples showing, you felt that the role of crushing schoolgirl became a little too easy for you to act out.

And maybe, just maybe he was feeling the same way too. He looked pretty flustered when he saw you dancing across class, shifting restlessly in his seat when you bent forward to tie your shoelaces. Whether you did it on purpose or not, was a question your ego didn’t allow you to answer truthfully.

Most of the individual shots would be handled at a different shoot, so all you had to do was get over this one day with him. That’s what you repeated yourself over and over again. And you did pretty well, smiling charmingly at the camera, with the director praising you for your “innocent look”. You didn’t miss the scoff slipping from Jaehyun’s lips but you were good at ignoring it, focusing on getting through the different scenes in one-shot.

You were currently leaning your body against the wall, playing with your hair while Jaehyun glances down at you, like a boy that is ready to confess to his first love.

“y/n, I need you to give me something more shy, more bashful”, the director yells eagerly, but you can barely hear him, too focused on regulating your breathing. The look your co-star is giving you right now might seem loving and pure to the staff, but you know all too well the motives hidden behind his facade. It’s the calm before the storm, the silence he purposefully keeps to make you squirm, right before he whispers the most sinful propositions in your ears.

Reading him like an open book, you stand still as he leans closer, just enough so that no one besides you get to hear his words.

“Come on y/n, can’t you act bashful? Or is it impossible for you to get embarrassed after getting fucked against the window of a TV station’s building?”

Clearing your throat, you’re suddenly hyper aware of every single sound and movement in the room. Suffocating, even in the light clothes you were wearing, and desperately trying to mute out his words that bring you back to the day he was repenting.

“When you were pressed up against that glass, moaning my name, all exposed for anyone that simply looked up to see, you weren’t too shy, were you?”

You raise your palm to wipe a bead of sweat that has collected on your temple, and breathe deeply through your nose, as if a good pump of oxygen would cool off the sudden heat between your legs.

“Shut up Jaehyun”, you simply hiss through your front teeth, but he isn’t done yet.

“You know I can’t hold myself when I see you in skirts. So pretty. And you love to tease me in them too, I’ve noticed. Flashing me again and again until you get to suckle on my dick”

You were sure his voice was barely louder than a whisper, but the thought of anyone accidentally prying into your conversation had your whole body raising in temperature. The heat didn’t take long to reach your cheeks and you couldn’t remember the last time your legs felt like jelly, as they do now.

“Perfect y/n, that’s exactly what I’m looking for!”

You blinked back at Jaehyun a couple times, your mind trying to process that the director is cheering you on instead of scolding you to focus. The trembling hands, the fast-paced heartbeat, your big doe eyes. Though involuntarily, you had nailed the scene.

“You’re welcome”, Jaehyun mouths at you just as the staff announces a break. He scurries off to his dressing room without a word, as if he hadn’t just spewed his dirtiest of thoughts on set. It was almost as if he was daring you to follow him, but it’s not like he had left you a choice. You were fuming.

“Jaehyun”, you called out to him strictly but he didn’t acknowledge you, only walked further inside the small room with his name written neatly on the door. He was removing some of the heavier jewellery, rubbing the red lines they had left on his neck and wrist, momentarily catching your eyes on the mirror's reflection. They were misty, unreadable, and with how unpredictable you knew he could be, you decided to close the door behind you.

“Closing the door?”, he muses and in just a few long strides he has managed to trap you between his body and the wooden surface. It is reminiscent of your last meeting at the music show, and the memory of you tying him up doesn’t help with the organizing of your thoughts. “What are you planning on doing to me in here?”

You point one finger against his chest, not enough to create any real distance between you, but it comforts you nonetheless.

“What the fuck was that out there? What happened to professionalism?”

“Relax, kitty cat. I was just helping you act better”. His eyes stayed glued on your hips, once again making you all wound up and jumpy under his stare, “And it worked. You should be thanking me”

“I. Told. You.”, you started, tapping your finger on his sternum to emphasize each word, “Never call me that again. Today’s already hard as it is, why do you have to make it harder?”

He takes one more step towards you, his chest now touching yours and your hand that separated you lands involuntarily on his right peck. As if his presence wasn’t overwhelming enough, you feel a hardness pressing against your thigh, and for a moment you worry he can feel how wet you really are under your skirt. His voice is a low, a deep rumble.

“I don’t know. Why do you have to make everything so hard?”

“You are unbelievable”, you scowl at him and free yourself from his trap. You turn to the big mirror to avoid looking at him anymore, and you come to the embarrassing realization of how fucked out you look right now. You had to get out of there as soon as possible, before you do anything stupid and lose any trace of self control left in you. But not before you gave Jaehyun an earful.

“What I meant was that I am out there, being paid to be all lovey-dovey with you. This is not something easy for me you know. It’s basically prostitution.”

You catch Jaehyun’s eyes in his reflection, and for a fleeting moment they turn a colour that you hadn’t seen them in for a long time. Hurt? Disappointment? Whatever it was, it was gone in a second, replaced by that smile that made him both irresistibly smackable and fuckable at the same time.

“Did it cross your tiny brain that maybe someone could hear you? Staff leaks information all the time! If they found out we were fucking…”

“Were? Past tense?”

“Are. Will be. Whatever.” You sigh, defeated, hiding your eyes with your palms as you face him once again. “Like I said, this is important to me. So no more dirty talk on set. Okay?”

Jaehyun avoided your glance, from embarrassment or uninterest maybe. “Okay”

You continue to sit there silently, but your head is so occupied with a million thoughts that you don’t notice. How you will get through the rest of the shooting, whether your manager is looking for you or not, the coldness of the glass Jaehyun had pressed you against that day. The only thing that snapped you out of it, was him suddenly taking off his shirt.

“What are you doing?”, you ask panicking, but you can’t dismiss the pool of excitement in your belly.

“We have a wardrobe change after the break, remember? And since you refuse to leave my changing room..”

You clear your throat, trying your hardest to rip your eyes away from his abdomen, that you’ve so keenly marked with love bites before. His naked skin must have monopolized your attention way more than you realized, as you can’t remember when he slithered his way closer to you, towering over your height.

“Stare much?”, he almost growls, arousal dripping from his voice.

Every fiber of your being wanted to lurch forward, glide your fingers through his hair and start nibbling at those pretty lips of his. The sexual tension, amplified by the argument you just had, was filling the room like a thick liquid would fill a cup. One more drop, one more second of his staring and it would overflow. It felt so real, that you could feel that drop landing on your forehead. Then another one on your cheek, and that’s when you realized that what you felt was real.

“What the-?”, Jaehyun mumbles as he stares up at the ceiling, a big wet spot staining it and allowing the water drops to slowly wet his styled locks. As you start to put two and two together, someone knocks loudly on the door, making you both jump one feet away from the other.

“Get undressed”, a high-pitched male voice that you recognize as Jaehyun’s manager calls through the door, “the rain is ruining the set. It’s a wrap for today”

———————————————————————

A soft touch on your lower back, an even softer breath making your ears tingle. A tentative kiss on your neck that’s full of purpose and makes you shiver.

And then another touch, this time more south on your body. Fingertips grazing over your sensitive clit. Easily moving through your wetness and finally dipping inside of you. That baritone voice.

“This pussy is mine, isn’t it, kitty cat?”

You look up to meet the face of the familiar voice, only to meet Jaehyun’s baby brown eyes. The pleasure was enough to make you ignore the despised nickname, flowing intensely through your body. You let out a desperate moan, gripping his arms to keep your balance. His fingers are now dragging through your walls and you clench around them instinctively, confused but enamored by his touch. You are falling apart.

“Jaehyun? What are you doing?”

“I want to make love to you”

“Love? But you hate me”

He plants another kiss on the slope of your neck, his hands picking up in pace and making you feel like you’re floating on air.

“Love. Hate. Is there really any difference when I’m here, ready to please you? Willing to make you feel things you have never felt before?”

“You already do”, you admit, only seconds away from your orgasm. The bliss is so close you can almost taste it, but for now you choose to taste his lips. They are so soft and warm that you realize you haven’t kissed Jaehyun since that night at the practice room. How you miss him. Not the group visual, not the idol, not even Jaehyun. Yoonoh.

“Yoonoh”, you moan out against his lips as the pleasure overtakes you, a low buzz humming in your ears, “mmm yes, Yoonoh”

“Who the fuck is Yoonoh?”

You finally wake up, your manager shaking you awake being the first thing you see. The sun’s morning rays are peeking through your blinds, warming your skin in lines. Your phone’s ignored alarm clock is still buzzing on top of your nightstand.

“No one. I’m awake, thanks”

Fuck. That makes it what? The fourth night in a row you dreamt about him?

“Get, up. Quickly. We’re late”

You groaned at the banging of your head that was caused by you getting up so fast. It was early into the morning, as you had to get ready for the mv’s second shooting day. The heavy rainfall wouldn’t allow for the filming to continue for another week, yet aided your growing anxiety of having to encounter Yoon- Jaehyun again.

You felt a little stupid, like a kid that goes to middle school for the first time, anxious but full of butterflies in your stomach in the thought of seeing him again. You weren’t sure who the anger, that came with the inability to control the fresh feelings bubbling from your dream, should be directed at. Your manager for booking you this job? Jaehyun for making it his goal to have you dripping wet on set? You, for letting it all affect you so much?

You decide on the former, giving your poor manager the cold shower for forcing you to deal with the problems you’ve caused yourself. Checking your phone, you realise that you are, indeed, late, and wonder how quick you’re going to have to make your morning shower.

“Is Jaehyun and his team there already?”, you ask your manager as nonchalantly as you could, feigning mildly interested in his answer.

“Oh, they didn’t tell you? The other team asked for the shootings to continue separately”. You felt your stomach drop all the way down to your condo’s basement. And the icing on the cake: “Jung Jaehyun’s request”

Maybe your manager wasn’t as clueless to your electricity, or maybe it was your sudden impulse to pluck every loose thread of the pyjama top you were wearing that made him sense the discomfort following what he’d just said. He plops next to you on your bed, boards creaking in the silent room and you feel his rough hands patting you on the back.

“I’m sure he had an overlap in schedules and needed a break, nothing to do with you”

But you knew better, and you knew your palms wouldn’t stop itching unless you picked up your fucking phone and sent him a message.

you [06:30]: i heard you can’t make it to set today. everything ok?

You wish you never did. The radio silence from his number was way worse than any insult, any form of teasing he could give you on set. You even tried calling him, desperate for an answer, a closure even. Maybe he was busy. Maybe the shooting took longer than expected. Maybe he wasn’t avoiding you; one of his managers uploaded his latest story on his instagram, not him. Maybe at the end of the week he would get back to you.

------------------------------------------------------

Going to his dorm unannounced was not a good idea. Waiting for someone to open the door for you, you hope his members will recognise you from your trainee days, or those rare nights Jaehyun sneaked you in when you were both lonely and in need of a… well, whatever you two were.

You’re starting to worry that whoever saw you from the peephole thought you were a sasaeng and called security, when Mark opens the door. His eyes are wide open behind his glasses, clearly not expecting you and immediately yelling for his ‘Jaehyun hyung’.

Soon, the called male arrives at the apartment’s entrance, annoyed for being interrupted from whatever it was he was doing. “What is it, me and Jungwoo are watching the season fina-“

As if Mark suddenly turned invisible, Jaehyun walks right past him, grabbing you by the wrist and dragging you to his room without another word.

Jungwoo, engrossed with the aforementioned show’s season finale on his computer screen, tries to cover up his naked torso in panic when he notices you.

“Get out.”, Jaehyun orders him, and the younger man knows that his tone is not one to be argued with. It triggers the cold sweat that makes your clothes stick closer to your skin and forces your heartbeat to quicken, pumping blood all over your body. The door closes, leaving you both alone with only the sound of Jungwoo’s laptop still playing in the background. A lighthearted scene that is too oxymoronic against the tension that is just palpable at this point. What the hell were you thinking coming here?

“What the hell were you thinking coming here?”, Jaehyun speaks your thoughts out loud, and you wince at how empty your head is with excuses.

“Are you ignoring me?”

“What?”, he asks dumbly, hoping you would avoid asking again.

“Was it that hard to text me back? Am I such a waste of your time?”

Jaehyun seems angry at your confrontation, his bad mood escalating with every word that is leaving your mouth. He still avoids to look at you, toying with some plushies and decorations next to his bedpost. You realize you never had time to really notice them, barely recognizing them. You always entered the room blindly, pressed up against Jaehyun’s body and with his lips all over your neck, then left as soon as the sex was over. His apathy was infuriating.

One by one, you start to remove all of your outerwear, dropping your clothes on the floor until you’re left in only your bra and jeans. Jaehyun stares at you incredulously, then at the pile of clothes on the floor, unable to make out the reasoning behind your impromptu stripping.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting naked. Seems to be the only time you can actually pay attention to me.”

You reach for the buttons of your jeans, only able to unzip it halfway before Jaehyun has you pinned against the wall behind you, his fingers cool and pressing lightly against your neck.

“I-I fucking hate you!”, he cries, punching the surface to release some of the steam, and lets go of the hold on your neck almost completely. How tempted he is, to just fuck your right against that wall, pour out his anger by pouring out his cum inside you, then ignore each other like you always do.

It’s the easy thing to do, keeping the toxic circle going. All barking and fucking and no real problem gets resolved in the end. He wouldn’t even call a cab for you, preferring to be hated for something he wasn’t than to be rejected for showing the real him. You would still have no idea about his feelings towards you, going around saying how awful he was while asking for a round two. But Jaehyun was tired.

“Can’t you tell that I am trying to distance myself from you?”, he sighs and it’s the first time you’ve ever heard him sound so emotionally exhausted.

“Why do you dislike me so much? We used to be friends and then one day you-“

“Friends? Just friends?”, he interrupts you with a chuckle and a sarcastic puff through his nose, and you shake your head.

“If you also think that what we had was more special than a common friendship then why act like you don’t know me?”

“You were the one who wanted to ‘forget about anything happening and never telling a soul about it’, remember?”

“I thought we came to a mutual agreement! I was just trying to save our careers and it worked Jaehyun, you got to debut and I-“

“And you just threw away everything we had like it was the easiest thing to do! Do you ever want to know how I feel, y/n? First you want nothing to do with me, left the company without even saying goodbye. Then I try to forget about you, become an asshole to keep you out of my life and suddenly you want to jump my bones. One day you just play blind to everything, asking for professionalism and now I’m the one ignoring you? What the fuck do you want? A fuck buddy? A professional? A friend?”

“I want you, Yoonoh. Fuck, I just want you”

You’re not sure which one of you initiates the kiss. His lips are as plump and kissed as hard as you recalled, a couple of tears staining your cheeks that you didn’t realize you were holding back. It felt so right, the way his head pushed and pulled away from yours, always inviting you back to him. One hand was situated over the dimples of your waist, the other lost between your hair, untangling it gently. You decided to lay yours over his heart, feeling its tempo and calming yourself down.

You kiss for what seems like an eternity, so drunk in bliss that you can’t remember how you made it through life without Jaehyun’s taste all over your tongue. When he pulls away from your lips, you almost whine, but his fingertips dabbing at the soft skin of your cheeks feel just as comforting.

“I don’t want us to be like this anymore”, you whisper to him and he nods encouragingly, holding you even closer. “I’m sorry for not reaching out to you all these years ago, I just thought ‘What would a brand new idol want to do with a failed trainee like me’-“

Jaehyun brings your fingers to his lips, kissing all your knuckles one by one and you think you’re gonna burst at the seams. “You weren’t a failure, you were the best thing to happen to me back then”. His voice is so sincere that you don’t dare question the veracity of what he’s saying and you let him continue. “When I saw you again I was so bitter, I decided to turn off my feelings. I think I get too comfortable in that role. I put it on for me, my members, my fans even”, he stops then, laughing sadly, “it’s how I finally got you”

It was your turn to open up his eyes to the truth, holding his face between your hands and admiring its beauty.

“That’s not true. I kept staying because I knew what was hidden behind all that armor. I guess, the sex was the only way to get closer to you”

“Not because I’m good?”, he jokes, wiggling his eyebrows and you can feel his dimples forming under your fingers.

“Eh, you’re pretty good too”

He starts pecking your neck, his smile obvious in his kisses and you squeal when he lifts you to his bed. Bouncing on the hard mattress, you let him lay his body weight over yours as he gives you a million traces of his love.

