#this reminded me of the lilo and stitch scene “maybe send me an angel”

[hesperidia]

[magic-and-moonlit-wings]

Chapter 55: Movie Night

Lots of quotes from the movie Lilo & Stitch ahead! Fewer quotes, but some, from Trolls and Frozen.

Bold italics are trollish, ~tildes~ indicate goblin.

Content warnings for this chapter: Swearing. Here we reach the story's first F-bomb.

Also, there is some talk between characters about the harshness of life in the Darklands, how Changelings are treated by the Gumm-Gumms, and mentions of cannibalism.

This was supposed to be a light-happy chapter that got feels-y at the end, but then it went and got all dark on me.

Oh, also-also, (Not) Enrique finds out Claire flirted with Jim a while ago and misinterprets what exactly happened between them, but that gets cleared up fast.

Becoming The Mask

Once again, Javier and Ophelia Nuñez were out for the evening, leaving Claire in charge of Enrique. Claire had gotten permission to invite "some friends" over to watch movies. Jim and Toby arrived to find Mary and Darci already there – Jim suspected, like the time he'd 'babysat', that Claire had purposefully asked him to arrive after she knew her parents would be gone.

They set up piles of cushions and blankets on the floor between the couch and the TV. Jim propped the Amulet up on the coffee table they'd pushed to one side. Maybe some of the ghost Trollhunters would be interested in human movies.

"Finally get your fill of the touchy-feelies?" Enrique teased Jim, seeing how they were all seated separately. Jim snorted.

"Not hardly." He pulled the smaller Changeling in for a hug. "Humans just have different rules about casual touching, is all. Freezing to death's not really a concern in this climate."

"Wait, what?" said Toby, dropping the pillow he'd been holding. Jim looked up to see all the humans staring at him.

"Darklands thing," said Enrique easily. "Gets cold there."

"We'd sleep in piles," Jim explained. "I had a bit of a reputation for being … clingy."

"If you weren't good at finding food and soft stuff, we'd never've put up with ya." Enrique proved himself a liar by climbing onto Jim's shoulders instead of jumping back to the floor. He fluffed the hair on Jim's scalp. "Jimmy-boy got his first nickname for that."

"Shut up," said Jim playfully. "Anyway, humans get weird about touching around puberty. I can still hug Mom whenever I want, but Toby gets embarrassed if I hug him around other people, and Claire, Mary, and Darci haven't given me permission to touch them casually yet."

"… Did you … want permission?" asked Claire. "You, kinda, said you were uncomfortable with that, I thought."

"No, it was more wondering if you were flirting with me that felt weird," Jim assured her. "After that conversation I felt like it'd be awkward to bring up that I was open to hugging and such."

Jim thought he felt Enrique growl, to quietly to properly hear. His hand, still in Jim's hair, changed position so the tips of Enrique's claws were on Jim's scalp.

"When exactly did this happen?" Enrique asked.

"Claire kissed Jim on the cheek on his birthday and then Jim said he wasn't interested in dating her," said Mary.

"Also that I realized she might not have meant it in a flirty way and if I was misinterpreting things she could ignore what I was saying," Jim added. The claws retreated.

Claire looked away. "So what movie did we want to start with?"

"Lilo & Stitch!" exclaimed Darci, looking through the shelves. "I haven't watched this in forever!"

"That's a good one." Jim tilted his head to get Enrique back in his peripheral vision. "Enrique, have you seen it yet?"

"… Yeah."

"Isn't that the one that always makes you cry?" asked Toby.

"It's beautiful. Of course I cry."

Stitch was a constructed 'abomination', who shapeshifted to blend in, and his adopted family found out what he truly was and still wanted him. How could Jim be expected to keep his composure in the face of that?

"So, quick question," said Jim. "Is talking during the movie a crime, or is commentary what makes it a group activity?"

"Commentary," said all three girls together.

"Okay, good." Jim and Toby usually talked during movies, unless one or both of them were seeing it for the first time. Sometimes even then.

+=+

"Not guilty! My experiments are only theoretical, and completely within legal boundaries."

"We believe you actually created something."

"Created something? Ha! But that would be irresponsible, and, unethical. I would never, ever – make more than one."

"What is that monstrosity?"

"Monstrosity?! What you see before you is the first of a new species!"

"You have to wonder if she and Merlin ever had a talk like this," Enrique muttered in Jim's ear. Jim snickered.

"And as for that abomination … it is the flawed product of a deranged mind. It has no place among us."

Jim stopped laughing and cringed. He loved this movie a lot, but some of it stung.

+=+

"A quiet capture would require an understanding of 626 that we do not possess! Who, then, Mr Pleakley, would you send for his extraction?"

"… Does he have a brother? Close grandmother, perhaps?"

