#I will forever stand by 'its always ten past ten au'

[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Baki Short Stories: Violet Kisses

Part 1?

Yandere Jack Hanma x Afab Reader x Yandere Katsumi Orochi (Genderbend AU)

TW: WLW content and yandere behavior

They say absence makes the heart grow fonder… and in this case, Kasumi couldn’t stand the distance between her and her childhood friend. The little (hair color) girl had been withdrawn as of late and Kasumi didn’t know why… it broke her heart that her friend didn’t vent to her. They were eight and ten! They would be teenagers soon and then adults… they had a lifetime to grow old together! So (your name) should be able to tell Kasumi what was wrong.

“I-I’m moving away, Kasumi.”

(Your name) and Kasumi had been inseparable for years and now the young woman was moving away? No. Kasumi’s ten year old heart couldn’t handle this…

Kasumi grasped (your name)’s little hands in her own, her dark eyes glassy with tears. Kasumi puffed out her bottom lip in a pout, her grip was strong despite her size.

“No you can’t move away! You said we’d be together forever!” Kasumi loudly wailed, the tears fell down her face in waterfalls. (Your name) frowned and pulled the other little girl into her arms. Kasumi then began to throw a tantrum. “You promised! You promised! You promised!”

Kasumi continued to sob while (your name) held her close, the other girl buried her face into the crook of Kasumi’s neck. Kasumi clung to her like a little koala, her nose buried in (your name)’s sweater to inhale her sweet scent.

(Your name)’s eight year old body cuddled close to Kasumi’s, the young girl pressed a soft kiss to Kasumi’s forehead. Kasumi pulled (your name) as close to her little body as she could but it wasn’t enough. Kasumi wanted to conjoin with her best friend so they’d never be separated.

“I’m sorry, Kasumi. My mom and dad are getting divorced so Mom and I are moving to Canada.” (Your name)‘s body shook as she began to cry too. “I don’t want to leave you, Kasumi…”

“Then let’s make another promise!” Kasumi pulled away, the young girl wiped her snot on her sleeve. She had to look brave… Kasumi didn’t want (your name) to think she was weak and couldn’t protect her. “When we meet again let’s-“

(Your name) shot upright in bed, the young woman glanced around her bedroom in disbelief. She had that dream again… the one about her childhood friend in Japan…

(Your name) yawned and stretched her arms above her head. She needed to get around for the day before she went to go see her best friend, Jacqueline.

(Your name) crawled out of bed and hurried down the stairs, her feet pattered against the wooden stairs to alert Jacqueline of her whereabouts.

A giant blonde woman sat at the kitchen table. The table was neatly set up for two as she waited for (your name).

“Good morning, Jackie!” Jacqueline immediately rose up from the table and pulled (your name) into a tight hug. Jackie burrowed her face into (your name)’s hair and inhaled her sweet scent.

“It’s always a good morning when I get to see you…” It had been unbearable being apart from (your name) for the last few days. Jackie pressed a tender kiss to (your name)’s head, her cheeks slightly flushed. “Did you have any good dreams?”

“I had a dream about a my childhood friend again… and earlier I dreamed about having a baby.” (Your name) laughed. “Could you imagine me with a baby? Isn’t that silly?” Jackie could see (your name) with a baby. Anyone would be blessed to be with the kind young woman and it made Jackie wish even more that she was a man.

Jackie looked like a man from afar. She pushed her body past its limits, took a daily cocktail of steroids to maintain her physique, and even went as far as to lengthen her bones… Jacqueline wanted to prove to her mother that she was a Hanma too. That she was a force to be reckoned with.

Jacqueline, or Jackie, Hanma was a woman of intimidating stature. Her muscles were bigger than any man’s and her blonde hair was always shaved in a signature buzzcut. Jackie was uncouth and vicious to others… but she only had a soft spot for (your name), her must precious person.

(Your name) had met Jackie in a church when she first moved to Canada. A small Catholic Church that anyone would miss if they walked past it. But it’s where the two of them met. (Your name) had been separated from her mother and Jackie was intensely training to gain power.

Jackie remember how the young (your name) rushed over to the her when she noticed blood fall from her once blue eyes rather than tears. Jackie pushed (your name) away the first time they met. Jackie didn’t trust anyone in the world… her own father had abandoned her to her own devices so why should Jackie trust a stranger?

(Your name) tried numerous times to help the other girl, but Jackie had no interest in her friendship… at first. Jackie was apprehensive. What did (your name) gain by being close to her?

(Your name) constantly fretted over Jackie. She’d bring bandages and small meals to share with the blonde ten year old. Jackie would yell and shout to try to get (your name to leave. Yet it never worked, because to (your name), the blonde looked like a scared animal that constantly bared it’s teeth in defense. (Your name) knew that deep down, Jackie was lonely. And it made (your name) even more determined to befriend the ‘savage’ girl.

It took over a year, but Jackie allowed (your name) in when she felt like (your name) had no ulterior motive. It was the first time in Jackie’s life that someone gave her unconditional love, she didn’t know what to do…

So Jackie showed (your name) she cared in her own way. She chased off bullies and walked hand in hand with (your name) to school. Jackie sat with (your name) at lunch. It didn’t matter that she was twelve and (your name) was ten, Jackie found a way.

Jackie became extremely overprotective of (your name). Jackie chased off other people who tried to get close to the innocent girl. People were horrible… (your name) and her only needed each other. No one else.

As they approached their teens, Jackie’s training went to the extremes and her body began to collapse, but (your name) didn’t leave her side. (Your name) would help Jackie wash herself and made sure she ate and drank enough water.

(Your name) was Jackie’s rock. The light to the end of the tunnel. Her soulmate. And Jackie would do anything to protect (your name)… even murder.

And here they were today living in Japan together in their mid-twenties. Jackie was able to keep (your name) at their apartment most of the time, but it’s been getting harder and harder to since Jackie often landed herself into the hospital…

Jackie was terrified of (your name) finding better. Despite all their years together, they were only friends. Jackie wanted so much more with the smaller girl, but at the same time, she didn’t want to make (your name) uncomfortable.

Jackie pressed her lips to the top of (your name)’s head, her muscular arms still held the smaller girl in place.

“Don’t be mad at me, but I didn’t hear a thing you said.” Jackie chuckled when (your name) poked her nose. “Sorry, I was just down memory lane.”

“It’s okay, Jackie.” (Your name) leaned her head back so she could look up at her best friend. “I knew you were lost in thought. Your eyes glaze over and you look at the ceiling in awe. Is there something on your mind?”

Jackie sighed, there was no escape from (your name)’s observant eye. Jackie stood up with (your name) still snug in her arms, the other girl dropping her toast with the movement.

“My toast!” (Your name) screamed when Jackie playfully spun her around in a circle. “Put me down, you heathen!”

“I can toast you some new toast.” Jackie laughed the tall woman shifter hands to rest under (your name)’s arms.

“Maybe I formed an emotional connection with that specific piece of toast?” (Your name) crossed her arms over her chest. Jackie set her down.

“I will make you a new slice.” Jackie gave another peck to (your name)’s head. “As many as you want.”

“It still won’t be my piece of toast.” The two shared another laugh, Jackie felt her heart clench a bit.

Why couldn’t they date? They were so perfect together… couldn’t (your name) see that?

“You’re my piece of toast…” Jackie quietly whispered to herself.

The two sat together at their small table and continued to eat their breakfast. A comfortable silence between them.

.

.

.

(Your name) hummed a cheery tune as she meandered down the aisles at the store. She was determined to surprise Jackie with a home cooked meal since the blonde always took such good care of her.

(Your name) browsed the various meats until she spotted some beef chunks. She could make gyu kushi!

When the young girl reached her hand towards the meat, another hand brushed against hers.

“Oh I’m sorry-“ (your name) turned to look at the person she bumped into, only to come face to face with a rather muscular Japanese woman. Her dark eyes wide with shock and recognition.

“Ah-“ the woman clutched her hand close to her chest, a bright blush now on her face. This reaction weirded (your name) out a bit so the young woman took her chance the snatch the meat up and attempt to flee, but she was stopped by the woman. “(Y-your name)?”

(Your name) furrowed her brow in confusion. How did this woman know her?

“Um… yes?” The muscular woman pulled (your name) into a hug so tight, (your name) thought her body would conjoin with hers.

“It’s been so many years… when did you come back to Japan?” The woman speech was so quick, (your name) almost didn’t understand her. It didn’t help that (your name)’s face was smooshed between this other woman’s rather large chest. “I didn’t know if you’d ever return… I missed you so so much.”

The woman released (your name) and now (your name) could finally get a good look at her. Thick eye brows, cocky grin, and thick black hair in a pixie cut… was this, “Kasumi?”

Kasumi eagerly nodded her head. The young woman certainly filled out and was a lot more muscular than she remembered.

“Yes! It’s me, (your name)!” Kasumi pulled (your name) into another excited hug. “It’s been almost two decades since we last saw each other… can you believe that? And we’re finally reunited!”

(Your name) could hardly believe her luck. Here she just dreamed about Kasumi and now she stood in front of her… what were the odds?

“It has almost been that long hasn’t it?” (Your name) awkwardly chuckled. It’s been so long and yet Kasumi acted as if they were never apart. “I’ve been in Japan for awhile now so I’m amazed we haven’t run into each other-“

“You’ve been here awhile and you didn’t come looking for me?” (Your name) recoiled in shock at the tears that gathered in Kasumi’s eyes. She hadn’t meant to make Kasumi cry!

“I’m sorry, Kasumi. I didn’t think you’d still be waiting for me-“ Kasumi scooped (your name)’s hands together in her much larger hands.

“Of course! We promised to get married when we meet again.” Kasumi’s eyes sparkled. “I actually run the Shinshinkai dojo now! I have plenty of money so I could spoil you rotten.”

(Your name) burst into laughter, a jovial smile on her soft lips. Kasumi hadn’t changed a bit… the Japanese woman still proclaimed such outlandish things…

“It’s so nice to see that you haven’t changed.” (Your name) smiled at Kasumi, the Japanese woman’s heart stopped beating for a moment. Her childhood friend was still so cute and oblivious… if consumed Kasumi with even more vigor.

“How about I pay for you groceries and help you carry them back to your place? I’d love to catch up.” Kasumi offered with a smile. She bit her lip a bit in anticipation. She hoped (your name) accepted, she wanted to reconnect to her soon to be wife!

“You don’t have to pay for them, Kasumi!” (Your name) smiled warmly at Kasumi who merely blushed.

The young woman nervously ran a hand through her short black hair. Her heart beat wildly in her chest like a drum. Kasumi was so nervous… but she needed to show she was a good provider!

“I insist!” Kasumi bowed her head to (your name). The smaller woman chuckled at Kasumi’s demeanor. How could Kasumi still be so cute?

“You’re not going to take no for an answer, are you?” (Your name) smiled up at the muscular woman who only blushed.

“No I’m not.” Kasumi replied with a cheesy grin. “Hope that doesn’t bother you too much.”

“Not at all. Still as stubborn as always!” The two women laughed, Kasumi scooped up (your name)’s basket of groceries in her arm. “Hey, I can carry that! I’m not weak by any means.”

Kasumi chuckled when (your name) puffed out her chest, the young woman did the same. (Your name) quickly turned her head aways when she finally noticed just how large Kasumi’s chest was. Kasumi smirked at her reaction.

“Do you like what you see?”

“C-compose yourself, madam!” (Your name) blushed a bright cherry red. She softly stuttered, “I-I could see t-the outline.”

Kasumi then turned a bright red and quickly pulled her cardigan over her shirt. She hadn’t meant for (your name) to see that… but a part of her hoped (your name) liked them.

The two bashful women made it towards the checkout and eventually out of the store.

Kasumi carried all the groceries in one hand so she could off her other to (your name).

“Hey, (your name)?” (Your name) turned her head to look over at Kasumi. The sunset made the Japanese woman even more beautiful. “Do you… want to hold hands?”

(Your name) smiled at Kasumi and placed her small hand in Kasumi’s calloused one. “It’s been such a long time since we’ve done this. Your hands are so big and rough.”

“Oh! I’m sorry. Do you not like them-“

“You must have worked really hard with them. I’m so proud of you, Kasumi.” Kasumi felt a few tears fall down her face. The young woman turned her head away to try to hide her blush. “Your hands swallow mine.”

Kasumi was so happy to finally be reunited with her soul mate… a shame she wasn’t the only one.

.

.

.

Kasumi admired (your name)’s apartment. It was so quaint and cozy… she could see herself spending a lot of time here with (your name)!

Kasumi plopped herself on the giant couch. This thing was huge! Why did (your name) need such a big couch? Did she sleep here? Or… was (your name) secretly a wild woman?

“I’ll treat you to a homemade meal since you paid for my groceries. I hope you won’t mind that my best friend will be joining us soon.”

Oh! Of course (your name) had a roommate. How could she be so silly? (Your name) was too innocent to be interested in such activities.

Kasumi laid back on the couch, her mind slowly began to wander. Would (your name) want to have a big house with her in the city or the country? Did she want kids?

Kasumi glanced over at (your name) who had wrapped a frilly apron on. Kasumi felt a heat wash over her in an instance. Most definitely kids. She wondered if (your name) would want to carry them herself or adopt. Either option was amazing to Kasumi!

Kasumi admired how much her childhood friend had filled out… she looked so soft. She wondered if (your name) still smelled sweet?

The door creaked open to reveal a giant blonde woman… wait. Jacqueline Hanma?!

Jackie froze when she saw Kasumi sitting on her couch. The blonde nearly exploded until (your name) came toddling over with her arms wide open.

“Jackie! You’re finally home!” Jackie pulled (your name) into an immediate hug, the blonde relished in the hostile glare Kasumi gave her. That’s right, karate brat, (Your name) was her girlfriend.

Jackie bent down and pressed a kiss to the top of (your name)’s head. Her brown eyes glanced over at Kasumi, she reluctantly pulled herself away from (your name)

“It seems we have a guest…”

“Oh! Jackie, this is my childhood friend, Kasumi!” (Your name) happily introduced the two, unaware that they were already well acquainted. “Kasumi, this is my best friend, Jackie-“

“We already know each other.” Jackie cut off (your name) with a grunt. The blonde protectively placed a hand on (your name)’s hip.

“Yes we do.” Kasumi stood up and made her way over to (your name). Kasumi and Jack glared at each other. “(Your name)? How about we exchange numbers? I’ll drop by another time.”

“Oh okay!” (Your name) smiled brightly at Kasumi who gave Jackie a smirk. The two women quickly exchanging numbers. “I’m sad you can’t join us for dinner… you were so kind to help me today.”

Kasumi boldly scooped (your name)‘s hand up in hers and gave a soft kiss to her knuckles. Kasumi gave her a flirty wink. “Anything for my future wife.”

Kasumi then left the apartment, making sure to bump her shoulder into Jackie’s. Jackie felt bile rise up into her throat from this interaction.

Kasumi was pretty and masculine… and she was interested in (your name). Jackie glanced over at (your name) whose face was full of concern.

“Jackie, are you okay? You look troubled.”

Jackie bent down and placed a kiss on (your name)’s nose. (Your name) was always so cute and sweet to her… she loved her so much. It started to become unbearable.

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” Jackie softly asked, the woman knelt down to rest her forehead against (your name)’s.

(Your name) smiled at Jackie, her (eye color) eyes filled with care. “No but I can see it in your eyes. I love you too-“

Jackie tenderly pecked (your name)’s lips which threw the other girl off.

“No… I’m in love with you.” Jackie whispered. “I’m madly and irrevocably in love with you. Do you feel the same way?”

#baki the grappler #baki hanma #baki son of ogre #baki x reader #baki the grappler x reader #yandere baki #yandere #yandere imagine #yandere fic #female reader #yandere genderbend #sapphic #sapphism #Yandere lesbian #wlw #yandere wlw #yandere katsumi orochi #baki katsumi orochi #katsumi orochi x reader #orochi katsumi #katsumi orochi #yandere jack hanma #jack hanma baki #jack hanma x reader #baki jack hanma #jack hanma #genderbend

[earthtooz]

Its not levi,but can i pls ask for some gojo x female reader comfort?im having an awful day and im starting to cry 🥺 i would love to read ur writing 🥺💜

pairing: gojo x gn!reader

synopsis: the three times you give gojo a love letter and the one time he returns the favour / high school au

warnings: 1.5k words, fluff fluff fluff, swearing maybe?? idk i'm the writer and i swear a lot, NO PRONOUNS!

a/n: i loved writing this heheh, 3+1 tropes my beloved. also i hope everything is okay anon! this message was sent a while ago, i'm sorry i couldn't post anything earlier but regardless, if you manage to see this then i wish u all the love <3 thanks for dropping by and i hope this managed to cheer you up in some capacity! @limitlesshq i posted it hehe

you approach him that fateful day with an unimpressed expression, a small letter sealed with a kiss between your hands, "hey, stupid."

gojo turns around, face widening into a smile once he notices you approaching him, he straightens up a little, standing taller despite him towering you regardless. "y/n! to what do i owe the pleasure?"

coming to a halt before him, you hand him the love letter that you've been nursing for the past ten minutes, simply trying to find him as you zip through the hallways.

"for you," you mutter. gojo feels his heart come to a stop when he sees a pink card in the shape of a love heart in your hands. there's a scented sticker on there too. his face morphs into a huge grin, unable to contain his elatedness, not when he's been waiting for this moment forever, dreaming of the day when you would-

"-it's not mine," his world dulls, "it's from a girl in class b. wanted me to give it to you."

gojo takes the piece of paper, his happy expression now turned sour as he looks at the offensive piece of thing.

you pat him on the shoulder, "what's got your smile turning upside down?"

"nothin'"

slinging your bag over your shoulder, you wave goodbye to the white-haired before embarking on your way home and he stands there, utterly defeated. this was the worst way to end the day.

gojo is no stranger to love confessions, receiving them more often than not, whether it be in the form of chocolates, flustered students who have trouble containing their cool around the heavenly man, or pretty letters with scribbles of love declarations, gojo satoru has discarded every one of them.

he's flattered. really, he is, but the only person he wants a confession from is the one who is walking away from him at this very moment.

***

the second time you give gojo satoru a love letter, his heart does that stupid thing again, but it quiets down when it recalls the first encounter. he captures a glimpse of the handwriting and immediately knows it's not yours.

"got a delivery for gramps," you joke, dropping the letter into his textbook, "another one. upperclassman above wanted to give this to you actually, said to leave the message that he was doing this for shits and giggles but he seemed really flustered so... i don't know."

"thanks," gojo murmurs, scanning the paper. he notices you walking away from the corner of his eye. "hey, y/n, wait."

you turn around at look at him expectantly with the slight smile that's always managed to brighten his day.

"would you like to visit the new dog café soon?" asks gojo.

"of course! just text me and i'll be there. cya 'toru."

"see you."

he frowns when you walk away, fingers absentmindedly playing with the love letter as gojo yearns for your presence once more. he didn't get to see enough of that smile yet.

***

the third time you give gojo satoru a love letter, he gets restless.

"look what i got," you greet as you approach the white-haired man perched on a park bench during lunch. his best friend, geto, sat beside him. you wave a love letter in your fingers, "delivery for gojo satoru?"

"you're looking at him right now," geto answers for gojo, who has been frowning ever since he caught sight of the paper in your hands.

another love letter that wasn't from who he wanted it to be from.

"here. it's from a student in the grade below but they're gorgeous, i'd shoot my shot if i were you," you say jokingly, pushing the letter towards gojo who takes it gingerly from you. he briefly scans the letter before closing it. you don't make a comment on how uncharacteristically silent he seemed about the confession.

you expected him to gloat in his best friends face before making fun of his pull game but you suppose everyone has moments of maturity.

"so, what're you up to these days, y/n?" questions geto.

"oh you know, being a delivery man for gojo's admirers. job sucks by the way, means i have to trek all around school just to find the elusive heartthrob with little compensation. maybe i'll start charging," you chuckle at the last part, lightly shoving gojo's shoulder. "anyways, i'd love to stay and chat but i gotta blast. see you both around-"

gojo cuts you off, effectively capturing your attention with an urgent "-wait, where are you going? can't you sit with us?"

you seem to be caught off-guard by his sudden proclamation, not that he could blame you.

"thanks for the invite, but i promised to help someone out. hopefully it's not making a love letter for the great gojo satoru, because the things i've witnessed on your behalf is terrifying. but i'll see you two around!"

gojo watches pitifully as you walk away, slumped over and defeated.

geto rolls his eyes, "you're really pathetic."

"oh c'mon. i can't help it."

"you can't help it? seriously? you capture the hearts of everyone on campus yet can't manage to get the one you really want? loser behaviour, how can you have so many bitches yet act so bitchless?"

"i'm not a loser."

"in y/n's eyes you must be."

gojo sighs, "that's not nice. nor is it very encouraging."

"it's not meant to be encouraging because i'm getting sick and tired of you always complaining about not getting a love letter from y/n. if you're so sick of waiting then go give y/n the letter instead."

gojo has a revelation in that very moment.

***

the first time gojo satoru gives you a love letter, he's all nerves and jitters because he spent the majority of the school night creating this stupid letter. he throws away draft after draft, cursing over every little mistake he makes with the reasoning that this had to be perfect.

the homework he had to do that night lay discarded.

call him silly, really, you should call him a fool for spending all night on this, drafting some message that you'll probably cringe at, but he approaches you the next day with a thumping heart. the day when you agreed to meet at the dog cafe.

he meets you outside your house and not too long after, you appear, all dressed in your favourite outfit.

as you approach, tou notice the envelope in his hands. it's crisp, clean and definitely one of gojo's standard. wonder who gave it to him and what's inside.

"hey," you greet him with a quick hug, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck. gojo returns the favour, "thanks for offering to drive."

"no problemo. always happy to be at a pretty person's service."

you ignore his last statement, "ready to go?"

"sure, i just have something for you first."

he hands you the envelope wordlessly, accompanied by a little smirk (that expertly masked the way he felt inside) and your brows furrow in confusion. it's not until you turn it around that it dawns upon you, the penmen-ship, the way it's your nickname that only gojo calls you scribbled on the front with a little heart that's so messy yet so him- you almost want to throw up from how fast your heart is racing.

"this isn't what i think it is, right?" you muttered, holding up the letter between two fingers, "please tell me it's not what i think it is."

gojo feels his heart sink to the ground.

"this looks like a love letter and it's so nice so if i open it and you turn out to be pranking me i am going to go home and never speak to you again-"

"what? of course it's a love letter? i didn't spend all night making that for you to doubt my feelings for you!" he clenches his chest in faux-pain, "how dare you! breaking my heart dressed so prettily. you know how many people would love to receive a letter from me? i bet nanami would be more grateful-"

you cut him off with a laugh, closing the distance as your hands reach up to cup his face. you wonder if he can hear how loud your heart is hammering and gojo wonders if you can feel how fast his heart is thrumming underneath your fingertips. "you really are something else, 'toru."

gojo softens- lovestruck, if you will, absolutely enchanted at the way you’re smiling at him so gently that he feels like he’s on cloud nine. but if he has to stare at your lips for one more second then he just might break, “are you gonna kiss me senseless or am i gonna have to do it?” asks gojo.

#gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojou x reader #gojo x reader fluff #gojo satoru x reader fluff #gojou satoru x reader fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff

[cheesus-doodles]

meme-anon here ! And I just wondering if things went as the anime went where Baji un-alives himself,Mikey beats up Kazutora,Kazutora gets arrested,etc.How would newly released kazutora react to seeing reader after 10 years?

(its 3am and i got school in 4 hours send help)

meme anon! hope you managed to get that sleep you needed friend, it’s a bit for me to say that now lmao - sorry for the silence my folks, not me trying to work on 10000 things at the same time and taking forever to do anything...

Link to Leaving You | Light of Day (Valhalla Ending AU)

Masterlist

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Guilt, shame, misery, all the emotions that Kazutora thought he had managed to overcome, thought he managed to recover from (or at least bury deep down where he can avoid dealing with them), would instantly come roaring straight back out when he finds you and Chifuyu waiting patiently for him outside prison on his release day. And on top of that, definitely a good heap of surprise - this boy definitely thought that you would have forgotten about him in the ten years that had passed, maybe even moved on with your own life and leave him behind in the shadows.

There would probably be quite a lot of convincing needed to get Kazutora to meet you if it was Chifuyu doing the talking, given he would probably just drop his gaze and try to walk away as if he didn't recognize either of you. But just a call of his name from you and an offer of a warm hug would be enough to break every last wall down, you not even flinching when he comes barreling into your arms like he always did in the past. The apologies, the tears, everything he wanted to tell you would come pouring out through hiccups and wails as you stand there and let him cry it all out into your shoulder, a gentle hum on your lips, one hand running through his hair.

Would never admit it, but this boy would have been so lonely serving his time alone in prison, refusing to try and find any buddies or join any groups, instead fighting to keep himself as isolated as possible, to punish himself for what he did. Thought that he didn't deserve to be happy.

And I think that it wasn’t like you didn’t try to come and visit him while he was in prison, because you definitely did. Losing a friend as close to you as Baji would have sent you spiraling into a dark place, but it was the knowledge that Baji wouldn’t want you to blame Kazutora that would eventually have you coming to terms with what Baji did and help you to forgive Kazutora. But every time you turned up, the guard would go and retrieve your friend for his visit, only to return empty-handed and tell you that he had refused to come out of his cell, leaving you to return home with your heart in pieces.

You never did stop trying throughout the years, visiting to the point you became friends with the guards, even asking the others to help you out to try and meet Kazutora, to tell him at the earliest possibility that you forgave him, to not be so hard on himself. But despite your effort, it would be ten years before you saw your friend again.

Now with you back in his life and by his side, gently supporting him and helping him to take it day by day, this boy starts learning to move forward in life, going about making amends to the others for what he had done. With your intervention, I would think the other Toman founders would be open to welcoming him back as a friend, or at the very least forgiving him and parting ways amicably.

You probably would have learnt of Kisaki’s involvement at some point, either through the good old vineyard, or from the rumors and small talk that delinquents freely give out even with you in earshot - they probably thought that you would have no idea what they were even talking about. Not much you could do being as uninvolved as you were, but you do try to help take care of Mikey on behalf of your friends that were not part of the new Toman gang, being the moral weight that kept him as grounded, balanced and safe from the other's influence and himself as much as you could. And it is through you that Kazutora finally gets to meet face to face with Mikey and apologize for what he has done, and though it was clear that they would never be friends again, at least Mikey would stop throwing a fit when you left to go out with Kazutora.

#yandere tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #yandere tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers mikey #tokyo revengers kazutora #mikey x reader #baji x reader #kazutora x reader #kazutora #sano manjiro #keisuke baji #ken ryuguji #tokyo revengers mitsuya #draken x reader #mitsuya x reader #tokyorev x reader #tokyorev imagines #tokyorev #yandere platonic #cheesus answers #yandere platonic toman #luvxna #meme anon

[bug-the-chicken-nug]

Thinking about how I would rework silver eyes and honestly I think itd be cool and fun to just lean further into the Sharingan comparison and give it actual stages of progression, instead of it being an all-or-nothing thing that in turn mandates that Ruby has to be completely incompetent at using it in 80-90% of situations, or else the conflict would be over.