“So, I’m guessing this means we start over?”, he asks reluctantly as he emerges from your half naked body and you hold back from cooing at him.

“I thought you loved to hate me?”

“I think I hate it, but I love you”

#neosmutcollective #Jaehyun #jung jaehyun #jaehyun smut #nct smut #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun angst #nct scenarios #nct 127 #nct angst #jaehyun fluff #nct

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witchlyboo · 3 years

Text

Definitely, maybe.

Part five: The one who belongs to someone else.

Introduction. Part one. Part two. Part three. Part four.

Paring: Latina!reader x Logan Lerman x Tom Holland x Ben Hardy x Timothee Chalamet x Pedro Pascal x Michael B. Jordan

Warnings: Swearing, angst, misspellings, some Spanish, me learning how to write properly, and NY stuff that I've learned from movies that we all agree to pretend are real.

Word count: 6.4 k

a/n: You been asking for smut, I know, I know, I just wanted to introduce you to all the boys first, and we're getting there, just one more ahead. Also, I'm working on a masterlist because we are getting too many parts already.

All body types and skin tones friendly. You can also enjoy it as a no Hispanic reader. Constructive feedback and misspellings correction is always welcome.

Red and blue lights flash the driving mirror.

—No, no, no, por favor que no sea a mi—You beg to the sky looking at the patrol that is asking you to park, or someone else, there's a lot of cars in this part of the city, there's a big chance is the panic who's controlling your senses.—Dios, mi abuela fue a la iglesia cada domingo de su vida y nunca te pidió nada, please let me have some of her divina recompensa.—But that's not how it works, you end up parking with just a few seconds to think what to say. There's a perfect explication of why you are driving a car that is not yours in the middle of the night and smelling like a minibar.

Then this ridiculous thought comes to your mind, you look expensive, you've never seen the daughter of a senator but you must be close to it, it would make you less of a feminist if you just use your attributes? Ugh, you feel sick just to think about it but don't have enough money to pay a fine, and the constant paranoia of being chased all the time as an immigrant will only get stronger.

You pull down your dress a little so your neckline can do its job but you regret it immediately, and you're pretty sure you look more like an expensive prostitute who stole the car of his lover than some influential men's daughter.

—License and registration.—You hear him say when he approaches your window. You don't like this but you have to play the dumb tourist, the pretty foreign girl that is too stupid to be dangerous, with the look you have tonight it shouldn't be hard. But damn you hate cops, any uniformed man that works for the government is your eternal enemy, and you don't know how long you could keep the nice dumb Latina game before spit on his face.

—There's something wrong, officer? ...You?!—Your sexy and fake high voice is ruined when you see the face of the man who stopped you. This night couldn't get worse.

—Wait, what happened with the party?—Evan interrupts you while you finish some notes for work, little remainders for later when you don't have an eleven years old kid running around you, he's not usually this energic and you have to blame yourself for that, you're describing a life of excess and eccentric fun, something you let behind so many years ago that your own son doesn't know even a bit of it.

—Ugh, a nightmare doesn't worth telling.—You remember vaguely most of it but what keeps fresh in your mind is bad enough to don't want to bring it back.

—But if Timothée is my dad I have to know the important things, including the bad stuff.—Sounds perfectly reasonable and that's what makes you groan at him. Sometimes you feel blessed that your kid is better than you in any possible way, and sometimes you want to kill his brain with video games and reality shows like the rest of the parents.

—Ok, cool, but I'll keep all the +18 content for myself, so this part of the story might be blurry for you.—It kinda is for you anyway.

You should’ve known this night was cursed, you had a feeling because a) your earring fell off at the same time Timothée texted you to give you the party address and say he can't pick you up. And b) he won’t pick you up. Your mother would say that’s reason enough to not go, a real gentleman wouldn’t make you go to an unknown place in the middle of the night on your own in a city like this. But you decide to ignore it because you are a modern woman and because it’s worth it. It better be.

The outfit must be something special. You always take your time to choose what to wear, even if just another regular day, and since this isn't the case you thought about it for hours, that made your mind busy enough to not thinking about Tom and the whole love confession. He texted you saying he'll come for you to go to class together on Monday, which is completely impractical because he's way closer than you but is progress and you're going to take it.

You wanted to ask for Sheep's opinion but you thought she might not care, has been a few days since she started acting strange like she's bothered just to see you breathe. You want to blame his boyfriend to take all her time and attention from you but is probably just her new job, she got a small role in a Netflix show, and even when you're so happy for her, that's the event that has changed her into someone completely different. But you give her time, stress can do bad things to people.

The winner is the exact copy you made of the black and white striped dress Cameron Diaz wore in "The Mask" beautiful, classy, and sexy enough without being too scandalous, not that you have any problem with that, but this isn't the occasion, you don't want to feel like you're being too much or too little, just enough, it's supposed to be easy, right? you were born for this. Just adding some big shiny earrings you got on a thrift shop that look like real diamonds and you're ready, not that you own any to compare. Red lipstick, dark eyes, and a messy bun to get that disinterested pitch every look needs.

Getting there wasn't a problem, you were in the rich part of the city, everyone know who, where and what just to brag about it. The excitement is growing with every second, you check your makeup like thirty times in the elevator and send texts to your mom just to let her know where you are, and because you have to share that moment with someone and you are limited of friends these days.

Timothée opens the door with red eyes, drunk, high, or somewhere in between, you know then you were right about the bad feeling. He jumps on you to kiss you and no matter how much you try to explain the delicacy of your lipstick, he does it anyway, leaving a taste of alcohol and shrimps in your mouth. Taking you by the waist he walks you to a group of people you don't know while you're trying harder to fix the red color of your mouth without a mirror.

—Here is the companion I bought, look at her, that's how five grand per hour look like.—They laughed but you were too disoriented to process all the things he said, it was supposed to be a joke? if it is, why isn't he correcting? Instead, his hand goes straight to your ass and presses it to get you closer to him.

—I'm actually an intern in the costume designer department of the new version of "Sense and Sensibility".—You wanted to mention your recent promotion to hairstylist and makeup artist but that might be too pretentious. Anyway, they don't seem to care what you are or not, in fact, they don't even see you, all eyes are on Timothée

—Oh, well, is easy to forget when you're paying them—All laughs again. Who is this person? Who are all these people, actually? You recognize some influencers, a few cast members but there's no sign of the director, other main actors, not even his co-star. You feel like an extra in a movie where someone will be killed in a luxury party, hopefully not you. You take his hand from your body and clear your throat.—I'm just joking my love, she looks stunning, isn't she? I’ll get you a drink.

He leaves and the group of people surrounding you suddenly dissipated like boiling water, you were on your own again and despite some judgmental gazes is like you’re not there, you’re sure you could just take your dress off and throw it to someone’s face and unless Tim says something about it, no one would care. You’re there as his companion, an ornament, and that’s not enough to earn their attention because it’s too obvious you’re the one in turn.

You walk to the only window no one is smoking and check your phone, you know, the thing you do when you pretend you have important issues to attend, but no, you end reading some old messages, pictures, texting your mom of how much fun you’re having at the party, and somehow you check your filed Facebook messages to find Logan’s name. You cover the screen so fast you hurt your nail, his name is enough to make you tremble like a Chihuahua, you haven’t talked to him since that night, you know from his sister he lives in the house he bought for you two and he’s having the happiest life without you. You want to believe that because that means you took the right decision but deep inside… no, you can’t be that person, you want him to be happier than ever.

You find the guts to open the message, and you read as slowly as is humanly possible. “My angel, I hope this finds you in perfect health…” Dios, just Logan could start a message like that, your smile is almost too big to fit in your face so you bit your nail to cover it a little. “I recently found one of the human body drawings you made for me to study, you’ll be happy to know…”

—That’s a fucking long-ass message.—Tim appears behind you and takes your phone from your hand, spilling some of his drink on your dress in the process. Apparently, he's been there long enough to read part of the message.

—Give it back.—You command in the most severe voice you have, your magical moment got ruined and you remember the hole of hell you are.

—"My angel, I hope this finds you in perfect health. I recently found one of the human body drawings you made for me to study, you must know I still use them now and then"—Timothée starts reading the message, and even when no one is close enough to hear it and you don’t really care about this people’s opinion, that’s not for anyone to read, that’s one of the few parts of your life you treasure the most and you’re not ready to get over it.—You little slut, are you cheating on me with a med student?

—Give it to me.—You repeat trying to take the phone from his hand but he’s faster and walks away putting it out of your reach.

—"I meticulously preserve them, I certainly know any piece of art made by you will be priceless in the near future"—You don’t want to hear it coming from his drunk mocking voice, so you try to ignore what he’s saying and put more effort on chasing the phone.—Should I had kept the jeans where you left the wet spot on? I didn’t know you were an artist, my love.

—Timothée, por el amor de Dios.—Now you're trying to climb him, it wouldn't be that hard to take him down, he's skinny and you're fierce. That's what you thought but he's not moving even with you are on top of his shoulder and his opposite long arm keeps the phone away from you.

—Who is this guy and why is he talking to my girl like this?—You see the olive eyes getting darker and the tone of his voice went deeper than you thought he could do. You desist from taking the phone, you know the bullies love the attention, maybe that's exactly what he wants and give it to him just makes it worse.

—I'm not your girl.—You claim fixing up your dress having enough of games, and you have no reason to keep worrying about losing your job, the filming is done, and apparently your relationship with him too. You don't care about any of that anymore, just want to read Logan's text.

Even behind all the alcohol and the eyes injected in blood thanks for who knows what kind of drug, you can see the disappointment and anger, but it's not a broken heart, Is the hissy fit of a child that loses his balloon and now everyone will pay for it, especially you.

—Are you sure about that?—You can see him swallow hard, almost looking vulnerable, but his voice is defiant and threatening to prove you wrong. He just has to stretch out his arm to reach the open window with your phone in hand, his intentions are clear and the only thing you can do is raise your hands as a reflex.—You were mine the moment you put a foot on my trailer, and I don't fucking share my stuff.—Before you can say a word he drops the phone from the fourth floor.

You know is senseless but you find yourself running out of the party and going to search the device, using it also as an excuse to get away from that place. This is the first time someone makes you feel meaningless, you know the famous' world is cold and lacking in empathy but this is ridiculous, they're a bunch of parasites fed by attention and power. By Timothée.

The screen is crashed and the rest of it is probably beyond repair, not that you're surprised, its life is longer than you've been in the country and you admit you should have replaced it much earlier but you're not the kind to throw away things that still work. However, is not the phone you are worried about, not as much as what it contains.

—That was obsolete anyway, I'll get you a better one.—You didn't know he was following you, his voice interrupts your self-wailing. He sounds calmer and a little embarrassed, but not enough to say sorry, you don't think he's capable of saying it.

You shake your head and start to walk away without a word, you don't want anything from him, not materially, at least.

—Don't make a scandal out of it, it's just a phone!—He yells erasing any trace of regret in his voice. He doesn't see the reaction he expected and that's when he runs after you and with a hand on your upper arm pulls you back, you gasped for the sudden bluntness.—That annoying habit you have of leaving when I'm talking to you.

You push him away with all the strength you have, which resulted in him almost falling on the ground.

—I don't care about the stupid phone!—You finally break, but sadly is not as satisfactory as you thought it would be.—You are mean, vain, arrogant and the worst part is that you enjoy being this despicable human because you have absolutely no consequences to it. Everyone around you just accepts it and I feel so sorry for you because the only possible way for you to fill the void inside is to be surrounded by that crowd of mules licking your steps—To your surprise, he has nothing to say, he's just standing there with no facial expression, whatever he feels is easily covered by his years of experience acting, even drunk.—I can't give you that and it's obvious they don't want me either. What am I even doing here?—You ask yourself thinking where would be the best way of getting a cab, is a rich zone, must be easy.

—Everything is better when you're around—His voice is thin and fragile, you have to process what he said three times in your head to understand his words. You're not willing to look at him yet.—You're not like the others.

—Pure bullshit. You love to repeat that misogynist discourse of girls being in a certain way because is easier than be responsible for the people you choose to be—You were hugging yourself the whole time, is a cold night, but not enough to be bothersome, you enjoy Fall weather—You got me for a moment, I give you that, you fooled me but I'm too tired of guessing what version of you is real—When you return your gaze at him, he doesn't try to hide the guilt anymore, but there's still haughtiness in there.—Now, if you don't mind Mr. Chalamet, I need to get a cab.

—No, you came with me, you leave with me.—There's no trace of alcohol in his voice anymore, a good scolding is enough to put you sober, you know that thanks to your mom. Oh god, you're becoming her.

—You didn't bring me here, gigantic head—You look at him and put your hand in front of him with the palm up. He stares at it for several seconds before put his own on it—Not that!—You shake it and start looking inside his jeans pockets until you feel the metal of his key car.—You can't drive and I have to get home. You'll find it in the studio tomorrow.

That's how you ended with a car way more luxurious than you expected, driving so slowly and carefully that the police stopped you. What a night, but at this point, you couldn't care less about anything that is not that message, is been months and you can't get over it, over him. Not even Ben moans, Tom's comforting arms, or fight with a movie star at 3:00 am. is enough to get him out of your mind.

—So is true, you don't wear anything that hasn't appeared in a movie, huh?—Michael B. Jordan is leaning on the car window with a mocking smile and a sparkle of satisfaction that you would love to punch but his uniform keeps you in line, where you come from police is not equal to justice, most of the times is oppression.

—You know where it's from?—That was kind of comforting, no one at the party noticed. Not that you care.

—Is The Mask, not some Adam Hitchcock's blurb.—He smiles and even when you really don't like him, it's nice to be with a familiar face, you are really tired of running away, scaping for problems that are a result of your null capacity to deal with emotions. Ugh, what a word.

—Is Alfred Hitchcock, actually.—You didn't want to sound priggish, but you correct him with no time to stop yourself, an old habit.

—You got me, smarty, you know more than movies than me. Where did you get this car?—You feel really nervous even when you got this legally, you have your documents and license on time and he's being nice enough to not want to run away in a car that you technically borrowed for yourself.

—It's not mine.—No shit, Sherlock.

—No shit, Sherlock, I was asking where did you steal it.—You wanted to laugh but there's something with the uniform that just doesn't allow you to be yourself.—Are you drunk?

—No, no, fuck, no, it's just, I don't feel comfortable with cops—He raises his eyebrows but that is his only reaction.—Listen, is my boss' car, I'm doing the favor to take it to the studio, and I'm really nervous because is fucking expensive, he's an asshole, I haven't drive un almost a year because you people only use cars if you're rich or your work and lives depend on it. I'm starving.—The last part came out of nowhere, you haven't eaten anything in almost 13 hours, maybe that's the actual reason why you are that moody.

He doesn't answer right away, takes his time to look at you, what makes you blush, he's really close, closer than he's ever been. Does he smell like green apples? Not the actual apples, the artificial smell they had given to them.

—Get out of the car.—Oh no, is he arresting you? Is he finally taking revenge for every time you make fun of his Hawaiian-type shirts? You know you have too much karma accumulated and a cop making you pay for it when you don’t believe in their sense of justice is kinda poetic, and evil.

You don’t want to discuss with someone with a taser, gun, pepper spray, or who knows what else. So you take your bag, the key car, and get off defeated.

—My turn is almost over, I’ll take you to eat something, c’mon.—He walks back to his patrol and you stay still for a few seconds still processing his words, you must look totally devastated for him to offer that. How you see it you have two options, go with him and spend an awkward hour with a person you don’t like or risk getting a fine, Tim can pay it, it’s not a big deal but you don’t want to owe him even the minimal thing.

You get in the car holding on to your bag to feel calmer, this is the first time you’re fully alone with him since you found him half-naked in your kitchen. Those defined abs may never leave your brain.

—Are you cold?—He interrupts your thoughts with his question, you didn’t notice you were shaking. He looks for something under his seat and gives you an NYPD hoodie, you hold it doubting your next move, is not like you don’t appreciate the gesture but it’d be easier to take if it doesn’t get that words printed—Is clean.—He says chuckling when he sees the way you’re looking at it.

—Is not that, just, you know, fuck the police, defund the NYPD, demilitarize the pigs and that stuff.—You say putting on the hoodie anyway, is a cold night and you won't help the institution wearing their propaganda.

—Yeah, I get it, but you can't change the system just from within.—You decide is not the right moment to have a political conversation so you shrug your shoulders and discreetly smell the hoodie, a mix of cologne, green apples, and cheap soap, you know is cheap because you buy the exact same, do its job.