"Fun fact," said Darci, "in early drafts Stitch was a career criminal and Jumba was an old accomplice."

"Friendly cousin? Neighbour with a beard?"

+=+

"Surely the teacher won't notice I was late if he doesn't see me come in!" Claire narrated sarcastically.

+=+

"I'm sorry, Scrump!" Mary wailed, as Lilo ran back to retrieve the doll she'd angrily thrown aside.

+=+

"Let me illuminate to you the precarious situation in which you have found yourself. I am the one they call when things go wrong. And things have indeed gone wrong."

"As a cook, that kitchen horrifies me," said Jim.

+=+

"If you promise not to fight anymore, I promise not to yell at you – except on special occasions."

"Tuesdays and bank holidays would be good."

The entire group cracked up.

"How does kid Lilo's age even know what a bank holiday is?" said Claire. "I don't even know what a bank holiday is!"

"Maybe she saw it printed on a calendar?" said Toby.

+=+

A raindrop fell on Stitch's head. He fired his ray gun into the sky. It started raining, hard.

"Oh, no, I broke the sky!" Darci cried.

+=+

"Does it have to be this dog?"

"He survived getting hit by a truck, how much more sturdy and not-gonna-die do you want?" asked Jim.

"Yes. He's good. I can tell."

+=+

"I'm sorry I bit you. And pulled your hair. And punched you in the face."

Mary nudged Claire. "Remind you of anyone?"

Like sunflowers, everyone else popped up and turned towards them.

Claire blushed. "We got into a fight in first grade and for like two days we decided we didn't want to be friends anymore, then our moms made us say sorry."

"He will be irresistibly drawn to large cities, where he will back up sewers, reverse street signs, and steal everyone's left shoe."

"It's weird they get in trouble for everything but this," commented Enrique. "Human grown ups might not believe a dog stole a trike, but wouldn't they think Lilo did it? She's fought the other kid before."

"It's nice to live on an island with no large cities."

+=+

"It's not an angel, Lilo, I don't even think it's a dog!"

"Isn't that the rolling thing Draal can do?" said Toby.

"Yeah, more or less," said Jim. "I mean, I don't think Draal bites his feet – but maybe that's the trick."

"At least with those stick legs you've got," said Enrique. He curled into a ball and rolled in a circle around the group. "Face it, you're out of proportion for this move."

+=+

"626 was designed to be a monster. But now, there is nothing to destroy. You see, I never gave him a greater purpose. What must it be like, to have nothing? Not even memories to visit, in the middle of the night?"

"Now, this next bit I don't care for," said Jim. "The Ugly Duckling is a messed-up story."

"What've you got against The Ugly Duckling?" asked Mary.

"The blatant segregationist propaganda? 'A swan will never fit in with ducks and everyone is better off sticking with their own kind'. You don't even have to read it as a race metaphor. Between that and The Little Mermaid, I thought for while that Hans Christian Anderson was a Changeling writing cautionary tales about why we shouldn't get attached to humans."

"… Was he?" asked Claire.

"Probably not. I couldn't find any real evidence and the rest of his work doesn't match the pattern."

"Counterpoint," said Darci. "The Ugly Duckling is pro-integration. Everyone thought he was an ugly duckling because they didn't know what swans look like. If he'd grown up with ducks and swans around, they could've judged him for what he was instead of what he couldn't measure up to, and he might've had a happy childhood instead of only finding a community that accepted him as an adult."

Jim considered this, and nodded. "I guess I can see that, too."

+=+

"Heard you lost your job."

"Well, uh, actually, I just quit. That job. Because, you know, the hours are just not conducive to the challenges of raising a child –"

"Nani, no!" Jim begged. "I know almost nothing about Social Services but I'm pretty sure choosing to leave your only source of income looks worse to them than just losing it!"

"Thus far you have been adrift in the sheltered harbour of my patience; but I cannot ignore you being jobless. Do I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly."

"And next time I see this dog, I expect it to be a model citizen. Capiche?"

"Uh … yes?"

"New job. Model citizen. Good day."

+=+

"So, we saw Cobra on the beach after all the tourists got scared off … D'you think he was just standing there watching them the whole time?" Mary wondered out loud after the surfing sequence.

+=+

"Until we meet again …"

Lilo was about to tell Stitch about her parents. Without thinking, Jim grabbed the remote – on the coffee table, next to the amulet – to fast forward.

"What are you doing?" Darci cried. "This is one of the big emotional turning points of the film!"

Jim paused it. "Sorry. Uh … Tobes and I usually skip this scene."

"I think I can handle it," Toby assured Jim. To the girls and Enrique, he explained, "My parents died in a storm when I was two. A cruise ship, not a car accident. I got kind of upset the first time we watched this as kids, and, we got in the habit fast forwarding this part. I think I'm okay with it now."