So in my AU, it has ten stages. (Nine, in general practice. The last is more of a mythical/worldbuilding thing that probably isn't real.)

Each stage both unlocks a new thing it can do, and can improve what you've unlocked in previous stages. (In DnD terms, kind of like getting the choice to perform a basic spell at a powered-up higher level) Each stage is mastered with training, and you cannot unlock the next if your mind and Aura aren't strong enough. But each time, either intense emotion, or a sort of "epiphany" moment of self-actualization, is still needed as the "final trigger" to progress to a new stage.

All of its abilities are a form of "magic", and do not directly use Aura, but still tie into it. Instead, the eye abilities accumulate "Tarnish", a new cost for the ability. Its only remedy is time and rest. Tarnish is lasting strain upon the user's mind and soul, chaotic dissonance in their Aura that causes the user's maximum Aura capacity to progressively weaken the more they use these. Along with this, the user's emotions become increasingly dulled. High Tarnish also causes physical pain, tingling, numbness, and has additional, increasingly worse effects on consciousness, critical thinking, and motor function.

However, the Tarnish generated by lower stages of the eyes is minor, generally dissipating over time faster than it builds up. Still, Tarnish always dissipates much slower than Aura can recharge. Past a critical point, it no longer dissipates at all. If one stops just before this point, it can still take over a month to fully recover, and will leave you effectively unable to do anything Aura-based for several days.

After the critical point, the user becomes an emotionless and powerless husk. Forever.

This in turn is actually perfect for the creation of Salem's Hounds. A fully Tarnished being results in a more powerful Hound than any alternative. The reason why is not well understood. Anyway!

Stages: Part 1: Pre-Beacon Unlocks

Stage 1, Ward: Cannot do harm. Weak Grimm recoil from the light, but the range only extends a few meters from the user.

Awakening Trigger: Ruby learning of her mother's death as a small girl.

Stage 2, Stun: Immobilizes and overwhelms the senses of weaker Grimm for several seconds, and also causes mild burns. The light is also disorienting for normal, non-supernatural reasons against humans at close range.

Awakening Trigger: Bullying at Signal (Cliche, but I really want a better actual reason why Ruby starts out awkward and self-conscious, and of where she picked up the idea that she'd prefer to be "normal".)

Stage Three, Gaze: Any Grimm that should be hidden or obscured can be clearly seen through any obstacle, as if faintly glowing silver. Weak points can be picked out as particularly bright areas on a Grimm.

Awakening Trigger: Bullying Part 2, Electric Boogaloo

Stage Four, Petrify: Can encase one target up to mid-level, such as an Ursa Major, in stone, or fully petrify them. Requires several seconds or more of sustained focus. Ruby herself remarks that it's often impractical, unless she's restrained. This is also the first stage to be able to cause rapid Tarnish buildup.

Awakening Trigger: When she stands up to her bullies at Signal without Yang.

She is at Stage Four when she arrives at Beacon.

Stages Part 2: Beacon/Post-Fall Unlocks

Stage Five, Scour: Any Grimm-produced substance within a few yards is rapidly destroyed and nullified. This includes slime, ooze, toxins, acid, projectile attacks, and even their elemental attacks, but it only works for a few seconds at a time. It can also weaken Grimm defenses and erode their armor, but does not kill outright.

Awakening Trigger: Entrance Exam

Stage Six, Ray: The eyes produce a beam that causes Instant disintegration of one or two small to mid-size Grimm, and causes the skin of larger targets to "boil" like hot tar, doing great harm.

Awakening Trigger: Volume 2

Stage Seven, Luster: The Silver Eyes equivalent of the three-tomoe Sharingan, the furthest you'll normally get. Users briefly gain an altered silver Aura, essentially making all of their attacks and their very touch "super effective" against Grimm. Watch out for all the Tarnish, though...

Awakening Trigger: End of Volume 2

And Now We Get Spicy...

Stages Part Three: Refinement

After this point, the user must be both sufficiently powerful and directly witness a great loss (This need not be death, but often is), to unlock the "Refined" Silver Eyes (basically Mangekyou Sharingan). Unlocking Refinement is very strenuous upon the body and soul. Passing out or going comatose after it is first attained is common, as the user's first time inevitably generates high levels of Tarnish. It is also possible for someone to permanently "fail" their Refinement and get stuck at Stage Seven instead, if they face a great tragedy before they're physically and emotionally prepared for it.

But once Refinement is attained, "Ward" becomes passive, and works on Grimm up to mid-level, such as an Ursa Major or Manticore. However, the default radius is still only a few meters. This would potentially add some logic to why exactly Ruby just walks around with Relics, since she can now cancel out their attractant properties without any significant effort, and it would also help explain her moments of overconfidence and recklessness.

As for active abilities:

Stage Eight, Smite: What Ruby canonically does with her eyes. A powerful area-of-effect blast that can kill or petrify all Grimm in the area.

Awakening Trigger: RIP Pyrrha

Stage Nine, Sanctify: Objects, buildings, and places can become infused long-term with the ability to repel, or at greater levels of investment, actively harm Grimm. Effectiveness can build cumulatively, but scales down in inverse proportion to the total size of what is Sanctified. Handheld weapons, for instance, can become extremely damaging to Grimm for centuries, if sanctified by many at a time, or given many years to be imbued with power. An entire place/area is much harder. Ideally, it is meant to be used by entire groups of SEW. Ruby herself can only safely Sanctify something like a large house for a day or so, but maintains a permanent low-level effect on Crescent Rose. Can briefly "stack" with Luster for some Real Bonkers Finishing Move Shit.

Awakening Trigger: During V6

Stage Ten, Salvation: An ability detailed only in legend. Allegedly, the ability to "purify" a Grimm without killing it, turning it against all of its brethren. In some legends, this even bestows it Aura. What this process would truly entail, or how this stage is actually reached, is unknown. Sources tend to be somewhat contradictory of one another.

Awakening Trigger: N/A

#rwde #ruby rose #silver eyes #silver eyed warriors #rwby AU

[bottomlouisficfest]

We hope you’ve enjoyed weeks nine and ten of the Bottom Louis Fic Fest 2022! These fics mark the last of those posted for this year’s fest. Every two weeks, we’ve compiled all of the fics from that period into one roundup post so they’re easy to find for anyone looking to catch up on fics they missed. Enjoy these amazing fics and give them the love they deserve!

—

whisper your desires, i’ll provide them

A fic by happilyyhalo on AO3 | @happilyyhalo on Tumblr | @happilyyhalo on Twitter

13k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Louis has always been a standout, but there is one department she lacks in.

She’s a virgin.

Now, there’s nothing wrong with being a virgin or lacking in sexual experience. Everyone has different views and ideas on sex, and no one should be shamed because of that. However, it is hard to ignore the peer pressure from society and others.

So, when Harry, her lifelong best friend, offers to help with her situation, there’s nothing that’s going to happen, right?

—

Thawing Permafrost

A fic by smittenwithlouis on AO3 | @smittenwithlouis on Tumblr | @smittenwlouis on Twitter

22k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

“Whenever you see a mirage, you will be able to open a portal that leads you to the Oasis. All you have to do is say this,” Harry explains further, pulling Louis out of his thoughts.

Calidius, this Coyote demands To be shown the Oasis, Among the simmering sand.

Louis’ hands can’t help but hold on to Harry’s forearms in alarm, eyes immediately widening as some sort of lush passage appears before them in the middle of the Calidian desert.

Or: Louis is from the frozen mountains of Glacien. Harry is from the searing desert of Calidius. They come from opposite worlds, but all it takes is an arranged marriage to bring them together as one.

—

if i saw you every day forever

A fic by heartofartichokes on AO3 | @heartofartichokes on Tumblr | @brickredtoe on Twitter

11k | Mature | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

There really should be a statute on the number of dates one can go to because how much longer does Louis have to suffer through this?

A modern AU in which Louis might have accidentally signed up for something he probably shouldn't.

—

borrow the moonlight

A fic by princelouisau on AO3 | @princelouisau on Tumblr | @platonicrose on Twitter

38k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

The door opens, swinging inward and being stopped in its tracks by a firm hand before it hits the wall. Louis looks up, smile plastered on, ready to greet the man who can’t, as an adult, tie his own bloody tie.

The smile falls.

As does Louis’ stomach, hurtling towards the floor like a poorly-made fairground ride.

No. No. Absolutely fucking not.

If there’s one bright side to this, it’s that Harry looks as shocked as he does, standing frozen in the doorway like he just opened the door to the ghost of fucking Christmas past.

or, Louis and Harry broke up three years ago. The last thing Louis expects to see when he’s sent to help a guest is Harry, 3000 miles away from where he’s supposed to be.

—

kiss it better

A fic by baremysoul on AO3 | @transparentheartz on Tumblr | @kneelthen on Twitter

8k | Mature | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Harry shakes his head with a light laugh and leans down to kiss him again which Louis happily accepts even if he is a little confused by the reaction. "Baby, not a night has gone by that I haven't thought about you in my bed, naked, and begging for my cock."

Blinking up at him with wide eyes, Louis opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes out. While they did flirt a lot over the last few weeks, Harry had never said anything like that. It shocks him as much as it turns him on.

"News to me."

"I won't lie and say I like random hookups or casual sex, but to me this isn't what that is."

Louis swallows thickly, unsure of what to say to that but once again Harry gives him an out.

"So, If you want we can stay up here and I can show you all the things I've thought about doing to you." Another kiss, quick and sweet. "Or, we can go back downstairs and we'll dance all night."

--

Or, a PWP college au.

—

just a pretty boy

A fic by xx on AO3 | @outropeace on Tumblr | @outropeaces on Twitter

36k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

The alpha in front of him wasn’t only tall, but used every inch of his body to look even more threatening. He looked as shocked as Joseph felt, in his eyes he could clearly see horror and anger mixed into an odd and painful mix. It was as if he just watched a ghost or a monster from a nightmare come to life.

“Louis…” he said with a low voice. It wasn’t a question, he was calling Joseph by that name.

The crease between Joseph’s brows deepened. “Who?”

Louis and Harry were married until, one day, Louis passed away in a tragic accident. Years later, he is found alive and with a thousand questions plaguing his mind. The most important ones; was his husband involved in his disappearance? And, how long did it take Harry and his best friend to fall in love after his supposed dead?