—I'm in the mood for pizza.—You say casually, making a deal to yourself to try to be his friend, he is a small part of your life anyway.—Domino's is open at this time of the night?

—Tell me you're not consuming that shit, dear Lord, you been here for how long, two years? I can't believe your idea of a good pizza is Domino's. Stella hasn't taught you anything?—You're surprised by the level of condescension with a pizza and you mirror his smile, suddenly feeling embarrassed. Your school program includes people from all around the world so you don't have that much experience with actual new yorkers. Logan is rich, so he doesn't really count.

—What's wrong with Domino's? I don't buy much street food, is cheaper to buy things on the food market. Besides, all pizza is good.—The mention of Sheep makes you a little tense, so you don't say anything about it, is not a conversation to have with him.

—Don't blaspheme in the patrol, I just washed it—You laugh, finally, after a terrible weekend. You can see why she likes him, there is something about his voice, smile, and his eyes that feel... calm, like watching Friends after a marathon of Lord of the Rings.—There are rules to survive this city, and I'm surprised you have made it this far without a proper guide.

—Chill out Mr. Miyagi, I'm not from the jungle, and I've learned a lot by myself.—He gives you a lopsided grin as a request, and you put your fingers up ready to enlist your acquired knowledge.—Walk fast, like you're about to be stabbed, something that actually happened to me, with an umbrella—He nods and laughs being related to it.—Number two, no small talk, no one cares, even if they ask. Number three, if you look a stranger in the eye, especially a homeless person, you have essentially invited them to approach you.

—Number four, we never eat from Domino's, Papa John's, Pizza hut, or any other chain restaurant, only trucks and local places are allowed.—You roll your eyes but you get the point, is just, again, you're not much into street food, it doesn't taste like home and the only way to eat food like that is preparing it yourself.

—Fine, fuck capitalism, let's support local places—You make an obvious fake enthusiastic tone but he nods proudly.—Number five, you don't need a car to live here, not even know how to drive. I would have successfully avoided this police brutality if I had followed that rule.

—For someone who is about to eat for free, you whine too much.—He parks the car and gives you a sign to go with him. You see him go to a pizza truck and order, you realize at the moment how ridiculous you look, so before chasing him you let your hair down, take your huge earrings off, and roll up the skirt of your dress until your mid-thighs letting the hoodie cover the rest, and clean the red lipstick with a Kleenex from your bag. Now you look more like a college person and not a rich girl who just got seized.

—Here you go.—He says giving you a slice as big as your head, looks oily and spreading cheese everywhere. Perfect.

—Is it vegan?—You ask receiving the food with an obnoxious face. His kind grind turned into a dread expression and you give him your second laugh of the day.—I'm kidding.

You are about to give it a bite when you see passing next to you a huge rat with the exact same slice as yours in its mouth, running into the dark of the night happy to have obtained the food for its family. They use to scare you when you just moved out but now they're like any other pigeon in the sky.

—Rule... whatever, a rat with a slice of pizza is a symbol for good luck, congratulations.—He pets your head awkwardly, not sure if you're ok with the physical contact, which, surprisingly, you are.

—I see rats with bagels all the time.—Pizza and bagels, that's the main culinary wonders of the city, you like it, not much to object but is hard not to compare it with your home's food.

—Is easy to confuse a rough diamond with a simple rock.—You both eat in silence, enjoying the mixed sounds of the city and all the different smells, the whole situation feels like one of those lofi music videos. You remember thinking about moments like this before getting the scholarship, what would it be like to feel normal in the city of your dreams.

—How do you know that much about movies?—He asks after a few minutes when you take a break to drink something, that pizza is not easy to take.

—When I was a kid a spent much time on my own, so my dad bought me a used DVD reproducer, and at the corner of my neighborhood was this movie store where you could buy 5 pirate movies for one dollar. They were blurred, with a terrible sound, and most of the time with the wrong movie inside but they helped me to not feel lonely. Eventually, the store closed but I've watched everything in it by then—He gives you a warm smile, you never told that story to anyone, not because is too intimate to share, but because no one asked, it doesn't sound like a question with a complex answer.—Anyway, I watched Marie Antoinette when I was like eight, and I decided at that moment that however is done I wanted to be part of that magic.

—You hear all kind of people chasing dreams in this city but is hard to find someone who actually deserves it.—You blush and you cover it with your hair but the smile on your voice is impossible to hide.

—Is that a compliment? You must really want me to like you to date Sheep.—You laugh but you can see his face tense, so you can guess your friend has been busy breaking everyone’s hearts.

—She hasn’t returned my calls in three days so I don’t think there’s much you can do—You nod, all this time you thought he was the reason she is ignoring you but apparently you are both in the same boat.—But yeah, I don’t know what I was thinking, what I should have said is, Marie Antoinette at eight? I can see where all the damage started.

You gasp and throw your napkin at his head, he easily catches it without even looking at it and laughs; that was unexpectedly attractive.

—Why a cop?—You ask, not sure where that question came from, maybe you authentically want to know more about him, he just bought you food, and honestly, that's the easiest way to win your trust.

—I wanted to be an actor when I was a child. This is the city of opportunities so you may think that if you want to chase the big wonder, this is the perfect place to do it. But I grow up surrounded by these people giving their entire lives to get something just given to one in a million so I decided is not worth it. For many years I wondered what I wanted to do with my life and the answer was really clear, my dad was a cop, a good one, or that’s what people say. I don’t remember much because he died when I was seven—Conversations about death are not your strength, everything can turn out uncomfortable if you choose the wrong words.—It might not be that glamorous but if my father died for it, it surely worth it.

—For the good ones.—You raise your almost empty can of Coke and he does the same with a grin that warms the cold weather of the night.

—For the good ones.

The next two hours passed like minutes talking about anything and everything. It just felt right to talk freely with him, you didn’t feel judged for your awkward family moments or your random thoughts, not even once because he told you his too. At some point of the night he borrowed you his gym sweatpants, any of you could just suggest going home but that was off the table, end that peace just for weather reasons would have been a tragedy.

—I read Timothée Chalamet is a dick. Is that true?—The mention of his name remains you of your life and everything that comes with it, including the middle semester project that you must dedicate your entire day, one that is about to start.—What, you can’t talk about it?

—He is a complete dick with no sense of privacy or human decency—And when he interrupts a deep kiss to look at your eyes, smile, and caress your chin, you feel like a character of his Victorian movies. But he didn’t ask that.—But the next week he’ll be no longer my problem.

—That’s why we have rule twenty-three, don’t ask for a picture of a celebrity unless they are local—You have heard about it before but you haven’t got the opportunity to decide if you like that rule because the only celebrities you have seen are from work and that club’s party opening.—That means you’ll be free to go to the Stephen Kings’ movie projection there will be for Halloween.

You don’t know if that was a proposition, a suggestion, or just a simple recommendation, and whatever it is, you noticed he was nervous to ask. Is it wrong? It feels wrong like you were betraying your friend accepting to hang out with his boyfriend without her consent. But he didn’t ask you to go with him so is safe to answer.

—Yeah, I guess—You get a moment, four seconds top, where you shared innocent, curious, and tenting gazes like three graders in the playground. And that’s the further you will allow yourself to go.—We better leave, if the sunlight touch me I’ll turn into dust.

You get off the car hood and go to the side door, but this time he opens it for you. You give him a “seriously?” Look, receiving a little push in your arm as a response.

↬☀︎︎

A distant voice asks you to wake up, softly whispers that turn into caresses on your cheek, your eyes feel so heavy, even when you are well aware of your environment your eyelids keep closed.

—Good morning, Princess—This is the first time Tom calls you that way, the change from silly nicknames to Princess is enough to get you out of hibernation. He is squatting beside your bed, his smile is the promise of a better day, and chasing that idea you give him one small back.—Your mom has been texting me desperately all day, she said you're not answering her calls and is worried.

—Fuck, my phone broke last night, can I call her from yours?—That’s an oversimplification but in the search for a better story, that's what you decide to believe and tell. Tom nods and gives it to you, he looks happy, beyond that, this is the first time you see that subtle blush on his cheeks and the eyes sparkling. You sit on the bed next to his body looking for your mom's number, slowly he moves between your legs, you have shorts and an oversized Back To The Future t-shirt, you got took the time to prepare yourself to bed last night and keep Michael’s clothes inside your closet to wash them, like The Tell-Tale Heart, a little innocent secret who feels dirty somehow

The conversations with your mom are always long, nostalgic and the tears are hard to hold for both parts; after a long life sharing almost every day with her, her absence never feels smaller. But this time is different, Tom is exploring the bare skin under your knee with his warm hands, asking for permission with curious eyes, and when you don’t object to the touch the British boy keeps his exploring mission cautiously, giving special attention to see your eyes in case something change. Is time to hang up when he gives a long and loving kiss to your knee, the less erotic kiss you could think of but so intimate to bristle your skin.

—Not nice to touch someone's daughter when is talking to her mom.—The protest of your voice loses strength at every word, he heard that and just straight his back to reach your face, the gap is almost extinct.

—We're okay, she likes me.—He assures holding your hips and pulling you a bit to him. Tom looks very comfortable with the new closeness authorization, you like it but are not very sure about it yet, most of you still think of him as your best friend.

—Did she tell you that? Are you talking with my mom behind my back?—You laugh when he does, almost like nothing changed.

—She adores me, I swear, I'm invited to Christmas, you know?—You're not surprised, she invites everyone, Logan was too but the first time he got family plans and didn't make it to the second.

—You should go, maybe we can do...—His lips touch yours in a peak at the middle phrase and makes you forget what you were about to say.—Man, the audacity to interrupt...—Then he kisses you again, deeply, using his tongue to taste your inner lip and his hands holding your shirt in fists. That's a twist of events.

—Is that ok?—You hear a weak whisper coming out of his voice but you got so mesmerized on his lips that decided to ignore it and kiss him back instead. He responds to your touch and starts to lean over you to make you lay on the bed.

Jesucristo bendito, is this happening? like, actually happening? you must look like trash, you barely took all the makeup from the night before and didn't take a shower, you start to get so worried about smells, feelings, and what that'll mean to your already too much-spoiled friendship.

However, the time of doubts is done when Sheep starts yelling in the living room, you both reacted running to the sound and looking for your blonde friend. Michael is there but doesn't look like the same as a few hours ago, is annoyed and tired for the lack of sleep, a look that doesn't match him at all.—What did you do?—You ask him fast assuming she's mad for something he did.

—Just in time, the star of the movie, I was wondering how much it will take you to be the protagonist of this.—That is Sheep's voice talking about you and what must be your heart breaking from her words.

—Excuse me?—You wish your tone would be less savage but you can't help respond the same way she did.

—Logan wasn't enough, then you got the drummer, fucking Timothée Chalamet, Tom and now my boyfriend. I'm so glad I didn't leave you alone with my dad or I'd be calling you mom now.—You have no words to that, Michael doesn't even dare to look at you, he must have told her something she misunderstood, but Sheep, or well, Stella is saying things she actually thinks and keep to herself. Tom walks in front of you whispering things to her to calm her down but she is not looking at him, you didn't tell her anything about Tom either so he's taking responsibility this time.—Go ahead and fuck the whole city, Michael if that please you but you're crossing the line with Tom and you know that, you're going to ruin him as you ruin every man that enters in your life.—She has a very you moment having the last word of the dispute and getting out of the apartment with Michael going after her but not putting much effort in it.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Taglist:

@eridanuswave @cjand10 @deluxeplanteater @rorodendra @navs-bhat @coxxxxxpi @leviosatothestars

Thanks for all the love and support, if you have opinions, suggestions, or want to be part of the tag list (Or don’t want to be part anymore) let me know, I appreciate every message.

#ben hardy imagine #michael b jordan fc #tom holland x reader #timothee chalamet fanfiction #pedro pascal #logan lerman fc #definitely maybe #fluff #angst #timothee chalamet #Tom Holland #Ben Hardy

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lavishedinjimin · 4 years

Text

all the good girls go to hell

— synopsis: The Angels made a deal with Jeon Jungkook, the son of Lucifer, to help them bring Y/n back to her good, prim and proper self. Even though Jungkook grants the atrocious plan, he leaves a lesson that no one should give their trust to a wicked devil like him.

↳ pairing: jungkook x f. reader

↳ genre: smut, very slight angst if you squint hard enough

↳ rating: m/18+

↳ word count: 10k

↳ warnings: religious themes, heaven and hell, angels, devils (this fic is not a correct representation of these figures and is purely fictional), alcohol intake, cursing, hard dom jk, daddy! jk, fingering, multiple orgasms, orgasm denial, squirting, unprotected sex, breathplay, spanking, face fucking, filthy dirty talk, rough sex, jungkook and his demon cock ehe

a/n: title is inspired by billie eilish’s song all the good girls go to hell. her title inspired me to write this fic! please ignore if you find any errors <3

“You’re not good enough.”

“You look so pathetic, really.”

“Can you at least try to look hot?”

“This is why no one likes you.”

These words will forever haunt you until the day you die.

It wasn’t your fault that you were raised very strictly, your overly-protective parents treating you like some kind of rare treasure that no one, no man, can touch. The fact that your parents still had to drive you home from school even at an age like this always irritated you to the brim of your existence. So now you can’t even have the freedom, the life of a normal young girl can have.

Being raised strictly with a heavy-handed family – not to mention religious, too – has taken a toll on your mental health. There’s always the feeling of pressure wherever you go and whatever you do. The fear of not succeeding and disappointing your mom and dad is the worst feeling, like the Devil punching your gut repeatedly, as many times as he likes.

Plus, some students at your school know you for your lack of “personality”, the boring one, the killjoy. You can’t even refute because it was all true. You never experienced fun, parties, how to have interesting conversations, how to interact with a large crowd, all because of your parents being so uptight in you.

“Y/n!” The high-pitched voice of your mother calls from downstairs, and you were quick to scurry outside your room and find where she was sitting on the couch. “Yes, mom?” You say.

She was dressed in a royal-blue dress that goes up to her knees, her hair fixed perfectly and the hairspray is clearly doing a great job of keeping her updo in place. She grabs her purse while your dad walks into view, dressed up in a neat suit. “We’re leaving for our business trip, Y/n. Didn’t I tell you that?”

“Ah.” You sort of forgot about that.

Quickly nodding your head, you force a fake smile that you know all too well, “Yes.”

She gives you a weird glance before she fixes her makeup in a mirror, and your dad decides to continue for her. “We’ve hired a nanny to look after you, so that you won’t go out and about going behind our backs—”

“But dad! I really don’t need someone to babysit me,” You scoff. You weren’t a child anymore, what are they thinking! “I’m an adult. I can handle myself. Don’t you trust me?”

Trust. Something they don’t have with you, whether they admit it or not.

Your dad just sighs deeply and starts to walk closer to you. He places a hand on your shoulder as he looks straight into your eyes, giving you an authoritarian look. “Y/n, just do as you’re told and be a good daughter.”

“I’ve always been one,” you scorn.

“A good daughter doesn’t talk back.” Your mother retorts.

This is why you can never argue with them. They never let you speak your own opinion or have your own voice.

Your parents left exactly at 5 PM as they went on their flight to Madrid, leaving the house all to yourself only for tonight.

It was the next day, and you were sitting on the dining table, eating your cereal peacefully as you watched Netflix on your phone – until the doorbell rings.

You stand up and quickly make your way to the front door, pouting when you already know that it is the person that was supposed to look after you.

This is ridiculous.

“Hello!” A bright, short middle aged woman appears standing on the doorway, her bright energy startling you. “Y/n! I’m May, nice to meet you!” She lifts her hand in front for a handshake, and you chuckle nervously, accepting it. “I’m here to look after you for ten days, hm?”

“Uh, ah, yeah. C-Come in!” You tried to sound as positive and energized as you could to match her own energy, but you couldn’t. You step aside to let her in, pulling her luggage with her and she immediately takes up the design of the house. She was nodding her head, her arms crossed together while you accompanied her little journeys throughout the whole ground floor. You found her weird.

“Uh, come follow me, my dad says you’ll be staying here at the guest room —”

“Wonderful! I thought I was sleeping on the couch!” She claps her hands, excited that she has her own room.

You look at her with big, shocked eyes, yet you can’t say anything.

“O-Okay…” you mumbled, “Here,” you helped her open the door and she immediately set her things up. “May?”

“Yes, my dear?” She stops unpacking her bags to look up at you. “I’ll be at the kitchen, okay? If y-you wanna ask anything, I’m right over there.”