"You're sure?" asked Jim.

"I'm sure."

"Okay …" He rewound to the point where he'd started fast forwarding.

"That's us before. It was rainy, and they went for a drive. What happened to yours?"

Jim watched Toby more than the movie for the next few minutes.

"I'll remember you, though. I remember everyone that leaves."

"Do you remember them?" Claire asked quietly.

"Only the stuff Nana tells me." Toby shrugged, and readjusted the cushions he'd propped up his arms on. "I've seen lots of pictures. A couple home movies."

+=+

"Don't run. Don't make me shoot you. You were expensive. Yes, yes, that's it, come quietly."

"I'm … waiting."

"For what?"

"Family."

"Ah. You don't have one. I made you."

"Maybe … I could –"

"You were built to destroy. You can never belong."

Jim blinked fast to keep the tears back. He sniffed, and pulled the blankets more tightly around him.

+=+

"Okay, talk! I know you had something to do with this, now where's Lilo? Talk! I know you can."

"Claire?" said Mary. "You okay?"

Jim looked over. Claire's jaw was clenched, and her hands were tight on the blanket, and her eyes were huge and fixed on the screen, and she was shaking.

"Ah … maybe the little sib getting snatched by otherworldly forces wasn't the best movie choice," Enrique said. He reached out like he was about to go to Claire, then pulled back his hand and hunkered down where he was.

"LILO! She's a little girl this big, she has black hair and brown eyes, and she hangs around with that THING!"

"I'm. Fine," Claire insisted.

"You're sure?"

"We can just fast forward."

"I said I'm fine!"

"Okay …"

Mary and Darci each scooted their blanket and cushion piles closer to Claire's, bracketing her on either side. Jim tactfully retreated to the Nuñezes kitchen to microwave a few more bags of popcorn. Enrique went with him. They could still hear the TV.

"What? After all you put me through, you expect me to help you just like that? Just like that?!"

"Ih."

"Fine."

"Fine? You're doing what he says?"

"Ah, he is very persuasive."

"Is it normal to feel bad for her?" Enrique asked.

"I think so? It's an awkward situation for both of you." Jim selected the white cheddar flavour. "But it's not like there's an alternative. You're not a polymorph. And really, the only reason she's upset is because she found out."

The Nuñezes had the same microwave as the Lakes. Jim didn't find the popcorn setting especially useful for this brand of popcorn – it tended to burn a third of the kernels– so he used the timer instead.

"I never apologized to you for that, did I?" Jim asked.

"It wasn't all your fault."

"Still, I'm sorry for my part in getting you caught."

The Changelings got back to the living room in time to see the unfortunate tourist lose his ice cream for the third time.

+=+

"Does Stitch have to go in the ship?"

"Yes."

"Can Stitch say goodbye?"

"… Yes."

Like he always did during this scene, Jim cried. He let himself do it this time.

+=+

"Wait, how is Little Mermaid a cautionary tale?" asked Enrique during the credits. The camera panned over a photo of Stitch reading to a flock of ducklings. "For getting attached, I mean. I thought the moral of that one was to control yer temper and be careful who you made deals with?"

"Sure, the Disney version," said Jim. "They adapted it to make a more dramatic, less depressing story. And give the characters names. In the older version, the sea witch is actually a neutral character. The terms of the mermaid's transformation are that she's traded her tongue for legs, but walking on land hurts, and she'll become fully human if the prince marries her, but if he marries anybody else, she'll die."

"That doesn't sound neutral."

"Wait for it. The prince gets engaged to a human princess, so the mermaid's older sisters trade their hair to the sea witch for a magic knife and a loophole; if the little mermaid kills the prince before the wedding, she can turn back into a mermaid and survive."

"Kay, I see it now."

"Except she doesn't go through with the kill, so she dies, and because she wasn't really human, she doesn't have a proper soul, so her spirit's not allowed to go to Heaven."

"… Whoa."

"I know, right?"

"I mean," Mary commented, "not murdering somebody is kind of a low bar for moral decency. It's not as if the prince owed her anything just because she was attracted to him."

"No, no, whether the prince deserved to die or not is irrelevant," said Jim. "The point is that the mermaid had a chance to, objectively, trade one life for another, and because she was attached to the particular person she'd have to kill, she didn't prioritize her own survival, and therefore suffered."

"Wouldn't the guilt of murder have caused suffering anyway?" Toby pointed out.

"Not if she wasn't attached," Jim insisted. How were they not getting this? "If she could've just cut the throat of any random human, she'd've been fine. The moral of the story is that caring about people causes pain. That's what makes it depressing."

"Do you like any fairy tales?" asked Darci.

"Sure. Just not most of Anderson's work."