—

purr and shout

A fic by anditsonlyforthebrave on AO3 | @HARRYSC1NEMA on Twitter

5k | Not Rated | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

The sound that escapes Harry's mouth couldn't possibly be a purr. He's an alpha, alphas don't purr. Or do they?

~~~

Prompt 478: Inspired by this post. A fic with a scene where alpha Harry has never had a proper serious relationship before Louis and when Louis washes his hair for the first time, he surprises Louis and himself by purring loudly.

—

what a wicked thing to do (to make me dream of you)

A fic by maroonmoonlouis on AO3 | @maroonmoonlouis on Tumblr | @maroonmoonlouis on Twitter

44k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

“Louis,” Zayn suddenly sits up from the couch, no doubt recognizing the thread of menace that has laced Louis’ tone. “What do you intend to do?”

“It’s simple,” Louis replies, already feeling a tingle in his bones as a plan begins to formulate. “In the end, Harry will be the one to call off the engagement.”

“Harry is hellbent on marrying the omega heir,” Zayn points out. “I have a hard time seeing how you will convince him to do such a thing.”

“I will make him fall in love with me,” Louis announces slowly, ignoring Violet’s tiny scratches against his thigh that feel an awful lot like a warning. “Piece by piece, I will come to take ownership over his heart. An invasion of love, if you will. And then I’ll shatter it so violently that he will be unable to spend even a mere second in my presence.”

- Or, heirs Louis and Harry have been promised as mates to each other their whole lives. It's expected that they will be the perfect pair to bring honor to their families. Louis cannot let that happen.

—

i don't care, i'm not scared of love

A fic by leeanndarling on AO3 | @shitavocados on Tumblr | @larriesgayvodka on Twitter

5k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Listen.

It’s not like Louis hates Harry. Far from it, actually. He likes Harry a bit too much. And not in a “oh, he’s cute, I’d like to kiss him” way. More like “I want you to handcuff me to my bed and fuck me until I can’t even remember my own name” kind of way.

So, yeah, it’s kind of a problem.

—

The Games We Play

A fic by alltheselights on AO3 | @alltheselights on Tumblr | @alltheselightts on Twitter

23k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Louis’ spent eight years in this business and it’s cost him more than he can say. His love life, friendships, family relationships, optimism, trust in people, health, and even his happiness, on occasion.

He’s always believed those losses to be worth it because this is what he’s good at. Louis is always one step ahead, always outmaneuvering the competition, always playing chess when everyone around him is playing checkers. Not since his first few years in the business has someone made a move that Louis didn’t anticipate well in advance.

And yet.

With that question, Senator Vines set a trap. The crowd watching knows it, the senators seated on either side of Senator Vines know it, and Louis, sitting there in his perfectly tailored suit and tie and poker face, also knows it.

And he just walked right into it.

Louis is a political lobbyist who chose his career over his personal life a long time ago and has never regretted it. Then he met Harry.

—

til' the darkness softly clears

A fic by reliablyimperfect on AO3 | @mmmm_kat on Twitter

45k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Something thuds nearby, and Callie sits up in bed, eyes still fuzzy from sleep. She yawns and rubs her eyes, looking around the room for the source of the noise. When she doesn’t see anything, she huffs quietly. Sliding to the floor, her feet take her towards the door. At the doorway, something disturbs the silence again: the distant sound of footsteps. Callie holds her breath and creeps out of the room. On the landing, she stands on her toes to peer over the railing. She can see the front door, and, outside, through the windows on either side of the door, she sees a shadow pass by.

It walks one way, then disappears from sight for a second before it turns and walks back in front of the door. Callie’s eyes widen, and she backs up from view when the figure pauses its pacing directly in front of a window. Slowly, it turns, and it seems to stare right through the window, directly at her.

—

Remember to give these fics kudos and comments, and spread their fic posts!

Week 1-2 Week 3-4 Week 5-6 Week 7-8

#fics 2022 #blff 2022

[atinyjules]

LIMBO - YEOSANG PT.1

I am back again😂 well its the middle of the night but I couldn't help but write this since my brain wouldn't let me sleep if I don't write it now so here ya go!

I ended up falling sleeping though so yeah...it is what it is

Pt. 2 is over here

Angst with fluff at the end.

Genre: best friends to lovers au.

Pairings: Bestfriend!Yeosang x Bestfriend!(named)reader

I sighed looking at the text message I got from Yonsei University. I should probably be happy but why am I so...not happy? Why am I so uncertain? Isn't this what I wanted? Then why am I so...unsure? I've been dreaming and working hard for this day my whole life but now that I've finally come a step closer to my dream why am I so confused? Why is my heart not happy?

I just sat at the rooftop for the remainder of the day due to not wanting to go to class. After I got the text I just didn't want to see anyone. What if they laughed at me like they always did? Is this what I want? Is this what they want? Why should their opinions matter? Their opinions on my dream shouldn't matter. But then again, like always...I'll listen to their useless opinions. That's the way it goes...always and forever...

Even after school ended I remained in my place, drowning myself in my thoughts not noticing the arrival of someone. I just sat there looking at the students who were leaving the school premises.

"There you are." I stayed in my place, eyes fixated on the swarm of students below and not the girl behind me, knowing very well what she was gonna say.

"Kang Yeosang...are you even listening? Why didn't you attend class today?" she asked as I continued to pretend, pretending to not hear her.

"So you're gonna just pretend like you're deaf now?" she asked as I groaned softly.

"Just leave me alone." I said softly as she let out a scoff.

"I already did, I gave you enough space so now I'm not leaving till I get answers." she said, not budging one bit.

"You've been avoiding me the whole week...why?" she asked as I stayed quiet.

"Leave me alone...I want to be alone." I said as she let out a sigh.

"What did I do wrong? Please tell me...did I make you angry? If I did, I'm so sorry." she said as I stood up and walked past her.

"Yah! Kang Yeosang! You can't just leave without giving me answers!" she exclaimed as I ignored her and left.

I don't know what got over me...but I knew that I didn't want to see her...but I don't know why. Maybe stress? I don't know...but I wanted to get away as quickly as possible. So I walked past her and left quickly.

______________________________________________

Yeeun's

After not talking to me for a week I just wanted answers from Yeosang but I don't know why he was acting so weird. Did I do something to upset him? I have no idea and he won't tell me either. Even though I keep asking him he just keeps ignoring me and walking past me. It destroys me.

"Why is he being like this?" I mumbled to myself standing alone on the empty rooftop as I bit back tears. I crouched down to my knees, letting out a shaky breath.

Is he just going to let 16 years of friendship go to dust?

"Why won't he talk?" I asked myself as tears trickled down my face and hit the cold concrete.

After crying for ten minutes I wiped my tears and got up with shaky legs and took in a deep breath to calm myself down. I unlocked my phone revealing a picture of the two of us when we went to the amusement park. I quickly went to my contacts and pressed the first number that came up.

Big bro🌻

"Hello? Yeeun?" I felt a fresh set of tears roll down from my face as I pulled my self together but fail.

"C-Could you come p-pick me up? P-Please?" I sobbed as he panicked.

"Yeeun? What's wrong? Stay there, I'll come get you." he said as I mumbled an 'okay' and ended the call.

The whole ride home was quiet as I clutched on my jacket, looking out the window. My brother respected my current situation and kept quiet till we reached his apartment as I didn't want to go home.

"So...what happened?" he asked once I got out of the shower after taking a shower and change of clothes.

"Y-Yeosang..." I mumbled out feeling myself break as he softened and moved to pull me in an embrace as I sobbed lightly.

"What did he do? Did he hurt you?" he asked with the softest voice he could muster, knowing all to well about my romantic attachment to Yeosang.

"H-He won't talk to me- he keeps avoiding me..." I said breaking into anoter sob right after I finished my sentence.

"Hey, hey...it's okay...we'll figure it out alright? We'll figure it out...don't worry, I'll talk to him tomorrow. So don't worry." he said as I continued sobbing in his arms.

After a while of crying I fell asleep after getting exhausted from crying.

"Kang Yeosang, you better have a reasonable explanation for making my little sister cry."

__________________________________________________

Yeosang's

After coming back from school, I was hit with instant regret for treating Yeeun the way I did. As if my whole world had come crashing down at me at once. I fell to the floor on my knees and punched the ground as I let out a curse word.

"Fuck, Yeosang...what have you done?" I mumbled to myself as my eyes turned glassy.

"After all she'd done for you...you treat her like trash." I told myself as stray tears fell from my eyes.

She stood by my side when no one did and didn't leave my side once. Yeeun was always there for me...cheering me on and celebrating my every achievement. Now...I have no one and our graduation ceremony is next week...and after that I'll never see her again.

I let all those 16 years of friendship turn to ash...because of my idiocy and pride...I lost the one person in my life who cared for me. I was drowning in my sadness when my phone ringed, making me pick up my phone to see a message from...Yeeun's big brother.

Seonghwa Hyung

Tomorrow, Aurora Cafe. 9 am sharp, don't be late or else you'll face the consequences.

I felt a shiver run down my spine at the text knowing very well that I was gonna get my ass kicked tomorrow.

The next morning I made sure to reach the cafe early to not anger Seonghwa hyung any more than I already did. But when I entered the cafe he was already present there with all his glory, in his white tee and black leather jacket with a stone cold look on his face. Just his presence alone made me gulp.

"You better have a reasonable explanation as to why my little sister came home sobbing and crying yesterday, Kang." Seonghwa hyung said, with his usual friendly aura disappeared from his face. Replaced with a cold blooded expression.

"I-I didn't mean to-" he was cut off by Seonghwa standing up and pulling him by the collar.

"I dare you to complete that sentence." Seonghwa spoke with the darkest tone as he glared down at Yeosang.

"I-I really am sorry...even I don't know why I said those words...why I behaved that way to her who didn't deserve that treatment. I only know that my behaviour was unexceptable and I am so sorry to her and you." I spill out as he let go of me.

"What's your deal? Why did you suddenly change?" Seonghwa hyung asked me as I looked down.

"You could say I'm stuck in a limbo..." I said as Seonghwa hyung sighed.

"What are you uncertain about?" he asked as I amiled a little.

"I'm not comfortable to be around Yeeun for the moment. I'm just trying to figure out what to do in life, whether or not to include her in it." I said making Seonghwa frown.

"If I were you...I'd be careful with my next words..." He said making me furrow my brows as I followed his worried eyes behind me only to regret it.

Yeeun in all her graceful beauty stood there with a pained expression. She took a deep breath and gave me a weak smile. I opened my mouth to speak but was cut off by her words.

"I won't torment you anymore then." she said and left, Seonghwa patting my shoulder and left to follow his sister.

The moment the door closed I felt myself chuckle as a single teardrop fell from eyes.

"Why did I say that?" I bawled my eyes out for a moment and rushed home.

__________________________________________________

Yeeun's

It's been three days since I ended our friendship and three days since I last saw him. We only had two classes left till our graduation and after that we might not meet again.

"Why should I be sad about that? It was his fault so I shouldn't be sad." I told myself as I ate my lunch alone when Wooyoung came and sat infront of me.

"Yah, you guys still didn't talk?" he said making me roll my eyes and continue eating.

"Why should I? He's the one who avoided me for weeks. And besides, I cut ties with him so I have nothing to do with hom anymore." I said and took a bite of my meatball causing Wooyoung to groan.

"Broo! You and Yeosang's have so much history together! Not to mention your crush on him since 5th grade-" I cut him off by punching his stomach.

"Bring him up again and the next thing I'm punching is your face." I said and stood up to keep my plates as he was persistent and continued to follow me.

"Yeeunie! Give Yeosang a chance! I'm sure he just needs time to sort out his feelings for you! Come onn! I've seen the way he looks at you with those oogly heart eyes! Yeeuniee! Just give him a-"

"Seonghwa oppa! Wooyoung's pestering me!" I cut him of by calling for my brother who was currently talking with Hongjoong and Yunho. Causing Wooyoung to squeak and hide behind me.

"Hyungg! I was just kidding with her!" Wooyoung said as Seonghwa pulled Wooyoung away from me.

"Don't annoy her. Give her some space." Seonghwa whispered as they watched their usually giggly and smiley Yeeun walk away with a frown on her already cold expression.

"Will Yeeun be alright?" Hongjoong asked as they looked her way.

"I'm sure she will...she always does. She just need space for now." Seonghwa said knowing that his sister will pull through it.

"That's it, I can't see both my best friends like this. They need each other." Wooyoung said and ran out leaving the three older men in confusion.

"Yah! Jung Wooyoung! What are you trying to do?!" Seonghwa exclaimed.

__________________________________________________

Wooyoung's

I skipped class knowing mom would kill me but I did it anyway cause I knew that at that moment only I could fix this problem. So I ran to the one place I knew I'd find Yeosang. His apartment. Duh..

"Yeosang! Open up! It's me, Wooyoung!" I exclaimed and banged on his door without any worries as I knew only Yeosang would be in there since he lived alone.

"Kang Yeosang! Open up noww!" I exclaimed when I heard shuffling from inside his apartment.

"Go away...I'm not in the mood to talk." He said loud enough for me to hear it causing me to bang on his door harder.

"YaH! OpEn tHiS dOoR nOw! WE NEED TO TALK!" I exclaimed and banged on his door continuously. Knowing that he'll crack eventually so I kept up my actions for a while until the door finally opened causing me to fall to the ground.

"I SAID LEAVE!" He exclaimed at me causing me to throw a punch to his right cheek which resulted in his slumping to tje ground clutching his cheek. That's when I realised how frail he looked.

"Have you even been eating?! Anyways...WHAT'S UP WITH YOU AND YEEUN?!" I exclaimed causing him to go quiet.

"It doesn't matter anymore, she doesn't want to see me." Yeosang said softly while caressing his cheek.

"I mean, that's on you...but...it doesn't change the fact that you're in love with her." I said making him chuckle.

"No, I don't...she was my my best friend and that's that." Yeosang said causing me to break into a fit of laughter.

"Idiot! That's what your head wants you to think! Everyone notices the way you look at her when she speaks, the way you only listen to her and no one else, the way you always make sure to check on her first to see if she's inside when there's a storm outside!" I exclaimed as he sighed.

"That's what friends do."

"Then you must've just landed on Earth cause that's love!" I exclaimed as he slowly stood up and walked back inside and locked the door causing me to bang on the door and stop.

"Why am I even trying If he won't listen..." I mumbled to myself and stomped away from his house.

Yeosang's

After the talk with Wooyoung I felt exhausted so I came in and fell to my bed, closing my eyes as his words echoed through my mind.

"Everyone notices the way you look at her when she speaks, the way you only listen to her and no one else, the way you always make sure to check on her first to see if she's inside when there's a storm outside!"

"No...I'm not in love with her. I'm just worried about what to do after I join Yonsei." I told myself when a thought appeared in my mind.

Or I'm just worried about how I'll survive without Yeeun's presence.

"No...that's not the reason...right?" I asked myself when realization hit me.

"KANG YEOSANG! GET BACK HEREE!"

There's no Kang Yeosang without Park Yeeun.

"Y-Yeosang-"

There's no point in going to Yonsei if I don't get to have her by my side.

"Ay Yeo...ayo Yeo!" *giggles.

There's no point in doing anything if my life doesn't have her in it.

"Kang Yeosang~ don't abandon me to myself with this loudspeakers!"

"I need a hug..."

"Carry meee! I'm tired."

"If you're insecure to cry around people...you can always cry infront of me...I won't judge."

"I need her...but...I'm far too late now. I took way to long to realise my love for her."

_________________________

That's the end of part one. I wasn't planning on making it this long but the ideas just kept popping up soo go to part two for the ending!

#ateez #ateez ff #ateez masterlist #ateez yunho #ateez au #atiny #ateez imagines #ateez fluff #hongjoong #ateez mingi #best friend #kpop fluff

[sweetmage]

I already posted this Tamlen art yesterday, but I'm posting again because there is now a fic (fluff to angst to happy ending) to accompany it 😊

AO3 link, or scroll/click "expand" to read💗

There is also more context for this AU below the cut but it spoils some of the fic. Enjoy!

----

Springing forward, twirling around roots, dipping below the sway of stray branches—Savil's feet found the well-worn path and his eyes found Tamlen.

Fresh-faced and eager, Tamlen,too, tumbled over loose stones, so lost in the blissful energy of freedom and youth that he never once turned to see if his hunting partner followed.

"Hey!" Savil called above the bubbling stream, arms outstretched until they caught Tamlen's shoulder. He was puffing, breathless, but the giggles came quick when Tamlen turned to greet him. 

"About time you showed up."

"When you run like that, you'll scare all the rabbits. This is why you need me around," Savil had chided.

And he smiled, bright and big and lively in a way that said 'Yes, I do. Of course I do.'

And Savil smiled back, just as fond, just as wide. "Don't forget me next time, alright?"

And Tamlen didn't. 

They found themselves, as they often did, at each others' side. This time on the edge of the precipice overlooking the vast woods, sheltered beneath a canopy of late-evening stars. 

Bright-eyed, newly vallaslin-ed, just eighteen each—they'd lost themselves to song and merry chatter and pebbles skipped over a slow-moving stream. 

They kept an arbitrary score: ten points for style, three for distance this time, five for it last time. Tamlen triumphed, in the end, because Savil made it so. Because the "prize" was burning an eager hole through his pocket. 

"Enough gloating. Hold out your hand," he instructed, already holding out his own, fist balled and palm down. 

Their trust was clear and unspoken. Tamlen's hand was outstretched, risking insects and trickery, before he even bothered to ask "why?" 

The tips of their fingers brushed oh so gently as he'd filled his upturned palm.

Savil watched his hand unfurl, the pendant within catching moonlight and glinting as brilliantly as Tamlen's grin.

"For me?"

"I shouldn't reward all the trouble that you cause, but when you're away serving punishments, you must get lonely. I thought it would be nice if you had a way to think of me. To not feel so alone."

He turned it over in his hand, closed his fingers around it like a hug, and he smiled again, dashing and dazzling like he always did. "Ma serannas. I'll hold on to it forever. I'll cherish it."

"I hope you'll remember me the next time things get tough."

And he did, but just barely.

His thoughts and memories had peeled away like putrid flesh and tattered cloth, but the pendant still hung. The blood and rot had dampened its luster to something dull, something lifeless. 

But it still hung.

And so did Tamlen, as limp and still and cold in Savil's arms as the gem round his neck. 

"I'll fix this, Tam," Savil—weathered and worn and broken—swore aloud to the darkness, voice raw with anguish. 

The moon fell heavy and mocking, its faint glow seeping past clouds and giving light to Tamlen's slack mouth, and festering skin, and maddened eyes that projected the same horror they must have witnessed.

The flames of camp were a distant flicker behind them, duty and promise deserted. Savil couldn't bury what still breathed, what could yet live, and he couldn't stand by those who would stop him.

 

"You must stay with me, lethallin. You promised. You promised we'd be together for the rest of our days. I need more days with you, Tam. Don't forget… You promised me!"

But Tamlen forgot.

The one who'd promised otherwise had dissolved and reabsorbed into something else. Whatever chewed away at his mind had imprisoned him in a way even Merrill's weeping wounds couldn't touch. 

Contorted in unfathomable pain, screaming like a tormented beast, the "cured" Tamlen emerged from his cage a writhing husk.

Thrashing and spitting, he flailed against what wasn't there as though desperate to tear the very air itself apart. 

Seven years of trial and hope... for this. 

Seven long, miserable years without Tamlen. 

Seven wasted years.

Despair clawed its way to the surface and dragged Savil under. All he could do was cradle Tamlen, endure his wretched howls and the shredding of dirty, untrimmed nails against his skin. And beg. He could only beg.

"Please… please…." He pressed the sincerity and desperation of each word into Tamlens hairless scalp with a kiss, hoping against hope that the words might somehow penetrate some tiny fragment of his trapped soul and set him free. "Please. Please come back, please remember me..."

And through a miracle or sheer luck, on one distant day Tamlen remembered. 

An overnight rainstorm swept through the meadow, but now the midday sunlight danced over the lingering droplets, making the rolling fields sparkle anew. 

The grass parted for Savil's feet as he stumbled headlong across the uneven ground, his untethered heart soaring free.

And there was Tamlen at the crest of the hill, waiting for him.

As he reached his side, Tamlen flung himself at him so emphatically that it almost sent them sailing. With his face tucked into the crook of Savil's neck, Tamlen teased fondly. "About time you showed up."

"Wouldn't miss it," replied Savil, all smiles and warmth, his hands reaching tentatively for those familiar shoulders. "More importantly, I brought food."

Tamlen pulled back, radiant and shining, his sporadic tufts of golden hair gently tossed by the wind. His scarred features were alight, his smile safe and genuine, "What would I do without you?"

"Starve, most likely," Savil deadpanned. "That's why you need someone like me around. 

"I do," he admitted, toying with the pendant that hung by a new cord. "I really do."

He fished a neatly wrapped parcel from pocket and placed it into Tamlen's hands. "Made your favorite."

"Ma serannas, vhenan. I won't forget this," Tamlen swore reverently. And then, more softly, "And I won't forget you again. Promise."

They settled in the grass side by side, lost to song and merry chatter, content to simply be where they were.

For some additional context, this is based on my AU where Tamlen is rescued by Savil (my Warden, his friend and love interest) during the attack on the camp. After telling the others hes going to go bury his friends, Savil instead deserts the Wardens and flees with a still living Tamlen in favor of trying cure him.

Tamlen remains as a ghoul (caged for their mutual safety, but well looked after) for the next seven years.

The cure finally comes in the form of Merrill, once again tempted to blood magic after the discovery that her two closest friends, the ones she'd presumed dead for years, still live.

As with all matters of blood magic, there are consequences. However, the steepest drawbacks come as a result of the 7 year ordeal itself. The taint was removed, the singing silenced, but Tamlen remained incoherent, void of memories, yet so painfully aware now of his surroundings, of the pain.

His recovery is long and arduous, memories and faculties slowly returning. But, with the love and support of his clan, with Savil and Merill at his side, he does recover and at last he smile, and taste joy, and be thankful to wake up every morning, living and loved.

#blood tw #dragon age origins #dragon age #tamlen #dalish origin #oc: savil #jun art #jun fic #long fic

[junghelioseok]

renegade.

↳ you can’t run from your demons forever. 

◇ hoseok x reader  ◇ angst | action | smut | demon!au ◇ 34.4k [1/1]

⇢ full summary: call it what you will—an unfortunate mistake, a lapse in judgment, a really, really bad fuck-up. it doesn’t change the fact that you willingly signed your soul away to an infuriatingly handsome, disarmingly affable crossroads demon after tragedy struck. and it definitely doesn’t change the fact that you’re on the run from that very same demon, now that ten years have passed and your time’s up.

notes: welcome to the longest one-shot i’ve ever written my contribution to the nightmare on tumblr.com collab with the wonderful and talented @underthejoon​, @bratkook​, @suga-kookiemonster​, @kpopfanfictrash​, @hobidreams​, and @jungkxook​!!! i am beyond excited to bring you this hoseok, who is so drastically different from the others i’ve written. this was delightfully challenging to write, and i hope you enjoy! 🖤

⇢ listen to “overfire” by thc (esp during the smut oop)

warnings: heavily inspired by supernatural and buffy ofc. preemptive apologies to any latin speakers out there. minor character deaths, grieving, implied depression, violence. mc literally dismembers someonething at one point. hobi’s big dick + big dick energy. there are handcuffs involved. oral (m receiving), a tiny bit of choking & spanking, dirty talk, mild degradation. a smidge of jungkook x reader if u squint. 

In retrospect, you probably should have left.

You’re taking a great risk by lingering here—less than a stone’s throw away from the trap you so meticulously laid a few hours prior. A Devil’s Trap etched into the floorboards beneath a garish striped rug, carved deep into the wood with the trusty switchblade you always keep in your boot. There’s another trap on the ceiling, painted with precision and dark enough to blend in with the shadows. Late afternoon is rapidly fading into evening—the sun setting beneath the horizon in one last burst of color. Dusky blue twilight settles into the spaces left behind, leaving just enough illumination for you to duck into the adjoining bathroom and leave the door open a sliver.

Any minute now, your death will arrive. There’s a pattern to inhuman creatures, after all—certain rules and rituals they tend to abide by. Over the years, you’ve found them to be most active in places like the ratty motel room you’re standing in—those liminal sorts of spaces where the laws of hospitality are at their weakest. You encounter the majority during the hours of dawn and dusk, when the borders between worlds are thin and the lines begin to blur.

On the far side of the room, the clock on the table strikes seven. Somewhere in the distance, a dog begins to bark and is quickly joined by two more. Nearby, you hear a door slam, the sound rattling the walls. Tick. Tick. Tick. The second hand moves past the six on the clock face, mocking you with its steady, unfaltering rhythm.

You aren’t ready to die. Not now, and certainly not here in this dingy little motel in the middle of nowhere. Ten years had seemed like a long time when you were eighteen and stupid with grief, but it’s passed now in the blink of an eye and you aren’t ready. You aren’t prepared to hold up your end of the bargain, and while inhuman things may be bound by certain rules, humans aren’t. Humans lie and scheme and fight. And you—you don’t intend to go gently into that good night.

Five seconds. Four. The second hand is steadily approaching the twelve that marks the top of the hour, and you can’t look away.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

And then there’s a noise at the front door.

It’s soft at first—a faint rustle and a series of soft taps that you probably wouldn’t have even heard had you not been listening. Then the door swings open, creaking on rusty old hinges. One beat passes, then two. And then your death steps past the threshold, wearing the face of a man who hasn’t aged a day since the first time you met all those years ago.

Hoseok. It’s the name he gave you then—the name he offered when he introduced himself with a smile dazzling enough to distract you from your grief. And it’s the name you whisper now—drawn from your lips on instinct and exhaled softly under your breath. Your eyes widen at your mistake and your hand flies up to your mouth, but it’s too late. Hoseok cocks his head to the side, his dark eyes flashing from behind the wisp of black hair that’s fallen loose across his forehead. Ever so slightly, his lips tug upward.

“Oh, darling,” he sighs, and his voice is a mocking lilt. “Come out, come out, wherever you are. It’s been so terribly long since we’ve seen each other.”

You suck in a deep breath before boldly stepping out of the bathroom, mustering every ounce of bravado you possess and pouring it into your words. “Not long enough,” you tell him, drawing strength from the fact that you can feel the heavy weight of your gun concealed beneath your jacket. “You haven’t changed at all.”

“And you’ve changed quite a bit.” Hoseok’s mouth quirks into a crooked smirk as he looks you up and down, taking in the well-worn denim jacket and durable boots you’re wearing. “You’ve grown into a hell of a woman. Built up quite the reputation in the last few years, haven’t you?”

He hasn’t stepped into the trap yet. The toes of his sleek black oxfords remain just shy of the striped rug, and you stride forward until you’re standing inside the carved lines of the concealed pentagram, gazing at him coolly. “Oh, yeah? What have you heard?”

Hoseok’s smirk widens. He steps forward, just as you hoped he would, and you watch the realization dawn across his expression as the air shifts subtly around him. Quickly, you retreat back until you’re safely out of the bounds of the Devil’s Trap, looking on as Hoseok glances down at the rug before casting his gaze skyward to where the second pentagram is painted on the ceiling. Then his gaze settles back onto you, the warm brown of his irises beginning to recede. His pupils narrow into slits, and you feel a slight tremor beneath your feet as the floorboards begin to warp.

“You think I didn’t see this coming?” Hoseok asks, and when you look up at him, his eyes are blazing gold. “You think I don’t keep an eye on my toys?”

The air shifts again, and you feel your heart rate pick up as the tremors begin to grow in strength and frequency. A sudden, strong wind buffets you back against the wall, and you gasp at the impact even as Hoseok remains perfectly still in the center of your trap with not even a single hair out of place. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think that he just came from the office—clad as he is in black slacks and a collared black shirt with the top two buttons undone to reveal a sliver of skin.

“You can’t—” you begin, but you’re cut off by a bark of laughter that worms its way into your head and grates against every nerve ending in your body.

“I can’t what, exactly?” Hoseok asks, leveling you with his burning, golden gaze. “Escape from this little trap of yours?” And as if to emphasize his remark, the floorboards at the edge of the room begin to crumple inward, peeling away from the wall and splintering apart. From the ceiling, flecks of dried blue paint begin raining down.

You don’t stay to watch any longer than that. Turning on your heel, you flee out the door and into the brisk evening air, pounding down the single flight of stairs that leads to the parking lot. You rip your keys from your jacket pocket and shakily unlock your car, diving into the driver’s seat as soon as the door opens and firing up the ignition.

It takes about three seconds for you to tear out of the parking lot and onto the main road, but even the rumble of the engine and the screech of tires isn’t enough to drown out the laughter that emanates from the motel room behind you.

Laughter that echoes in your eardrums, and sounds like the screaming of the damned.

THEN - [Ten Years Ago]

Purple twilight is just beginning to fade into the deep, dusky blue of a warm summer night when the phone rings. The sound echoes shrilly in the silence of the house, tearing your attention from the book on your lap, and you sigh before bookmarking the page. Rising to your feet, you stretch lazily as you pad over to the kitchen, plucking the phone off the counter and raising it to your ear. “Hello?”

“Honey?” The voice on the other end is your mother’s. Faintly, you can hear the hum of an engine, and deduce that they must be driving back from their weekend trip to the lake a few hours north of your town. “Did I wake you?”

A glance at the clock on the wall tells you that it’s just past ten. “Not yet, but I’m probably going to brush my teeth in a few,” you reply. “Are you almost home?”

“We’re still thirty minutes away. Maybe forty, at the rate your father’s driving.” You hear the smile in her voice, and laugh when the receiver picks up the sound of your dad harrumphing in mock offense. “We’ll be home before eleven, at least.”

“I’ll be sure to leave the porch light on,” you reply, grinning. Meandering over to the front door, you flick the switch and watch from the window as warm golden light illuminates the floral welcome mat. Across the street, you see your neighbor’s upstairs light blink off, signaling that they’ve put their twins to bed.

“Thanks, honey.” Your mother exhales—a soft, gentle sound. “Gosh, I’m beat. You should really head to bed. No need to wait up.”

“Soon,” you promise. “Right after I finish this chapter, I’ll—”

Thunk.

You frown, pressing your ear a little closer to the receiver. “Mom? Are you still there?”

Silence. Your brow furrows, concern bubbling up in your chest, and you stare at the phone in your hand for a few seconds before trying again. “Hello? Mom?”