“Ah, that’s okay, Y/n. Your mother told me everything I need to know. Your bedtime is at eight and no midnight snacks!”

Your heart drops down to the floor as you immediately encountered a wave of emotions. Why did it matter?! Why did your mom had to apply all these stupid rules when she’s not even around? You thought at the start that you’ll have some kind of freedom when your parents aren’t here, thinking that your nanny might be easier, but perhaps not.

“Okay.” You say simply.

How else can you prove to people that you can be better? You're sick of everyone seeing you as the boring one, but your parents were the only thing that was keeping you from having fun. So you decide to be a little risky.

Step one: Sneak out the house.

Isn't that what people your age do? Usually they sneak out to party, to go hang out with their friends and have the time of their life. But you had none, no ‘best friend’, but a couple of lunch friends here and there.

“I should try clubbing.” You mumble to yourself as you sit down on the plush comfort of your mattress. Until you hear your phone chimes, signalling a text. You grab your phone from the bedside table and frown when you see who the text was from.

Mom: Remember to go to church later, Y/n.

You didn't reply, instead, it got you thinking.

Nothing will happen if you skip church, right? You've always attended Mass every Sunday with your parents, so there's absolutely nothing wrong with skipping at least once.

Besides, you need to plot your plans for tonight!

“What is this girl doing?” Armaros says in a deep whisper, his well-shaped eyebrows furrowing deeply while he watches Y/n on her phone, laying down on her bed as if church isn't just five minutes away from starting.

Armaros rushes to the other side of the room to get a better view of her human who lays on her stomach, a white wisp of smoke trailing behind him. He shakes his head, crossing his arms together in front of his chest. “Y/n, Y/n,” he tuts, “What are you doing?!”

He decides to step forward and reaches forward for his hand to caress the crown of your head. He chuckles when he sees your eyes expand in a quick second, your body abruptly sitting up straight from the tingling feeling in your neck. Your hairs stand up, a chill running down your spine.

This was Armaros’ way of mustering his presence onto you. Your dad always taught that whenever you suddenly feel a chilling sensation out of nowhere, it means that your guardian angel is there with you and trying to send you a message.

And you clearly know what he's trying to say.

There was a slight feeling of guilt – uneasiness, even. But no. You've already decided that you weren't going to follow your old routine.

Armaros’ jaw drops when you don't move from your position on the bed, only making yourself comfortable even further. ”Don’t you dare skip church...” he slowly whispers to himself. But he quickly shakes his head side to side, trying to be optimistic, “It's just one time. Just one time.”

Time passes by faster than you think, you sink your teeth down on your bottom lip, chewing on it as you try to Google clubs near you. It was ridiculous, feeling so overwhelmed from all of the options the Internet is showing you.

There was a generous list of bars and clubs with different ratings. It was a humane decision to choose the best one, right? So you went for a nightclub called ‘Soap Seoul’. Although, you feel your stomach churn when you scroll through the images attached to it; seeing all of the strange blue and red LED lights, big and tight crowds, and an HD picture of their bar. The bar was long and almost occupied the width of the whole club. You don't even know if you can stand such a place like that.

But no. You can't back out now! You had to show yourself and to others that you can have some fun too.

The club opens tonight at 8 pm, letting yourself have two hours to prepare. Rummaging through your garments of clothing, you try to find an appropriate outfit.

“I have nothing!” you whined, eyebrows furrowing in dismay. All you had were simple t-shirts and countless skinny jeans and leggings. Your dresses were almost knee-length and suitable for church – not for a nightclub!

Armaros stands at a distance, shaking his head at you.

Until, you heard a loud knock on the door, “Y/n!” May's voice shouts from the other side of the room, “Dinner's ready!”

Oh no.

Quickly opening the door, you stared at her with big, worried eyes. “May! I-uhh, I-I’m not gonna stay for dinner…” you mumbled, looking at the ground.

“Oh, why is that?” she asks, a faint sad tone in her voice. You felt so sad and regretful that you didn't say anything to her because she already cooked your dinner.

“I-I have plans for tonight,” you hold your hands behind your back, slightly getting embarrassed.

“Are you going out with your friends?”

“Y-Yeah!” You lie. You've never lied before.

“Ah, I understand. Have you told your mom?”

She doesn't have to know.

“Yup.”

And there it was again, the chills in your neck appeared while your arm and leg hairs stood up. Armaros touches your scalp, desperate to seek your attention and bring you back to your old, good self. The angel didn't like that you were lying, for he was perpetually accustomed to your good deeds. It was making him anxious for what's about to come.

But you ignored his message. May nods when you told her that she can have the food to herself.

You feel a pang of guilt rush through your body when you shut the door behind you, your heartbeat suddenly racing faster. The nervousness in you made your head hurt. Is this the right thing to do? No. It wasn't. But you had to show people that you can be different. Will it be worth it? Of course.

Thankfully, you spot a white dress that you've never worn before. It was a gift from your cousins that was supposed to be another addition to your collection of church dresses but it was too short for your liking.

“Hm, maybe this will work…” you quietly mumble to yourself.

You tried the piece of clothing on, carefully examining your reflection in the full-length mirror. The hem of the skirt falls right above your mid-thigh, too high for your usual comfort but for the sake of dressing up for a nightclub — there was no problem. The dress was snug, hugging your body so that it accentuates your curves.

The dress was plain white and was relatively simple. You don't really know what people usually wear for nightclubs but you were certain that dresses were a part of the code.

You looked for your black three-inch heel that you last wore during your highschool graduation, slipping it in carefully. Doing a little bit of makeup and applying a thin layer of lip gloss, you grabbed a purse and walked out of your room.

“May, please don't wait for me, okay?” you say after walking past her.

“W-Wait, I'm supposed to–”

“It's okay. I'll be okay.”

“She's not gonna be okay!” Armaros declares, kneeling on one knee before Archangel Michael – the protector and the spiritual warrior, as he mentions Y/n's recent mischiefs.

After you've been to the nightclub the first day, you've never stopped. You became addicted.

Sometimes you don't even tell May that you're going out, you just sneak out of the window and let May worry about you. You've happened to know how to drink as you get wasted every single night, hanging around with people that you don't know, people that are a bad influence on your good side. These past few days had you acting up like you’ve never before. You longed for alcohol and the feeling of it numbing your nerves, and there’s not a day where you didn’t get drunk.

Armaros’ power wasn't enough to stop you. Every single day he's been drying his best to send signals, to make you feel certain ways and speak to your consciousness that what you are doing is by far dangerous and wrong. But you never listened.

You've skipped church, stopped talking to God, ignoring your parents’ phone calls, not doing your homework just because you're busy either getting drunk or making out with someone at the club. It's like you have been addicted to misbehaving.

But for you, you thought you’re doing the right thing.

“Armaros, are you doubting your powers?” Archangel Michael replies, running his fingertips along the sharp blade of his sword.

“N-No, but, nothing seems to work. She's been ignoring my calls for almost two weeks. I just want the best for her.” Armaros’ voice fades at the end of his sentence. He was speaking with such sincerity because he really cares for Y/n. He truly loves her. “Why is she doing this?” He asks for help.

“Because, my dear, she's trying to prove something she's not for other people.”

“What?”

Archangel Michael laughs quietly, staring at him endearingly. He points his sword at him, “She obviously tries to be immoral to fit in. She's rarely praying to God like she used to, rarely respecting the people around her. Ever since humans bullied Y/n for being herself – she starts to change. But the question is…”

He walks around Armaros, his eyes never leaving his. “Is this making her happy?”

Armaros lowers his head and shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

The Archangel grins and returns his sword back on the scabbard attached to his belt.

“If I can't warn her to stop, then who else can?” The angel asks.

Michael lifts an eyebrow up, crossing his arms together as he stands right in front of him. His mouth draws into a slow smirk, a hint of playfulness in his eyes as if a lightbulb appeared on top of his head.

“You wanna have some fun, Armaros?”

“What do you mean?”

“Stand up, stand up.” Armaros quickly obeys his superior’s command. The Archangel places a hand on his right shoulder, preparing to speak.

“I have an idea. We call Jeon Jungkook up and–”

“No! Absolutely not! I will not allow Y/n to come face to face with the son of Lucifer!” Armaros bellows, instinctively pushes Michael's hand away from him.

“Armaros! It's just an idea!” Michael chuckles, spreading his arms to the side as he shakes his head. “And besides, I have to ask permission from our Highness anyway.”

“And what will he do? Taunt her? Provoke Y/n to be more sinful?” Y/n's guardian angel asks, referring to Jungkook. “We both know how manipulative and cunning he can be!”

“No, no. We'll make a deal with him, of course! No devil will do anything without receiving something in return.”

“This idea of yours, not to be rude, but is really out of this world.”

Archangel Michael snorts from the out of the blue pun.

“Do not be afraid. If our Lord agrees to our plan, I'll be watching. I always will. Give me your trust, Armaros.”

Armaros sighs deeply, yet smiles up at him right after. “Okay, I trust you.”

“May, stop it,” you mutter angrily, pulling your arm away from her hold. May tries to block your way from going outside the house but you abruptly push her to the side.

“Y/n! Your mom told you that–”

“Told me what?! That I’m being independent? Unruly? That I should just stay home? I don’t give a fuck anymore, May. I’d rather hang out with friends than stay here and do nothing!” You bark at her. She was smaller than you and you were definitely giving off that intimidating vibes that you wanted to show. She isn’t the one wearing the pants in this house. You are.

“Y/n, I will not tolerate this behavior!” May snaps, eyes glaring at you with her hands balled up into fists on her sides.

Rolling your eyes, you let out a sour chuckle, “You sound like my mom.”

May sighs deeply, the tiredness in her voice evident, “I’m just trying to keep you safe, Y/n. Just listen to me.”

“I’m an adult. I can keep myself safe. Now, let me go and don’t wait for me.”

“Y/n!”

“Bye May! Have a nice sleep!”

“Y/n! Where the fuck are you?!” Emilia, one of the new friends you've met no longer than three days ago shouts through the phone as loud, blazing music muffled her voice. “Sophia and I are waiting for you! Get your ass over here!”

“I'm almost there, save me a drink already!” you giggle, looking out from the taxi’s window.

Sophia snatches the phone out of Emilia’s hand to speak to you, “Y/n, you still remember the bet we made, right?”

“Of course! It's not a huge deal, c'mon now.” You roll your eyes, faking a laugh.

“We'll see!” Emilia giggles.

The driver drops you in front of the nightclub and you throw him a couple of dollars. Stepping out of the car, your high heels clicking on the cement. Upon entering the place, you were immediately greeted with your friends. They were both wearing a tight dress – glittery red and silver – whilst you wore a black one that reached down to your middle thigh. You bought the dress only a day ago, special thanks to your Amazon Prime account .

“Hey! Here, drink this,” Sophia hands you a single malt whiskey and you swiftly drown it down your throat without any problem. You reminisce back to your first day where you can’t even take a sip of beer without gagging. Now look where you are.

“Ahh fuck, that tastes good,” you mumble through gritted teeth.

“Why are you late tonight, Y/n?” Emilia asks as she leads you to the bar to order more alcohol. Her high pitched voice mixing with the loud music,”You know it's always 9 PM. Sharp.”

You breathe out heavily as you watch Sophia pour three shots of straight vodka into a shot glass. She distributes the beverage to the two of you.

“Well, uh–”

“What?” Emilia snaps.

“I couldn't find a goddamn cab, that's why!” you hide your falseness with laughter, hoping they won't sense your lie.

“Alright anyway, let’s go get wasted and you, Y/n – will be our first player.” Emilia smirks as she crosses her arms together. She analyzes your body, eyeing you up and down. You didn’t like it, and you felt worried.

Your eyebrows furrow, confused and slightly offended, “What, why me?” You take a sip of your newly-ordered beer, trying to get comfortable on the plush-covered stool.

“Because,” Sophia answers for her, “we need to know your… capacities.”

You snort, “Capacities of what? My capacity of having to get into a m-man’s bed? Pffft… easy!”

Sophia’s forehead furrows, glancing at Emilia with a knowing look before focusing her attention back to you. “Sure. Anyway, let’s have fun first and then…” she leans closer to you, her face inches away from yours. You feel your face redden in embarrassment, “And then you can choose your man.”

It wasn’t that bad. It isn’t bad dancing around the dance floor, beer in hand, as you danced all your worries away. Emilia and Sophia were out there – somewhere, but you didn’t care about them at this moment. You let your body go with the beat of the loud EDM music, holding your hands up in the air as you whipped your head left to right. You had a huge smile on your face, the alcohol kicking in like it was meant for your body to consume.

Sweaty bodies were bumping each other from left and right, and you for sure stepped on someone’s toe with your pumps. Nevertheless, you didn’t care. You were having your fun.

It was until the song changed from upbeat to a more sensual, heart-pumping song from the loud bass. As if there was a switch inside you, you turned into a sultry mess.

Wasted. You were wasted like hell.

Your eyes turn into little slits as you look around the dance floor to try and find someone to play with. Taking a huge sip of your drink, your throat burns yet you tried to ignore it.

“Ah-hah!” you giggle, walking – or should we say, stumbling – towards a guy with black hair parted in the middle, nicely dressed in a black button up tucked in some skinny jeans. The man locks eyes with you, licking his plump lips as his eyes rake your body.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” he smirks, making you blush in red as he holds your waist and tugs you closer to him. The song in the background was helping you a lot to get into that seductive, sexy mood that you planned to have.

“Hey,” you smile up at him, “I’m Y/n.”

“What a pretty name for a pretty lady.” He starts swaying your body to the beat, going along with you. “I’m Seokjin. Nice to meet you.”

Seokjin tugs your body closer until he holds the back of your head with one hand, making you look deep into his dark eyes. “Y-You’re a new face,” you slur, “You don’t belong here.”

Unexpectedly, your eyes grow big when Seokjin throws his head back as he laughs almost hysterically. “What?” you question.

The man slightly leans down until his face draws near to yours, and you can immediately smell the alcohol in his breath. You didn’t judge though, you probably had beer-breath too.

“Baby girl…” Seokjin suddenly speaks deeply, making your heart jump from the sudden change in his voice. There was a sultry look in his eyes that made it hard for you to keep eye contact. “Baby it’s you who doesn’t seem to belong. You don’t know who I am.”

“Well y-you don’t know me e-either!” You try to retaliate, although it was messed up with your embarrassing stuttering.

“You really wanna know?” he whispers, his lips right against your lips, almost touching yours. You couldn’t breathe properly, wanting to pull away but his intoxicating scent was forcing you to him.

You nod your head, not trusting your voice.

“I own this place, baby.”

You almost tossed your cup right across the room from his sudden confession, totally not expecting such a young-looking man to own such a place like this. Your eyes expand, body staying still.

’Wait! Be sexy… be sexy…’ you thought to yourself after an awkward five seconds of silence.

You decide to chuckle, biting your bottom lip slowly as you draw yourself nearer to him. He lifts a brow up in surprise, wrapping his arms around your hips and he closes the distance between the two of you.

“Really? Well then,” you mutter, “I want you to own me too.”

“Oh, finally. Someone straightforward.”

“Well I – oh!” Seokjin takes you by surprise when he quickly tugs your arm and leads you to the second floor of the club. You haven’t been in this area before, looking so luxurious and well decorated. Although what shocks you is the series of doors that passes through a long, wide hallway.

“Seok...Seokjin,” you whisper, but he looks at you with a smirk, a playful glint in his eyes.

“C’mon baby,” he opens a door and walks you inside, locking it behind him. “Let’s have a little fun.”

Let’s have a little fun.

Yeah. I should.

This is fun, right?

Before you can even process things, Seokjin shoves your body to a wall as his hands start to wander down your sides. With flushed cheeks, you look at him like you’ve just seen a ghost but he clearly doesn’t mind, grinding his hips into yours.

“Mmm, what a cute babe I have in front of me,” he groans, leaning forward to pepper wet, gentle kisses all over your neck and down to your shoulders.

Something feels off.

“Y/n, right?” he asks, his forehead furrows and you nod. “Can I kiss you?”

Your heart starts to rapidly pump inside your chest, feeling as if it’ll burst at any minute. An uncomfortable feeling starts to overwhelm your system, sensing your palms getting sweaty. You can’t look at his eyes, looking anywhere but him.

“Uh, o-okay,” you straighten your back as you try your best to look confident.

This is the perfect opportunity to tell your friends. Having sex with someone like him will absolutely impress Emilia and Sophia.