"What should we watch next?" said Claire hospitably. "If we're on a 'sister movies' theme, I've got Frozen."

"Isn't that one also based on an Anderson fairy tale?" said Mary.

"Not really," said Jim. "The Snow Queen was more 'inspiration' than 'source material'. Elsa never kidnaps anyone, and they left out the broken enchanted mirror. Plus it's fun to see all the different ways humans think trolls are like."

"We also have the Trolls movie," said Claire. "I haven't watched it yet. My dad got it for Mom's birthday because she used to collect the dolls."

"I haven't seen that one yet, either," Darci commented.

"Should we?" said Mary. "Any other votes?"

"I'm game for whatever," said Toby. "This one's a musical, right? Those are always fun."

Jim squirmed.

He hadn't watched this movie despite his curiosity, after an online clip of the opening had explained the premise. Getting eaten alive was his greatest fear. Did he want to watch a movie about trolls narrowly avoiding being eaten? Did he want to explain why he didn't want to watch it?

While he debated, the movie got put in.

"Once upon a time, in a happy forest, in the happiest tree, lived the happiest creatures the world has ever known: the trolls. They loved nothing more than to sing, and dance, and hug, and dance and hug and sing and dance and sing and hug –"

Enrique started laughing.

Oh, shit, Jim hadn't warned him.

"Uh, Enrique –"

"Ssh! This is ridiculous. I mean, the huggy bit's kind of like you, but the rest of it – ha!"

"But then one day, the trolls were discovered by – a Bergen!"

"The trolls are gonna –"

"Ji-im! Spoilers!" Toby hissed.

"They were the most miserable creatures in all the land."

Jim grabbed Enrique and covered his eyes. The smaller Changeling yelped and squirmed. Jim switched forms so his fingers wouldn't bleed from the clawing.

Enrique got his eyes uncovered just in time to see the Bergen flick a troll into its mouth.

The onscreen troll's exclamation of "Oh my god!" was drowned out by Enrique's much more lurid cursing.

"What the –?" The girls and Toby all turned to stare. Claire pointed at Enrique accusingly. "I knew that didn't mean 'I'm sorry'!"

"The hell kinda movie is this?! Why would you watch this?!" He twisted to look at Jim, who let go of him rather than risk yanking his scruff by accident. "You knew?!"

"I saw a bit of it on the internet when it first came out. That's why I froze up when Claire suggested it."

That … that was the wrong thing to say. Enrique rounded on Claire. A techno-rock cover of In The Hall Of The Mountain King boomed from the movie soundtrack.

"Why in FUCK'S NAME would you think we'd WANT to watch trolls get EATEN? Is this some kind of threat?"

"How the fuck would it be a threat?" Claire shot back, stealing some cushions from Mary to prop herself up taller without getting out of her blanket cocoon.

"Most Changelings –" Jim started to say.

"DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY TIMES I'VE ALMOST BEEN EATEN?" Enrique roared. "I DON'T! CAUSE IT'S A LOT!"

"We've all had close calls," Jim finished. "Nyarlagroths, Hellheetis, goblins if you catch them in the wrong mood, Gruesomes if you're already hurt, Stalklings, and it's a … popular threat from Gumm-Gumms."

"You forgot the sloorbeasts," said Enrique bitterly.

"Nobody's gotten lichen patches that bad." At least, they hadn't when Jim got out. "Have they?"

"Still counts."

"Uh, excuse me." Toby raised his hand. "I think I speak for us all when I say, what?"

"The Darklands are a hostile environment with predators and scavengers," explained Jim. "That's the other reason we slept in groups."

"Bigger targets, but we could have lookouts."

"Okay, that's its own kind of horrifying, but I was more reacting to the cannibalism?"

"Changelings don't count as real trolls," Enrique said sarcastically. "We're Impure."

He left out the part where they'd eaten their own dead. Jim didn't add it.

(It wasn't like they'd hunted each other for food. Sometimes a Changeling just died, somehow, in a way that didn't get them eaten by something else, and … well, food was scarce in the Darklands. They couldn't afford to be picky.

It also paid to keep watch over the sentry posts. Gunmar occasionally used the Decimaar Blade to post a sentry and then forgot to order them to rest and eat. Once they died, the average adult Gumm-Gumm was a meal for twenty Changelings, easily, if they could get to the body before the Gruesomes did.)

"Okay, we're switching to Frozen." Mary made the executive decision. "Wait," she said, while exchanging the disks. "If Changelings aren't trolls, how does Jim's adoption work?"

Because of course this was the perfect moment to tell Enrique about that, right in the middle of a squabble with his adopted sister.

"For one thing, most of Trollmarket still thinks I'm human." Jim switched back to human shape to illustrate the point.

"You got adopted?"