“I’m here, hon.” Relief floods through your system, but it doesn’t last long. In the background, you can hear your father speaking in a low, urgent tone, his voice distorted by a staticky hum that suddenly crackles to life against your ear. The words don’t sound like any language you’ve ever heard, and you’re just about to open your mouth and ask about it when your mother speaks again.

“Honey, I’m going to hang up now, okay? There’s a thunderstorm moving in.”

Your frown deepens. The skies have been clear all day, and the evening forecast had predicted no rain in the area. There’s something else, too—a strange edge to your mother’s voice that brews disquiet in the pit of your stomach, and you find yourself gnawing on the edge of your thumbnail as you find your voice again. “Mom. Is everything okay? What’s Dad saying?”

“It’s nothing, hon. He’s singing along to the radio. We’ll be back soon, okay? We just have to—”

Thunk. Louder this time, and it almost sounds as if something heavy was just slammed against the side of the car. Your father’s voice grows stronger, but so does the static. Quietly, your mom hisses out an expletive, and alarm bells begin to blare in your head at her uncharacteristic use of profanity.

“Mom,” you begin, your voice shaking. “Wh—”

You don’t get to finish your sentence. You hear tires screeching against asphalt, followed by a deafening metallic shriek. Then there’s a dull thud—one that sounds like something crashing into a telephone pole or a tree—and your heart rate takes off in a sprint, thumping erratically against your ribs. Belatedly, you realize you’re shaking as your mother speaks again, the words barely registering over the sound of blood rushing in your ears.

“Honey, listen to me.” She’s speaking quickly, quietly. “You’ve locked the front and back door, right? All the windows?”

“I—” It takes you an inordinate amount of effort to remember. “Y-yeah. Yeah, they’re all locked.”

“Good. Don’t let anyone in, you hear me? Not even us. If it’s really us, we’ll have keys.”

“Mom, what are you—?”

“Do you understand, {Name}?”

You’ve never heard your mother sound so grim. “I-I understand,” you answer shakily, your gaze flitting nervously over to the front door. “But—”

A shout interrupts you this time, and you flinch when you recognize the voice as your father’s. He’s chanting again—a repeated verse in a language that you’re pretty sure is Latin—and his words are clear even through the receiver. You hear something else in the background, too—a gusting wind that sounds like the rustling wings of a thousand birds, growing louder and fiercer by the second. Your father shouts something in Latin again, and your mother grits out another curse. “Something’s coming,” she whispers, and your heart plummets into your churning stomach.

“No,” your father replies softly. “Something’s here.”

It happens in the span of a breath—in the time it takes for you to suck in a lungful of air and release it again. A piercing, metallic shriek renders the air, and you pull away from the receiver so quickly you nearly drop it. Shaking, you raise the phone back to your ear, your heart beating so quickly it feels like it may burst. “Mom? Dad? What was that?”

No response. There’s a muffled thump, and then you hear your mother’s voice, distantly, as if she’s underwater. She’s murmuring your father’s name over and over, desperation and despair lacing her tone, and you bite your lip as you call out to her again.

“Mom—” you start, but you’re cut off by laughter. Strange, strident laughter that echoes in the stillness and reverberates with enough malice to make your skin crawl, accompanied by the heavy, deliberate footsteps of a predator that knows it’s caught its prey. It’s a laugh that doesn’t sound human, and you think back to your father’s words. Something’s here. Not someone. Something.

“No,” your mother whispers. “No.” This is followed by a few words in a language you don’t recognize, before she’s cut off by a fresh bout of cackling laughter that has ice sliding down the length of your spine.

“Pathetic.” A low, cavernous voice—deep and malevolent. “That hunk of steel you call a car couldn’t even outpace me. Do you really think your little chants and tricks will save you?”

Your mother starts to reply. You hear a syllable of a word escape her lips, but then there’s a sickening crack and her voice morphs into a pained, gasping whimper. “Go,” she manages between labored breaths, “back to hell, you bastard.”

Another laugh, and this one rumbles like an avalanche. “Brave, stupid words for a human.”

Through the receiver, you hear another crack of bone, harsh and abrupt. Your mother cries out, your father’s name escaping her lips, and your heart splinters at the edge of raw anguish in her voice. Throat bobbing, you try to speak—to say something, do anything—but your body refuses to cooperate. It’s all you can do to hold the phone up to your ear, listening on as your mom gasps for breath.

“It’s almost a pity I have to kill you.” The cavernous voice takes on a leering lilt. “You’re a mouthy one, and I’d love to see what else you can do with it. A shame, really.”

And through the receiver, you listen. The thud of impact—of something hard colliding with something softer. A nauseating crunch, followed by a soft squelch. “Your eyes,” you hear your mother whisper. “They’re so cold.” Faintly, on the other end of the line, you hear what sounds like fingernails scrabbling against the speaker.

“I l-love you.” Her voice is whisper-soft, and you can hear every labored breath she exhales in the receiver. “Don’t forget it, {Name}. Your f-father and I, we love y…”

Her voice trails off, and you clutch the phone a little tighter against your ear. “Mom?”

Nothing. Shakily, you swallow, but it does nothing to soothe the dryness in your throat.

“Mom?”

There’s still no response, and something splinters the edges of your heart, piercing into your chest and cracking past your ribcage. Your breathing is growing increasingly shallow, and no matter how hard you try, you can’t seem to get enough oxygen into your lungs. Shaking, you clutch at the phone, desperation seeping into your voice as you try again. “Mom? Dad?”

Silence. Quivering, you give into gravity, your knees hitting the tiled floor of the kitchen. The phone drops out of your hands, clattering down to the ground, and you don’t even react as it knocks against the wall. All you can hear is the echo of your mother’s voice—soft and gentle as always—until it, too, fades into nothing.

The quiet has never been more deafening. It presses against you on all sides, suffocating and oppressive, until your splayed limbs go soft and slip into numbness. Your mind is a blank and your head is stuffed full of cotton, and it feels like several eternities have passed by the time your senses begin to return. Dimly, you hear the low hum of the refrigerator as it starts up and the slow drip of the bathroom sink down the hall. You shift your weight slightly, wincing as the flow of blood returns and sends a series of throbbing, painful pinpricks along both legs.

Somehow, when the feeling in your legs returns, you have the presence of mind to pick up the fallen telephone. Autopilot drives your movements as you replace it in its stand, and it compels you to the sink when you register the dryness of your throat. There’s a glass on the counter that your dad was drinking from before he left, and you grab it wordlessly and fill it to the brim. The excess dribbles around the edges and down your chin when you drink, but you don’t pay the spill any mind. Your body is hollow, and water doesn’t even come close to quenching the emptiness that’s settled into the spaces between your ribs.

You aren’t sure when you fall asleep, but you awaken on the linoleum floor to sunlight streaming in through the blue-curtained windows and shards of shattered glass littering the ground around your crumpled form. Listlessly, you crawl to your feet and grab the dustpan and broom from the hall closet. The silence of the house echoes around you as you scrape the shards into a pile, the glass clinking softly. There’s no sizzle of breakfast being made. No hum of the TV from the living room. No splash of the shower from upstairs.

You’re alone. You used to savor moments like these—moments when you got the house to yourself and could blast music as loud as you wanted. Moments when you could sneak a little liquor from the locked cabinet in the kitchen, opening it up with the key hidden beneath the basil plant in the windowsill that your parents didn’t think you knew about. That’s where you head as soon as you put the broom back in the closet, lifting the plant pot until your fingertips meet cool metal. You wonder if you should water the basil while you’re here.

Unwillingly, your gaze slides back over to the phone. It sits there like a taunt, and you consider unplugging it from the wall and throwing the whole thing into the trash. Every moment you stare at it only serves to remind you of last night. Your dad’s strange chanting, and your mom’s last words.

And that mysterious third voice—the one that had sounded like grinding stones and rolling thunder. You couldn’t forget it if you tried.

Somehow, your feet manage to carry you over to where the phone sits on the counter. Again, you consider breaking it—opening the window and tossing it out just so you wouldn’t have to look at it anymore. Swallowing, you shut your eyes. You count to three, breathing deeply between intervals, and then you raise the phone to your ear and call the police.

If there’s one perk of living in a small, sleepy town, it’s that the police arrive quickly. You tell them that your parents were driving back from the lake a few hours north, and that they still haven’t returned. You lie when they ask whether you have any family or friends to stay with, and you walk them to the door when they depart again. Locking it behind them, you slump down onto the couch, and you don’t move again until the shadows are growing long and casting slanted silhouettes against the cream colored walls of the living room.

It takes the police one day to come back to you with news. A detective calls you in a somber voice, and you know before the words have even left his mouth. The police bring you down to the station just once—once, to identify the two bodies they’d found in the forest between your town and the next one over. The lawyers come, too—speaking in jargon you can’t comprehend and don’t particularly care to. The only words you understand are last will and testament, and you stop listening after that. The house is yours now—you know that much. Most of the money, too, though a portion has been willed to your aunt—your father’s younger sister. They were always close despite the fact that she lives on the other side of the country, and when she calls you once everyone has left, you pick up with a tired sigh.

“Hello?”

“Hi, sweetie.” Her voice is wistful. “How are you holding up?”

You search for something reassuring to say, but are left at a loss. “I don’t know,” you answer, and it’s the truth. Your entire body feels numb, and at this point, you aren’t sure you’ll ever feel anything again.

“Oh, honey,” your aunt murmurs, and you hate the sympathy in her tone. “I’m so sorry. I wanted to fly out there to be with you, but the baby’s due any day now and we couldn’t find a sitter for Abbie. But you can call me anytime you need someone to talk to, okay? Day or night. I’m here for you, sweetie. We all are.”

You nod before you realize that she can’t see you. “Right,” you mumble. “Thanks.”

On the other end of the line, you hear your aunt release a long, slow breath. “I wish there was more I could do,” she says after a beat. “You’re at least staying with friends though, right?”

“Right,” you lie. “I’m cleaning out some stuff now, but after… yeah. Heading out to a friend’s.”

“Good,” she says, with obvious relief seeping into her voice. “Anyway, I’ve got to run—Abbie’s calling for me. I think she scraped her knee on the sidewalk, and—” She stops. “I’m sorry, you don’t want to listen to me ramble on. I’m serious about calling me, though. Day or night, honey. Anytime you need.”

“Thanks,” you say dully, before remembering your manners. “And hey, I hope Abbie’s okay. Give her a kiss for me.”

“Of course,” your aunt says. “We’ll talk soon, okay?”

“Yeah. Bye.”

The line goes dead, and you slowly lower the receiver back into its stand. A wave of exhaustion overtakes you, sinking into your very bones, and you decide it may be worthwhile to head upstairs for a nap. You shuffle over to the staircase, making it up a single step before the door at the end of the hall catches your attention.

It’s your father’s study. You’ve only been inside a handful of times in recent years, since your father had requested privacy during the final stages of writing his novel. As a child, however, you'd often played inside on the carpeted floor—building block towers and having tea parties with your stuffed animals and dolls while your dad clacked away at his computer. The memories push you toward the door, but your throat constricts as soon as your fingers touch the brassy doorknob. With some difficulty, you swallow down the feeling, and take a moment to gather yourself before pushing open the door.

Immediately, you are assailed by the smell of old books. Underlying that is a distinctly herbal scent—something that you trace to the dying plants in the window and the woven wreath of dried flowers hung on the wall opposite. They’re smells that you’ve grown up with—smells that remind you of what you’ve lost—and your throat begins to tighten again at the thought. Taking a tentative step inside, you grab a book from the shelf nearest you, burying your nose inside and breathing in the old leather.

When your breath evens out again, you raise your head and take a closer look at the book you’ve grabbed. Paradise Lost, the cover reads, and you sigh and replace it in its spot on the shelf. Turning instead to your father’s desk, you edge around and take a tentative seat in the worn leather chair behind it. Resting your elbows on the polished mahogany surface, you glance around—from the stained glass lamp sitting on one corner to the miniature globe on the other. The computer sits proudly in the center, and just to the right of it lies a book. Curiosity has you reaching for it, and you frown when you flip open the plain red cover to see the title inscribed within. Infernale.

Weird.

Slowly, you turn a few more pages, taking in the scribbles that decorate many of the margins. You recognize both your father’s and mother’s handwriting, and frown when you read the words. South Beach, 1991. Your gaze darts up to the title of the chapter, your heart rate picking up when you see it. Lesser Demons.

Heart racing, you return to the table of contents. Chapter one is indeed titled Lesser Demons, and your forehead wrinkles as you read through more of the chapter names. Demons of the Waste. Daeva. Specters. Ifrit. Yōkai. Cambions. Incubi and Succubi.

You stop after a few more. Two pages in the book are dog-eared, you notice, and your fingers shake as you turn to the first. It takes you to the chapter entitled Demons of the Waste, and you scan the page for any reason why it may have been bookmarked. There are only a few words scribbled in the margin—the names of cities you’ve never visited and dates long before you were born. Frowning, you instead turn to the second dog-ear, scanning across that chapter title.

Demons of the Crossroads.

Your gaze drops to the first paragraph, and then the second. You read through the passages describing their powers and abilities—how they’ve been known to grant great power and riches to those who summon them. Anything and everything that one could desire, but at a cost. And though all of this is no doubt a fantasy—a little bit of fiction to spur your father’s imagination and help him find his muse—you find yourself turning to the page that lays out the details of the summoning ritual.

A crossroads, at midnight. A box crafted of wood from an elder tree. A handful of dirt from a graveyard, and a bone from a black cat. And most importantly, a drop of the summoner’s blood.

“This can’t be real,” you mutter under your breath, scanning the text a second time. “Demons… they can’t be real.” But then you think back to the voice that you heard just before your parents died—the one that echoes in your dreams and turns them into waking nightmares. The voice that was distinctly inhuman, and set off all the alarm bells in your brain that your parents taught you should never be ignored.

Groaning, you shake your head and drop the book back down onto the desk, the page still flipped open to the directions for the summoning ritual. You stare down at the required items once more, wondering—and then something possesses you and you begin to look around the rest of the study. The many bookshelves lining the walls house a variety of odds and ends, and you immediately spot a small wooden box on one of the uppermost shelves. Curiously, you grab it and open the lid, inhaling sharply when you see the mound of dirt inside.

Now that you are looking, you quickly find a bone that looks small enough to be from a cat. It’s sitting not too far from where you discovered the box, and you wonder, vaguely, if it’s already been used. Can items be used more than once for summoning rituals? You aren’t sure. You don’t even know if the ritual will work, or if demons are even real. The sheer ludicrousness of the entire situation settles over you all at once and you begin to laugh—slumping against the wall and heaving for air. You laugh until your stomach cramps and your breath grows short, and then you hiccup and laugh some more. It’s freeing, almost—a strange sense of relief after two days of the static limbo you’ve found yourself stuck in. You laugh until you can laugh no more, and then you slump all the way to the ground, sinking down into the thick, tasseled rug.

Slowly, you glance at the little bone in your hand. Then you look at the wooden box, sitting on the table with its lid open. Your gaze slides over to the book beside it, your mind recalling the words you’ve already memorized. Wood, earth, bone, and blood. You already have all four. And as luck would have it, you happen to know of a crossroads at the edge of town, too.

If anything, it’s an excuse to get out of the house. Even if Infernale does end up being fiction, you’ve been cooped up for far too long and fresh air would probably do you a world of good. Rising to your feet, you place the bone atop the mound of dirt and shut the box, latching the little metal clasp.

The remainder of the afternoon passes in a blur. You make yourself a sandwich as the sun sets, watching from the window as it disappears beyond the horizon in one last burst of hazy gold. The deep blue of evening descends over the kitchen, and you finish eating in the dark before finally turning on the lights. Quietly, you wash the crumbs from your hands, making sure to wipe down the counter and clean up the utensils you’ve used.

You leave the house fifteen minutes after eight o’clock, stepping into the garage for the first time in what feels like forever. Your mother’s car is still parked there—they’d taken your father’s that fateful day, after all—and your throat tightens at the sight of the navy blue sedan. Your eyes well with unshed tears but you will them back down, blinking rapidly to dispel them. Swallowing, you dig the keys out of your backpack and unlock the door, climbing into the driver’s seat and adjusting the controls until you can reach the pedals and see all the mirrors.

The drive out is a short one, down a road you’ve driven along many times on your way to and from your job at the twenty-four hour diner that sits on the outskirts of town. Instead of taking a right like you normally do, however, this time you take a left. Soon, the cracked asphalt turns into dirt and you gradually come to a stop, taking care to pull over to the side of the road and putting the car in park. Sucking in a deep breath, you glance over at the backpack sitting on the passenger seat.

“This is stupid,” you mumble to yourself, pulling the keys from the ignition. Throwing open the door, you climb out and walk around to the trunk where you’ve stowed the shovel you found in the garage an hour prior. “God, this is stupid. I mean, what’s next? Summoning the tooth fairy?”

Still, you locate the center of the crossroads and start digging a hole there. Still, you pull the elderwood box out of your backpack once you deem the hole deep enough, placing it inside and opening up the lid. Grabbing the sewing kit you purloined from the hall closet, you carefully select a needle. It gleams silver in the flickering orange light of the streetlamp on the corner, and you shiver as you press the pointed tip to the pad of your index finger, pricking through the skin.

Wood. Earth. Bone.

A single drop of blood drips into the box, absorbing into the dark mound of soil. You wince as you put away the needle and grab the prepared bandaid from your pocket, bandaging your finger clumsily before crouching down to shut the box. Laboriously, you fill up the hole again, tamping down the disturbed earth with your shovel. According to Infernale, the only thing left to do now is wait. You wonder, after a few silent seconds have dragged by, whether you should have brought along the book for some light reading.

The thought has only just crossed your mind when there’s a sound from behind you. It’s the slightest noise—the lightest crunch of gravelly dirt underfoot—and you whirl, immediately on the alert. Mentally, you curse yourself for not thinking to bring a weapon aside from the shovel lying on the ground at your feet.

And then you stop dead, frozen as you stare at the man standing before you.

He looks like a man, at least. There’s no way for you to confirm that the summoning spell worked—at least, not until the man takes a step into the light of the streetlamp and smiles, baring teeth that look just a touch sharper than normal. “You’re younger than I thought you’d be,” he remarks. His gaze flits up, and you follow the trajectory as he gestures up at the velvety night sky where the first stars are just beginning to peek through the darkness. “Nice night, isn’t it?”

Feeling is slowly beginning to return to your body, seeping into your limbs and loosening the chokehold on your throat. “It worked,” you manage, swallowing down what little saliva remains in your mouth. “You’re… you’re a demon.”

“I’m Hoseok,” the man replies, taking another step closer and offering you a hand that you don’t take. Unfazed, he retracts his hand and hooks his thumb into his pocket. “And yes, you’re correct about the demon thing. I’m here at your request, darling, so what will it be?”

“I—” You’re still recovering your full vocabulary. “I think I expected you to be hornier.” The poor word choice escapes before you can stop it, and you slap a palm over your mouth when you realize the implication. “Not like that! It’s just that… I mean, don’t demons usually have—?” You trail off and settle for miming horns at your temples, sticking out your index fingers and wiggling them lamely for emphasis.

Hoseok chuckles and taps the side of his head, ruffling his black hair just enough to expose a glimpse of his undercut. “Don’t believe all the stereotypes,” he advises. “Besides, I usually use my human form for these sorts of things. It’s a bit more… palatable for your kind.”

You aren’t sure what to say in response to that. Fidgeting with a loose thread at the hem of your t-shirt, you glance back at the patch of disturbed earth where you buried the box of summoning items, gnawing on your bottom lip nervously. “I guess… I guess this means that the ritual worked, then.”

“Like a charm,” Hoseok replies, and now that he’s stepped fully into the light from the streetlamp, you see that he appears to be a man in his mid to late twenties. Black hair is parted neatly over his forehead, a few stray strands falling loose into dark brown eyes. He’s wearing an all black ensemble—a silky black shirt that flows along his body like water and tucks into black slacks at the waist—and your throat bobs when you note the way the top two buttons are undone to expose a generous sliver of golden skin.

“So…” You hesitate. “Now what?”

Hoseok’s lips tilt up into a smile. “You’re the one who summoned me, darling. You tell me.”

“I—” Your bottom lip finds its way between your teeth again. “I want to make a deal. My parents. Can you… can you bring them back?”

A beat of silence. Then, Hoseok releases a long, slow sigh, and your heart plummets down to the pit of your stomach. “It’s not that simple, unfortunately,” he says, and his voice is surprisingly gentle. “Unlike death, life is a tricky thing. Death is easy. Effortless. But life? Not so much.”

“How can you say that?” you ask, the tears you’ve been suppressing for so long finally beginning to brim. “Death is horrible. And my parents, they—” You stop, letting out a shuddery breath. “They didn’t deserve this. They deserved better.”

Hoseok shakes his head, his mouth curling into a sympathetic smile. “When I say death, I don’t mean dying, darling. Dying is hard, yes. And most of the time, it’s painful. But once you’re dead, it’s a release. No worries or cares, in this world or the next.”

You sniff. “Is this your way of telling me that they’re in a better place now?”

Hoseok’s smile is a bit more genuine this time. “I haven’t seen either of them in Hell yet, that’s for sure.”

That gives you pause. There’s no trace of deceit in his voice—no sign of a lie in his expression—and you instinctively glance up at the smattering of stars scattered across the sky. “Does that mean… are you saying that they’re…?”

You can’t quite finish the sentence, but Hoseok seems to understand nonetheless. “It wouldn’t be very fair to pull them out now, would it?” he asks softly, and you hesitate for a moment before nodding in agreement.

The silence that descends after your acquiescence is a long one. Hoseok doesn’t seem to be in any rush to break it, and you can’t find the words to do it yourself. A cool breeze blows by, ruffling the treetops and sending a stray aluminum can skittering across your path. Idly, you kick at it, watching as it clatters across the gravelly dirt and comes to a stop in the sparse grass at the side of the road.

“It’s funny,” you murmur after a few long moments have gone by. “I never thought I’d be doing something like this.” Glancing down, you pick at the loose thread on your shirt again, winding it around your index finger and pulling until it begins to dig into your skin. “We were supposed to go to the beach this week. My parents rent a house on the shore every summer, and we’d always go down to vacation. It was gonna be the last trip we took before I started college, but now…” You sniff and rub hurriedly at your nose. “I guess it doesn’t matter now, huh?”

Hoseok takes another step forward, until he’s close enough that you could easily reach out and touch him. “Sorry,” he says. “I wish you could’ve gone on that trip. Beaches are one of the best things about Earth.”

You can’t help it—you snort. “Been to a lot of beaches, have you?”

“You’d be surprised,” he replies. “And let me tell you, the ones on Earth are way better than the ones in Hell. Way too much lava.” He chuckles. “Besides—the smell of salt in the air? Waves crashing against the rocks as seagulls fly overhead? What’s not to like?”

“I always liked the sunrises,” you answer wistfully. Between your fingers, the thread snaps in two, and you stare down at it for a moment before letting it fall to the ground. “We used to take walks, you know. On the last morning before we left, we’d walk along the beach and watch the sun rise. We’d pack a picnic breakfast, and—” Your voice cracks a little on the last syllable, and you trail off. A glance at Hoseok reveals him standing silently, his expression unreadable from behind the wisps of dark hair falling loose across his forehead. Beneath your feet, gravel crunches as you scuff your heel awkwardly against the ground.

“Let me help,” Hoseok says at last, his voice low. “I may not be able to bring your parents back, but I can grant you one wish.”

You suck in a deep breath and exhale it back out again through your teeth. “A wish for my soul, right?”

Hoseok inclines his head, sending another strand of dark hair into his brown eyes. “There is a price, yes. Do you want to continue?”

You hesitate. You think back to that dreaded night, and the phone call you’d gotten. You think of the noises you’d heard through the receiver—the cracks and crunches and cries of pain. You think of your mother’s last words, before her breath was cut off short and her voice faded into deafening silence.

“My family,” you choke out. “My aunt. My uncle and my cousins. All of my loved ones—everyone I care about—I don’t want them to suffer. I want them to live long, happy lives, and I don’t want them to… to die in pain. Can you do that?”

“I can.” Hoseok takes another step, until there’s only the barest distance between you and you can feel the heat radiating off of his chest. “Is that your wish?”

“Yes,” you whisper. You wonder, vaguely, if he’s going to conjure up a paper contract out of midair.

Instead, Hoseok simply smiles and tilts his head to the side. “Done,” he breathes, and you feel a ripple in the air around you. On some level, you were still convinced that this was all an elaborate hoax, but that dissipates completely when you peer at his face and see that he’s changed. His features are sharper, and his aura is much more dangerous. He seems to be radiating power—you can feel the energy thrumming in the air, disturbing the very oxygen entering your lungs. And his eyes—they’ve shifted from dark brown to molten gold, with narrow pupils and a distinctly inhuman slant that sends your heartbeat into a raging gallop.

“You know how we seal these deals, don’t you?” Hoseok’s voice has dipped an octave, and you shiver at the deep, cavernous quality it’s taken on. His hand comes up to brush your cheek—the tender motion belying everything you’ve read and heard about his nature. Shakily, you steel yourself, but no amount of preparation could have readied you for when Hoseok’s lips find yours. The touch burns, and you don’t even have a chance to figure out whether what you’re feeling is pleasure or pain before he pulls back again.

“Ten years, darling,” he says. “That’s as long as I can give you.” Then his voice softens, and you wonder if you’re fooling yourself into hearing sincerity in his tone. “And I’m sorry about your parents. It’s unfortunate, what happened to them.”

“I…” Your breath is stuck in your throat. “I, um. Thank you, I guess.”

A smile. “Ten years,” he reminds you. “Enjoy them, darling. I’ll be seeing you again before you know it.”

And then you blink, and he’s gone.

///

A week passes, or maybe it’s only a few days. You lose track after a while, mindlessly going through the motions of life in a house that feels much too large for one. Day and night blur together, until your meeting with Hoseok feels like a distant memory. Sometimes, you even manage to convince yourself that it was all just a dream—a figment of an overactive imagination and one too many reads of your father’s supernatural mystery novels.

But eventually, you wake up. Eventually, the reality of the situation sinks back in and you’re left floating and directionless, adrift in the prison of your own home with the knowledge that you only have ten years left to live.

“Twenty-eight,” you mumble to the empty air of your bedroom. Racking your brain, you try to remember what your parents were doing at that age, but come up short. And maybe, you think, that’s for the best. You won’t have anything to lose if you don’t have anything to begin with. An empty life renders death an easy choice—a welcome one, even. When Hoseok comes to claim what’s his, you’ll be able to give it to him without hesitation.

Another day goes by, and you manage to pull yourself out of limbo at last. You find yourself driving down the road again—only this time, you take the much more familiar path on the right. The roadside diner is deserted and quiet save the soft hum of the jukebox in the corner and the bleary eyed young man standing behind the counter, and you can only blink weakly at him when his eyes widen at the sight of you in the doorway.

“{Name}?” He squints, his nose scrunching as he leans over the counter. “Where the hell have you been?”

You take two steps inside before faltering, coming to a stop beneath the dingy fluorescent lights lining the ceiling. “Nice to see you too, Yoongi.”

Yoongi snorts and adjusts the red paper hat atop his head—a flimsy, shapeless thing that tops off his pinstriped uniform and clashes terribly with his mint green hair. “Seriously? Is that all you have to say after almost two weeks MIA? Old Man Schneider was this close to firing you. You’re lucky I managed to save your ass.”

“Yeah. Thanks for that.” Stepping around the counter, you join him at the cash register and plop your own hat onto your head. Yoongi watches you raptly, a frown etched across his face, and you finally turn to look at him again when the staring becomes too much. “What?”

“You never answered my question,” he answers quietly. “Where have you been, {Name}? I thought you’d died or something. What the hell happened to you?”

Yoongi has always been blunt, and you normally appreciate his no-nonsense attitude. It’s come in handy on many an occasion with the entitled customers and the rowdy teenagers who come in looking to cause trouble. During the two years you’ve worked at the diner, you’ve bonded over stolen midnight milkshakes and sordid gossip about the more eccentric locals. It isn’t much of a stretch to say that he’s your closest friend in this town, and when you hesitate a moment too long, you see something soft enter his irises.

“{Name}...” he says, and he doesn’t say anything beyond that. You don’t give him a chance to, as you spill the events of the last two weeks. You tell him about the phone call and the police and the lawyers— leaving out the inhuman voice you heard and your deal with Hoseok—and he listens in growing horror until you finally lapse back into silence with tears pricking at your eyes. He lays a hand on your shoulder, then—cautious and hesitant—and you wipe hurriedly at your nose before offering him a weak, watery smile.

“It’s okay,” you mumble. “I’m okay.”

“You’re a fucking liar,” Yoongi replies shortly. “Do you wanna get out of here? Froggy’s doesn’t card, and I’m pretty sure you could use a drink.”

You bark out a humorless laugh. “I don’t think I can miss any more work, Yoongi. Old Man Schneider will fire me for sure, and even you won’t be able to talk him out of it. Besides, working will do me some good. I… I could use the distraction.”

Yoongi hesitates for a second before nodding. He reaches up and adjusts your paper cap with uncharacteristic gentleness, and you offer him another small smile before heading to the back to restock the cups and straws.

Your shift passes without incident, and for that you’re grateful. It’s nearing one in the morning by the time you finish mopping the linoleum floors, skirting around the booths that are occupied by truckers passing through the area. Thankfully, neither you nor Yoongi are scheduled to work the dead shift, which runs from midnight to eight in the morning. Eileen—a middle-aged woman with graying blond hair and permanent frown lines—has already arrived and is setting up shop at the cash register. Together, you and Yoongi bid her goodbye and head out into the night, breathing in fresh air that’s untainted by the smell of hot grease.