Seokjin chuckles, shrugging, “Alright then.” And without any warning, he throws you on the bed and he quickly hovers above your body.

“Mmph–!” he immediately presses his lips into yours before you can even react to everything that had just happened. He caresses your cheeks with both hands, his lips moving softly with yours. You try your best to keep up with him and his pace, but you can’t. There was something stopping you from giving him your all. Seokjin grunts nevertheless, humping you.

Seokjin’s right hand snakes down to grab the hem of your dress as he teasingly pulls the fabric up, then lets it snap back down. There was a weird feeling inside your stomach, and it did not feel good at all.

His hand slowly starts creeping up your leg, and that’s where you couldn’t hold it back.

“Mmm, n-no,” you mewl, pushing him away from you. Seokjin stares down at you with a frown, head tilted to the side.

“Y/n?”

Rapid heart rate, the back of your neck sweating, and chills all over your body occur all at the same time. You were panicking.

“I-I…” immediately you stand up from the bed, hiking your stupid short dress down as much as you can. “S-Sorry,” furiously shaking your head from side to side, you stumble your way to the door.

“Y/n, wait!” Seokjin yells, confused yet he felt sorry at the same time. “Let’s talk about it!”

“No,” you whisper. You can’t do this anymore. There was no energy left in your body to talk, to process what just happened, to stand in this fucking club. Home. All you were thinking about was going home.

You twist the doorknob open, trying to catch your breath as much as you can but you feel like you were going to pass out any minute. Making your way down the stairs, you run as fast as you can towards the exit of the nightclub yet a person catches your arm.

“Y/n!” Your eyes widen when Emilia and Sophia stop you, observing your state. “What’s wrong with you?”

“No…” you breathe tirelessly, “c-can’t do it…”

“You failed?” Emilia snaps as she leans her body on one hip, resting her hands there. She looks at you with disgust, “But we saw the guy that you’re with! He was hot!”

Sophia snorts, smirking as she stares at you sourly, “Proves our point. You’re nothing, Y/n. You had such an easy job, the guy’s already all over you and you just had to throw him? Where is he, let me get with him myself.” Sophia struts away, heels clicking as she flips her long hair over her shoulder, leaving you with Emilia.

“What can I say, Y/n,” she smiles menacingly, the corners of her eyes crinkling, “You can never be like us.”

Your whole body felt heavy, heavy like you were carrying a boulder behind your back. This isn’t what you had planned at all, everything was going so well until this! Your eyes started welling up with tears, blurring your sight. You had to go.

Without saying a word, you quickly run away to the exit, ignoring Emilia’s insensitive laugh.

What went wrong? Why did you feel that way? Negative thoughts were clouding your mind as you cried and cried to your poor, soaked pillow.

Maybe you are just not enough. Perhaps you’re not meant to be like this.

It was fun the first time around, and you were actually enjoying yourself. But the days passed and you sadly weren't doing this for your own pleasure anymore, but for the validation of other people.

You should’ve stopped Seokjin from touching you when it clearly made you uncomfortable. There was a line and he crossed it, but you erased that line so you can finally say that you’ve slept with someone. But you guessed it wasn’t that easy.

Grabbing your phone, you ignored all of the rude messages Emilia has sent you, blocking her and Sophia’s number. You turned off your phone, throwing it somewhere on the ground without care before you switched off your lamp. There was never a time that you’ve cried yourself to sleep, but tonight was your first.

“And what do I get in return for this deal?” Jeon Jungkook purrs with a low, dark tone, crossing his legs together as he sits on his father’s fire-blazing throne. Even though he has his own throne for himself, thrones on fire were way cooler. He scans the frightened angel from head to toe through the strands that fell in front of his eyes.

“The A-Archangel says you will obtain a soul. A soul that is longing for hell.” Armaros stutters as he tries to keep eye contact with the devil’s hard glare.

Jungkook chuckles, hanging his head low. “You mean to tell me…” he starts to stand up and walks towards the angel. Armaros tries his best to keep his guard up and stand as tall as possible.

Jungkook circles around him, arms crossed while his right hand plays with his bottom lip, “That I should convince this little girl to prevent doing bad, bad things to stop her from going to hell?” He laughs hysterically. “That’s quite… an unnatural job for a devil, isn’t it? It’s completely the opposite of what i’m supposed to do. Tell Michael that his plan is utter bullshit.”

Armaros takes a deep sigh, closing his eyes for a brief second before replying. “Firstly, Y/n is not a little girl. And second, this job is easy. You have the skill to persuade humans to sin – what’s hard with doing the opposite? Besides, you’ll obtain a soul either way.”

His words made Jungkook ponder and deliberate with himself. He stops in front of Armaros and shows him his signature imposing smile. “I can have my way with the girl, right?” He bites his lip, “Anyway I want?”

This made Armaros’ eyes go wide, mouth opening but no words seem to come out properly, “I-I… w-well, um… yes? Yes? P-Perhaps? Just don’t do anything bad to her.”

Jungkook scoffs, running his long tongue over his teeth as he smirks, “Define bad, Mr. Angel.”

“You know… hurt her.” He gulps.

The devil squints his eyes, absolutely loving Armaros’ reactions. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m not gonna kill her, if that’s what you mean.”

“I’m done with this conversation.” Armaros quickly chirps as he unfolds his large, white wings. “Remember what your main goal is, Jungkook. I’m counting on you.”

Jungkook stops him before he flies back up. “Armaros…” he says, dragging his name long in his tongue. Armaros looks at him, eyes impatient, arms crossed together.

“You know I’m a devil, right?”

The angel chuckles, scoffing, “Oh, I know that alright.” He scorns, eyeing Jungkook up and down. Although the devil in front of him looks intimidating and his eyes are jet black, Armaros keeps his calm. “I’m only following orders. I didn’t agree with The Archangel in the first place.”

“Do you know what devils do to… humans?”

Armaros nods fully.

“And what I might do to… that precious little girl?” Jungkook growls deeply, walking closer to him. He tilts his head down, looking at him through his lashes, “There’s a huge chance that I might not control myself when I see her.”

“What do you mean?”

Suddenly, black smoke appears from Jungkook’s right hand, summoning something beside him. The smoke appears to subside and at once, Y/n’s appearance can be seen through the thin air. Jungkook rests his hips on one side, twirling his hand so that her image spins around.

“This is Y/n, right?” Jungkook studies your face, watching you read a book inside your room. “I’ve never seen someone so beautiful before.”

“Jeon Jungkook!” Armaros bellows, his tone loud yet sprinkled with fear.

“I’m just saying, Angel. You can’t stop me from trying to do devilish things to her.” Jungkook smirks, prodding his tongue on the inside of his cheek. “You might have to reconsider this deal of yours if you don’t want me to have my way with that pretty little girl,” He taunts, already warning Armaros.

“Jungkook,” Armaros’ nerves seem to heat up, slowly getting irritated although he tries to calm himself. He looks down, shaking his head as he pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “There’s no point in doing that. You think she wants to have an affair with someone like you?”

The devil laughs loudly as he twirls his hand until your image disappears. This conversation further proves Jungkook’s argument that angels are actually dumber than they realize.

“If you want me to help you, I will have my way with her. My job, my rules. Understand?”

Armaros feels defeated, but he can’t say anything but nod and agree to him. He can’t fight him anyway. Jungkook dismisses him, and with that, the angel ascends back up to earth.

Jungkook can’t wait to have his fun.

Prancing around, making friends, getting to know each other – Jungkook doesn’t want to do that. Instead, he’s very straightforward, saying words that he probably shouldn’t, he likes to say what he thinks no matter how bad it’ll probably hurt.

That’s what he plans to do with you.

If he gets his point clear, make you frightened, scare the shit out of you, then the job would be complete.

Easy!

You were currently on your laptop, scrolling through your pinterest tabs until you hear loud and frantic knocks on your door. “Y/n!” May shrieks, her voice quivering. “Someone’s at the door!”

Oh no, you thought.

Immediately hopping out of bed, you went out to see who it was with May following behind you. You peak out through the windows and suddenly, you inhale sharply from the man that you see.

He was unfamiliar. Thankfully, it wasn’t Seokjin or Sophia nor Emilia, but rather tall, might you say handsome looking man waiting outside your doorstep. He was dressed in all black, his hair covering his eyes.

“Do you know him?” May asks quietly. You shake your head slowly, “N-No.”

“Y/n… I think you should just leave him.”

“May, I can handle it. You can go now.” You say softly to her.

“Are you sure—”

“Yes.” You spat a little harshly, blazing your eyes at her. May nods, sighing as she walks away to her room.

Gathering the courage to open the door, you took a deep inhale and exhale, calming your nerves.

Once you open the door, your eyes immediately fly to his dark ones. Your whole body suddenly shivers, the air around the place somewhat getting cold as if it was winter.

You can't take your eyes off of the man. You have never met him before but it felt like you've known him for too long. There was a strange aura surrounding the two of you that you can't explain.

“Hello.” He speaks first, giving you a sly smile.

His voice. You've never heard such a dark and menacing timbre before.

“Hi,” you gulp, “Who are you?”

“May I come in?” Jungkook snaps, ignoring your question. He doesn't want to waste any time, that's for sure.

You furrow your brows as you shake your head, “Answer my question first.” You blurt, blocking the entrance by placing your hands on either side of the doorway.

“Hm,” Jungkook slowly shows you a deadly smirk, eyeing your body up and down. “You really wanna know?”

What kind of a question is that?

You quickly got annoyed, looking at him with a scorn. “Obviously!”

Feisty, Jungkook thought.

“I'm the devil.”

There was a long pause, silence filling the air. This man is too handsome to be this dumb. You laugh hysterically, bending over as you hold your aching stomach. “A-Are you… oh my god… please tell me you're fucking joking!” you say with creased eyes.

Jungkook already expected this reaction, and he only rolls his eyes without you noticing.

“Mhm. You don't believe me?” he slowly pronounces his words, voice deep and sinister.

“Nah,” you shake your head, giggling.

“Aren't you religious?” Jungkook pushes you to the side without hesitation and enters, your eyes expanding slowly as his body suddenly comes in contact with yours. “Don't you believe in your God? You believe in angels, right?” He backs your body up and shuts the door loudly behind him.

You felt a series of chills erupt from your system, his gaze locked on yours. You wanted to look away from his intimidating gaze, but you can't, for some strange reason. “Huh, Y/n?”

You gasp. “Wait, h-how do you know my name!?”

Jungkook smirks at you, tilting his head to the side as he ignores your question again.

Your body seems to move by itself, like you can't control your own limbs. The air thickens around the two of you as you feel your body submit to the man in front of you.

Sighing, with a shaky voice you answer. “I do. I do believe in them.”

Although what shocks you is the way his eyes suddenly turn a bright shade of red. From deep black to red, his irises glow.

“What the fuck–” you quickly back away, body shivering in fear until your back hits a wall. You rub your eyes, trying to see if your mind was only playing tricks with you.

Jungkook grins and chuckles darkly, clicking his tongue. “Then…” he draws, walking closer to your frightened figure, “Can this convince you enough?”

“S-Stop… stop playing games with me!” you whimper, feeling your palms get sweaty. “Your eyes are red!”

“Hmm, I wonder why,” Jungkook snarls, forehead creasing, “Maybe because I'm the fucking devil?”

And in a flash, Jungkook’s appearance changes from a tall, handsome boy into a dark red figure. Black, bat-like wings sprout from his back, long horns appearing from his forehead, a spear-like tail behind him. His lips and the area around his eyes were tinted in black while his fingers grew longer, sharper.

You almost fainted then and there.

“Oh— p-please,” your eyes turn watery as tears start to fall down your cheek, lifting your hands up to your mouth in shock, “please d-don't kill me!” Shutting your eyes to avoid the frightening image in front of you, your knees drop down to the floor with a loud thud. “I'm sorry, please f-forgive me! Don't k-kill me! Please!”

“Oh, what a cute pretty girl you are,” the devil grins, his voice more gravelly now. He looks down at your frail self, amused. “I'm not here to kill you. I'm here to teach you a lesson.”

You start to sob as your body shakes, “No! Please d-don't…”

“Do you believe me now?”

“Yes! Yes I do!” you quickly reply, voice cracking. “I’m sorry s-sir, don’t hurt me!”

Jungkook, satisfied with your reaction, morphs back to his normal human look within a few seconds. “Look at me.”

Slowly, afraid to anger the devil in front of you, you obey his words. You sigh in relief when he finally looks normal again, but you can't look at him the same way.

“Stand up.”

You do so with wobbly legs. You felt so weak with your energy quickly drained so quickly. Wiping your tear-stained cheeks, you try your best to keep your composure.

“Anyway, I'm Jungkook,” he gives you an award-winning smile, “I'm sent here to supposedly warn you from doing bad things.” He cringes, shaking his head. “Which, honestly speaking, I think is atrocious.”

He scans your body, biting his lip right after. “A good looking girl like you should have her fun.”

You try to regain your senses back. A devil — a real devil appeared right in front of you. You can't seem to shake the thought away while he’s there looking so handsome in his human form.

With a shaky breath, you ask him, “J-Jungkook? I'm really sorry. I don't know what I'm doing.”

He snorts. Brushing his black hair away from his face. “Wrong. You know what you're doing.”

“W-What?”

Something in the air changes when Jungkook snaps his fingers. A thick, black smoke appears, capsuling the both of you in. “What is this?!” you question, terror overtaking your face. You watch your surroundings getting blurry, blackness covering the area.

“Oh nothing,” he gives you a lopsided grin, “just making sure that your little angels can't see us.”

Jungkook's eyes shine and his pupils enlarge, smiling as you notice how his teeth grow sharper. There were veins popping out in his neck, grimacing at you in pure excitement.

“We can't afford your poor, guardian angel to stop us now, can't we? I don't want him to see us…playing.”

“Playing?!” You gasp, eyes expanding in shock..

“Yes, baby. Angels are so fucking dumb, aren't they? Asking a devil to do their own work? Isn't that pathetic.”

You were locked to him like a magnet as your body seems to fill with utter desire in such a quick time.

Was he doing something to you?!

A series of pleasurable chills erupt from your body, mouth getting dry as you look up at Jungkook with big eyes.

His hand suddenly touches your bare arm, making you silently mewl from his chilling touch. He smirks at your reaction, “How dumb of them to trust the son of Lucifer himself.”

“Y-You… you're…” your voice fades, trying to process his words.

“Mhm. Aren't you excited to play with me?”

Maybe he's doing tricks to your mind, controlling your body – or maybe you’re just fucked up. Either way, you want him.

You lust for him.

“Yes.”

Jungkook draws his lower lip between his teeth, his hands finding its way to your waist, holding you firmly until he unexpectedly pulls you to his body. He lifts a single eyebrow up, “Really?”

Your heartbeat quickens.

“I've… I’ve never been more sure.” Words seem to spill out of your mouth without your consent, as if it wasn’t you who’s speaking. But you don’t try to take your words back.

Jungkook laughs and starts to lift you up without struggle, finding his way to your bedroom while the smoke follows the two of you. “Bad, bad girl you are.” He lowers you down on the mattress, sending you a seductive wink, “I'm so fucking proud.”

He preps himself on his knees, capturing your thighs in between. His eyes run down your body, chills running down your spine from how hot he looks. His figure was so big and muscular, making you feel like he can destroy your frail self.

“Look at this, you look so fucking delicious baby.”

His hand suddenly flies down to your armpits, roughly handling you as he carries you up as he sits down on the bed, his back pressed against the headboard, as he places you in between his legs.

You hold back a whimper as he pushes your body closer to him. Hearing him growl deeply made your cunt throb, feeling a strange wet feeling down there.

“Demons can't help humans,” he mutters lowly, his lips right against the shell of your ear. “They want you to sin and sin and sin until the day you fucking die.”

His hands play with your shirt until in a quick flash, he rips the cotton material in half, your body shivering as it has been exposed to the cold air. “Ohh,” you whimper, covering your body with your arms.

“Nu-uh,” Jungkook grins behind you, “Don't do that, baby.” He leans down and starts pressing wet and sloppy kisses all over your shoulders, running his mouth up to your neck. “Don't try to hide away from me.”

He sucks on the soft skin of your neck, his big dick throbbing in his pants from the way you were constantly squirming. You were so sensitive, and it made him so horny. He hums, marking your skin in bright red and purple bruises.

“Ahh, Jungkook,” you moan, throwing your head back until it rests right against his shoulder.