"AAARRRGGHH and Blinky thought I should have legal standing in Trollmarket outside of my job."

Enrique stared at him. Green diamond-shaped ears were pinned back. Buggy, slit-pupil eyes were wide and hurt.

"You get everything," he grumbled. "Two nicknames, and the goblins liked you, and you could always find food, and here you're the boss's favourite even when you're a traitor, and your human family still likes you, and now you get a troll family too? S'not fair."

"Hey, the goblins liked you, too." Jim was fully aware that wasn't much comfort compared to all the rest of it. "They gave you your nickname, remember?"

"They gave you one, too."

"Yeah, but you got yours first."

They probably weren't supposed to hear Darci when she muttered, "I feel like we're missing a lot of context."

"Shit," Claire muttered back. "Not Enrique told me a bit of the name part. They don't remember their names from before they were Changelings, and they don't get real names until they have Familiars, so they use nicknames instead. From each other or from goblins, he said."

"They don't get names?" Darci's voice went squeaky at the end of that.

"We're trying to come up with something other than 'Enrique' for him."

"You're trying," Enrique corrected. Darci squeaked again.

"Can we maybe circle back to the cannibalism thing?" said Toby. "That feels like the kind of trauma that should get unpacked at some point."

"I would rather leave it packed," said Jim.

"The way you blurted it out like that feels like you need to talk about it."

"Not all psychology is Freudian, Tobes."

"Do your parents still have baby name books from when they were picking Enrique's name?" Mary asked Claire. "Real Enrique, I mean."

"They didn't use one. He was named after our abuelo."

"Okay, so what about your other grandfather? What was his name?"

"Jose María." Defensively, "It's gender neutral in Spanish."

On the television screen, the movie menu finished another loop and started again.

"I tried spelling my name like it sounds, en are ee kay, but Claire said it spelled 'Nrek'. You get why I couldn't use that."

Jim laughed.

"What's funny?" asked Toby. "Is that an insult or something?"

"No, it's goblin, in English it means 'bottle'," Jim translated. "Or possibly 'container of food'." The only bottles he's seen them use held formula for the Familiars, and the word hadn't come up on the surface, so the distinction was unclear. "It's either a silly name or a really morbid one."

"Aaand we're back to the cannibalism."

"No we are not!"

"Na na na heyana, Hahiyaha naha …"

Either somebody had decided to start the movie, or the DVD had that feature where it automatically began playing if nothing was selected after a few loops of the menu.

The conversation went in circles a couple more times, then faded out.

+=+

"And who's the funky-looking donkey over there?"

"That's Sven."

"Uh-huh; and who's the reindeer?"

"… Sven."

"Oh, they're – ? Oh! Okay! Makes things easier for me."

"~Riot~," said Enrique.

"Huh?"

"My nickname. Before. It meant 'riot'."

What are you doing? Jim wanted to demand. Was Enrique just – just giving up on a real name?

"You can call me that for now. Till we work out a for-real one. Better than 'Not Enrique'."

Jim stuffed some burnt popcorn kernels into his mouth to keep from protesting. He couldn't undermine Enrique's – Riot's – chosen name, right in front of a bunch of humans, when he'd been arguing with them about how rude that was for weeks now.

"Oh. Okay." Claire half-smiled. "Riot."

Jim shut his eyes to hide the flaring glow.

+=+

Previous Chapter (Angor Rot gets treated much better, and more sensibly, than in canon, and is correspondingly less vengeful)

Table of Contents 

Next Chapter (Featuring either Otto or Gatto)

A quick thank you to Taycin on AO3 for providing some name-gender context when this chapter first went up.

[joopiterjoon]

Wishing on a Star | KSJ

Pairing: Seokjin x reader

Genre: NC-17, Romance, Fluff?

Warnings/Tags: Vampire!Jin, Biting, Blood, Kissing, swearing, couch grinding, bad Twilight Series references

Wordcount: 3k

Part of ficswithluv’s #FWLBingo! 

“They probably got that idea from me,” Seokjin murmurs. He’s glaring at the screen, feet tucked up and arms crossed next to you, as he watches Edward Cullen step into the sunlight and sparkle.

“You don’t sparkle,” you snort. Seokjin’s jaw drops as he turns to you. “Wait… do you?”

Seokjin closes his mouth and takes a deep breath through his nose. “No, but how else are they going to try and demonstrate that someone is inhumanly handsome? And who is truly inhumanly handsome? Me!”

“That’s not saying much, since you are, in fact, inhuman,” you tease.

“I’m the most handsome inhuman there is, though!” Seokjin shouts, tossing his hands up. You’re glad to have a distraction from the very cringe scene happening in a movie that crushed your favorite book series. “I am worldwide handsome, human or not!”