“You gonna be okay?” Yoongi is looking at you, raking a hand through his tousled mint hair, and you consider telling him the truth. For one brief, shining moment, you consider telling him about Hoseok and the strange deal you made, and the way he’d inexplicably disappeared afterward. You wonder if he would think you were crazy if you told him you were beginning to believe in the existence of demons, or if he would write it off as a joke.

Hell, maybe you have gone crazy.

Gathering your wits about you, you muster a smile and nod your head. “I’ll be fine,” you tell him as earnestly as you can. “I just needed to tell someone, I think, so thanks for listening.”

Yoongi doesn’t look entirely convinced. Still, he pulls his keys from his pocket and turns toward where his car is parked on the other side of the lot. “Breakfast tomorrow,” he says shortly. “Not here, obviously. Tub’s Pub okay? At ten?”

You reach out and grab his hand before he can walk away, squeezing it tight. “Yeah. Ten is great.”

THEN - [Nine Years Ago]

Seasons change, but you don’t. Instead, you find yourself stuck in stasis, spending long hours at the diner and even longer hours in your house. Time seems to pass faster when you’re inebriated, and alcohol seems to be the only way you can fall asleep nowadays. The liquor cabinet is kept well-stocked, and while you’re willing to acknowledge that you may have a problem, you aren’t willing to do anything about it. You have a problem that’s much bigger than alcohol, after all.

Hoseok.

Just one year ago, you made a deal and sealed your fate. You came face to face with your death, and he showed up in the form of an admittedly handsome, dangerously charismatic demon of the crossroads. Ten years, he’d promised, and by your count you have nine more remaining. Somedays, you find yourself wondering whether dying will hurt or not.

You’ve spoken to your aunt several times during the last year. She’s busy with her newborn but still finds the time to call at least once a month, and during your call last week she’d finally caved and told you the truth. As it turns out, she’s known about the existence of supernatural forces all along, and the news that her brother was killed in a mysterious car accident came as no surprise. Her parents—your grandparents—came from a long line of hunters and passed along all the skills and tools of the trade. They passed away when you were a child, and you glean from the sadness in her voice that they’d died on the job.

I never wanted that kind of life, she’d murmured wistfully. Hunting wasn’t my thing, and I was bad at it. I was bad at tracking and even worse at fighting, and no matter how much my parents wanted me to learn, I kept resisting. I just wanted to start a family, and I didn’t want to raise my kids in a world of monsters and bloodshed. But your father… I guess he just couldn’t stay away.

I thought things would get better when he met your mom, to be honest. She was a wonderful woman, with a good head on her shoulders and a stable accounting career. But just before the wedding, he told me. She was a hunter too. She was just a lot better at hiding it.

Just before she’d hung up, your aunt had offered for you to move in with her. The promise of a normal life was tempting, and for a few long seconds you’d considered it. Considered packing your bags and leaving this house behind, and starting a new life on the other side of the country. But in the end, something held you back.

Sighing, you set aside your dinner plate and rise from your spot on the couch. The clock on the living room wall tells you that your shift starts in fifteen minutes, and you wearily grab your bag and head out to the car. You drive on autopilot, rambling down familiar back roads and quiet streets until you reach the diner where Yoongi is already standing behind the cash register. “Hey,” he says when you enter, blowing a bubble that’s almost the same shade of pink as his hair. The color is even more garish with the red hat than the mint had been, and is a drastic change from the cerulean blue he’d been sporting just last week.

“Hey,” you reply. “You’re here early.”

“I’m really not. I just filled in for Eileen this morning.” Then he jabs a thumb in the direction of the kitchen. “Hey, are you hungry? Donnie just made a whole bunch of chicken nuggets, and they’re probably sitting in the back getting cold.”

You shake your head and don your paper cap, not even bothering to check your reflection to make sure it’s on straight. “Nah. I just ate.”

Yoongi shrugs and spits his gum into a napkin. “Your loss. I’m gonna go grab some—can you watch the register for a minute?”

“Sure,” you agree, taking his place behind the counter. The diner is relatively quiet on Tuesday nights, and for that you’re grateful. You have a sneaking suspicion that most people are staying in tonight anyway, especially since the evening forecast predicted dropping temperatures and a chance of snow flurries later around midnight.

Glancing around, you take in the patrons seated around the dining area. Only one of them you recognize—a regular named Tom who always keeps peppermints in his pocket and loves telling stories about his grandchildren. He’s seated at the far end of the counter with his usual platter of pork chops and mashed potatoes, and waves when he catches your eye. Nearby, there’s a man with a blue baseball cap pulled low over his face, hunched in his booth over a plate of scrambled eggs, hashbrowns, and a full pot of coffee. No doubt he’s a trucker—you’ve seen his type time and time again. A few tables over, two women are seated with only one small bowl of untouched fruit between them. One has dark hair and the other has light, but both possess the kind of features that make it near impossible to determine their age. Closest to you, lounging in a booth near the window, is a man wearing a full suit. His briefcase occupies the seat opposite him, and you quickly look away when he glances at you with eyes that are too, too blue.

You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t witnessed any strange events at the diner. Most of the time they’re simple cases of drunk and disorderlies or local teenagers looking to blow off some steam, but every now and then an incident makes you wonder. Ever since you stumbled across Infernale in your father’s study—ever since you met Hoseok—you haven’t been able to shake the feeling that something is lingering at the edges of your vision, just out of sight.

The books all say the same thing, after all. There are other dimensions beyond the earthly one, and the borders between them are weakest at dawn and dusk. Lines blur during those odd, liminal hours—those times that are just a little in between. And now that the sun is rapidly setting beyond the horizon, you can’t help but take another, more careful look around.

Three men and two women. The diner is quiet save the soft clatter of silverware and the clinking of glasses. Yoongi hasn’t returned yet, and distantly in the back you can hear his low drawl as he converses with Donnie and the other cooks. Through the window, you watch as evening settles like a velvety blanket, dark clouds blotting out the moon and stars.

When the door flies open, you nearly jump out of your skin. You hadn’t even seen anyone approach through the glass, but the woman sauntering toward you is definitely not a figment of your imagination. She’s tall and willowy with chestnut brown waves cascading down her back, and the diner audibly falls silent as she approaches the counter and offers you a smile that could instantly end any supermodel’s career.

“Hi,” she purrs. “You’re open, right? Do I just help myself, or…?”

Blinking, you glance over at the Please seat yourself! sign by the door that she just breezed past. “Uh, I guess? You can take a seat wherever, and I can drop off some water in a second.”

Her smile widens. “Make it hot water, won’t you? It’s freezing out there.” And then she walks off toward the booth between Tom and the trucker, her hips swaying with every step.

Yoongi returns, and you bring the woman a mug of hot water as promised. She doesn’t order anything else beyond that, and you do a quick check of the other patrons before returning to the register where Yoongi is idly scribbling on a stray piece of receipt paper.

“Maybe I will have some of those chicken nuggets,” you sigh, stretching your arms overhead and letting out a yawn. “Are there any left back there?”

“Probably,” Yoongi hums, and you nod and head to the kitchen in search of some food.

By the time you return—less than five minutes in total—both Tom and the woman are noticeably absent. Curiously, you raise your eyebrows at Yoongi, who just shrugs and returns to his doodling. Rolling your eyes, you glance outside instead, noting that night has well and truly fallen while you were in the back of the diner. The single streetlamp standing on the corner of the parking lot does little to illuminate its surroundings, and you don’t see anything at first. But as your eyes adjust, you begin to see movement. Two shadowy silhouettes lurking just outside the ring of light cast on the cracked asphalt, locked in an embrace and dancing to music that only they can hear.

Only, they aren’t dancing.

Confused, you take a closer look at the two figures, your brows furrowing when you realize that they are Tom and the mysterious woman. They’re standing close together—practically chest to chest—and maybe it’s a trick of the light but the woman’s face looks wrong, somehow. Inhuman.

And Tom—he doesn’t seem to be moving much at all.

“Son of a bitch!” you hiss under your breath. Grabbing the nearest salt shaker off the counter, you surreptitiously pry off the lid and pocket it. “Going out for some air,” you tell Yoongi, who hums and waves you off without looking up. And on your way out, you grab a knife from the bin and stash that in your pocket too.

As soon as you open the front door, you’re assailed by a gust of brisk air that immediately permeates the thin material of your uniform and mists your breath. Your focus doesn’t waver from where Tom and the woman are standing though, and the slam of the door falling shut again catches their attention and holds it as you make your approach.

“This is private property,” you say as you step into the light of the streetlamp, your grip tight around the knife in your pocket. Somehow, your voice is steady, and you send a silent thank you to whatever deities may exist up in the heavens. “You can’t be loitering here.”

The woman grins and runs a perfectly manicured nail down Tom’s cheek. This close to him, you can see the way he’s quivering, and anger swells in your chest when you spot the razor thin trail of red that she’s left behind on his skin.

“No need to worry your pretty little head,” she coos. “I’m almost done here, anyway.”

Something in you snaps at the condescension lilting her tone—something hard and brittle that releases a flood of cold fury up and into your throat. “Leave!” you shout, wrenching the salt shaker from your pocket and flinging the contents at the woman. With your other hand you grab the knife, brandishing it wildly as you struggle to remember the chant that you’d read in Infernale just two nights prior. “Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica pose—oh, fuck. Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus—”

The woman laughs. “Are you trying to exorcise me? That’s not going to work, you idiot. And that knife? What a joke.” Carelessly, she—it?—lets go of Tom’s collar, shoving the elderly man aside. Tom wheezes and staggers into the rickety wooden fence that lines the parking lot, and you scowl as the woman begins stalking toward you, putting on a brave face even as fear curdles in your gut.

“Get back!” You rip the crucifix pendant out from where it’s concealed beneath your uniform, brandishing it on its metal chain. “Stay back, I’m warning you—”

She merely laughs again, baring glistening white teeth. “Really? Do you think that little cross will save you?” Her grin widens and her face begins to ripple, the skin bulging. Her eyes glint dangerously in the dim light, and yours widen as you watch her teeth elongate in her mouth, sharpening to razor points.

“Vampire,” you gasp. “Oh, shit.”

She smirks. “Finally caught on, huh?”

But you aren’t paying attention—not anymore. You’re looking at the fence that lines the property, and more specifically, you’re eyeing the jagged break in one of the wooden slats from last weekend’s thunderstorm.

“Get back!” you shout, ripping the crucifix off its chain and waving it at her. “You think you’re tough? You go after Tom, of all people? You’re a fucking bitch!”

Much to your relief, she begins backing up, eyeing the crucifix warily. Still, she’s smiling, and you narrow your eyes and point your knife at her as she opens her mouth to speak, her fangs flashing in the dim light. “Oh, it has a name?” she asks, giggling as she glances over to where Tom has fallen to the ground and is muttering what sounds like a prayer. “I thought it was just easy prey. I don’t like working too hard for my meals, to be honest.”

“You’re a fucking monster,” you grit out, tightening your grip on the crucifix. “You’re fucking heartless.”

The woman—vampire—merely tilts her head, sending a wavy lock of brown hair tumbling over her shoulder. “What’s your point?”

Scowling, you drop the knife and cross the remaining distance between you, slamming the crucifix against the exposed skin of her clavicle. The impact sends her reeling back, and she stumbles over her heeled boots before there’s a dull squelch. Shock flits across her face as she glances down, staring at the jagged bit of wood protruding from her chest.

“I guess I just have one point,” you hiss, ignoring the burning sizzle emanating from where the crucifix is still pressed against her skin. “Too bad it’s also the point that’s going to kill you.”

The vampire snarls—outrage marring her face and twisting it into something horrendous. “You little bitch,” she grits out, lashing out at you with the last of her strength. Her teeth graze your neck, stinging your skin, and you gasp and stumble back in surprise.

And then it’s over. The vampire dissolves into dust that quickly blows away on the wind, and you grimace as you touch the spot on your neck and come away with your fingers wet.

When you walk back into the diner, Yoongi is looking at you with concern swimming in his dark eyes. “You okay?” he asks, and you nod. You see the way his gaze drops to the scratch on your neck, but he doesn’t say anything else and for that you’re grateful.

That night, you hole up in your father’s study and find every book you can on vampires. You read until the early hours of the morning, and only then do you stumble your way to the couch for a nap. Sleep brings with it dreams, and in them you see Tom and the vampire you’d killed. You see Yoongi, and you see Hoseok. And then you see your parents.

Upon waking, you know what you have to do. You may only have nine years to live, but you’ll be damned if you don’t make the best of them.

It takes two months. Two months of staying up late to read in the study, until night blurs into morning. Two months of picking up extra shifts at the diner and avoiding Yoongi’s probing questions. Your friend has always been much more observant than people give him credit for. His apathy is often mistaken for stupidity, but you know him better than that. Moreover, you know that he knows something is up. You aren’t willing or ready to tell him about your plans though, and he stops pressing the issue after a while. Leaving is easier once he lets up, and you try not to let any emotion show on your face when you bid him farewell after your last shift.

“Yeah, yeah.” His mouth is twisted into a sardonic little frown, as usual. “Get out of here. Your shift’s been over for half an hour already, and I’ll see you tomorrow anyhow.”

“Tomorrow,” you repeat, your voice surprisingly steady even to your own ears. “Same time, same place.”

“Just like always.” He offers you a little half-smile, crooked with amusement. “See ya.”

“Bye, Yoongi.”

You turn around before the tears come, pushing open the glass doors and stepping out into the dimly lit parking lot. Your breath turns into mist upon contact with the wintry air, and you watch a whorl of it spiral up into the night sky before dissipating into nothing. Up above, cold stars blink at you from their lofty thrones, casting silent judgment.

You’ve already packed everything you can fit into your car. Books, charms, and the few weapons you’d found stashed away under the floorboards of your father’s study. Infernale is tucked safely in your backpack in the front seat, and you look over at it before taking one last glance back at the diner. Through the window, you can see Yoongi’s mop of pink hair bobbing around.

Slowly, you put the key into the ignition. The engine rumbles to life, and you release a long, slow breath.

In. Out.

And you begin to drive.

THEN - [Seven Years Ago]

It’s a cloudless night. The moon is full and the stars are distant and cold, and you know—having now read most of the books and scrolls and grimoires you took from your father’s study—that it’s a perfect night for something unnatural to come out and play.

Werewolves are your first bet. Active for three days around each full moon, you’ve both heard and seen the damage they can inflict on unwitting towns. Overall, they tend to prefer forested areas over urban ones, but in your years of travel you’ve encountered them in almost every place you’ve set foot. As time went on, you adopted more and more protective measures against them, including wearing silver rings on your fingers and silver chains at your throat. All of them are affixed with crucifixes and charms to ward off as many unsavory creatures as possible, and you idly trace the carved rune pendant at your throat before grabbing your trusty gun and climbing out of your car.

You’ve parked right at the edge of town, mere steps from where the dense forest begins. According to the map you’d picked up from a gas station, you’re very close to the entrance of some sort of national park, lauded for its hiking trails and scenic overlooks over the nearby river. But this close to midnight, the area takes on a much more ominous feel. Every shadow transforms into an unseen monster, and the rushing river drowns out any sounds that might warn you of an enemy’s approach. Tightening your grip on your gun, you step onto the loamy earth and make your way into the trees, every sense on high alert.

No matter how many times you find yourself walking through a forest, you aren’t sure you’ll ever be completely at ease among the trees. The undergrowth grows wilder the deeper you get, until there are far too many places to hide and even more unexplainable sounds. Every snapping twig—every crunch of the dead leaves underfoot—has you whirling around to check for anything that might be sneaking up behind you. The wind picks up, whistling through the branches, and you shiver at the sudden chill.

That’s when you see it. A hulking figure covered in scraggly fur, crouched over a lifeless body lying amongst the dead leaves. You can hear the slurping and squelching sounds even over the noises of the forest and the river, and immediately come to a complete standstill, not even daring to draw breath as you assess the situation. Luck seems to be on your side, as the creature doesn’t seem to have noticed your presence yet, but you know that you’ll be found out if the wind changes even a little bit. Warily, you slip into a particularly dense copse of trees, waiting and watching for any signs that there may be a pack.

A minute drags by, and you suppress the urge to cover your ears as the beast continues to feast. Instead, you listen to your surroundings—the neverending babble of the river, the leaves rustling in the wind, the occasional call of a distant bird. You’ve always heard that animals will fall silent in the face of impending storms, but that doesn’t always hold true when it comes to inhuman things. You can still hear the soft scurry of critters in the undergrowth and bits of birdsong from the branches above, and that gives you enough confidence that you’re dealing with a lone werewolf. Slowly, you raise your gun and click off the safety, knowing that you can’t miss your shot.

Even with a silencer, gunshots are loud. It cracks through the night air, startling a flock of birds and sending them skyward, but you don’t pay them any mind. Your bullet finds its mark, and you allow yourself a short sigh of relief as the beast crumples to the ground, collapsing across the remains of its meal. You’ll have to dispose of both that and the werewolf, and already you’re dreading the size of the hole you’ll have to dig. Your shovel is still stowed away in your trunk, too, which means you’ll have to double back and—

The beast stirs. Its clawed hand twitches, then clenches, and your brow furrows as you raise your gun again. You fire off another bullet and catch it right in the chest, just a few inches shy of the first shot, but it barely seems to affect the creature this time as it clambers clumsily back to his feet. You flinch back as it zeroes in immediately on the tree you’re concealed behind, its fur matted with blood and its eyes glowing green-gold in the darkness of the night.

“Hunter,” it rattles, its voice deep and raspy. “I see you. I smell you. There’s no use hiding anymore.”

There’s no use denying the truth of its words. Cautiously, you step out into the small clearing, keeping your gun raised and skirting around the remains of the human lying in the center. You don’t allow yourself to wonder who they may have been, or whether you’ve seen their face on one of the missing peoples fliers tacked to the telephone poles around town.

“You’re not a werewolf,” you say instead. “You look like one, but silver bullets don’t hurt you. So what are you, exactly?”

The beast’s lips twist up into a gleeful grin, baring teeth like needles and just as sharp. “Shouldn’t you already know, hunter?”

“I’m not a hunter,” you reply coolly. “I hate that word. And you know what else? I hate it when I ask a question, and the only answer I get is another question.”

That earns you a chuckle—one that sounds like the scrape of steel against concrete. “Is that so? How interesting. Funny that you hate being called a hunter when you have the reputation that you do.”

Your eyes narrow. “The reputation that I do?”

“You don’t know?” The beast laughs again and drops down to all fours, prowling a few steps closer to where you’re standing. You cock your gun in warning and it pauses, flashing you a feral grin before speaking again. “There are rumors, hunter. Rumors of you taking out dozens of my kin and sending countless demons back down to Hell. Rumors that your life has an expiration date. After all, you’re Hoseok’s bitch, aren’t you?”

Despite your best efforts to the contrary, you flinch at its last words. “What do you know about Hoseok?” you ask, doing your best to sound unruffled. “What’s he saying about me?”

“I’ve never actually met the guy,” the beast admits. “We tend to run in different circles, if you know what I mean. But from what I’ve heard, he’s ruthless. And he always knows more than he lets on.”

It takes a moment for the words to sink in, but once they do, you nod. “Thanks for the info,” you tell it, raising your gun and taking aim. And before the beast can even inhale, you pull the trigger—once, twice, and then a third time. Shots to both hind legs and one to the head bring it crashing to the ground, and you dart forward, scrambling for the switchblade in your boot. Whipping it out, you begin the grisly task of dismembering the creature, hacking at its sinewy neck until you manage to decapitate it.

Silver may not have killed it. But you’ve yet to meet a creature that can’t be brought down by cutting off its head.

It takes nearly an hour for you to finish disposing the corpse, but once you’re done, you head back to your car. There’s no doubt in your mind that the creature you just buried was a demon beast—one that crawled out from the Wastelands of Hell and somehow found its way to Earth. Over the last few years, you’ve read your books and done your research, and you know that demons come in all sorts of shapes, sizes, and levels of power. Only some—called black-eyed demons—require a vessel, relying on human possession to carry out whatever nefarious tasks they desire. Others, such as the demon beast, look and behave more like the animals found on Earth.

Then there’s Hoseok. As a demon of the crossroads, Hoseok possesses significantly more power than black-eyed demons and demon beasts. Just how much power he holds, you aren’t sure, and you aren’t particularly eager to find out. But if the beast was indeed telling the truth—and you do have your doubts about the veracity of its claim—then there’s a chance, however slim.

A chance that Hoseok knows the demon that killed your parents, and can help you track him down.

///

As it turns out, finding Hoseok is harder than you thought it would be. You’ve tried summoning him at several crossroads, but each time you’re met with a different demon—all unwilling or unable to disclose his location, and all irritated by your probing questions. After an encounter with a particularly grouchy demon nearly got you killed, you decide that biding your time is your best bet. During your travels, you’ve caught wind of a crossroads that’s infamous for the sheer number of summonings that occur there. It’s easy enough to make the four hour drive, and even easier to park a ways away, hidden in a dense little grove of trees. You spend two nights there, watching and waiting for someone to come along with a box of bones and dirt and blood, drifting off occasionally in the driver’s seat and stirring awake at every little noise.

On the third night, your efforts finally come to fruition. A middle-aged man drives up just after sundown and hesitantly climbs out with a shovel in hand. Laboriously, he digs a hole in the center of the crossroads and buries the summoning items, his movements clumsy as he packs down the dirt.

One beat passes. Two. You see her before he does—a beautiful woman in a form-fitting black dress, the material hugging her curves and skimming her thighs. She looks bizarrely out of place standing in the middle of the dirt road, and you watch as the man nearly jumps out of his skin when she taps him on the shoulder and offers him a coy little smile.

It’s now or never. Slipping out of your car, you emerge from the trees and make a beeline toward where the man and the demon are standing. She spots you first, her head tilting curiously, and when the man follows the trajectory of her gaze, his eyes widen in confusion.

“Wha—who—? Are… are there two of you?”

“Don’t be stupid,” you snap. Surreptitiously, you slip a hex bag into his pocket, and watch in satisfaction as he immediately slumps down to the dirt, fast asleep.

“Was that a spell?” The demon smooths down the skirt of her dress and fixes you with an amused smile. “I’m impressed. You’ve thought this through.”

“I’m looking for someone,” you reply coolly, making sure that she can see the weapons strapped to your belt. “His name’s Hoseok. Ever heard of him?”

Her lips tilt up into a smirk. “Hoseok? Sounds familiar. What do you need with him, hmm?”

You keep your answer simple. “He owes me some answers.”

She hums, perfectly nonchalant. “Does he?”

Yes, you want to say. He knows who killed my parents, and I want to know so I can kill them. The words are on the tip of your tongue, but you don’t get to say them aloud. Instead, there’s a blur of motion and a flash of silver. You’re left gaping in shock as a young man with shaggy black hair overtakes your vision, a steely blade in one hand and a gun in the other.

“Run!” he yells, and you can only stare. “Get out of here!”

A gunshot rings through the air, and you jolt at the sound. The demon snarls in disgust, clutching at her shoulder where a hole has burned through the fabric of her dress, but you only have eyes for the man who made the shot. He’s around your age, you realize. Decked out in a black leather jacket and ripped jeans, he’s the embodiment of the sort of bad boy your mother always warned you about. “Who-who the fuck are you?” you manage after the shock has worn off, and the man blinks dumbly before opening his mouth to speak.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“My name’s {Name},” you reply, still rather startled by his sudden appearance. “What the fuck did you just shoot her with? Is she… trapped?”

“Jungkook.” He glances back at the demon, who’s still cursing him out. “And yeah, this one should be stuck for a bit. We should still get out of here, though.”

You consider it for a moment before deciding he’s probably right. The two of you turn tail and run, leaving the trapped demon behind, and Jungkook explains how the bullet he’d shot was engraved with a Devil’s Trap. “It won’t last forever, though,” he says as you enter the treeline. “Some of these bastards can push the bullets out with telekinesis, and it’s annoying as all hell.”

As it turns out, Jungkook is staying at the seedy little motel just down the street. You drive him back and park in the lot out front, pulling up next to the car he points out and turning off your headlights and cutting the engine. “So you’re a hunter,” you remark, and he nods.

“Same as you.”

Immediately, you shake your head. “I’m not. I don’t hunt. I just… help. Make the world a better, safer place and all that.”

Jungkook doesn’t press, and for that you’re grateful. “You mentioned someone named Hoseok,” he says instead, and you can see from the questioning tilt of his head that he’s curious. “Who’s that?”

“It’s a long story,” you reply. “You don’t want to hear it, trust me.”

“Maybe I do,” he challenges, and you can’t help but chuckle.

“You don’t. Really.”

Jungkook stands firm. “Try me.”

You glance over at him, taking in his stark profile and earnest expression. You take in his tousled black hair and wide doe eyes, and something inside your chest softens—just a tiny bit.

“It happened about three years ago,” you begin. “I was eighteen, and I’d just lost my parents…”

THEN - [Five Years Ago]

As much as you prefer to work alone, you do have to admit that it’s nice to have someone watching your back. Jungkook is the very definition of brawn over brains, but you can’t fault him for that when he enters your field of vision in a blur and tackles the wendigo you’ve been fighting to the ground. They fall into a wrestling match amongst the dead leaves that blanket the forest floor, and you cough weakly as you scrabble for the iron stake that you dropped. Hefting it in a tight grip, you rise to your feet and look for an opportunity to attack.

Much to your satisfaction, you don’t have to wait long. Jungkook pins the creature down, grunting when a razor-sharp claw bites into the flesh of his shoulder. “Now!” he yells, and you dart forward and drive the stake through the wendigo’s chest, driving past the pallid skin until you hear the crunch of bone. Yanking it free, you wipe the blood on your jeans before grabbing the lighter from your pocket. Jungkook is already kicking dead leaves over the body, clearing out a ring of dirt, and you nod at him as you bend down to ignite the makeshift kindling.

Fire is the only surefire way to kill a wendigo. You know this, and so does Jungkook. Together, you watch as the flame catches, sparking the leaves and licking up the sides of the creature’s body. One of its clawed hands twitches, and you tense up when it opens its mouth and lets out one last horrible, piercing shriek.

The two of stand watch until all that’s left of the body is ash. Then Jungkook turns to you, and you to him. “Thanks,” you murmur. “I thought I was a goner for sure back there.”

Jungkook snorts and shakes a few stray strands of shaggy black hair out of his eyes. “As if I’d let that happen,” he replies, his voice brusque but equally soft.

And then his mouth is on yours.

There’s nothing sweet in the way Jungkook kisses you. He kisses you with purpose, and it isn’t long before you find yourself pressed up against the hood of his old Pontiac with disheveled clothes and the man himself occupying the space between your spread legs. Jungkook nips and bites his way from your jaw to your clavicle, and you keen and fist your hands in his hair, pulling him closer.

Sex with Jungkook is nothing new. The two of you have fallen into bed—or more accurately, against the nearest flat surface—many times since you first met two years ago. Adrenaline is a heady aphrodisiac after all, and there’s always plenty of it coursing through your veins after a good fight. And while Jungkook isn’t always by your side to satisfy your baser urges, he’s here now and that’s all that matters. Sweat slicks his temples and a few stray drops fall onto your exposed chest, but you can’t even find it in you to care as he breaches your walls and sets a tempo that has the car beneath you groaning in protest.

Some time later, as you’re still coming down from your high, Jungkook speaks. He’s sprawled across the hood of the car, his chest bare and his distressed jeans low on his hips, and you crane your head up from where you’re curled up beside him as he lets out a soft sigh.

“I’m headed east after this,” he says, glancing down at you from the corner of his eye. “What about you?”

You hum, mulling it over. “North, I think. There’s been news of crossroads activity up there, and I’d like to check it out.”

Jungkook nods in understanding. “Could be Hoseok,” he says. “That makes sense. You want some backup?”

“Nah,” you reply. “I’ll be okay.”

“You sure?” Jungkook grins, shifting until his nose is nestled into your hair and his mouth is hot against your ear. “I don’t mind if you take the lead, babe. You know I love it when you’re on top.”

You snort and thwack him in the arm, trying and failing to push him away. “Shut up, Jungkook.”

“Only if you make me.”

“Oh, you mean by cutting out your tongue?”

Jungkook hums and pretends to consider it. “Kinky,” he replies. “If that’s what does it for you, then suit yourself, babe.”

Laughing, you punch him in the arm again and roll off the hood of the car to pick up your jacket from the forest floor. Jungkook follows your lead and retrieves his t-shirt, and you watch the muscles in his back ripple and flex as he pulls it over his head. There’s a series of tattoos along his spine—symbols of protection and wards against evil and possession—and you know them well because you have the same ones decorating your shoulder blades and right hipbone. You still remember the prick of the needle, the low buzz of it filling the room as ink seeped into your skin. The latest one is still healing, and you instinctively press a fingertip to your newly inked wrist, tracing the black lines there.

Jungkook follows the motion, his gaze raking across the ink. “That’s new,” he remarks. “Looks familiar, though. Is it Akkadian?”

“Ancient Aramaic,” you correct, shaking your head. “It’s supposed to bring luck and good fortune.”