His hands suddenly fly to your breasts, his long and slender fingers pinching and twisting your hardened nipples. You bite your bottom lip as you can't seem to open your eyes from the feeling. It was until Jungkook suddenly digs his nails into your nipples, pinching them roughly that made you jolt right up.

“Oh, t-that hurts,” you cry, the stinging feeling of his sharp nails pinching your buds. Jungkook watches your face contort, digging his nails even harder. He feels your body twitch, hearing your gentle whines and mewls.

“Ohhh you don't like it baby, does it hurt too much for your sensitive, precious body?” he mocks a concerned tone. “Hm?”

He was playing games with you, that's for sure. You nod your head up and down, trying to push his hands away. “Mhm…”

Thankfully, he does stop but he quickly cups your breasts with both hands. He feels your rock-hard nipples pushing against his rough palms, kneading your boobs until he finally lets go.

“Take these off,” he instructs you to pull your shorts down, and you do so. With trembling hands, you swiftly tug them off of your legs.

“Mmm, fuck,” he grunts behind you, his right hand lowering down from your stomach until it reaches the destination right against your clothed pussy. His fingers slowly trace down your slick, feeling how wet you are through your panties.

He smirks cockily, “You're fucking drenched, baby. Are you this horny?” he rubs your clit in slow, circular motions with just the right amount of pressure with the tips of his two fingers, your legs shivering. “Want something to stuff that little hole of yours?”

He pulls your underwear down to your thighs, and you instantly shake it off with your legs. Jungkook pushes your legs apart, forcing your knees up with your feet flat on the mattress. Your cunt flutters around air from the exposure. You whine when his left arm possessively wraps around your stomach, his biceps flexing when he holds you tightly.

“Stay fucking still,” he growls, his warm hand cupping your bare cunt. He chuckles, prodding his tongue against his cheek as he plays with your folds. He uses two slender fingers to spread your labia apart and you can feel your glistening arousal drip from your hole down to your ass.

Jungkook hums in satisfaction, spreading your lips wider, making you emit a moan. “Jungkook—”

“No. I want you to call me something…” he elongates the pause in his sentence to suddenly insert the tip of his middle finger in your pussy, causing you to jump. “Something else, baby.”

“Ah-ahh, what?” your legs couldn't stop trembling as he pushes his finger deeper, your walls sucking it in deliciously.

You can feel him smirk against the skin of your neck, he snickers, “Starts with the letter D.”

Your eyes squint in confusion, tilting your head up to look at him. Jungkook, with his glowing red eyes, scans your face with a quirked eyebrow expectantly.

“Devil?”

Jungkook scoffs loudly and instantly pushes the rest of his finger in your cunt, immediately pumping in and out at a rapid pace. Your hands quickly hold onto his arm that was wrapped around you, mouth agape from the sudden thrusts. “Ohhh!” your body shakes, leaning your head against him. Electric waves of pleasure run through your body, being new to the sensation.

He growls as he removes his finger out to slap your pussy harshly, hitting your sensitive clit. “Wrong.”

“Oww…” you mewl, your hips bucking up from the sting. He does this again, and again, and again, making your eyes watery. He tightens his hold on you, stopping you from squirming too much.

“Daddy.” He purrs.

Your body instantly feel a series of shivers.

“Call me daddy.” Jungkook bites your neck roughly while he inserts his digits back, this time using his middle and ring finger. You hiss in pleasure, eyes tempting to roll back when he brushes the sponge-like texture inside your pussy.

“Shit, right there daddy,” you curse, rolling your hips against his hand for more. “Right there!”

Jungkook feels his cock harden even more, precum dripping down his tip as it twitches against his clothes. The way you pronounce that certain word drove him crazy. Jungkook loves how your body easily crumbles beneath him as you allow him to have all the control. He pounds your pussy faster with his hand, putting his bicep to good use.

You were about to cum, the feeling of a tightness inside your tummy, a ball about to burst at any second. You warn Jungkook, “Daddy, i-i think… I think I'm gonna c-cum,” you sob.

“I know.” He says simply, fucking you harder. Suddenly, he pushes his index finger in, three digits stretching your walls out. You cry loudly, thrashing around him as high-pitched moans carelessly leave your mouth. “Shiiiiit, d-daddy!”

“Need to stretch this little pussy out for my cock” he purrs, “cuz’ we don’t want that tiny hole of yours to split into two, right baby?”

Your toes curl, nails digging into the skin of his arm as you fail to warn him that you're gonna cum any second now. Although he can feel the way your pussy was pulsing around his long fingers. He angled his hand until your clit was brushing against his palm, “Daddy! Ohh fuck, just l-like that!”

Until it all stops.

All of the pleasure stops when Jungkook pulls his fingers out.

“Fuuuuuuuck!” you yell, never been more frustrated before as he denies your orgasm. You were about to cum so hard. Your legs shake uncontrollably, scratching his arms as your body shudders. Your poor cunt pulsates rapidly from the sour loss. You were a whimpering, sobbing mess.

Laughing dryly behind you was Jungkook, licking his fingers clean as he watches your dignity wash away right in front of his eyes.

“Fuck you,” you scowl, pushing away his arms and turning to face him. “Fuck. You.”

But he wasn't bothered at all, of course. He was the devil after all. He had no remorse.

Before you know it, Jungkook wraps his hand around your throat and swiftly pulls you close to his face. You gulp, terrified from the intimidating look in his eyes.

Jungkook thinks that he can easily kill you then and there. If it were a different person, he wouldn't hesitate to snap their neck like a stick. Usually he would feel tempted to physically hurt a person in this kind of situation. But no. He likes you. He likes you too much to kill.

“Take my cock out.”

Even though you hate him for denying your orgasm so brutally like that, you nod your head. Jungkook removes his shirt as you scoot down. You were careful to unbutton his pants, heart rate going faster from the thought of seeing his cock right in front of your face. By the look of the large tent evident, he was gonna be huge. Jungkook watches you with heavy eyes, running his hand through your hair softly.

You pull the garment down and your mouth visibly waters from the sight. The outline of his cock was evident from his briefs, long and thick and was certainly rock hard. You were so afraid to even touch it as you let your hands sit right on his thighs.

“Haven't done this before?” he asks, rubbing your cheek with one hand. You shake your head, afraid to look at his glaring eyes.

Jungkook chortles, quickly pulling his underwear down by himself.

His cock immediately springs out and rests on his abdomen. With wide, surprised eyes, you notice his red tip leaking so much precum, dripping down his abs. You involuntarily whine and wiggle your hips in need, your wetness dripping down your thigh.

“Take it in your mouth.” He orders, voice strict and demanding.

“But—”

“Did I stutter?”

“No daddy.” You whisper, looking away and finally gathering the courage to wrap your hands around his girth. You clench your thighs together when you feel him against your palm – warm and heavy, yet the skin was soft at the same time. When you stroke his shaft up and down watching how his precum pours down to your hands, providing you lubrication as it coats his cock.

Jungkook throws his head back as he smiles down at you, feeling so good. He bucks his hips up repeatedly, meeting your timid strokes.

His patience runs out and slaps your hand away, gripping his cock tightly. Suddenly, he slaps his dick on your cheek, making lewd and wet sounds. “Open your fuckin’ mouth.”

Obeying his command, you wrap your lips around his leaking tip. You taste the saltiness of his seed on your tongue, trying your best to take more of him. His thick girth was making it hard for you as your jaw immediately feels sore.

His hand flies to grip your hair, making you whine around his cock, causing vibrations. “Look at that pretty little mouth tryna’ take this cock,” he smirks, “Go deeper baby. Gag around my cock if you don't wanna be punished.”

Your hips swivel in need from his words, pussy soaking like a river. You slack your jaw as you sink down on his cock, trying to ignore the harsh gags when his tip hits the back of your throat. Jungkook growls loudly above you, seeing that the corners of your mouth were dripping in saliva.

He uses both of his hands to force you deeper. Your eyes start to water when you swallow just half of his big dick, already being too much for you. The harsh and wet gagging sounds were music to Jungkook's ear, loving to see you struggle. “Mhm, fuck yes,” he grunts, “Choke on that big dick.”

He keeps you down there, feeling sinister as his devilish instincts get the best of him. He ignores your cries and pleads, only focusing on the feeling of the sweet vibrations whenever you moaned around him. Or whenever your throat closes around his shaft when you choked, it was all too good for him.

You immediately tapped on his thighs furiously when you can't take it anymore, but what did he do? He starts fucking your mouth with sharp thrusts of his hips. You whimper, closing your eyes tight as your nails dig into the skin of his thighs. He grabs you by your head as he uses your poor mouth for pleasure.

Trying to breathe through your nose, you ignore the burning sensation in your mouth yet it feels too good. “Ahhhh holy fucking shit,” he grunts, feeling your throat tighten, “Look at that – fuck. Bad little girl aren't you? Mhm? You're my bad, naughty girl.” Jungkook mocks, watching the stream of tears drip down your cheeks.

Finally, he pulled out and there were thick strings of saliva connecting your lips to his cock. He groans loudly, his cock twitching as it lays back on his stomach.

“Ohh, c'mere baby girl, come here.” Jungkook whispers and pulls your body close to him. You straddle his lap, feeling his cock beneath your folds that made you hiss. He wraps his strong arms around you, his face inches close to yours. You try not to be intimidated by his menacing eyes, but he notices this and clutches your throat with one hand, squeezing it again that made you inhale sharply. Jungkook sees your pout, your lips bruised from your numerous bites, and he chuckles.

He tugs you until his lips are right upon your ear. “You wanna cum, baby?”

Your body shivers from how deep and alluring his voice was, although you nod your head. “Please, daddy.”

“Oh but do you deserve it? Do you even deserve a cock like mine?”

You hate how frustrated he can make you. You punch your hands down on his chest, whining, “I-I do…”

Jungkook quirks a brow up, immediately forcing your hands behind your back. He roughly grasps your wrists together with one hand, surely leaving a red bruise. He bites his lip, “You do?” He swiftly lands a spank on your right ass cheek, making you moan. “Then sink down on my cock.”

With a puff of your breath, Jungkook helps you align his dick to your sopping entrance. You couldn’t breathe properly, anticipating what will happen as soon as you slowly sink yourself on his thick tip.

“Ohhh daddy!” Your walls stretch out as you take his tip in, making you feel a harsh, stinging sensation as he rips your walls. If it wasn’t with his impressive girth, it probably wouldn’t hurt as much. Jungkook grunts, his cock throbbing from the feeling of your cunt fluttering around him.

“Fuck yeah,” he watches your pussy take him further, your juices coating his shaft. He tightens his hold on your wrists, slightly bucking his hips up. Jungkook lands another hard, loud spank.

“Daddy you're so b-big,” you moan, almost halfway down his dick but you can't take more of him anymore. Jungkook gets turned on from the sweet tone of your voice, the thought of tainting such a girl like you made him chuckle.

Jungkook feeds himself from the idea of corrupting you, letting you know how it feels to truly rebel. Who the fuck cares about what your parents think? Humans are all going to die anyway, there’s nothing wrong with having a little fun.

You start to bounce up and down slowly, your pussy rubbing against him, feeling the thick protruding veins upon your walls. You dig your nails onto your palm, eyes closed shut as you prop yourself up to your feet.

“That's it, baby. Ride daddy's cock,” he insinuates, watching your face contort in pleasure. With your eyebrows knitted together, eyes shut and mouth wide open, Jungkook’s cock throbs inside of you.

“Look at that fucking face, cant take it?” he snickers.

“I can, I can,” you pant tirelessly, legs getting sore. Your brows drew deeper as you concentrated on the feeling of his cock hitting your sensitive nerves so good, already so close to an orgasm from how big he is.

But Jungkook wanted more. He wants it harder, rougher. He wants to shoot his hot cum so hard and deep inside your fresh womb, filling you up. He wants to wreck your body until you break.

So he releases your hands free and instead grabs a hold of your waist firmly, keeping you still. He plants his feet on the bed and starts to thrust his hips up like crazy.

Your jaw drops into an ‘o’ shape and you release a particular loud squeal. Your hands hold onto his broad shoulder, throwing your head back as he continues to drill your abused cunt. His balls slap against your ass, creating lewd slapping noises.

“Dadddyyyyy!” you shriek, eyes expanding so wide from the unexpected bliss of electric currents shooting down your spine. You can't handle it, your orgasm snapping in a quick second. “I'm—!”

Jungkook groans loudly when your pussy squirts your cum all over his dick and gushes all over his stomach. He fucks you through your mind-blowing orgasm, your eyes rolling back to your head as your legs shake from the unexpecting feeling. Your mind seems to cloud in lust as he doesn’t stop fucking you.

“Shit,” he laughs, “look at this poor little girl.” Jungkook caresses your ass before he spanks it roughly, emitting a whimper from your mouth, kneading the bruised flesh right after. “Squirting all over daddy. You love my big cock so much, huh? You horny, desperate little slut.”

Before you can even process what he just said, he flips you over until you lay down flat on your stomach. He hovers on top of you, keeping his dick in without pulling out. You yelp as he wraps his big hand around your throat, tightly squeezing your jugular without mercy.

“A-ahhh oh—” you choke, letting your forehead down to rest on the sheets as he continues to pound you from behind.

He had absolutely no mercy, using you as his little fucktoy for his pleasure, abusing your pussy like it was made for his demon cock. He chokes you harder, almost making you see stars.

Your cunt throbs once again, signalling that another orgasm is coming near. “Ohhhh fuck fuck fuck fuck!” you moan, heavy puffs of breath coming out of your mouth every time he thrusts into you.

Jungkook feels his nerves getting hotter and hotter, his cock aching to cum. He doesn't think of anything else but the way your walls clench so tightly around him. “Gonna break this motherfucking pussy of yours,” he growls, leaning down until his chest presses against your sweaty back. “I'm gonna fucking paint your walls with my cum, baby. You're gonna take all of it, you're gonna take all of daddy's cum in that tight cunt.”

Your legs squirm, hands closing into fists as you hit the bed over and over from how sensitive you become. Your hands claw the sheets tightly, back arching from the breathtaking pleasure.

“Ahhhh daddy! Ohh my fucking— ahhh yes, yes yes!” your body crumbles, mouth wide open as you scream while you cum for the second time. Your pussy pulses so harshly around his dick, coating it with your juices, making it more wet for him.

He groans, removing his hand from your throat and slaps your ass again. “Naughty little shit right here.” It was so messy, just how he likes it. His cum covered in your glistening arousal, fucking you through your high.

He immediately flips you around again, making you face him. He smirks cockily from your flushed chest and face, noticing that you were having trouble opening your eyes.

He leans down and rests his forearms beside your head, “Take it baby, take it.” he murmurs roughly, his balls getting heavier. “Take my fucking dick.”

Your legs never seem to stop quivering, everything around you seems blurry besides Jungkook's face. How does he still look so handsome and perfect? His black hair falls down his forehead, swaying with every hard thrust, his deep dimples peeking through when he bites his lower lip slowly while he savors the feeling of your warm, wet pussy.

“Gonna cum in you baby,” he pants, holding your cheek in one hand. “Daddy’s gonna cum so fuckin’ hard for you.” You notice a dark, sinister forming his lips as he looks down at you. There it was again, that intimidating, almost teasing look.

He growls roughly, hips staying still inside you as he dips down to gnaw at your shoulder. You hiss, whimpering when he sinks his teeth so harshly into your delicate skin, leaving an ugly mark. “Ah-ahh, daddy!” His cock spurts out warm strings of his seed, filling you up to the brim.

“Mmm, mmm, fuck yeah,” he moans, “take it, Y/n.”

When he pulls his cock out, his pupils enlarge as he sees your arousal dripping out of your cunt and onto your bed. He chuckles, stroking his cock a couple of times to milk himself furthermore, not wasting any of his sperm.

The two of you were breathless, breathing heavily. Your legs feel so sore and you can't feel them either, your ass stinging from his numerous rough spanks.

“Clean yourself up, Y/n.” Jungkook suddenly throws you a wet towel, about to ask him where it came from, although he just stares at you blankly with a quirked brow.

Gulping, you nod and start wiping yourself clean.

He can't leave now. Not after all of this.

There was something that attracted yourself to him. You can't seem to grasp what it is – but whenever Jungkook looks at you in the eyes, you feel like submitting.

It was like your body doesn't belong to you anymore. He possesses your body now.

“Crawl to me, my love.” He whispers, and you were easily drawn to his beautiful eyes.