You laugh at how he thinks he needs to convince you, his girlfriend. “Of course, of course, my vampire from the stars.”

“That’s right!” Seokji bellows, though his ears tinge pink. He starts waving his arms around to recite a speech you’ve heard many, many times. “I’m more attractive than any angel up there! Any demon down there! Any creature right here!”

Contrary to the fanged creatures on your TV screen, Jin was just an average but incredibly hot vampire. Well, what you now knew to be an average vampire. Fangs and a severe vitamin deficiency that could only be cured with blood.

(“Stop asking me to explain it, it’s too complicated.”

“Mhm, yeah, you definitely just didn’t forget.”

“Just for that, I won’t tell you.”)

At first, you’d been a tad disappointed. Sure, you would have been freaked out if Jin was even a Stefan Salvatore or a Lestat. But after a while, it lost its edge. Unlike Jin’s fangs.

He’d come to you in such an unusual way. At first glance, it fits the mysterious, ominous nature of vampires. Last year, you’d had enough. Life sucked, as it often does for people in their early twenties. You’d been leaning out your window with a bottle of wine, asking the heavens to send you someone. Sure, you’d stolen the idea from Lilo and Stitch, but why the fuck not. You just needed someone. You were willing to try wishing on a star for someone to come save you.

Little did you know, your rescuer was below, just strolling home late from work one night.

(“Hey,” a stranger called from the street. “That angel you’re looking for has already fallen.”

You startled. You can’t believe such a handsome stranger heard you, much less called out to a grown woman wishing on a star. Your shock caused the bottle of wine to slip from your grip and splatter three floors down. You almost follow after when you startle.

“Damn, people fall for me, but never from that high up,” Jin laughs, clapping his hands. You frown at the stranger.)

Jin likes to pretend it’s fate, and maybe it is a little bit, but it’s also his personality. Even if he’s not involved, seeing people in distress bothers him. He needs to lighten situations. And that lightheartedness and just how desperate you were had convinced you to allow the stranger into your home. Jin had waited to be invited in, but he insists that’s just manners.

Plus, Jin loves how you met. It’s his favorite thing to tell whenever you go out together. You just roll your eyes, letting him prattle on and on. Because when it comes down to it, he really was the angel you’d wished for (who is devilishly handsome, you might add).

“You’re doing it again,” Jin says, drawing you from your thoughts. He’s right. You’ve been watching him and his pursed lips while you’ve been reminiscing.

“Can you blame me?” You shrug.

“Fluffing my ego?” Jin teases, tossing the pillow from his lap to face you. “You’re asking for trouble.”

“Oh please, I’m more trouble than you’ll ever be,” you scoff. Jin frowns, but he knows it’s true. He scoots closer though, caging you into your side of the couch with a playful smile.

Leaning in to kiss you, Jin doesn’t say anything. He has two modes: all words and no game or just game and no words. Honestly, you couldn’t be made to choose between the two. Especially as his hands gently reach for you, plush lips closing in on yours.

Your body gravitates towards him. It’s no vampire curse. You’d asked him when you’d been immediately smitten all those months ago. You’d even wondered if there was a delayed onset, like something Jin “chose” to activate. It’s simply that Jin really was given to you by the stars. His dumb sense of humor balances your stressed mind, and by god is he gorgeous. You’re reminded each time your hands cup his jaw and your chest presses to his.

Jin deepens the kiss as he tugs on your thigh, dragging your leg to his waist as he lowers you to lie on the couch.

“But the movie,” you whine, trying to catch a glimpse of Bella and Edward running through Italy. Jin snarls, and his fangs are on full display. You can’t help but gasp, unable to hold back the wonder each time you see them. Lame vampire or not, that’s still what he is.

“You want that sparkle bitch over this?” Jin sounds offended, waving to his own form. You contemplate it, taking your time. You trace your fingers over the veins in his arms, up to the broad shoulders that block out the streetlight behind you. You giggle at the frustrated furrow of Jin’s brow over dark yet soft black eyes. Finally, you're pulling him on top of you, wrapping your legs around his waist.

It’s easy, a position you frequently find yourself in. Even though you both share a bed now, you find it hard to take the extra time to make it there. Jin’s hands know their way around your body, how to hold you, tease you, appreciate you. And you’re no different, humming as you splay your palms over his broad chest and roll your hips into his. The place doesn’t matter as long as you have Jin like this with you.

As your tongues meet, you shiver. Jin’s careful, but your tongue still slides past his incisors. They aren’t deadly sharp, but there’s an implication. One that Jin never acts on.

“Jin,” you whisper as he mouths at your jawline. Once he glances up, you fix him with a serious stare, biting your lip and running your hands through your hair like Bella Swan. “I know what you are.”

Jin’s body shakes with a laugh as his head drops to your shoulder. “You are the worst.”