“Damn.” Jungkook catches your fingers in his, pulling them away so he can get a better look at the symbol on your wrist. “I guess we hunters could all use some good fortune, huh?”

Immediately, you scowl and pull out of his grasp. “I’m not a hunter, Jungkook.”

Jungkook’s only response is to chuckle. “Sweetheart, your body count is almost higher than mine.”

You don’t have a response to that, and Jungkook knows it. Grinning impishly, he winds an arm around your waist and presses a fond kiss to your temple. The two of you get dressed and climb into the Pontiac, and Jungkook turns on the classic rock station as you drive back into town.

The motel you’re staying at is near the center of town, tucked between a small coffee shop and a hardware store. Jungkook hadn’t bothered to book another room when he met up with you this morning, so the two of you head inside together and make your way to the room. You unlock the door carefully, making sure not to disturb the line of salt you placed there before you left. More salt lines the window, and Jungkook whistles softly under his breath as he follows you inside.

“What, just salt this time? I’m surprised you didn’t bother with any of the sigils and hex bags.”

You gesture at the heavy curtains hanging on either side of the window. “There’s a hex bag under there. The protection sigils are on the back of the door.”

Jungkook chortles and shuts the door, his dark gaze flitting across the symbols you’ve painted there. “Of course. I should have known.”

You just smile wanly at him. Now that the adrenaline from the fight has worn off, exhaustion is quickly settling into your bones. Plopping down onto the bed, you stretch your arms overhead before flumping back against the pillows. Jungkook joins you after a moment, sprawling across the other side of the bed, and you instinctively scoot closer to his warmth like a flower seeking out the sun.

“You leaving tomorrow?” His voice is soft.

“Yeah,” you murmur back. “You?”

“Mm. Yeah.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then Jungkook speaks again, turning onto his side so he can face you and propping his cheek in his palm. “You’re always looking for this Hoseok guy,” he murmurs. “But according to you, he also holds the contract to your life. So shouldn’t you be running from him?”

“I was running from him,” you murmur back, staring up at a water stain shaped vaguely like Saturn on the ceiling. “And now I’m not.”

“What changed?”

Sighing, you tear your gaze away from the stain and look over at Jungkook instead. His black hair is a mess and there’s a bit of dirt smudged along his neck, but his expression is open and tender in a way that makes your heart hurt. “My parents,” you reply, swallowing down the feeling. “I told you they died, but I never told you how. It was a demon attack. They were on the road, driving home from a weekend getaway… or maybe it was a hunting trip. I never found out, because they never made it back.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen. “{Name},” he breathes, and he doesn’t seem to know what else to say after that, so you continue on as if he hadn’t spoken at all.

“I heard it happen. My mom called me, and I heard the car crash and the demon throw my dad into a tree. The autopsy said that nearly every bone in his body was broken. And my mom… it took her tongue. They never did recover it.”

“{Name}...”

“But Hoseok—he might know something. He might know the demon that killed my parents.” You pause to take a breath, and fleetingly wonder when it became so easy to dictate the events of that fateful night. “There’s a chance that he knows, at least, and if he does, I’ll make him tell me. I have to know, even if it puts me in danger or shortens my lifespan again, or—”

You’re cut off by the heat of Jungkook’s body, engulfing you all at once in a swift, sudden motion. “You should’ve told me sooner,” he whispers, his breath warm against your neck. “Why didn’t you mention it sooner? I could’ve helped you. We could’ve already pinned down this Hoseok bastard.”

“I-I only found out recently,” you admit, a little stunned by the unexpected embrace. “And he might not know. The chances are slim, but even if there’s a one percent chance that he knows…”

Jungkook nods, his arms still wound tightly around your frame. “It’s worth it,” he says. “And I’ll help, okay? I’ll hit every crossroads I come across, and I’ll give you a call if I find him.”

“Thank you,” you mumble. Tentatively, you wrap your arm around his waist, smiling when he immediately shifts so that he can hold you more comfortably against his chest.

“No need to thank me,” he whispers into your hair. “I’ve got your back, {Name}. Always.”

THEN - [Two Years Ago]

It’s on a wholly unremarkable Tuesday that you stumble across a small, sleepy town—one that almost reminds you of the one you grew up in so many years ago. Heading to the roadside motel at the edge of the town limits, you listen as the bored woman behind the front desk chats on her cellphone while checking you in. There’s a clipping from today’s newspaper pinned to the wall behind her, and you scan the short article about the missing man until she finally hangs up.

“Do you get a lot of missing people around here?” you inquire casually as she hands over your room keys.

“Nah,” she says, popping her chewing gum. “No more than anywhere else, at least. People come and people go. It’s what they do.”

You nod, taking one last look at the paper clipping before turning toward the door. “Thanks.”

“Sure.”

It takes less than a minute to locate your room. It’s situated at the far end of the ramshackle little building, and you wince at the way the hinges groan as you unlock and open the door. Dropping your bag onto the bed, you take a cursory look around, gauging the best spots to place your usual protective wards and hex bags. Once they’re all in place, you head back out again, taking comfort in the familiar weight of your gun and the press of the switchblade in your boot as you hop back into your car.

The crossroads is on the opposite end of town, in a deserted area that’s filled mostly with factories and warehouses. The railroad tracks here are overgrown with weeds, a few old inoperable train cars looming against the darkening sky like silent sentinels. Only the occasional hoot of an unseen owl disturbs the otherwise quiet night, and you glance around warily as you search for a good hiding spot. After some consideration, you settle for ducking between two abandoned train cars, taking care to stick to the shadows as you settle in to wait.

Most nights like this are uneventful. Most nights, you return back to your motel room in the early hours of the morning and fall into bed, exhausted. But tonight, something feels different. You can’t explain what it is—whether it’s a certain smell in the air or a shift in the wind—but you know that it’s there. Peering out from your hiding spot, you watch as a young woman approaches the crossroads with a box clutched in her pale hands. Her face is streaked with tears that have turned black from her mascara, and your heart splinters a bit at the edges when she drops to her knees and begins to claw at the dirt with her fingers.

After a few painstaking minutes, the box is buried. The woman remains on her hands and knees with her head bowed, shaking, and though you can’t be sure, you suspect that she’s crying again. Seconds tick by, and you glance down at your phone for the time.

8:49pm.

And not three seconds later, Hoseok appears.

You can’t quite describe the emotion that fills you when you see his face—just as infuriatingly handsome as you remember. He’s wearing a billowy shirt similar to the one you first saw him in, but this one is white instead of black and brings out the warmth in his skin. He looks almost like an angel, and you wonder what thoughts must be going through the woman’s head when she looks up and spots him at last.

“I-I can’t believe it worked.” Her voice is shaky, and Hoseok—playing the perfect gentleman—offers her an arm as she clambers weakly to her feet. “I need… I need to make a deal. I want to be with my ex again. Can you do that?”

Hoseok tilts his head to the side, a curious little smirk playing about his lips. “I can. But is that truly what you want?”

The woman doesn’t even hesitate, already nodding before he’s even finished asking the question. “Yes. Yes, I’m sure. Please, I have to be back with him. I need him.”

Hoseok’s smirk doesn’t fade as he steps closer, one hand coming up to brush across her cheek. “You know how we demons seal our deals, don’t you?” he asks, his smirk widening when she nods. “Yes? Good.”

And then he’s kissing her.

A host of dizzying emotions wells up in your stomach when he crushes his mouth to hers. It swells like a wave and engulfs you all at once, simultaneously hot as the sun and as cold as the Arctic. White noise fills your ears and it sounds like the beating of a thousand pairs of wings. Suddenly, you taste metal, and realize you’ve bitten your bottom lip hard enough to break the skin.

When the two finally break apart, the woman is visibly breathless. Her hand flutters to her heart, and Hoseok smiles crookedly at her as he caresses her cheek again. “You’ll be back with him soon,” he murmurs. Slowly, his fingers drift down to her throat, brushing along the skin of her collarbone exposed by her thin blouse. He lingers for a moment, his touch as gentle as the warm, balmy breeze that wafts past, carrying with it the faint scent of smoke.

And then he strikes, wrapping both hands around the woman’s neck and snapping it to the side with a crack that startles you out of your daze and sends ice down your spine. Springing out from your hiding spot, you whip your gun out and pull the trigger—once, twice, and then again just for good measure. Two bullets find their mark, and you grimly walk over to where your target is now stuck in the center of the crossroads, the woman’s lifeless body crumpled atop his polished black shoes.

“You killed her.” You don’t bother with preambles. “That wasn’t part of the deal.”

Hoseok doesn’t look at all fazed by your appearance—or the bullet wounds in his chest, for that matter. “Perhaps not from your vantage point,” he replies, a smirk tugging his lips upward. “But she did ask to be reunited with her ex-boyfriend, and last I checked, he’s in Hell reliving the worst day of his life on repeat.”

His words sink in like molasses, and you frown. “Are you… are you saying he’s dead?”

“As a doornail,” Hoseok answers with a chuckle. “Overdosed this morning—methamphetamines, I believe. Those things really are a killer. You’d do well to stay away from them.”

“I’ve never done meth, and I don’t have a drug problem,” you snap. “But what I do have a problem with is you. Why the fuck didn’t you tell her that her ex was dead?”

“She didn’t ask,” he replies simply. “I’m a demon, not a paper boy.”

You scowl. “Actually, you’re a dick.”

Hoseok merely smiles and cocks his head to the side, a strand of dark hair falling across his forehead. “What’s it to you, darling?”

Sucking in a deep breath, you level your gun at him once more. “You murdered a woman. And apparently, you did it because you didn’t feel like telling her that her ex was dead. So what other pieces of information are you withholding?”

Still smiling, Hoseok nudges the dead woman with the toe of his shoe. “She was no saint, you know. Drug abuse, dealing to minors—she’s got a rap sheet as long as I am tall. But we’re not talking about her anymore, are we.” He raises an eyebrow. “You’re looking for information. About what, exactly?”

“You know what,” you spit, your scowl deepening. “My parents. What happened to them that night? Who killed them?”

Hoseok’s smile widens, his teeth flashing in the dimness. “Even if I knew, what makes you think I’d tell?”

“Because you’re stuck here, and I have a gun loaded with plenty more of these Devil’s Trap bullets,” you reply coolly. “So do you feel like talking now?”

“No, I don’t believe I do.” Hoseok tilts his head to the other side and slowly—painstakingly—lifts a hand. He flexes his fingers one by one, each movement deliberate, and you nervously begin to back away. Beneath your feet, the ground begins to tremble, and you whip your head around when the wind picks up and nearly sends you stumbling.

A quick glance back at Hoseok reveals that he’s staring down at the two bullet wounds on his chest, his brow furrowed and his expression laced with strain. You think you see the silver gleam of a bullet retracting out of his skin, but you don’t stick around to get a better look. Holstering your gun, you whirl on your heel.

And you run, shielding your face from the wind and doing your best to ignore the shrieking laughter that echoes from behind you.

NOW -

The deep blue of evening is just beginning to settle when you pull up to the bar. It’s a little hole-in-the wall just off of the town’s main street, and even with your windows rolled up, you can hear the hoots and hollers coming from within. Killing the engine, you climb out of the car and make your way to the entrance. You’re assailed by cigarette smoke as soon as you step past the threshold, and the reason behind all the shouting makes itself known just a moment later.

Jungkook is standing at the very back of the bar, armed with what looks like a long stick in one hand and surrounded by a large crowd of people. His face is cast in shadow by his shaggy black hair and he’s long since ditched his signature leather jacket, leaving him clad in a plain white t-shirt and his usual distressed jeans. The jacket you spot draped over a nearby chair, and as you inch closer, you realize that he’s playing a game of pool. His opponent doesn’t seem to be faring very well, and you hide a smile as Jungkook pockets another ball with ease. He’s flawlessly set up his next shot as well, and you watch on as he lands it and goes to pocket the eight ball. Concentration etches across his forehead, his eyes narrowing from beneath his fringe, and you can’t help but admire the veins running along his exposed forearms as he leans over the table to line up his final shot. Around him, his audience has fallen silent, waiting with bated breath.

“Fuck!”

“Game,” Jungkook declares smugly. The bar breaks into equal parts cheering and booing, but you don’t pay them any mind as you weave past them and make your way to the dark-haired hunter. He’s slipping back into his jacket and collecting his winnings now—and it’s a substantial amount by the looks of it. You watch as he pockets the money and places his cue stick back into its stand on the wall, and clear your throat pointedly as you sidle up beside him.

“Fancy seeing you here, stranger.”

Jungkook turns, grinning a grin so wide you fear his mouth may fall off. “Hey, gorgeous. What’s a girl like you doing out in these parts?”

“Buy me a drink first, and maybe I’ll give you an answer,” you tease. Jungkook’s grin widens, his eyes creasing into crescents and crinkling at the corners, and you follow after him happily as he heads for the bar.

“You’re still alive, I see,” Jungkook remarks as he takes a seat. “Your ten years was up a few days ago, wasn’t it? Glad to see you didn’t let Hoseok collect.”

You nod, plopping down into the stool beside him. “He wasn’t very happy about it, believe me. But for now, I’m still here. I’m here, and I’m tired, and I’m in very, very desperate need of a drink.”

“Good thing I can help with that,” Jungkook replies with a laugh. And a strong cocktail and two shots of whiskey later, you find yourself locked in the dimly lit bathroom at the very back of the bar, your shirt flung over the door of the nearest stall and Jungkook’s leather jacket abandoned on the floor as you work on ridding him of his shirt as well. His mouth is crushed against yours, his tongue probing past your lips to explore, and you eagerly let him in as his hands slide down your sides to anchor at your hips.

Jungkook’s touch is warm. Familiar. Comforting, even. The two of you have done this dance many times over the years you’ve known each other, and Jungkook knows just where and when to touch you to elicit a reaction. He mouths along your neck down to the dip of your collarbones, sucking lightly, and you gasp when he nips at the sensitive spot there. Instinct has your hands flying into his hair, delving into the soft strands at his nape, and he lets loose a hoarse groan and pulls you closer.

It isn’t long before Jungkook has hoisted you up onto the counter of the sink, wrapping your legs around his waist. You help him free his cock from the confines of his jeans, and let out a shuddery breath as he thumbs across your clit before pushing forward, breaching your walls with a tenderness that belies your current location. His mouth finds yours again, and you lean into the kiss hungrily, digging your heels into the backs of his thighs to encourage him deeper.

Half an hour later, when the two of you are sated and dressed again, you exit the bathroom to find the bar oddly quiet. The bartender is shuffling around, serving a small group of people at the counter, but your attention is immediately drawn to the two men seated at a table in the corner. One is slouched back in his seat with his face tilted skyward, his mouth hanging open, while the other has his grizzled cheek pressed against the table. At first glance, you could almost believe that they’d simply had too much to drink and passed out, but the faint scent underlying the smell of alcohol and smoke raises the hair on the back of your neck and sets off alarm bells in your head.

“Blood,” you whisper to Jungkook, who nods.

“They don’t look like they’re breathing. You armed?”

“Always am.”

“Good.”

Without another word, you turn, putting your back to Jungkook’s and glancing around the rest of the dimly lit room. There are about a dozen people in total, lounging at the tables scattered around the interior or sitting at the bar. Surreptitiously, you begin meandering through the room, treading carefully and taking in every detail as you pass people by.

“Anything?” you mutter to your companion as you settle into a small, isolated booth right next to the bar counter, keeping your backs to the wall.

“Nothing,” Jungkook breathes back. “Something’s wrong, though. I can feel it.”

“Me too.” Carefully, you glance around once more, focusing a little more on people’s faces this time. The trio of women at the bar are giggling amongst themselves, and you can detect nothing amiss. There’s a couple sequestered away in the booth opposite yours, lost in conversation. Another group is drinking merrily near the pool table, just seconds away from starting a new game. “Everyone looks normal,” you whisper. “Maybe someone just cut themselves on a broken gla—”

You trail off, eyes trained on the bartender who has just returned from the back room with an unopened bottle of whiskey in his hands. He’s far too pale—his skin almost translucent—and when he turns in your direction, it’s all you can do to suppress a gasp. “Jungkook,” you hiss, batting at his arm. “The bartender’s eyes. They’re wrong.”

And it’s the truth. His irises are too large, leaving only the tiniest sliver of sclera, and his pupils are narrowed into mere pinpricks. When you make eye contact, a chill runs down your spine, and you swear he—it—smiles.

Across the table, Jungkook speaks again, keeping his voice soft. “Shapeshifter,” he murmurs. “Never seen one quite like this, but silver bullets should still do the trick.”

“Aim for the heart,” you reply, nodding. “And be quick. Shifters are fast.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.”

Before you can even blink, Jungkook has pulled his gun from its concealed pocket in his jacket, aimed, and pulled the trigger. The blast rings loud in the small bar, but his aim is true as the bartender crumples to the ground. Around you, several of the bar’s occupants let out alarmed shrieks, but you pay them no mind. Leaping out of the booth, you duck behind the counter to where the creature’s body lies, watching as its skin begins to peel.

“Where do you think the real bartender is?” you ask Jungkook, who has crept up beside you.

“Dunno. He’s long gone, though. These things can only shift into someone who’s dea—”

He doesn’t get to finish the sentence. A blur of motion cuts him off, slamming him back into the shelves behind the bar and sending liquor bottles raining down onto the tiled ground. “Jungkook!” you shout, whipping out your own gun, but it’s impossible to aim properly in the crammed space behind the counter and you fear you may accidentally hit Jungkook instead. Cursing under your breath, you pull the switchblade from your boot instead, rising carefully to your feet and searching for an opening to attack. Jungkook is locked in a vicious tussle with his opponent, rolling around in the shattered glass and puddles of liquor, and you curse again when you spot the creature’s eyes.

“There’s probably more!” Jungkook yells, heaving the shapeshifter off of him and slamming a fist into its nose. “Be careful!”

Now that the shapeshifter is no longer wrestling with Jungkook, you have an open shot. Quickly, you take advantage, pulling out your gun again and letting loose two bullets into its chest. The creature collapses into a pile of limbs, and you take in its form. It’s an elderly man wearing a brightly colored flannel shirt, and you flinch when you recognize him as one of the bystanders watching Jungkook’s pool victory when you initially came in.

From his spot on the floor, Jungkook groans, and you immediately extend a hand to help him up. Brushing the broken glass from his jacket, he gives you a quick once over before nodding slowly and glancing around the room again. Some people have fled during the commotion, leaving only seven people still remaining inside. The group in the back is cowering behind the pool table, armed with cue sticks and glancing around warily. But the trio of women at the bar—they’re smiling.

It happens before you can even shout a word of warning—before you can even draw in a breath to speak. One woman slinks off to the left while the other darts to the right. The third and final woman dives straight for you, and you don’t get a chance to fire off a shot before she knocks the gun out of your hand and sends it skittering across the wooden floor. On your right, you hear a gunshot, and know that Jungkook is embroiled in a fight of his own.

A shard of glass pierces your shoulder as you land, hard, on your back. The woman is on top of you, her pinprick pupils alight with manic glee as her hands wrap around your throat, and you choke out a curse as you scrabble for a weapon. Your fingers finally land on a particularly large piece of glass—the neck of a whiskey bottle with the cork still intact—and you swing it up and into your opponent’s side with all the strength you can muster. The shapeshifter lets out a wail and releases your neck, and you gratefully suck in lungful after lungful of air before clambering to your feet, dropping the bottleneck and reaching for your switchblade instead.

The woman is backing up now, clutching at the wound in her side with a bloodied hand. You follow after her, leaving behind the cramped space behind the bar counter. A few paces behind her, you spot your gun, but she notices where your gaze is and quickly kicks it off to the side where it ricochets against the opposite wall and slides beneath a booth. With that out of the way, her face contorts into a predatory snarl, and you adjust your grip on your knife as you drop into a defensive crouch. She may be stronger and faster than you are, but she’s unarmed and there’s only so much that teeth and nails can do against a blade—especially when it’s coated in silver. Sidestepping her first attack, you manage to drive your weapon into her shoulder, and she lets out an enraged shriek as the silver burns through her papery skin.

You can’t afford to hesitate, so you don’t. The woman leaps back, clutching her shoulder, and you follow. Your opening comes when she stumbles into an overturned chair, and the way her pinprick pupils blow out into nothingness when you drive your blade into her heart is a sight you’ll never forget. No other shapeshifter you’ve ever encountered has had such strange eyes, and you painstakingly try to recall the chapters of Infernale that detail shifters as you turn and begin searching for Jungkook. The bar has fallen oddly silent again, with only the occasional whimper coming from the four people hiding behind the pool table. “Jungkook?” you call, not daring to raise your voice too much. “Are you okay? Where are you?”

“Here.”

Jungkook materializes from behind the bar, dusting shards of glass from his leather jacket and running a hand through his mess of shaggy black hair. Relief floods through you at the sight of him unharmed, but a niggling feeling in the back of your brain roots you in place. Jungkook is still picking glass out of his sleeve, but his knuckles look a little too pale. You can almost see the outline of his bones through the skin, and when you call his name again and catch a glimpse of his eyes, your breath catches in your throat.

The man standing before you—it isn’t Jungkook. And shapeshifters—they can only morph into someone who’s already dead.

There isn’t much time for mourning in your life. You’ve learned to suppress your emotions—the anger and the grief and the unfairness of it all—bottling them away until they eventually fade into something dull and hollow. Your gun is still beneath the booth a few paces away, and you wonder whether you can dive for it in time. Casually, you begin edging toward it, keeping an eye on the Jungkook imposter while maintaining a safe distance. “Are you okay?” you ask as you near the booth. “What happened to the shifters?”

“It was a little too close for comfort,” the imposter replies, huffing out a dry chuckle. “They nearly got me, but I pulled through in the end.”

You nod and pretend to glance down at the array of red cuts littering your hands. They sting, but you’ve had worse over the years. Out of your peripheral vision, you can see the dull glint of your gun, lying just an arm’s length away beneath the table. “Do you think there are any more shifters lurking around?” you ask, feigning a casual tone.

“Hard to say,” Not-Jungkook replies with a shrug, stepping out from behind the bar at last. “I like to think we got them all, though,” he says as he begins walking toward you, his pace even and measured in a way that reminds you of a feline stalking its prey.

“I hope so.” Subtly, you adjust your grip on your knife, readying yourself for an attack as Not-Jungkook stops just a few steps away and cocks his head to the side, an eerie smirk quirking the edges of his lips.

“{Name}, duck!”

The shout rings loud in the quiet, and instinct has you immediately dropping down to your belly. A flash of silver whizzes through the air, and your eyes widen as it hits the Jungkook imposter and sends it stumbling into a nearby table. Quickly, you scramble for your gun, crawling until your fingers wrap around the cool metal. Rolling over into a crouching position, you aim at the wounded shifter, frowning when you see the knife embedded at the base of its spine.

“Hurry, finish it off!”

The voice is deep and familiar, resurfacing memories of a long time ago, but you don’t have time to dwell on it as you pull the trigger. Your aim is true, and the creature goes down, its skin peeling up from its bones and melting into a morass of hair and viscera. Turning toward the owner of the voice to thank them for the help, your heart nearly stops when you come face to face with a pair of achingly familiar brown eyes and a lazy little half smile.

“Wha—” you start, trailing off before you can even utter a full word. “How did you… what are you…?”

A chuckle. “Would you like me to take those questions one at a time?”

You let out a choked sob, the emotion that’s been steadily building in your chest finally finding a release. “Yoongi? Is that really you?”

“In the flesh,” Yoongi quips, flashing you a playful grin, and though it’s been nine years since you last saw him you feel immediately and completely at ease in his presence. He’s a little taller now—a little broader, too—but his sardonic sense of humor and quick wit haven’t changed one bit.

“Your hair’s silver,” you say after a few moments, reaching out dumbly to smooth down a stray strand atop his head.

“Glad to see you’re not colorblind,” is his sarcastic reply, and you let out a strangled sound that is half-laugh, half-cry before launching yourself into his arms.

“What are you doing here?” you ask once you’ve pulled back from the embrace, ignoring Yoongi’s grumbled protests at the continued presence of your arms around his neck. “Are you… hunting?”

Yoongi glances around the bar, which has cleared out completely since you took down the shapeshifter posing as Jungkook. “Mimics,” he says shortly. “A particularly nasty breed of shapeshifter. I’ve been tracking these five for ages.”

“Five?” You look around, nose crinkling at the foul odor that’s now beginning to emanate from the puddle of goo on the floor. “Where’s the last one? Jungkook was fighting two of them, but…”

“Oh, is that his name?” Yoongi chuckles. “He’s a scrappy one. I came in during the back half of the fight, but he had already taken one of them down. The other one snuck up and knocked him out cold—that’s the one you just shot. But yeah, the kid’s probably still sleeping behind the counter. He’s got a lump on his head the size of a damn baseball—he’s gonna be feeling it for days.”

But you’re no longer listening. Releasing Yoongi, you dart behind the bar counter to find Jungkook sprawled on the ground, his eyes shut. He stirs slightly when you crouch down beside him, and blinks blearily when you give his shoulder a hard poke.

“Ow,” he complains, his voice raspy. “Why are you poking me?”

“That’s what you get for napping on the job,” you retort, trying and failing to hide your relieved smile when you see that his eyes are as warm and as brown as ever. “Can you stand?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Wearily, he maneuvers himself into a sitting position, wincing and rubbing at the back of his head. “What happened to the other shifter?”

“Mimic,” Yoongi corrects, materializing beside you and extending a hand to help Jungkook to his feet. “We got it. {Name} here took it out with a shot to the heart.”

Jungkook frowns and dusts himself off, patting down his pockets to make sure he hasn’t lost any of his weapons. “Mimics? Never heard of ‘em.”

“We get them pretty often in these parts,” Yoongi replies. “Name’s Yoongi, by the way. {Name} and I go way back.”

You grin at him. “And clearly, you’ve been busy these last few years.”

“I could say the same to you,” Yoongi retorts, grinning back. “Seems like we have a lot to catch up on. You guys wanna come back to my place?”

“You have a place?” You can’t keep the surprise out of your voice. “Do you live here?”

“A ways outside of town, yeah,” Yoongi confirms. “This area’s kinda a hotbed for weird activity, so I figured it was as good a spot to settle as any. My car’s parked out back. Anyone need a ride?”

“I think we all came here separately,” you answer, exchanging glances with Jungkook. “But we’ll follow you, if you want to lead the way.”

“Sounds good,” the silver-haired man remarks. “You two look pretty fucking terrible, and I’ve got plenty of medical supplies back home. We’ll get you patched up, and then we can talk.”

Right at that moment, Jungkook’s stomach lets out a loud growl. His eyes widen at the volume, but Yoongi just offers him a crooked grin.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got plenty of food, too.”

You smile. “Eat first, then talk?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

///

“Wow. You look like shit.”

“Can’t imagine why,” you reply, not even batting an eye. Yoongi snorts and returns to the thick leather-bound tome spread open in his lap, and you wearily shut the front door and lock it. Two days of tracking a rogue werewolf has taken its toll, especially when your trip started and ended with a close call and a near run-in with Hoseok. After another three days of near constant driving to throw him off your trail, you’re in desperate need of a shower and a first aid kit. Suppressing a yawn, you head for the hall closet and pull out a wad of bandages and a nearly empty bottle of hydrogen peroxide. “Running kinda low,” you remark to Yoongi, who grunts in acknowledgment. “You want me to run out and get some tomorrow?”

“I can do it,” he replies, not even bothering to look up from his book. “You should get some rest, and I’m gonna grab some groceries tomorrow anyway so I may as well restock while I’m at it.”

“I’ll add it to the list so you don’t forget,” you tell him, referring to the notepad that’s been a permanent fixture on the refrigerator since you and Jungkook moved in. The three of you use it not only for grocery lists, but for chore divisions and memos as well. Settling into a routine took some time, and even to this day Yoongi still has to remind Jungkook not to leave his socks lying around, but you can’t deny how nice it is to have some semblance of stability. Over the past year, Yoongi’s house has become home, and though you would never dare voice your thoughts aloud, you’re beyond grateful that he’s welcomed you in with open arms.

Wandering into the bathroom, you grab your towel and turn on the shower. The spray takes a few minutes to heat up, and you use the time to wash your hands and splash some water onto your face, watching dirt and flecks of dried blood spiral down the drain. Luckily, most of the blood isn’t your own this time, and you pat your face dry before checking the water temperature in the shower again.

It takes nearly twenty minutes of furiously scrubbing at your skin in the shower before you feel clean again. Stepping out, you wrap yourself in your towel and sit down on the rim of the tub, dampening a cottonball with hydrogen peroxide and wincing when you press it to the row of gashes marring your arm. The werewolf hadn’t gone quietly, and certainly not without a fight. Silently, you make a mental note to restock your supply of silver bullets before tearing off a strip of bandage and wrapping your wounds.

When you exit the bathroom, you see that your third housemate has returned as well. Jungkook is sprawled on the couch, his chest bare and his black hair in disarray. Several nasty lacerations crisscross his skin, and your eyes widen when you spot the bite mark on the left side of his throat. “Jungkook?” you whisper, closing the distance between you and leaning in for a closer look. “Jungkook?”

“‘M’okay.” Jungkook’s eyes blink open blearily, the edge of his mouth curling into a tiny smile. “Not a vamp. Stupid Waste demon caught me off guard and bit me, can you believe it?” He coughs, then grins up at you again. “I got him in the end, though. Cut off his stupid head.”

“You’re an idiot,” you tell him, trying and failing not to smile back. Plopping down beside him, you wrench open the hydrogen peroxide again and dab some onto the gashes along his chest. Bandaging his wounds takes another few minutes, and you’re just taping the last end in place when Yoongi enters with two boxes of pizza. A glance at the labels reveals that he must have just gone and picked them up from the place at the edge of town, and your stomach lets out a timely growl at the sight.