Still naked, you do as you're told and crawl towards the edge of the bed where he stands. He wears his pants, thankfully covering his goods.

He sighs and softly caresses your cheek with a warm hand, making you flutter your eyes shut whilst leaning against his palm. He hums delightfully, smirking.

“Surrender.” He purrs, eyes drooping down as he looks at you with such gentleness, almost with care. He leans down until your faces are mere inches away from each other. “Surrender to me, my love. And I’ll take you to somewhere you belong.”

Your eyes shimmer, batting your eyelashes as you gawk up at him with eagerness. “W-Where I belong?” you repeat in question.

“Yes, Y/n.” He smiles, showing you his perfect teeth. “Where no one will judge you, no one will criticize you for you. You can be whoever you want, you can do whatever you want. Isn’t that exciting, baby?”

Mouth getting dry, your nerves heat up once again, feeling nothing but anticipation. “Yes.”

Jungkook holds your face in two hands, compelling you to stare unswervingly at his red eyes. “Submit to me, Y/n, and you’ll never worry about this earth’s dreadful problems.” His voice gravelly yet dark, somehow different to his normal human speaking voice.

You didn’t know what he really means by ‘submit’, or where he was supposed to take you. But your mind was telling you to go. Your consciousness speaks to you like someone was whispering in your ear what to do. You kneel before him, still keeping eye-contact. The air around the two of your shifts and it suddenly grows warm as your body starts to sweat.

“Where are…” your voice was breathy, “Where are you taking me?”

Jungkook starts to chuckle, brushing your hair back with his fingers. Suddenly, your heart races when he presses a tender, wet kiss on your forehead. Your eyes widen, heart beating out of your chest when he continues to kiss you down to the bridge of your nose, until it stops right upon your lips. He hovers his mouth right against yours, feeling his warm breath.

He whispers the words so ominously that goosebumps appear all over your arms and legs. “I’m gonna take you down to hell.”

Jungkook watches your face go pale, all the blood leaving your face as you gaze at him with such big, surprised eyes. Without warning, he presses his lips against yours. You can’t keep up with him, his kiss rough and dominating. You whimper when his hand goes to wrap itself around your throat, pulling you closer. His tongue easily slips in your mouth, causing you to gasp. Jungkook smirks through the kiss as he controls the way your mouth moves. The two muscles dance together with such need and passion, hands getting sweaty.

He bites your bottom lip, chewing on the soft flesh while he gently rolls it against his teeth. Jungkook growls, eyebrows furrowing. He can’t seem to get enough of you, wanting you all for himself. He’s addicted to you; your scent, your beautiful eyes, your body, he doesn’t want to leave this earth without you.

He needs you down with him.

Jungkook pulls out as he watches your flushed face, all out of breath. There was nothing else that you could do but whine about the loss of his lips. You were craving more of him. You pout, hoping that he’ll give in but Jungkook just shakes his head with a smirk.

“Answer me, baby. Go down with me, and I’ll treat you so good.” He insinuates, “I’ll treat you like my own fucking queen. Don’t you want that?”

You nod your head furiously, “I do want that,” you say softly.

He clicks his tongue, “Tch, louder.”

“I want it, please. Bring me with you.” Jungkook watches your pupils dilate, growing bigger as you speak. “Please.”

Jungkook smiles. And within a flash, the black smoke that was encircling the two of you all this time thickens and starts to wash over the two of you. You cough uncontrollably yet Jungkook just stands there and watches. The smoke fills your lungs until you lose consciousness.

Sounds of the crackling fire fills your eardrums, and your body tries to accommodate the scorching heat of your surroundings.

Opening your eyes, you see that you’re nowhere in your room, or in the overworld. All that your eyes can see was miles and miles of dark red and black hills, huge torches of fire everywhere, scattered all over the place. There were girls and boys dressed in all black outfits, walking around the place with blank faces, eyes having stripped off of their emotions.

You look down on yourself and thankfully, you were wearing clothes. A tight red dress that hugs your body perfectly, enhancing your curves.

“Y/n.”

A soft voice calls out your name, and you whip around to see Jungkook in his demon form, smiling at you as he sits on his throne. You feel a warm, familiar feeling in your heart as if coming home and going to bed from a long trip. His blazing eyes lead you to a trance.

He beckons you to him for he lifts his right hand out to you. He eyes your body up and down, fixing his posture whilst he runs his tongue along his bottom lip. The way your hips gently sways as you make your way towards him – not losing eye contact – and how your irises burn in desire, it was all that Jungkook asks for.

Your legs move without your permission, leading you up the stone steps to his throne.

His hand was warm when you grasp it, although it was rough and almost hard unlike his human skin, you touch as if there was no difference. You weren’t afraid anymore. Jungkook signals you to sit on his lap, and you gladly obey. With legs on either side of his thigh, you straddle him.

“You’re mine, baby.” Jungkook snarls, “This is your place now.”

“I…” you speak for the first time, “I can’t see my friends and family anymore?”

He shakes his head no with a sly grin.

You exhale, a big smile painting your face. You’ve never felt so content and happy in your entire life.

“Then I love it here.”

Jungkook makes sure that your angels can’t and won’t look for you anymore. He swears that he’ll protect you in every way possible, promising to shield you from anything that will hurt you. Jungkook looks at your beautiful red eyes, feeling your arms wrap around his neck as you pull him close.

The last thing anyone should do is trust a devil — and that goes for your foolish angels.

#jungkook smut #dom jungkook #jungkook devil #btsbookclub #btsguild #btswriterscollective #bangtansmutcentral #namjoon smut #seokjin smut #yoongi smut #hoseok smut #jimin smut #taehyung smut

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burnedbyshoto · 4 years

Text

seven

Rich and powerful men can marry seven different women in a wild attempt to produce the perfect heir. Todoroki Enji is one of these powerful men, and you’re his seventh bride.

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pairing: todoroki enji (endeavor) x fem!reader

warnings: edo period!endeavor (king henry viii inspo), forced marriage, alcohol consumption, 18+, smut, non-con, dub-con, size difference, breeding kink, rough-sex, pain, degradation, & mind break

word count: 5,750

a/n: fuck that family who started the fire in socal. my campus is literally raining ashes up in oregon. im so tired. two exams monday. im going to be going on meds for anxiety and adhd soon, so thats new. uh,,, this is like LOL its a bit bad,,, but I really, really lust over asshole enji who only wants to breed bitches and thats it. this is for the bnharem fantasy au collab, i wan’t that creative sorry see ya later skaters.

PLEASE CAREFULLY READ THE WARNINGS. PLEASE CAREFULLY READ THE WARNINGS. PLEASE CAREFULLY READ THE WARNINGS.

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One.

Fate: Spared.

Two.

Fate: Executed.

Three.

Fate: Died during childbirth.

Four.

Fate: Spared.

Five.

Fate: Executed.

Six.

Fate: Executed.

Seven.

Fate: Unknown.

Silks and expensive cloth held a scent that was irreplicable.

The smooth smell of the layers upon layers of fabric wrapped around your body did nothing to quench the building layer of ice in your stomach.

You were scared.

Rightfully so.

Six women came before you, and if you wanted to live, you would have to do better than them.

Marrying the Todoroki Clan head was something that most women could only dream of accomplishing in this day and age. The Todoroki’s, after all, are strong, rich, powerful, undefeated. They held the real power in this age, more influential and notable than the emperor that repeatedly begged the family for support, be it in power, strength, or money.

But, it was also known knowledge that the man who sat at the head of the clan, who held the power of the Todoroki name and future, was a man not to be trifled with.

Todoroki Enji was an endeavor of a man.

There had always been whispers about the head of the family, how he stood eight feet tall, and how his body was not lean like most warriors, but thick and savagely sturdy. His hair was red, blessed by the sun some claimed, or cursed by the devil others alleged. His temper and barbaric nature on the battlefield were, of course, rumored by the people on your lands, who had been indebted by the Todoroki Clan because of their protection and profits.

Todoroki Enji was not a man to be trifled with.

Especially not if the rumors were true.

He was painted as a demon by everyone. Still, Enji was no demon, he was human, and if he was to allow the Todoroki Clan's legacy to continue, he needed an heir… but since he was human, he was aging.

Six women.

You knew that it was six women because you had been alive to experience five of them.

You remember the newly married couple being paraded through the streets.

Todoroki Enji remained hidden within his vehicle's confines while his new wife, doe-eyed, smiling, effervescent, would greet the gathered crowds. You often wondered what they thought when you would conjure in respect for the man who ensured your childhood and adolescence were not corrupted by thieves and horror.

You wondered what she thought when promising the village elders that she would produce a strong, male heir. You raised an eyebrow at the thought that maybe, just maybe they believed that they would be different -- be able to birth a strong, capable male heir.

Six wives.

Twenty children.

Two weak, sickly boys.

A whole clan of girls.

Were they idiotic, blind, or batshit insane to ever believe that they would be different?

You undoubtedly didn’t know.

Three of the six had been executed.

Three of six had been proud to state they would produce a strong male Todoroki heir, noting that his two sons -- Touya and Natsuo -- would be removed from the family as soon as their strong son was born.

One of those three birthed a weak, sickly baby boy. She passed in childbirth and took him with her one day after.

Another of those three birthed four girls, two sets of twins because, of course, they were given two chances. She was executed on treason.

The final of those three had simply pissed him off; rumor had it. Her pussy was too tight, unwilling to sheath the thick massive cock that belonged to him… no point in breaking something that wouldn’t bend when there was more pussy out there (you remember she had been ugly too).

But what you didn’t expect was for his clan members to come through your village's streets with an announcement in hand.

Of the six women before you, three had held significant political power -- the three that survived.

Of the remaining three, there was a poet, the other a woman soldier of his, and the last being a clan member.

You had never known what the decision process was, not even a little bit, so when men dressed in dark robes with the Todoroki sigil and katana’s strapped to their sides infiltrated your village, you were on edge.

“All women who are fertile and beautiful, line up, and no, we don’t care if you’re married,” was the short, almost taunting order, and you had never felt sicker.

You were among the seventy females in your village that matched the requirement they demanded.

Your sight was almost glued to the floor as they walked through you all, your fists grabbing your light blue kimono as the men groped the women in line, teasing the breasts of the pregnant women, rutting their poorly concealed cocks through the valley of asses, shoving between some girls thighs with loopy, proud smiles on their faces, beating any man who attempted to protect any one of their honors.

But you were towards the end of the line, standing where they decided to save for last, and you were helpless to it all. You watched knowing that of the sixty-something women ahead of you, none of them remained.

The whimpers, cries, and whines grew louder by your ear, your spine rigid and sore with its tightness as the girl beside you dropped to the floor in her fear. You couldn’t bother looking at her as the parting of their robes seemed to be akin to gunpowder going off in your ears. The horrified squeal on her tongue being silenced when a cock slammed through her lips, the tears pouring down her face useless, if anything, only encouraging their roughhousing.

Your lip curled at the sound of her pathetic whining, the incessant need of her to tell them that she was not okay with this was nails on an iron plate. It annoyed you, it pissed you off.

“Look at this one,” the snickering laughter of a man breathed by your ear, instantly stilling and freezing the anger that was once radiating like fire from your chest. “She doesn’t look ashamed… she looks like she’s jealous. Maybe these common bitches do have someone good enough for Boss.”

Spluttering gasps and hiccuping cries came from the ground, and you couldn’t even bother glancing at the woman you had known all your life laying on the floor, kimono ripped open, and white, sticky cum dripping from her mouth.

“Well, there’s nothing like taking her out for a test run,” came a sleazy smile, and when two hands gripped at your clothed breasts, you didn’t so much as raise a brow at their perverted actions.

You had won in the end against them. Each perverted, twisted intention they placed against you, dirt crusted fingernails digging into your arms, purpling, throbbing cocks pressed into your backside… it hadn’t mattered.

You didn’t budge.

You didn’t cry.

You didn’t make a noise.

A simple smirk remaining on their faces at your inevitable victory against the other women in your village -- against the crying, cum stuffed women who stared at your victorious and stubborn form without a clue on how you managed.

And where did that land you?

In a room with only one window too high up for an average person to reach, white silks and fabrics adorning your body, and ceremonial ornaments in your hair.

Six women came before you, but today, you would become the seventh.

With you, there would be seven women to have wed Todoroki Enji, but you weren’t scared because you feared the fate of the six before you. No, you were much better than them; you already knew that for a fact.

The anxiety that coursed through your veins created that ice pit in your stomach came from one place and one place only.

Your cunt already sobbed at the thought of even attempting at taking his thick, veiny cock you knew was the size of your thigh later tonight.

A virgin like you had no chance of survival.

The doors to your room soon slammed open, and your back stiffened at the sight of a familiar face of an escort you had. His eyes didn’t meet yours; they were focused at the wall, his face tense and tight.

“It’s best we leave now, y/l/n, Todoroki-sama doesn’t like waiting.”

The weight of the white silk on your body felt like a brick when you stood up from your position, and you wondered if the sweat from your pits and palms would damage the kimono -- if it was noticeable. But you had a duty, and as number seven, you had no motive to be executed before even getting the chance to prove yourself.

You knew how wishes worked; the secret was in being silent about your desire… never reveal what your wish was, or the world wouldn’t grant it.

Or at least, that’s what you told yourself every time you heard the all too familiar words of: “I’ll produce a fine Todoroki heir,” through the lips of the dead and the divorced. They had spoken it to the universe, acknowledged what they needed, and the cruel world failed them each and every time.

You were so wrapped up in your thoughts, so consumed by the idea of what would happen tonight, you hardly realized that with the heaving puffing breathes you took to keep up with the man’s ridiculous strides, that you had made it to the shrine that you had been brought to wed.

But you couldn’t even take in the beauty of the shrine to your left because you were more interested in who was standing in the pathway towards the shrine.

Todoroki Enji.

He stood on the stone-paved path, his bulky, beefy arms folded across his chest, the fabric of his kimono taut and tight against his flexed muscle, and a sour frown on his face. It was as the rumors had spoken, you realized when you stopped mere strides away from your future husband, he was a man that looked both godly and cursed.

Bright red hair glistened like copper pans under the sunlight, waving and flickering like a raging fire with every small burst of wind. He stood at almost eight feet high, maybe eight feet, you had no idea. All you knew is that as your feet stumbled when getting near to this man, you were dwarfed, feeling like a child next to their father as you gazed up at his unmoving, scarred face. His eyes didn’t look down at you, but even you could see the clear, sharp blue in them, and for the first time, you questioned reality.

Was this man truly human? Was he genuinely Japanese?

Seeing him before you made your knees buckle in fear, arousal, and anticipation.

You wanted to see what had made the sixth scream to stop.

You wanted to see just what he was hiding behind the ridiculously tight fitted kimono, but your thoughts were yanked away when his hand -- no doubt bigger than your head -- pressed to space between your shoulder blades and pushed you.

“We’re on a tight schedule,” he merely growled, his eyes burning at something a million miles away, and with a small, pitiful whimper, you allowed him to lead the way.

The wedding ceremony was… odd, to say the least.

While you had never been married, you had attended a few weddings within your lifetime already, and never once had it felt so disturbing dead and raw as it had today. This Shinto ceremony, typically doused with symbolism and motifs for the greatest possible outcome for the union between you and Todoroki Enji, was stripped from the shrine walls, leaving the walls barren and cold as both he and the priest proceeded through the ceremony at breakneck speed.

It wasn’t something Enji wanted; you realized that clearly the moment he refused to meet your gaze; his blue eyes remaining on the priest.

Everything the both of you performed together was done haphazardly, the lack of symbols you had always wished to see in your wedding ceremony forgotten, undoubtedly seen as a farce by a man like Todoroki Enji, but still, your heart ached.

You hadn’t noticed when the ceremony had ended; Enji never once allowing you to move, or do anything for that matter, by yourself. There was no use in fighting against a man who’s entire hand fit around your forearm, his thumb even resting against his fingernail -- oh yes, this man was huge.

There was no telling when he paraded you through the streets of his territory, allowing you to numbly speak to the village elders, to allow your parents to press their sweaty palms to your cheeks because god, please, please survive this, their touch practically sobbed. You smiled at them, eyes numb with the reality of what this was going to be for you, but the cheerful tone on your tongue remained optimistic and bright with every passing word.

The scornful thoughts of the sixth woman being too weak to handle Enji had dissipated, and you wondered just what the other five did to survive what you knew was a massive fucking cock hidden beneath the shrowds of his black kimono.