You both giggle, trading the mirth between hushed lips as Jin fumbles for the remote to turn off the cringe-movie.

In the dark, your hands tighten in his hair as the moment becomes more heated. His hips shift forward, letting you know his intentions. You whimper as he nips at your neck, back arching off the couch.

“Do you want to?” You ask.

It’s a question you never dared ask when you first started dating. You assumed it was something that had to be addressed, but not then. In the throes of love, you feared Jin would sink his teeth in and… you don’t know, claim you, sire you, turn you, something. But when you finally had months later, the answer, like everything else, had been less than wowing. Nothing about Jin’s need for blood was arousing. If anything, it was annoying. Like having a craving for something and the business was closed.

That didn’t stop the idea that Hollywood had planted in your head. You’d finally chalked up the courage to ask months ago: Do you want to bite me?

Jin had played it off, saying he only wanted to when you refused to split a meal. He caved soon enough, not actually doing it, but explaining that he found it incredibly intimate. It was a kind of trust. It hurt, he said. Like a farmer raising chickens, he’d become immune to the cries in a way, but he still knew the pain. There was no magic serum from his fangs that numbed the pain. For the victim, it was simply teeth sinking into flesh.

Because of that, he saw it as a vulnerability from both partners. Jin joked and talked shit a lot, but he was a deeply thoughtful person under it all. He believed biting a human was something to be wary of yet cherished. He cherished you, but the wariness had still outweighed his affections. You could only think there was an assurance he didn’t see yet. Whenever you asked, you didn’t push the response.

Jin’s movements still, and he sighs. It’s a sigh that says this again? You prepare to shrug it off, content to be dick-downed by the inhumanly handsome.

But he surprises you.

“Are you really sure?”

The words cut through the stillness of the living room. Not even the breath in your lungs moves.

“Yes,” you whisper.

Jin’s large, black eyes sparkle with the dim light pouring in from the window. Seeing the insecurity there, you follow up with a nod.

“It’s…” Jin winces a bit. “I promise you, it doesn’t feel good. It’s a bite. Like two tears in your skin.”

“Jin,” you start, and you know you believe what you’re saying. “I could give two fucks about vampires before I met you, and now I only give one fuck. And that fuck is that I want to be close to you. This just happens to be another level that you have for being close. I want to be on that level. You are as close to me as possible. I want you that close. And I want to show you that I want to be that close to you. And I only want you to do it if you want me there, too.”

“Of course I want you close,” Jin says, voice losing that lilt he usually has to demonstrate how serious he is. But it’s back a second later when he rolls his hips. “Is that really the only fuck you have for me?”

You roll your eyes even if he can’t see. “You know what I mean.”

There’s a pause. Just silence, just the sound of your hearts pounding. Then, Jin’s soft lips press to yours. You slot your lips with his and brush your thumb over his cheekbone comfortingly. He moves to your cheek, your eyes, your jaw, your neck. He stays there, nuzzling at your pressure point. You close your eyes.

“You don’t feel nervous,” he whispers. You shake your head. You aren’t. You know it might hurt. But you want Jin.

He holds your neck, laying his weight on top of you. You hum at the warmth surrounding you, the familiar firmness pressed to your inner thigh. A wet tongue laps at your neck and you gasp at the sensation, but turn your neck for more. Jin presses a few more wet kisses there, sucking gently as you squirm from the pleasure.

Then, he hoists himself up. “If I do it here, we might ruin the couch.”

“Oh,” you breathe. Good point. Blood. You sit up. “Um, what if we use my sweater?”

“But you love this sweater,” Jin pouts. Your heart floods with warmth at the fact that Jin’s worried about your favorite sweater.

“I have club soda. The blood will come out,” you say. You sit comfortably in front of him. Jin chews his cheek, but then he gets on his knees, straddling your lap. You place your hands on his thighs as he places his on your shoulders.

“Are you sure?” Jin whispers, brushing his nose to yours. He sounds breathless, more scared than you. You’re not scared at all. You want this. You want to show Jin he can’t hurt you and you want all of him.

“Mhm,” you whisper. 

“I think,” Jin whispers back, “I think I’m more nervous than you.”

You pout, but keep your eyes closed, just feeling him close. “Don’t do it if you don’t want to.”

“No, I,” Jin swallows. He doesn’t keep talking.

He kisses you again. This one is different. It’s not chaste. It’s not heated. It’s slow. His mouth works against yours, gauging your reception, letting his tongue slide along your bottom lip but not pushing in. You open for him, fingers tightening on his pants. He keeps edging in, giving you chances for an out, willing to let you turn this into a normal night on the couch instead of what he’s about to do.