“Too lazy to cook tonight,” Yoongi says shortly by way of explanation, dropping the boxes on the coffee table.

“You won’t catch me complaining,” Jungkook replies, sitting up with some effort and reaching for the nearest slice. “Did you get pepperoni?”

“Just pineapple and anchovy,” Yoongi answers with a completely straight face. Jungkook frowns, and you roll your eyes as you flip open the lids.

“Still a bad liar, Min.”

“No one asked, {Last Name}.”

And with that, the three of you settle down for dinner. You curl up in an armchair and Jungkook splays out across one of the couches, while Yoongi puts on a movie before sitting down on the couch opposite. He’s chosen a horror flick tonight, and you take a bite of pizza as you watch the opening credits and point out how fake the blood dripping down the wall looks.

The movie continues—spinning a tale of haunted manors and possessed children. It’s a hackneyed storyline that’s been done time and time again, and you and your companions don’t miss any opportunity to poke fun at all the clichés and rip into the flaws. But despite the jokes and jabs, you still flinch at the first jump scare, twenty-three minutes in. You still wince when you watch how the family’s mounting distress impedes their judgment, causing them to make mistake after mistake.

After all, you’ve seen it all before. You’ve made some of those same mistakes over the years, and you’ve learned that you can never be too careful when it comes to sudden movements and sounds. Better safe than sorry is your mantra, and it’s one you abide by no matter what the situation. Both your body and your brain are trained to react, and reacting is what’s gotten you out of every close call you’ve encountered over the years. Most people learn to dismiss their more primal instincts—the instincts that raise the hairs on the backs of their necks and drive them up the basement stairs as soon as the lights go out. Most people rationalize those bumps in the night, but you?

You know better.

///

“So. Vampires, huh?”

From his seat beside you, Yoongi nods. You’re sitting around the kitchen table, enjoying a late breakfast in the bright morning sun streaming through the windows, and for once you actually have extra company. Your own reluctance to call yourself a hunter doesn’t stop you from befriending and working with other hunters, and over the years you’ve encountered the same people on more than one occasion. Jimin and Taehyung, especially, are a duo that you’ve fought alongside many times in the past, and now that you’ve settled in one spot they drop by at least three or four times a year.

“Man, it feels like it’s always vamps these days.” Jimin speaks again, sighing heavily and sending a loose tendril of blond hair out of his face as he leans back in his chair. “They’re popping up like weeds. It’s insane.”

“It’s the nest,” Jungkook says, shaking his head. “A bunch of them have settled into the old movie theater downtown. The place was abandoned a few months ago when they finally finished work on the new one next to the supermarket. It’s the perfect hideout.”

“It’s also the perfect day for a hunt.” Taehyung speaks this time, his voice still hoarse from sleep. “The sun will have driven them all inside. With all five of us, we’ll be able to pick them off easily enough.”

“We’ll head out after we eat, then,” Yoongi decides. “Speaking of which, does anyone want more eggs?”

Jungkook, predictably, raises his hand. Yoongi sighs good-naturedly and stands up, returning to the stove, and you get up as well to help yourself to more coffee. Half an hour and a good bit of food later, you find yourself seated in the passenger seat of Yoongi’s Jeep as you head out of the woods, weaving down the gravelly path that leads from your home into the valley that houses the town.

The abandoned movie theater is a stout brick building, situated beside a smaller tributary of the river that winds through town. A little paved path follows along the edge of the waterway, stopping at the sewer entrance, and you exchange glances with your companions when you see that the bars of the metal grate have been twisted apart just enough to let something the size of an adult human pass through. Taehyung whistles under his breath, and Jungkook curses. “I guess that’s one way to move around town during the day,” Jimin remarks, and Yoongi nods solemnly.

“I’ve seen vamps pull the same trick in bigger cities. They’re not stupid; I’ll give them that.”

“So, what’s the game plan?” Taehyung asks, tying his thick mop of wavy brown hair back into a little ponytail. He—just like the rest of you—is dressed casually, with all of his weapons hidden away beneath his clothing and tucked into his boots. All of you have sharpened wooden stakes in addition to your usual gear, and you are acutely aware of the stiff, heavy weight of the weapon strapped to your belt.

Yoongi glances at the movie theater, tapping his chin as he considers the question. “There are two individual theaters in the building itself, so unfortunately, we can’t really predict where they’ll be. The sun’s on this side of the building though, so we should definitely smash those boarded up windows. Then, I’m thinking we split into groups and each take an entrance.”

“According to the blueprints we pulled from the city website, there’s a back hallway that connects both theaters, and side exits that lead into each one,” you chime in. “We don’t have an exact count of how many vamps could be in there, though. Could be a dozen, could be twice that. We can’t be reckless.”

Nods all around. “Let’s pair off, then,” Jimin says, laying a hand on the stake at his hip. “Been a minute since we worked together, hasn’t it, Kook?”

Jungkook catches the hammer that Yoongi tosses him and begins pulling the nails from the wooden planks covering the windows. “Sure has.”

“If you guys take the back, I’ll take the front,” Yoongi decides. “Tae, {Name}, are you two okay to take the side entrance?”

You exchange a look with Taehyung and nod. With that settled, you head for the side of the theater closest to the creek to keep an eye on the door there. Taehyung wanders over to the back corner to watch the rear entrance, while Jimin picks up a few rocks from the riverbed and tosses them up into the air to test their weight. Then he turns and hurls one at windows lining the front of the building, shattering the glass with a crash. Glittering shards rain onto the overgrown sidewalk, and the other windows soon meet the same fate.

There’s no doubt in your mind that the residents of the movie theater have caught wind of your arrival. Jungkook and Jimin don’t seem bothered by that fact, though, as they head for the back door and wrench it open with a rusty, metallic screech. Yoongi goes in alone at the front, backed by the glare of the sun, and you know that he’s least likely to be attacked right away so you gesture for Taehyung to proceed with extra caution as you cut through the padlock on the side entrance. The two of you are already shadowed by the building, and your surroundings only grow darker as you pull open the creaky door and step inside.

It takes several seconds for your eyes to adjust to the dimness, but once they do, you find yourself in a wide corridor with brick walls and a dusty patterned carpet. On the right are two sets of double doors that lead to the theaters, split by a narrow hallway. On the left is the concessions counter, still stocked with paper cups and unused popcorn boxes.

Carefully, the two of you make your way further down the corridor, past the concessions and restrooms. Another hallway branches off here, and you can tell from the daylight that it leads to the front entrance. Peering around the corner, you spot a silhouetted Yoongi heading your way, his silvery hair backlit by the sun’s rays. “Anything yet?” you ask as he comes to a stop beside you, and he shakes his head.

“Nothing but a few rats and a dead bird behind the ticket counter. I’m thinking they must all be asleep, or—”

He’s cut off by a shriek and the sound of a body hitting concrete, and you offer him a humorless smile as you whip out your stake. “Think you spoke too soon,” you tell him before following Taehyung back down the hall and into the dark theater that the sound came from. Yoongi props open the doors, allowing for some light to shine inside, and with the added illumination you can just barely make out the figures of Jungkook and Jimin. They’re surrounded by roughly half a dozen vampires at the very front of the theater, and you’re about to dart forward to help when a hard push sends you stumbling to the side. After a brief fight to regain your balance, you whirl and find yourself face to face with a female vampire, her face contorted and her sharp teeth glistening.

You don’t even have the opportunity to lift your stake. The vampire bursts into a cloud of ashy dust, and you glance over at Taehyung who is standing there with a satisfied little smile. “That’s one for me,” he remarks, and you narrow your eyes at him before bounding down the steps to start your own count. Stakes may not be your weapon of choice, but you’ve dusted many a vampire during your years on the road and you fully intend to continue doing so. Over time, fighting has become as natural as breathing, and although you aren’t as strong as Jungkook or as tactical as Yoongi, you’re good at what you do.

Still, that doesn’t mean that you don’t occasionally run into trouble. Vampires, having once been human, aren’t bound by as many rules as some of the other creatures you’ve encountered. They’re wily, conniving creatures with an unquenchable thirst for blood, and the vampires you’re faced with now are particularly crafty. Already, the male vampire you’re fighting has managed to disarm you twice, and though you’ve managed to pull your switchblade from your boot, it does little damage against a creature that can only be killed by decapitation, direct exposure to sunlight, or a wooden stake through the heart. All around you, your companions are fighting their own battles, and even if you did call for help, you aren’t sure any of them could make it to you in time. Backed into a corner, you slash at the vampire again, but he easily sidesteps to avoid any major damage and you only catch him in the forearm.

“Is that all you can do, hunter?” he asks, his gaze flickering down to the shallow red gash. “I expected more, to be honest.”

Behind him, his companion—a red-haired female—snickers. “She’s pretty, at least. We could make her our little plaything—wouldn’t that be fun?”

Scowling, you swipe at the male vampire again and catch him in the chest. The wound is deeper this time, oozing red, but his footsteps don’t even falter as he stalks closer and knocks the blade from your hand. “What do you think, hmm?” he asks, leaning in close until he’s nosing at the delicate skin of your throat. “After we pick off your little friends one by one, we’ll keep you for a bit. Bet you taste even better than you smell, hunter.”

“Don’t call me that,” you grit out, even as you feel his fangs pierce your skin. A warm droplet of blood runs down your neck, and you struggle uselessly as he pins you in place with an ironclad grip. “Go to hell, you bastard.”

“Trust me—we don’t want him,” a new voice says. And then the vampire collapses into dust, and you’re left to stare, slackjawed, at the newcomer standing there in his place.

“H-Hoseok.” You fumble for the gun on your belt, but your fingers are clumsy from blood loss. “What… what…?”

Hoseok just smiles. He looks completely out of place in the darkness of the dilapidated movie theater, dressed as he is in a fitted black jacket and matching slacks, and you can’t help but stare dumbly at him as he twirls your stake in his hand and offers it to you, blunt end first.

“Um. Thank you?”

“My pleasure.”

Hoseok glances around then, and you realize for the first time that it’s fallen oddly silent. The sounds of fighting have quieted, and you follow the trajectory of his gaze to see that all of your companions have surrounded you—scraped up and bruised, but with suspicion swimming in their eyes and weapons at the ready.

“{Name}.” Jungkook speaks, his voice low and urgent. “You okay?”

Gingerly, you touch your neck, wincing when your fingers come away damp and warm. “I lost a little bit of blood, I think. But, yeah, I’m okay.”

“Who’s this guy?” Jimin asks, frowning at Hoseok. “Friend of yours?”

You look back at the demon, who looks thoroughly unbothered by Jimin’s scrutiny. “I’m Hoseok,” he says, with a disarmingly bright grin that doesn’t falter even when there’s a collective sharp intake of breath. Jungkook trains his gun at Hoseok’s chest, his finger twitching on the trigger, and Yoongi pulls a flask of holy water from one of his many pockets.

“You aren’t taking her,” he says coldly, and Jungkook nods his agreement, his gaze as hard as steel.

Hoseok laughs, and for a split second, you swear his eyes flash gold. “If I really came here to take her, what makes you think you could stop me?” Calmly, he examines his fingernails before looking back at you, his eyes now warm, molten brown once more. “Luckily for you, though, I’m here as a friend. Don’t you want to know the name of the demon who killed your parents, darling?”

At once, your heart leaps into your throat and tries to escape out of your mouth. Words fail you, leaving you spluttering helplessly, and Hoseok’s face crinkles into an amused grin as he continues through your silence.

“I’ll admit—I wasn’t sure who it was at first. Berith was a likely contender—so was Aeshma—and Toguro’s always had a bit of a nasty proclivity for violence. But then, someone started infringing on my contracts.” Hoseok lets out a doleful sigh and shakes his head. “He’s been busy, I’ll give him that. Turns out he’s killed hundreds of humans, your parents included. Compared to him, I’m practically a saint.”

Your voice, when you find it, is a tremulous whisper. “Compared to who?”

Hoseok’s face crumples in distaste. “Moloch,” he replies, practically spitting the syllables, and you turn them over in your head for a few moments before speaking again.

“Moloch,” you repeat, and the name feels strange on your tongue now that you’ve said it aloud. “What do you mean, he’s infringing on your contracts? Where can I find him? How do I kill him? Is he strong?”

“One thing at a time,” Hoseok says with a chuckle. “For starters, we should probably go somewhere a bit more comfortable to discuss our plans. This—” he gestures around the dusty old theater, “—is hardly ideal, and I know that you humans don’t see very well in the dark.”

“Hang on.” Yoongi takes a step forward, his gun still trained squarely on the center of Hoseok’s chest. “How do we know we can trust anything you’re saying? You might turn on us the instant we let down our guard.”

“True,” Hoseok admits. “But I could’ve killed all of you ten times over by this point, and the fact that I haven’t should be a testament to my good will.”

“Very reassuring,” Yoongi says dryly. Nonetheless, he tucks his gun away into an inner pocket of his jacket, reemerging instead with a pair of silvery handcuffs. “How about you put these on, then, as another testament?”

Hoseok arches a dark eyebrow. “I didn’t take you for the type,” he remarks as he proffers his hands. “Do be gentle with me, won’t you?”

Yoongi pulls a disgusted face and tosses the cuffs in your direction instead, and your quick reflexes kick into gear as you move to catch them. There’s only a short length of chain between the loops of steel, allowing for minimal movement, and every inch of the metal is carved with a myriad of symbols and glyphs. You only recognize some of them, and make a mental note to ask Yoongi about the unfamiliar ones later. For now, you beckon Hoseok closer, and he remains surprisingly docile as he offers you his wrists and allows you to snap the cuffs into place.

“Come on,” Yoongi says once you’ve secured Hoseok’s hands, grabbing the chain and giving it a harsh tug. “The wards back at the house are stronger than these will ever be. We should hurry back.”

“We’re taking him home?” Jungkook asks, still eyeing Hoseok warily. “Is that a good idea?”

“Honestly? Probably not,” Yoongi answers wearily. “But it’s also the only option we have.”

///

The long, winding path that leads up to the home you share with Yoongi and Jungkook has never seemed longer. Loose pieces of gravel ping off the sides of the Jeep as you ascend the hill, and you tear your gaze from the window to catch a glimpse of Jungkook in the rearview mirror. The dark-haired man is sitting beside a cuffed and blindfolded Hoseok in the backseat, his gun loaded with Devil’s Trap bullets and pressed firmly against the demon’s temple. His shoulders are tense and his jaw is set in a stiff line, but when he sees you looking, he blinks and softens ever so slightly.

You okay? he mouths, and you nod.

Yeah. Thanks.

Another minute passes before Yoongi pulls the Jeep to a gradual stop and cuts the engine. “We’re here,” he says, and you quickly hop out of the car to help Jungkook wrangle the blindfolded Hoseok out of the backseat. Behind you, Jimin and Taehyung pull up in their own car, parking a short ways away. The woods are sparse here, and the house is situated straight ahead in a clearing that allows for a clear view of the stars. Jungkook grabs Hoseok’s elbow, forcing him to spin around in a few rough circles. Then he drags him forward, reluctantly heading for the front door as you follow along after him.

Three paces from the door, Hoseok suddenly stops. Jungkook scowls darkly and tries to tug him forward, but the polished tips of Hoseok’s black leather oxfords remain stubbornly planted in place. “I can go no further,” he says, and you frown.

“Do we have to invite you in? I thought the laws of hospitality didn’t apply to… your kind.”

Hoseok’s lips twist up into a crooked smirk beneath the raggedy strip of black fabric that’s currently serving as a makeshift blindfold. “They don’t. And even if they did, you invited me in a long time ago. Or have you forgotten about our little deal, hmm?”

You hope he can’t hear the nerves in your voice when you answer. “How could I?”

On your left, Yoongi comes to a stop, flanked on either side by a perplexed looking Jimin and Taehyung. “What’s going on? Why aren’t you going inside?”

“This fucker won’t move,” Jungkook replies, jabbing Hoseok none-too-gently in the ribs. The demon only stumbles slightly before recovering his balance, and Jungkook immediately gives him another shove for good measure.

“Unfortunately, I can’t move, even if I wanted to,” Hoseok says, his smile finally dropping off his face as he gestures about vaguely with his cuffed hands. “This place is closed off to me. The work of your wards, I believe.”

Yoongi blanches. Reluctantly, he glances between you and Jungkook before letting out a weary sigh and pulling out his pocketknife. “Right,” he mutters, approaching the front door. Ivy surrounds the frame, climbing up the brick exterior of the house, and he pulls aside a bunch of leaves to expose a painted sigil. Sighing, he scrapes at it until the paint starts falling away in flakes, and no sooner has one of the lines been broken than Hoseok is stepping forward once more.

The house is eerily quiet when you enter. Yoongi flicks on the kitchen lights as Jungkook deposits Hoseok into one of the wooden chairs in the dining table, and you settle into the chair opposite as Jungkook rips the blindfold free and levels his gun at Hoseok again.

“No funny business, got it? I will shoot you if you try anything.”

“No tricks,” Hoseok promises, his dark hair wild across his forehead and hanging in his eyes. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“You don’t have a heart,” Jungkook snorts, keeping Hoseok in his line of sight even as he tosses the blindfold into the trash and leans against the wall beside the bin. Jimin and Taehyung join you in the kitchen, taking the two remaining chairs at the table, and Yoongi enters a moment later with a large bag of rock salt in his hands. “Strictly precautionary,” he explains as he begins pouring a circle around Hoseok’s chair. “I’m sure you understand.”

“Perfectly,” Hoseok replies with a genial smile. “But between the salt and the wards and your attack dog over there, don’t you think that these handcuffs are overkill? They’re terribly uncomfortable.”

“Better safe than sorry,” is Yoongi’s curt response. Finishing off the salt circle, he straightens back up and plunks the empty bag onto the counter. “Now, talk. You were telling us about some bastard named Moloch?”

Hoseok hums and leans back in his chair, the chain between his bound wrists clinking gently as he settles his hands in his lap. “Moloch—where do I start? He hasn’t always been such a thorn in my side, but ever since he clawed his way out of the Waste, he’s been getting bolder. Hungrier.”

“You said something about your contracts,” you remind him, glancing across the table to peer into his face. “Is he… stealing them? I don’t understand.”

“I don’t fully understand it myself,” Hoseok admits. “Lower level demons are usually just that—lower. They’re less powerful, less known—but Moloch made himself the exception. He fought his way through the inner circles of Hell, all the way up to the innermost Ninth, and made a name for himself along the way. And now, to further his renown, it seems he’s settled on challenging me. It’s laughable, really.”

You frown. “If it’s so laughable, then why are you here? Why do you need our help?”

“Precautionary measures, mostly,” Hoseok replies. “Moloch is growing stronger by the day, and I’d like to eliminate him before he becomes more of a problem. Our goals are aligned, darling. I see no reason why we shouldn’t work together to achieve them.”

You meet his gaze then, taking in every fleck of warm amber and molten gold swimming in his irises. “We’re allies, then. For the time being.”

“Allies,” Hoseok agrees, inclining his head. “Agreed?”

You hesitate, glancing toward Jimin and Taehyung. Then you look beyond them to where Yoongi and Jungkook are slouched against the wall, raptly watching your exchange with the demon that you’ve been running from for so long.

“Agreed,” you finally say, lifting your chin and looking Hoseok straight in the eye. “It’s a deal.”

///

Dusky purple twilight fades into the deep blue stillness of nighttime. Yoongi has driven into town with Jimin and Taehyung to grab some supplies, and Jungkook has disappeared into the garage to tinker with his car, if the classic rock playing distantly in the background is any indication. You’ve retired to your room to read up on demon-killing spells, perusing the various tomes and grimoires you’ve accumulated over time. Though you are relatively adept at magic, you still haven’t attempted much beyond a few simple charms and hexes. Killing a demon with magic will take far more power than you currently possess, but with some practice and perhaps a smidge of help from your unexpected ally, you just might be able to pull it off.

Hoseok, much to Jungkook’s chagrin, has been given free reign of the house. The enchantments carved into his handcuffs sap him of his power and the wards on the house prevent his escape, and you and Yoongi see little reason to confine—and potentially anger—your demonic ally. As much as you hate to admit it, you need Hoseok. The plan you’ve concocted is as much his as it is yours, and in order to succeed, you need all the help you can get.

You’ve just flipped to a new page, scanning the sprawling text and reading through the notes scribbled in the margins, when there’s a soft tap on your door. “Come in,” you call mindlessly, and it slowly creaks open to reveal Hoseok standing there.

“Evening,” he murmurs, his gaze dark as obsidian in the dim light from your desk lamp. “Mind if I come in for a bit?”

You hesitate for only a second, glancing down at his handcuffed hands before flitting back up to his face and shaking your head. “I don’t mind,” you say, matching his quiet tone. “Come on in, Hoseok.”

Hoseok smiles. His footsteps are silent as he enters your room and takes a curious look around—from the wall of mismatched bookshelves opposite your bed to the heavy wooden desk you’re seated at. The window above you is heavily fortified with thick glass and a heavy line of salt, and the carved glyphs at every corner and the protective amulets hanging from the sill render it impossible for anything inhuman to get in or out.

“I feel it, you know,” Hoseok says, as casually as if remarking on the weather. “The protections on this house—they’re incredibly well done. Is it your handiwork?”

“A bit of it, yeah,” you admit. “Yoongi had a lot of it in place already when we moved in, but I added some things here and there.”

Hoseok hums in understanding and glances down at the well-worn rug beneath his feet, tapping the edge where the floorboards are exposed with a polished shoetip. “And the Devil’s Trap beneath the house, was that your doing? I imagine it’s in the basement. Or perhaps the cellar?”

“The basement,” you confirm quietly. “I’m surprised you know about it.”

“I felt the energy shift as soon as I stepped inside,” he replies simply, glancing around once more with a faint smile playing about his lips before taking a seat on the edge of your bed.

It’s strange, seeing Hoseok lounge so casually in your bedroom. Hoseok—who holds your life and your soul in contract, and has been chasing after you for the better part of almost two years in order to collect on what’s owed. Never once could you have imagined that you would be here. Never once could you have imagined yourself forming an alliance with your death.

And yet, here you are.

There’s a beat of silence, one that falls over you like a shroud. Hoseok breaks it again after a moment, the cuffs around his wrists jingling lightly as he shifts his weight on your mattress. “I must say, I’m quite impressed with you,” he remarks softly. “No one has ever dared to run from me, much less evade my grasp for so long. But what happens when you get tired of running? You’re only mortal, darling.”

Slowly, you spin in your chair to face him. “I’m not running now. You have a chance, so why don’t you take it?”

Hoseok chuckles at that. “Have you forgotten? We’re on the same side. Besides, I have to admit that I’m rather invested now. You deserve to have your revenge, and I’d like to be there when it happens. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, after all. And you, darling, are a hell of a woman.”

His gaze drops, then, and you don’t miss the way he trails down your figure, lingering on the skin exposed by the dip of your shirt collar and your bare legs. You’ve grown accustomed to wearing fleecy sweatshorts around the house for comfort, and never once have you felt uncomfortable or overly exposed. Now, though, Hoseok’s dark gaze is trained unwaveringly on you, and you swallow harshly under his stare. He looks nothing short of ravenous, and you’re suddenly reminded of every time you’ve driven an inhuman creature into a corner just before putting a blade or a bullet into its heart.

You aren’t sure what possesses you, but you’re on your feet before your brain can caution you to stop and think. Hoseok’s mouth is quirked into an infuriating little half smile, crooked and indolent, and you reach up to cup his jaw as you settle into his lap with one leg on either side of his thighs. Already, you can feel the growing hardness of his bulge pressing against your core, and a sharp rock of your hips has him hissing from between his teeth. “This would be much more pleasurable if you were to release me,” he rasps, raising his cuffed hands, and you smirk at him before pressing him down into the mattress and anchoring his bound wrists above his head with a single hand.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Hoseok huffs out a sound that’s half-chuckle, half-growl. It rumbles deep within his chest, cavernous in a way that makes you ache, and you barely have time to yelp in surprise before he’s flipped you onto your back, hovering over you with his arms on either side of your head and a predatory smirk dancing on his sharp features.

“You,” he begins, the single syllable soft and deliberate, “have no idea what you’ve just done.” Ever so slowly, he lowers his head until the loose strand of dark hair that flops free over his forehead is brushing your cheek. His lips meet the delicate spot where your jaw meets your neck, dragging from just beneath your ear down to the line of your throat. You gasp at the scrape of his teeth that blossoms equal pain and pleasure along your skin, and your back arches as your body instinctively seeks out more contact. Your eyes flutter shut, your lips parting in a gasp that vaguely resembles his name.

And then he’s gone.

At once, your eyes snap open—irritation blooming in your belly when you immediately spot him in the desk chair that you’d just abandoned. “What the hell—?” you begin, but the words die on your tongue when Hoseok raises his cuffed hands and beckons you over with a single finger. Your legs move of their own accord, as if pulled by marionette strings, and Hoseok doesn’t even need to speak as you come to a stop before him. It’s as if your hands have a life of their own, smoothing along the silky material of his shirt that flows along the lines and contours of his body like water. You would be lying if you said that you haven’t been curious about what it would feel like for a while now, and you can’t deny the thrill of pleasure along your spine as you trace down the clothed planes of his chest. Teasingly, you stop short just shy of his silvery belt buckle, and Hoseok tilts his head and raises an eyebrow in silent challenge.

It’s a challenge that you’re all too willing to accept. Dropping to your knees, you unfasten his belt and free him from the confines of his black pants. His cock is hot and heavy in your palm, the tip swollen and beaded with pearlescent precum, and your tongue darts out to wet your bottom lip at the sight. Deliberately, you lean forward and wrap your mouth around the head, sucking at it gently before swiping your tongue along the slit. Hoseok hisses sharply at the motion, and you smirk around him, pleased.

There’s no denying that Hoseok is big. Already, your fingers just barely meet around his girth, and his cock is still growing. Slowly, you take a little more of him into your mouth, tracing the tip of your tongue along the vein running along the underside of his cock. You tease at the flared head and glide your palm along the length, and remind yourself to relax your jaw as Hoseok’s cuffed hands settle lightly at the base of your neck.

“Look at you,” he rasps darkly. “Such a good little slut for me.” Then he chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest. “I can smell him on you, you know. The human—Jungkook, was it? What would he say if he knew how readily you fell to your knees for me, hmm?”

His words shouldn’t have any effect on you, and yet they do. Your underwear is sticking uncomfortably to your folds by this point, and Hoseok seems to sense it because he inhales deeply and chuckles again.

“What would he say, darling? I’ve seen the way he looks at you when you’re not paying attention. How would he react if he saw you here with me? If he saw you with your pretty little mouth wrapped around my cock?”

You can only hum around him, and Hoseok smirks. His cuffed hands weigh heavily on the back of your neck, and you splutter a little when he forces you to take him deeper, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat.

“So pretty,” he murmurs indulgently, relenting just a bit to allow you to suck in a breath of air through your nose. But it isn’t long before he’s pressing forward again. Your jaw aches, stretching to accommodate his girth, and though you do your best to relax your throat he proves too big. Instead, you wrap your hand around what you cannot reach with your mouth, slicking the unholy combination of precum and saliva down the length of his cock. Hoseok’s hips jump when you give him a harsh, sudden suck, and you cannot hide your grin.

You know he’s close when his thighs begin to tense beneath your fingertips. His muscles flex, his hands holding you in place as he begins to rut his hips up in search of his high, and you fall limp in his grasp as he releases a shuddery breath. Mere seconds later, Hoseok spills into your mouth, a deep groan escaping him. You swallow down everything he has to offer, licking your lips to catch any remnants, and his gaze darkens to obsidian when you stick out your tongue to show him that your mouth is empty.

“Up,” he says shortly, and you hasten to obey. In your eagerness, you stumble, and he grins when you steady yourself again by splaying your hands against his chest. “Can’t keep your hands off me, hmm?”

“I could say the same to you,” you retort, and he laughs as he allows you to undo his shirt, the silk slipping between your fingers as you slide the buttons free. With his jacket open and his shirt unbuttoned, you are free to explore the golden expanse of his toned chest, and you do so with relish. You stop only when he grabs the hem of your t-shirt, helping him slide it up and over your head to reveal that you aren’t wearing a bra underneath. Your shorts and underwear soon follow, and Hoseok doesn’t hesitate to slide a finger through the slick gathering along your pussy, circling your clit a few times before bringing his glistening fingers to his mouth and licking them clean.

Somehow, he is already hard again. You gasp when he rises to his feet, pressing you backward until your knees buckle against the edge of your bed. Landing hard on your back, you gaze up, entranced, as Hoseok stands over you. His unbuttoned shirt hangs loose off his frame and his pants have long since been discarded, and when your eyes drop down to his cock he lets out a delighted laugh.

“You’re an insatiable little thing.” Reaching out, he trails a lazy fingertip along the soft skin of your thigh, igniting gooseflesh in his wake. “On your hands and knees, then. I want you to watch me ruin you.”

Your eyes go wide. You’d forgotten all about the mirror that hangs over your closet door, but as you heed his order and roll over onto all fours, you see your reflection come into view. Your lips are swollen and your hair is a mess, and when Hoseok’s hand comes down harshly onto your ass, you let out a surprised little yelp.

Hoseok merely chuckles—you can see the amused twist of his lips in his reflection. Slowly—deliberately—he slots himself into the space between your ankles, his hands settling firmly onto your hips. The length of chain between his cuffs is cool against your skin, and you aren’t sure if the shudder that wracks your spine is due to the chill or the anticipation.

And then Hoseok presses forward, the tip of his cock nestling against your entrance before pushing past and parting your walls inch by tortuous inch. The stretch has your mouth falling open, a string of silent moans on the cusp of escaping, and Hoseok soothes your torment with a kiss to your shoulders. His palms smooth along your sides until he is seated fully inside you, and you gasp at the feeling of being so completely filled.