You would survive, you would survive, you would survive.

But far before you were ready to, you arrived back at the Todoroki front, the wooden estate standing sturdy and strong, the air of power and aura almost tangible. The samurai and clansmen who had undoubtedly awaited for you and your now-husband (that was still odd to think about) to return. Pairs of warm, weathered hands helped you from the carriage, and without so much of a whisper of thanks, they escorted you away, heads bowed at the mercy of their leader.

Once more, you were abandoned in your room.

The window no longer allowed the streaming setting sunlight in, your room was in the eastern part of the estate, and with the nighttime coming, the setting sun was merely a memory to you.

And in that room, the tiny, unspacious room that seemed much more for a prisoner than the seventh wife of Todoroki Enji, you tried not to cry.

The door slamming open hours after you had fallen asleep had taken you by surprise.

Enji had left you to your own entertainment, and long after you were served dinner, and informed that no, Todoroki-sama would not be visiting you right now because he was busy, you had sat on the bed in your silks and robes, numbly looking at the star-filled sky. Sleep was the only thing you could do, and with the last servant visit being past midnight, you took to sleep.

Except that you forgot a sparing, important detail.

This was Todoroki Enji’s world, and you were merely his legal fuckhole.

The heavy footsteps of Enji entering the room echoed in your ear, and the door closed behind him, solidifying the end of the beginning of what you once knew.

“Seven,” he growled into the night, and your spine snapped straight.

He loomed above you, the tatami mat suddenly feeling like a brick wall against your side, and you swallowed pathetically at the way his deep, raspy voice sent shivers down your spine.

This had been the first time you had heard him speak, all other forms of communication between him and the priest and he and his clan members had been nonverbal, solely told through those piercing blue eyes that only let you dream of what he sounded like -- of what he was demanding. But you lay confused, your eyebrows scrunched at just why he had called out the number seven?

Seven what?

You twisted where you lay, your eyes meeting his own, and despite the lack of light in the room, you could see the cold, distant glint in his eyes.

“Oh good,” he mocked, his voice low and dangerous, eyes squinted in his apparent lack of approval. “You can hear.”

“S-Seven what?” you stammer, your elbow pressing into the mat, pushing you up so that you could look at your husband, uncertainty and discomfort scorching every nerve in your body.

You didn’t know what to do.

Then, it hit you. The bitter, numbing smell of alcohol coated in a fine layer around his skin, the small puffs of angry air from his mouth letting you know that your husband was inebriated, and your throat clenched when he began to dismantle his kimono.

“T-This isn’t a good idea!” you stammer, the white silk robes you were still dressed in because they refused to allow you a set of sleeping clothes because the marriage needed to be consummated, felt stiff and not protective enough. “You won’t produce a proper heir if you’re intoxicated.”

Enji raised an eyebrow at you, and your thudding heart failed to cease as his robes hit the floor with an unceremonious thud.

Whiskey dick wasn’t something foreign to you; the countless men you had sucked off in your time, the numerous sex stories you had been shared with always had some instance of a man getting drunk and being able to get their cock hard, but this…?

If this was Enji’s whiskey dick, you weren’t sure what to expect of his sober cock.

His cock was already hard, the veins in his cock large, plentiful, and bulging in many areas. It was thick, without a doubt thick enough where it would take both your hands to circle around his cock, and it was long, the swollen weeping tip leaking against his abdomen. His cock was magnificent yet deadly, and your pussy spasmed in fear of having that monster all twelve plus inches shoved into your virgin cunt.

“The fuck are you doing, seven?” Enji snarled, his powerful naked legs moving toward you, his feet pressing into the mat, and his hand reaching out to you. “I didn’t marry you for you to just stare at my fucking cock like some piss-shit baby.”

There was no time to panic, protest, or even prepare yourself for the sudden sharp, dull ache in your jaw when he pressed his monster cock past your chapped, chewed lips.

Immediately, it was overwhelming.

The engorging cock had barely passed your lips, but you were already gagging against the unwelcomed size, the horrid ache sending spilling tears down your cheeks, doing nothing but annoying the man before you. His hands gripped your hair, his eyes not even bothering to look at you as he fucked your mouth.

“Stop fucking resisting,” Enji snarled, his hips coming to meet your mouth in a vicious, unpleasant snap, the head of his cock pressing down your clenched throat, and so much of his cock still remaining far from your mouth. “Take my cock like the fucking whore I know you are, seven.”

You gasp for air, but with his cock ramming further and further down your throat, the scalding heat emitting from his skin burning your throat, making you gag and choke around him in your fear. You couldn’t breathe, you realized in a panic, and your eyes widened in fear, drool and spit spilling down your chin pathetically as Enji hums contently.

“Don’t feel so scared, seven,” Enji cruelly smirked up at the ceiling, his hips lazily, sloppily, yet powerfully delivering his cock into your bulging throat. “I heard what you did to my men, how you let them fuck you however they saw fit, how you scoffed and scowled at the other pathetic weak bitches who couldn’t handle a little groping… I thought you would like this? What is it? Never had a real fucking cock before? A little whore like yourself only gotten shitty little cocks?”

Wordlessly, you begged to be shown mercy, your vision blackening as he choked out all forms of oxygen, his war weathered body unbothered by your clawing fingers on his thighs. No, you were too weak for it to hurt him.

His hands left your hair, and you collapsed back onto the bed, gasping for air, choking, and coughing for oxygen that only burned all through your system, sitting unpleasantly in your lungs while tears and saliva mixed on your throat.

“Where the fuck are do you think you’re going, seven?” Enji barked, his body suddenly looming over yours, and you felt trapped, unable to move as the mountain of a man trapped you between his sturdy arms and legs. His cock, warm and sticky with your spit and his precum, sat heavily on your stomach, the size difference between the two of you even more pronounced when the tip of his cock rested at the bottom of your ribcage. “All you did was lube up my cock for your stupid, tight pussy. Don’t think I was satisfied with that childish blowjob -- next time, if you want to cry, make sure it’s loud enough that I feel it against my cock.”

You pathetically moan at his words, the tears still falling from your eyes because your throat and jaw hurt. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt.

“Please,” you gasped as his cinder hot hands pressed to your breasts against your kimono, he quickly enveloped your tender flesh in his hands despite the fabric. “Please, no more.”

“I don’t remember this marriage being about you,” he mocked, and with no more of a glinting snarl of his mouth, he tore the kimono straight off your body. The horrified scream that left your lips was silenced by the echoing slap across your face.

Pain blistered at the side of your face, and the resulting tears couldn’t be felt against your numbed skin as Enji continued his conquest, his fingers pulling and ripping any and all fabric pressed against your body.

“Get away!” you weakly whimpered, body trembling and twisting as you attempted to escape the man looming above you, finally ridding you of all dresses, hands pressing to the back of your thighs to push you into a position that he liked. “Leave me alone, leave me alone…”

There was no fire in your words, nothing but the aching fear and undeniable terror.

But the words did nothing to Enji, who continued to move you so that your tight, virgin cunt lined up with his throbbing, red cockhead. Even like this, your face was pressed into his chest. His body unworldly larger than yours, incredibly goliath compared to you.

“You know, seven, if you keep trying to escape me and you keep trying to save yourself, then why are you so fucking wet with everything I’ve done?” he growls down at you, his piercing blue eyes staring straight through you, the tears falling down your face doing nothing but encouraging him because he was right… your cunt, just like his cock, was wet, dripping with the undeniable pleasure of this all. There was a fire, a shameful fire, in your pussy, throbbing in time with the stinging pulse in your face that begged for Enji’s cock despite it all. “You fucking tiny little slut… I can feel just how my actions -- how my words -- affect you, getting you off like a bitch in heat! Your efforts to hide it are pathetic, fucking useless.”

Pain.

If you thought you knew what pain was before right now, you had to be wrong.

Enji’s girth was overwhelming, nearly splitting your shuddering tight walls while he buried his cock entirely within you. Nausea builds in the back of your throat, a soundless shriek breaking past your bleeding lips, your hips bucking in their relentless attempt to adjust to the way that he was splitting your walls in two, and your face flushed in pain and lust press into his chest, the only part of him you could touch.

Fuck, fuck, “fuck!” you cried, fat and painful tears pushing past your eyes, dripping down the apples of your cheeks while Enji sighed at the feeling of your hot cunt against his cock, blood seeping out of your pussy in such a pretty way he couldn’t help but smile.

“You’ve got a really tight cunt,” he observes, his hips slamming against you without warning, his mind only caring about him, setting off another round of painful screams while he situates within you. “Mhm, this is nice. A tight, young pussy always means a good womb, you’ll give me the heir I need… I’ll make sure to fuck you full of my cum.”

His hips then begin to thrust upward into you, the tip of his cock unable to reach the beginnings of your walls that he seemed to attempt to get to with each powerful blow. But it was his girth that had your body tensed, back arched in pain, eyes clenched in nothing but pain.

Pain.

“Hey.” SLAP. Your head snapped to the side, a burning, stinging pain on your cheek, alerting you that your eyes were closed. Your piqued breathing spluttered and so spaced between it was as if you were having some sort of asthma attack. Enji looked down at you, blue eyes burning demonly down at you (you wondered if this was the same look those who survived to see him on the battlefield claimed he had), his lips curled into an unapproving snarl while his hands pushed at the bottom of your knees. You pressed further into the tatami, the angle of penetration only furthering with your desperate screams to be gentler. “Shut the hell up, you’re annoying me with all this fucking screaming. Don’t waste my time.”

You whimper loudly, the feeling of his forcibly moving hips not becoming any easier on you, no longer a wave of intensive horrifying pain, but still a throbbing pain than had your fingernails cutting into his skin. “You have to be gentler! Be gentler, please be gentler! You’re so much bigger than me!!! My pussy can’t… my pussy can’t handle this!”

The fabric of the kimono under your body seared with heat when Enji shoved you further onto the mat, your legs twitching almost pathetically around his waist while your sight nearly blackened with his next action. He slammed your knees into the mat, increasing the angle of his penetration by a tenfold, sending you into another round of howling pain and pleasure as his cock slammed into your cervix -- bruising and scalding your puffy, sensitive walls with every powerful thrust. With his drilling hips and snarling speed, your screams and shouts of pain and pleasure and fear were cut off by an enormous fist around your neck, and his voice echoed from above you.

“Didn’t your dad teach you fucking whore to be quiet, seven?” Enji hisses, his thick hand clenching around your neck. Oxygen refused to flow to your lung, you went light-headed and limp, choking noises emitting from you while he continued to slam his cock in you, your clenching and splitting walls unable to keep up with the speed of the esteemed nobleman of Japan. “You’re my breeding whore, do you understand? You have no value to me except to be breed, to be full of my cum, to carry my child. You are nothing more than an object. Do. You. understand?”

Your head throbbed, the blood forcibly kept in your head, and the lack of oxygen made your world spin.

“Y-Yes!” you choke on your tongue.

“Repeat it!”

“I’m your breeding whore! Fill me with your cum, I wanna… fuck, I w-wanna carry your children! I’m your object, I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours!”

“There we go,” Enji sighs contently, his broad chest pressing your thighs further into the bed, cutting off what limited oxygen you had left, and increasing the jabbing pleasure within you by a tenfold.

“Shit, such a filthy fucking cunt you have,” he groans, your walls spasming against him with his wild, obscene thrusts. He moves his hands further up your legs so that they press against your knees, your legs then wrap around his body, shaking as he makes no effort to slow in his advances, your finger drawing blood from where they raked down his back because he was burning an outline of your body into the mat. Your strangled scream goes unnoticed by Enji, a desperate plea for him to be softer.

But he wasn’t someone who cared.

You were only here to be bred, to give him a son, the strongest son the entire country of Japan -- nay, the world -- has ever seen.

Pathetically, your hips attempt to rise up to meet him, a prayer that it would ease this brutal force he was using. It was too much -- his cock easily overpowering your throbbing cunt.

The sounds of his cock slamming into your sopping pussy created loud wet noises that made you cry in embarrassment. Your face felt like it was seconds from popping out, Enji’s weight crushing you on top of the abhorrent position he was fucking you in, but he found it as an excuse to speed up. His rugged grunts are warnings in your ears as his cock finally hits your cervix with consistency that makes you wail. The stretch he gave you was boggling, and you were progressively less cognitive aware as he drilled in harder. His slams were so hard that the sound of his thighs hitting your ass let out a continuous and loud slap.

His fingers gouge into your skin, and you cry his name like a hopeful prayer as he is fueled by your appraisal, your breath hot and sticky between the valley of his chest. Your tongue pressing against his skin akin to some infant looking to suck their mothers tit.

The force in which Enji slammed his hips to meet yours. Above your ear, the growling pants that mocked you for enjoying this demeaned you for thinking you were anything more than his breeding whore sent a liquid fire that could never match the heat of a conflagration to your core. When your head smashed against the mat because you could no longer keep your head up.

“That’s fucking right,” he laughs, drool pouring past your lips with your mindless babble, your eyes fluttering closed. Pleasure drowned in pain sobs expelled from your lips, invigorating something powerful within the entire family who watches on with impatient stares at the sight of your squeezing cunt around Eniji’s cock. “Take my fucking cock, bitch, don’t fucking pass out yet, we’re far from over.”

Enji was raw power, destruction, and strength. He pistoled into your sobbing core with the intent of getting his sperm into your cunt, to get his sperm that would get him a son into you, other than that, he was uncaring, unmotivated by your pathetic whining and crying. Your thrashing and wailing do not stop Enji, nor do they lessen the pace and the force he’s settled in as the floor begins to creak with every powerful thrust.

“I needa — holy shit, r-right there! M-More, more, more, more--”

“What? Do you need to come already, seven?” Enji mocks you pushing up off you so his back is curved, and your body so small underneath him. “Do you really think I’ll let you cum before me?”

Your eyes can no longer stay open as the only noises leaving your mouth are whines and begs for more. You forcibly clench around him to stir a reaction from him, but all he does is snarl quietly as he continues his rutting force. The pounding is rhythmic. His balls bruising your ass where he hits you. The feeling of Enji’s cock entering and leaving you draws your eyes to the back of your head as you pathetically whimper his name, his thighs hitting your ass at bruising force, only adding to your pleasure.

Each powerful snap of his hips sending your back arching to the heavens, the balls of your feet digging bruisingly into his back. In and out he goes, your cunt nothing more than a cocksleeve for him, and your wanton screams and mewls taking him further and further.

Enji all but laughs into your ear, his hand moving from pressing onto the tatami mat and pushing into your opened mouth, pressing onto your tongue. “Suck my fingers like a good whore, show me that you’re not gonna disappoint me. Suck my fingers.” you sob in the thought, not because you’re fearful of disappointing the man, but because the feeling of his fingers in your mouth makes your cunt throb ludicrously, your tongue desperately wrapping around the appendages, pushing through the space of his fingers. “I’m going to fill you up so good, breeding whore. You’ll be leaking my cum for days. I’m going to make sure you carry the Todoroki gene, and I hope that it’s my son you carry.”

The words incite clenching heat in your core, your lips unable to form anything but a weak, pitiful moan because the thought of being filled to the max with Todoroki cum makes your mind spin. More, you want to milk them all dry. You want nothing more than that. With a ragged breath, a consecutive full thrust that sends his cock slamming against your cervix, Enji cums fully within you. His load is long and heavy, your belly feeling like it’s bulging when he finally emerges from your cunt. His once hard cock limping in his hands while you lay there defeated, his and your intermixed cum spilling from your pulsing cunt.

Your mouth opened, sobbing at his absence, a need for him to return despite your core's undeniable tremor and ache. He’s off your body as well, and oxygen floods your lungs in dizzying and shallow pants, your vision fuzzies out, and you stare almost brokenly at the window painted with the rising morning sun.

Your room was in the east wing, after all.

You didn’t even protest when he pressed a smooth wooden plug into your cunt to “ensure you were bred to succession.”

He would soon leave your room, stumbling out with a drunken hiccup, leaving you to lay on a once white kimono… a once white kimono drenched in cum, blood, sweat, and tears.

You wouldn’t know until two weeks later, but Todoroki Enji had succeeded in breeding you, and you would eventually lay in a birthing room with blood and sweat and tears soaking your skin as a silent baby boy was placed in your arms.

“And what will his name be?” the midwife asked, her eyes wide with joy for you and Enji.

“...Shouto.”

#endeavor x reader #todoroki enji x reader #endeavor smut #bnha #bnha x reader #mha

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