Then, his mouth drifts. He keeps you close, a hand on the back of your neck, hips sinking into your lap. It kind of feels silly, having your massive boyfriend straddling you, but you’re too lost in the feeling of his tongue gently probing. He’s searching for a good spot, you realize. You try to relax, not squeeze your eyes or feel tense, to let him know you are okay. You move your hands to his waist, holding him gently.

Until your arms constrict around him with a small squeak in pain. His teeth sink in. At first, it’s nothing but a bite. Kinky, not scary. But then you feel it. The pressure, the pricking, the tearing. The searing heat that comes from an exposed wound. And then you feel the pull. It’s foreign, the way you feel the blood rush from your veins faster than intended. Your mouth hangs open, a silent scream caught there. You tug Seokjin closer and he gladly obliges, one arm hugging you, rubbing your back gently while the other thumbs under your jaw. He holds you secure, makes you feel safe swaddled in his arms and the cushions.

You squeeze your eyes shut as tears roll down. Their meaning is mixed. Both relief, fear, joy, pain, trailing down your cheeks. Jin grunts, shifting a bit, and you bury your face in his chest. Each muscle of your shoulder and neck are hyperaware, and you feel as though you have to clearly think about each as you hide inside Jin. 

Jin, who sucks your very being into his mouth and down his throat. Who keeps rubbing soothing circles wherever he touches. He’s not overwhelmed or consumed by bloodlust. Even as he feeds, his attention is on you. He’s always focused on you.

You cry out as he pulls off, the fangs slipping from your skin like a rock lodged in a wound that had to be removed. But then he’s back. You’re impressed that you don’t flinch as he descends. The same suction feeling is gone, just the lap of his tongue.

“Too much,” you breathe. It feels like you can feel each tastebud of his tongue pulling the flesh open.

“Sorry,” he muffles, tongue trading to soft taps. He waits out your blood coagulating. Your shoulders ache, but you realize it’s the vice like grip you have on him. As you slowly loosen, Jin moves to rub your arms, trying to ease the tension.

“Not as tough as you look, huh?” he says, the words murmured just above the wound. The words are too soft, filled with insecurity.

You shake your head, body ashiver. “It’s just new.”

“Bad?” Jin asks, even quieter.

You shove on his shoulders at that. He whines something incoherent in protest, eyes locked on the wound as you pull him into focus. “Nothing’s bad with you.”

Jin pouts, bottom lip on full display. Even in the dark room, you can tell it’s a shade darker with your blood. “It hurts.”

“It did. You bit me, so duh,” you admit. Jin’s strong eyebrows crease on his forehead, not appreciating your joke when he’s so concerned. You give a small smile, bringing your hands to his chest. “I’m glad you think we’re in a place where you can do that.”

You nudge him, and he concedes. He kisses your lips, and you gasp at the metallic taste in his mouth. His kiss is more earnest, eager to have you responding. He groans when your tongue twists with his and you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Fuck,” Jin groans. “Fuck, it’s just. You. All of you. Feel good, taste good.”

Your heart races at that. Jin’s kisses are frenzied, tongue quickly following your own. His breathing is faster, grip tighter, pulling you into him. He’d said that blood didn’t mean much. It wasn’t an overwhelming desire or blurred with ecstasy, but the real reason got you more. Jin had your blood in his veins, your taste in his mouth. And he seemed impossibly turned on by it. By you. He cared so much for you, it was hard to believe there was ever a time you questioned if anyone, even yourself, cared about you.

“I love you,” you whisper.

Jin kisses you harder, fingers twisting in your hair, breathing in deep through his nose. “God, I love you.”

He starts to lean you back, and you willingly go, but then he yanks you both back up. “The blood! The couch!”

“Oops?” You blink, already so lost in Jin that you forgot. You’re not really sure if you are gushing out of your neck or what.

Before you can reach to check, Jin gently thumbs at the mark. He brings a smear of blood to his lips. You see his expression twitch in contentment, but there’s a flicker of worry in his eyes that won’t move from the throbbing mark on your neck. Whatever moment had been there was now broken by the reality of what happened. You may have been convinced you’re fine, but Jin still seems cautious.

“The floor?” You suggest, then point to the blanket on Jin’s side. “That’s an old afghan.”

“Ah, okay, yeah,” Jin breathes in relief, like he still isn’t sure if you’ll take the chance to get up and run out. Just to prove his worries wrong, you grab the blanket and toss it to the floor. You slide down, patting the space next to you.

Jin smiles down at you, something of a dazzle in his warm eyes. You smile back, and let him stare a little bit longer, then teasingly suggest with a crooked finger, “Come on, ravage me.”

Jin chuckles at that, shaking his head as he lowers himself down with a playful growl. You laugh as your boyfriend, who moments before was concerned over every touch, wrangles you to the floor to ravage you not with bites but kisses.

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