There’s a heat growing within you—one that licks at your insides and burns bright in your core. You meet Hoseok’s gaze in the reflection of the mirror, and he seems to understand because he pulls back until only the tip of his cock remains nestled inside your body. The force with which he slams forward again has the mattress creaking beneath your joined bodies, and you gasp out something that sounds vaguely like his name as he rolls his hips again and settles into a steady rhythm.

Hoseok fucks you with abandon, his hands gripping at your hips and pulling you against him with every thrust. You feel him everywhere—stretching your walls, against your nerve endings, deep enough that you can practically feel him in the back of your throat. There’s something building in the pit of your belly, winding tight like a coiled spring, and you can’t contain the garbled nonsense that falls from your tongue as Hoseok picks up his pace.

Your knees are beginning to shake, but Hoseok doesn’t relent. The weight of his chained hands disappears from your lower back and settles instead around your neck, and you weakly allow him to raise you up, his chest pressing against your back as he nips at the soft junction of your neck and shoulder and whispers filth into your ear.

“I always knew you needed more than that human could give you,” he whispers, his breath hot against your cheek. “You need a demon to satisfy you, darling. Not a man.”

You can only whimper. Reaching back, you wind your arms around his neck while he sets to work sucking a bruise into your clavicle. Your fingers delve into the soft hair at the nape of his neck, tangling in the silky strands and tugging at the roots, and Hoseok grits out a string of curses as he rolls up into you. The coil in your belly winds tighter, until you’re at the very brink. Your lips part.

And then your orgasm crashes over you, overwhelming you completely with its intensity. Your eyes flutter shut as you ride out the waves of pleasure, and Hoseok draws out every last bit as he fucks you through it, his rhythm unwavering. By the time you finally come down from your high, your limbs feel like soup. You sag in Hoseok’s grip, exhaustion overtaking you, and he chuckles into your shoulder as he finally finds his own high and fills you with creamy warmth.

Several long moments pass. Hoseok untangles himself from you, letting your tired body collapse down onto the mussed sheets, and you lay there for a few seconds before rolling over, blinking one tired eye open to regard him. His lips tilt up when he catches you staring, and you quickly bury your face back into the mattress, much to his amusement.

“You told me once that you expected me to be hornier,” he remarks, his weight settling onto the bed beside you and dipping the mattress. “Was that horny enough for you?”

Both of your eyes blink open at that, your mouth falling open as you gape at him. “You—I said what?”

Hoseok grins and raises his fingers to his temples, miming horns in the same way you did all those years ago. “This is what you meant, of course,” he says. “But I must admit, I do prefer this over that.”

The memory of your first meeting rushes back to the forefront of your mind. Laughing, you shake your head, staring up at the corner of the ceiling where a few paint specks have dried. “Don’t tell me you’ve been thinking about doing this since the first time we kissed.”

“Not at all,” Hoseok replies. “You were but a child then, and we were simply making a deal. See, kissing is a bit different for my kind. It’s an act of power—not one of intimacy. There’s an exchange that comes with every one, and it’s that exchange that truly seals our contracts.”

Thoughtfully, you hum. “I did always wonder about that. None of the books I’ve read have really explained it, and it’s not like I can just ask.”

“There’s only so much that books can tell you,” Hoseok replies. “And honestly, most of the authors of your precious books are painfully uninformed when it comes to the details of my kind.”

You sigh. “I know. I went through six different grimoires before I found a single demon-killing spell. I’m not even sure that I’m strong enough to cast it properly without killing myself by accident.”

“I’ll aid you, then,” Hoseok says. “Between the two of us, we should be able to deliver a fatal blow.”

No matter how many times your companion has promised his help, you still can’t help but blink in surprise. “Really? I was going to ask you to help me practice, but… you’ll really help me cast it?”

“Of course,” Hoseok answers, reaching down to brush away a bit of hair that’s sticking to your cheek. “I told you already, didn’t I? I want to see you have your revenge, just as much as I want mine.”

///

Morning dawns brisk and cool, a layer of white mist shrouding the valley where the town is just beginning to awaken from her slumber. The sun is just beginning to peer over the horizon, rearing his golden head, but the rays remain hidden behind the wispy gray clouds scattered across the sky. Somewhere in the distance, a bird begins to sing.

You’ve been awake for some time now. Yoongi has already brewed three pots of coffee, and you are sipping on your second mug as you watch the world wake up through the open kitchen window. In the entryway, mere steps from where you’re standing, Jimin and Taehyung are packing up their sparse belongings and checking their weapons one last time.

“I really wish we could stay,” Jimin says apologetically, offering you a wan smile. “But Jin broke his arm, and Namjoon can’t take on a full pack of werewolves by himself. We’ve got to get over there as soon as we can.”

You wave off his apology. Namjoon and Jin are two other hunters you’ve worked with many times over the years, and had the circumstances been different, you would’ve happily dropped everything to help them out with their plight. “Don’t even worry about it,” you assure. “We’ll be fine here. Let us know if you end up needing help with the pack, yeah?”

“Same goes to you,” Taehyung says. “We’ll drive back up as soon as we’re done down south, just in case we need to do a rescue mission.”

You laugh and pat him on the shoulder. “With any luck, it won’t come to that.”

He grins. “Fingers crossed. See you around, {Name}.”

“Bye, Tae. Drive safe.”

Bidding Jimin goodbye as well, you turn toward the sink to start cleaning up the dishes from breakfast. Jungkook and Yoongi are saying their own farewells, and you watch through the window as they help load Taehyung’s car. Yoongi appears to be giving Taehyung some last minute tips on wielding a stake, and Jungkook and Jimin are play wrestling on the stretch of lawn just outside the house. Shaking your head, you grab a sponge to start washing the plates, and by the time Jungkook and Yoongi return inside, you are drying off the last pieces of silverware.

“Thanks for doing the dishes,” Yoongi says, brushing past you to pour himself a fresh mug of coffee. “Where’s our guest? Have you checked on him yet this morning?”

At the mention of Hoseok, you feel your cheeks warm. He hadn’t lingered long after your tryst last night, and you’d been quick to show him to the spare bedroom where he could get a little more comfortable and rest up. “He must still be in the guest room,” you reply, gesturing vaguely down the hall and making to stand up. “I can check and see.”

“Nah, I can do it,” Yoongi replies, waving a hand and walking off. “You should probably start getting ready for tonight, anyway.”

You nod, sitting back down and wrapping your hands around your coffee mug to relish in the warmth. “Right. Thanks, Yoongi.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Yoongi disappears down the hallway, his footsteps fading, and you lean back in your seat and take a long sip of your drink. Pale steam rises from your mug in whorls, and you watch it spiral up toward the ceiling as your mind wanders back to the night prior. It doesn’t take much to recall the plans you’d discussed with your companions—plans to avenge your parents once and for all. It doesn’t take much to recall what happened later, either—the visit Hoseok paid to your room, and what transpired afterward. Your body remembers, and reminds you with every thrum and ache. Here and now, in the clear light of morning, you can’t forget the way he made you feel.

And even if you could forget, would you want to?

Groaning, you shove aside your straying thoughts and refocus on your plans for tonight. According to Hoseok, luring Moloch out is a simple feat, and should be easily achieved through an orchestrated car accident. You’ve already picked out the perfect stretch of road, too—a sharp unmarked bend that’s all too easy to miss in the dark, just one town over from yours. An abandoned chapel sits in the woods just off the side of the road, and you’ve heard many a local whisper about the shadowy grims that protect the cemetery and surrounding church grounds. Later in the afternoon, Jungkook is heading over to scope the area out and get a lay of the land. And just after dark, you and Yoongi will make your move.

You spend the rest of the day preparing. Hours fly by as you review your research, flipping through the marked pages of your various books of spells. You jot notes down as you read—details and incantations that you might need—and it isn’t until Yoongi shakes your shoulder gently that you rouse yourself from your trance. “Huh?”

“It’s dinnertime,” he says, jabbing a thumb in the direction of the kitchen. “I roasted a chicken. Come eat.”

Obligingly, you follow him to the dining table where Hoseok is already seated. “I’m not eating,” he says in response to your inquiring brow raise. “Just under strict supervision by Yoongi here.”

“No shit,” Yoongi grunts, grabbing a knife and beginning the process of carving the chicken. “I’m not letting you out of my sight for any longer than I need to.”

Dinner is a quick, quiet affair. Yoongi flips on the evening news a few minutes in, and the three of you watch as the local meteorologist gives the weather report. Much to your relief, she forecasts clear skies and a zero percent chance of precipitation, and you exchange looks with Yoongi as the channel transitions into missing persons reports.

…Richard Guerrera, 42, has gone missing from his riverside home. Local police report no signs of foul play. Friends and neighbors are praying for his safe return…

“Hey, don’t look at me,” Hoseok says, raising his cuffed hands innocently when both you and Yoongi turn to look at him. “I had nothing to do with that. I’ve been here the whole time.”

Yoongi harrumphs and stands up, gathering up his plate and silverware. Finishing your last bite of food, you gather up your own dishes as well and follow him over to the sink. “I’ll clean up here if you want to pack the car,” you say, and he nods.

“I just have a couple more things I want to grab. Meet outside in ten?”

“Sounds like a plan,” you confirm. Squirting some soap onto the sponge, you begin washing the dishes, sighing happily when the water finally begins to run warm across your fingers. The suds spiral down the drain, disappearing into the depths of the plumbing, and you rinse everything clean before turning back toward the table to grab the leftover food.

To your surprise, Hoseok has already gathered the remaining chicken into a plastic container and is standing beside the refrigerator with it in hand. He’s staring intently at the door, you realize—his focus zeroed in on the photograph that you put up there just a few months ago. It’s held up by a magnet shaped like a little ghost, and depicts you squeezed between your two housemates, the three of you grinning wildly with snow-capped mountains and deep evergreen forests in the background. You’d had it developed after a rather nasty wendigo hunt, and as the only existing photograph of the three of you together, it’s been on the refrigerator ever since. You wonder what Hoseok is thinking as he looks down at it, his brows furrowed. But before you can open your mouth to ask, his expression relaxes. Grabbing the handle of the refrigerator, he opens up the door and carefully deposits the container of leftovers inside, the chain linking his wrists jingling.

“It’s nearly time,” Hoseok says once he’s closed the refrigerator again. “You’ll have to break that trap in the basement to let me out, darling.”

Your gaze drops down to the tiled floor beneath your feet, beyond which the Devil’s Trap lies. “Right.”

“The cuffs, too. I trust you have the keys?”

You hesitate, and then nod. Gesturing for him to follow, you head for the door at the very end of the hallway, pulling it open to reveal a narrow staircase stretching down into the darkness. “After you,” you murmur, and Hoseok obligingly begins the descent with you trailing after him, flicking on the lightswitch as you pass by.

The basement is a single, large room at the end of the stairs, lit at odd intervals by bare lightbulbs and ensconced by gray concrete walls. Odds and ends litter the space—tucked away on metal shelves or shoved into unobtrusive corners. The corner nearest the stairs houses a makeshift wine cellar, with several dozen dusty bottles stowed away on a rack that nearly reaches the ceiling. Hoseok flashes you an amused smirk as he passes by, and you can only shrug and smile back.

The Devil’s Trap is carved into the concrete floor, etched deep and reinforced with black paint on a monthly basis. Hoseok comes to a stop just shy of the outer edge of the sigil, and you take another few steps beyond it before pulling your knife from your boot and looking up at him once more. “We’re allies,” you murmur. “Right?”

“Right,” Hoseok confirms just as softly. And you nod, flicking open your blade and chipping away at the painted concrete until the lines of the trap are broken.

A loaded silence falls over you when Hoseok steps out of the Devil’s Trap, his polished black oxfords toeing the broken line before stepping over it. You release a long breath as you straighten up to face him, your heart stuttering a little in your chest when you find his face mere inches from your own.

“The cuffs now, darling,” he breathes, unintentionally mesmerizing you with the way his dark lashes flutter as he blinks a stray strand of hair out of his eyes. “I can’t help you if they remain on.”

“Right,” you breathe back, fishing the little silver key out of the pocket of your jeans. Gingerly, you take Hoseok’s bound wrists, inserting it first into one lock and then the other. The cuffs fall to the concrete with a metallic clatter, and Hoseok beams as he heaves a relieved sigh and stretches his arms overhead, rubbing his wrists.

“Perfect,” he rasps, and you swear that you see the outline of his tattered black wings on the wall behind him for a split second before you blink. “I’ll see you soon.”

And then you blink again, and he’s gone.

You take the time to fix the Devil’s Trap before heading back upstairs. It’s a simple matter—a bit of quick dry cement and a generous dab of paint—and you double check your handiwork with satisfaction before heading back upstairs. Yoongi is already waiting by the car when you arrive, and you wave as you join him at the trunk of his old station wagon.

“He gone?” he asks as you survey the array of weapons and equipment loaded inside, and you nod.

“Yeah. And before you ask, I fixed the trap too. Everything’s back to the way it should be.”

Yoongi shuts his mouth with an audible click and turns toward the driver’s side door instead. “Let’s go, then. Jungkook texted a few minutes ago, and we’re all set.”

“Okay,” you reply, taking one last look at the trunk before slamming it shut and striding over to the passenger side of the station wagon. “Let’s go.”

///

The drive to the next town is a short one—only about twenty minutes from the time you pull away from the house. Traffic is light, and Yoongi turns on the radio and flips through the stations until he lands on some soothing jazz. The spire of the chapel soon comes into view over the treetops, the peeling white paint pale against the deep blue sky. “Here we go,” Yoongi mutters over the music and the hum of the engine, chancing a glance at you out of the corner of his eye. “You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you answer, resisting the urge to squeeze your eyes shut as Yoongi wrenches the steering wheel sharply to the right and sends the station wagon veering into the grass, narrowly missing the ditch on the side of the road. The car bounces over a few bumps, slowing slightly before ramming into a young sapling at the edge of the woods, and despite the fact that you’ve braced yourself for the impact, it still sends all the breath whooshing out of your lungs.

The airbags deploy, but just barely. Yoongi has modified them to fill up enough to soften the blow but not smother you in the process, and you’re grateful for that as you wrench yourself free of your seatbelt and reach for the door handle. There’s no need to feign the way your hands shake as you stumble out of the car and into the grassy clearing where the chapel looms, the headstones around it jutting out of the ground like stony teeth. From behind one of them—a tall granite one with a carved angel sitting atop it—you spot a shadowy figure on all fours watching you with alert eyes and pricked ears.

“Yoongi?” You peer around to the other side of the vehicle where Yoongi has extricated himself and is limping over to join you. “Are you… are you okay? What happened to your leg?”

“Think it’s a sprain,” he replies, coughing. “What about you? Are you all right?”

“I think so.” Gingerly, you touch your forehead and wince. “I might’ve hit my head, though—it hurts really bad and I think it’s swelling up. And the car, fuck. What are we supposed to do now?”

Yoongi pulls his phone from his pocket, waking the screen before hissing out an expletive. “Shit, it looks like I don’t have any bars. We can try to flag someone down on the side of the road, I guess. Or maybe we can walk to the next town. I think the map said it was only another fifteen minutes awa—”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence. A harsh, strident sound rends the night air—rumbling like falling stones in an avalanche—and your heart plummets into your stomach despite all the preparations you’ve taken to ready yourself for this moment. The wind begins to whistle through the trees, whipping through the branches. A flurry of leaves tear free from their limbs to slash across your cheeks, and when you reach up to touch your face, your fingers come away red.

“Well, well, well,” a familiar voice rings out, thunderous and deep with malevolent intent. “What do we have here?”

For a split second, you think that your eyes must be playing tricks on you. The shadows beneath the treetops seem to be moving, merging into a nebulous mass of impenetrable darkness that begins siphoning gravel and dirt and leaves up from the ground. The debris coats the solidifying darkness like armor and the leaves halo it like a crown, and two horns grow up out of the vaguely humanoid creature’s head until you’re certain they could pierce the sky itself. Two icy blue eyes stare down at you from the massive shadowy figure, cold and calculating and filled with malice. You feel like you’ve been run through with twin daggers, the blood freezing in your veins as you bite your lip hard enough to taste metal.

Moloch. The name escapes you in a whisper that’s immediately carried off by the wind that’s beginning to gust. It buffets against you and sends you stumbling back against the station wagon, and you spot Yoongi standing just a few paces away with his arm raised to shield his face. His mouth is moving, but you cannot make out the words.

It’s a good thing, then, that you reviewed your plan in the car just moments before Yoongi crashed it into the undergrowth.

Pulling your gun from your belt, you level it at the behemoth demon and shoot until the last chamber clicks. Then you throw yourself toward the trunk of the car, wrenching it open and grabbing the topmost items. The flask of holy water, you fling at the demon, dark satisfaction blooming in your chest when he bellows in pain.

A cry of your name draws your attention, and you whirl to see Jungkook dashing toward you from where he’s been lying concealed behind the dilapidated stone wall lining the cemetery. He’s got a gun in each hand, and quickly empties the first into the demon’s exposed back. The bullets are Devil’s Trap bullets—just as yours were—and you can only hope that Moloch remains incapacitated as you begin the next step of your plan.

Yoongi, thankfully, is already on the move. He’s heaved the bag of rock salt from the trunk and is dragging it through the grass, letting salt flow out of the hole he’s cut into the corner. Once the circle is complete, he tosses it aside and pulls out a white pillar candle, slamming it down at the northernmost point of the circle. Across the way, Jungkook plants two more candles into the earth—one due south and the other due west. “{Name},” he calls urgently, his eyes flickering in the flame of his lighter, “you have to start the spell. Now!”

Dread begins to pool in your stomach as you look around the clearing, searching for any sign of Hoseok. The breeze has settled and the treetops are beginning to still, but you know that the salt and bullets are only temporary solutions. Your foe is a formidable one, and even now you can feel a slight tremor beneath your feet. If Moloch breaks the salt circle, you aren’t sure you have the time to create another. You can only hope that the Devil’s Trap bullets hold, restricting his movements until you can finish your spell.

Yoongi lights his candle, and you steel yourself as you take the candle you pulled from the trunk and place it on the last of the cardinal directions. Falling to your knees, you hold your lighter up to the wick with shaky fingers, but the flame catches despite the gust of wind that threatens to put it out. “Abscede creaturam malam et non reverteris in terram viventium,” you recite, your voice quivering on the last word. Clearing your throat, you try again, shakily pulling a drawstring pouch from your coat pocket and scattering a pinch of the contents into the flame. It burns bright blue for a moment before reverting back to orange, and you frown as the flame begins to wane. “Abscede creaturam malam—” you begin again, but a low laugh stops you in your tracks.

“Starting without me, darling?”

And then Hoseok is stepping up beside you, dropping down to his knees and taking your free hand in his own. “Abscede creaturam malam et non reverteris in terram viventium,” he begins, and you quickly join in, your voices melding.

Moloch snarls out a curse, and it sounds like the blast of cannonfire. “Surely my eyes deceive me,” he growls, and you swallow when you see a flash of red within the icy blue of his eyes. “The King of the Crossroads himself is helping the little bitch?”

Your voice falters slightly. The title—King of the Crossroads—echoes in your brain, but you don’t have the time to dwell on it. Hoseok hasn’t stopped chanting, and you continue alongside him as the heat of the flames grows. “Exaudi me et non revertis huc. Flamma infernalis te absorbeat totum ut humanitatem non tentes. Discede, creaturam malam pro damnamus te. Discede stamus contra te. Discedo!”

The words fade into silence, and you feel a tingle in your fingertips where your hand is captured firmly in Hoseok’s own. Like wildfire, it flares, rushing through your veins and burning bright warmth from your toes to your crown. It overtakes and overwhelms you—both body and soul—and you gasp for breath as a sudden rush of pure power surges through your chest. The candle flames begin to grow, stretching and expanding to encircle the demon trapped within, and Hoseok reaches into your drawstring bag to scatter the contents. Once again, the flames turn blue, and this time they remain that way.

Pale blue and white sparks dance in the air, coalescing around Moloch until he is glowing as bright as the midday sun. He’s snarling and cursing—you can see the gaping maw of his mouth moving—but you can’t hear a single word over the sound of the crackling fire. You can’t even look directly at him anymore, forced to shield your eyes behind your hand with your fingers splayed ever so slightly. Beside you, Hoseok seems wholly unaffected, a smug smile playing on his lips as he watches the flames burn higher.

After what feels like an eternity, the fire fades back into orange and slowly begins to die down. You blink away the sunbursts and rub at your eyes, and when you look at the center of the circle where Moloch was, all you see is a pile of charred ash. “Is—?” you ask, and you can’t quite finish the question. Hoseok seems to understand you nonetheless, and you start when he glances over and gives your hand a soft squeeze, having completely forgotten that he was holding it.

“He’s gone,” he affirms, his gaze returning to the ashes scattered amidst the salt. “You did well, darling. Truly.”

“I—” You clear your throat and try again. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Hoseok grins. The dying flames cast him in warm golden light, burnishing his honeyed skin, and you can’t help the way your gaze dips down to the dip of his unbuttoned collar and the sliver of toned chest it reveals. His fingers are still curled loosely around yours, and you hesitate before pulling away and settling both your hands back into your lap. “Thanks,” you murmur. “Really.”

“It was my pleasure,” Hoseok replies. “Really.”

You smile at him. The fire flickers—sputters—and finally dies out, and in the absence of its light, you nearly stumble over your own two feet as you rise back up to a standing position. “I… I guess we’re done here, then,” you say. From somewhere behind you, Yoongi clears his throat, and Hoseok raises an eyebrow as he rises smoothly to his feet, his gaze darkening.

“I suppose this does mark the end of our alliance, doesn’t it?”

You don’t respond. You don’t have a chance to, because Jungkook shouts now! and you’re suddenly wrenched backward by a strong hand on your arm. A jet of water soaks Hoseok’s chest, sizzling upon impact, and you only catch a glimpse of the way his features twist into a pained snarl before Yoongi is pulling you back toward the crashed station wagon. On the other side of the clearing, you spot Jungkook with what can only be described as a Super Soaker filled to the brim with holy water. There’s a glyph carved into the tree he’s standing beside, and you know that if all has gone according to plan, it’s the last one he needed to carve in order to trap Hoseok within a pentagram drawn round the clearing.

“Get in the car, now,” Yoongi says forcefully, leaving no room to argue. When you hesitate, he wrenches open the car door himself and unceremoniously pushes you in, grunting when you try to keep him from closing it again.

Then he’s darting off, his silvery gun in hand as he plants his feet and fires. Three bullets rip through Hoseok’s fitted black jacket, tearing the fabric just enough to expose his toned chest, and you suppress a gasp when the ground promptly begins to shake.

“Jungkook, we have to go!” Yoongi growls at the younger man, who is still firing jet after jet of holy water at the trapped demon. Stubbornly, Jungkook fires off another shot before turning toward him, and Yoongi curses loudly when a heavy branch crashes to the ground between them.

The wind is beginning to pick up again, and this time it’s gusting even harder than before. If you ever had any doubts about Hoseok’s power, they’ve surely been alleviated now as the trees begin to sway and creak dangerously. Overhead, turbulent clouds blot out the stars and dim the waning crescent moon.

King of the Crossroads, Moloch had called him, and something in the very darkest recesses of your mind stirs again at the words. But Yoongi leaps into the driver’s seat before you can latch on to the thoughts that are trying to formulate, and Jungkook dives bodily into the back. You nearly get whiplash from the speed at which Yoongi throws the vehicle into reverse, and return your attention outside where you can clearly see Hoseok’s shadow silhouetted against the exterior wall of the chapel, his tattered wings thrown into stark relief against the peeling white paint.

Hoseok’s mouth is moving, but you don’t hear the words over the gusting wind. Beyond him, you watch as one of the shadowy four-legged creatures you spotted earlier comes darting out of the cemetery. It’s quickly joined by two more, and your eyes widen at the sight.

Church grims—tasked with protecting the hallowed grounds they were buried on. They take the shape of big black dogs, and you press a hand against the window as they stalk closer to the demon that you and your companions have trapped and betrayed.

Hoseok is looking directly at you now, and you flinch as you meet his blazing golden gaze. His handsome features are twisted and his eyes are slanting into something dangerously inhuman, and you swear that you hear the baying of hellhounds off in the distance.

“Are those—?” Jungkook asks shakily from his sprawled position in the backseat, and Yoongi nods grimly.

“Hellhounds,” he mutters. “I hear them too. They only come out when—”

“—they’re collecting a soul,” you finish.

There’s no more need for words. Yoongi throws the car into gear and pulls onto the main road in a fit of screeching tires, and none of you chance another look back.

///

“You know, I really thought that our life on the road was behind us.” Jungkook glances at you from where he’s sprawled across the bed he’s sharing with Yoongi, idly tossing a ball in the air before catching it again. “I didn’t miss these shitty motels, that’s for sure. This whole place smells like sweat and mothballs.”

“I’m pretty sure your socks are responsible for the sweat smell,” you quip, not even bothering to look up from the open grimoire in your lap. An array of ingredients are spread out on the table before you, and you carefully begin dividing them up as you scan through the next few lines of instructions.

“Leave me and my socks alone,” Jungkook grumbles. Sighing, he lets the ball drop to the ground and pushes himself up and off the bed, joining you at the table. He plops down into the chair opposite yours, and you glance up briefly at him before returning to your spellwork.

In the adjoining bathroom, you hear the toilet flush. The faucet turns on, the handle squeaking, and the sound of running water fades into white noise until Yoongi steps out of the bathroom and accidentally bangs the door against the wall. “Fuck, sorry,” he says, grimacing. “I forgot how light that thing is. I barely pushed it, I swear.”

“The draft from the window doesn’t help,” you reply. “We should really move to a different motel soon.”

“Tomorrow,” Yoongi promises. “As soon as the sun rises, we can pack up and head out. We’ve been in one place for too long, anyway.”

You and Jungkook hum in quiet agreement. None of you are blind to the fact that Hoseok is now hunting for all three of you, and will stop at nothing until he finds you. You’ve been on the run for just over two months now, flitting from seedy motel to seedy motel and keeping as low a profile as you can. Hunting is completely out of the question, since creatures talk and word has a tendency to spread like hellfire. You can’t possibly risk it.

“Being on a demon’s shit list sucks,” Jungkook groans, flopping back into his chair and tilting his face toward the water-stained ceiling. “I miss hunting. The last town we passed through had that woman in white situation, and we didn’t do a damn thing.”

“I called Jin and Namjoon,” Yoongi replies tersely. “They’re out east right now, but they said they’ll drive in the day after tomorrow to take care of it. It’s the most we can do.”

“No, it’s not,” Jungkook grumbles under his breath. Still, he falls silent after that, and you and Yoongi exchange glances before he meanders off to grab a well-worn leather book from his duffel bag, returning to the table with it in hand.

“I found something else,” he says, flipping it open to a page he’s marked with a torn scrap of paper and handing it over. “It might be a way out of this mess, if we can pull it off.”

You scan across the page, reading the words slowly until their meaning finally sinks in. “Burning bones?” you ask in a hushed whisper. “We can kill a demon if we find and burn its original human bones?”

“That’s what the lore says,” Yoongi confirms. “I have no idea if it’s true, but this book has yet to steer me wrong. Besides, it kinda makes sense, doesn’t it? Fire is cleansing. It kills most things, so why wouldn’t it kill a demon like Hoseok, too?”

“That’s a good point,” you murmur, a strange feeling taking root in your chest and winding its way up and around the slats of your ribcage. “And you’re right. It does make sense.”

“In that case, what are we waiting for?” Jungkook has straightened up in his seat, his eyes alight with excitement. “Let’s find those bones and roast this fucker.”

“I’ve already put the word out to everyone we know,” Yoongi says, glancing at Jungkook before returning his attention to you. “Unfortunately, we don’t know much about him, so figuring out where he’s buried is going to take some trial and error. But, hey. The word’s out and everyone wants to help, so all we can do now is wait.”

“Wait,” you echo hollowly, as the odd feeling in your chest tightens its hold and nearly chokes up your voice. “Right. We just have to wait.”

///

Days turn into weeks, and ever so slowly, you adjust to your new routine. Together, the three of you come to an agreement to ease back into hunting, and it isn’t long before you find yourself facing off against a clan of lower level demons with goat horns and pale green skin. They’ve taken over several dilapidated blocks of your current city’s warehouse district, and you can’t deny the rush of adrenaline that spikes your veins as you smash a fist into the fleshy part of one demon’s cheek and follow it up with a knee to its groin.

The deep blue of evening is rapidly settling over the city, enveloping your surroundings in growing darkness. Every shadow looks like a new enemy, and you keep a watchful eye on your surroundings even as you refocus your attention on your current opponent. Ducking underneath the demon’s swinging fist, you grab your switchblade from your boot and straighten back up, using the momentum to drive the blade into your opponent’s stomach. Distantly, you can hear Yoongi and Jungkook embroiled in fights of their own, wincing a bit when several gunshots ring out.

Groaning, the demon you stabbed falls to the ground. You pull the knife from its torso with a disgusted frown, eyeing the viscous purple blood that coats it, and bend back down to wipe it off on the creature’s shirt. As you straighten up again, you catch a flurry of movement out of the corner of your eye, just out of sight in the shadows. Carefully, you raise your knife and tread a little closer, watching and listening for anything unusual or dangerous.

Just as you near the spot where you thought you saw movement, something else catches your eye. The shadows near the warehouse entrance seem to be moving, pulsating like a beating heart. Bemused, you blink a few times, and that seems to dispel the movement. Sucking in a deep breath, you turn away and begin picking your way back toward your companions, keeping a wary eye on the darkest shadows and holding your knife close at your side.

Perhaps it’s your imagination, or simply your eyes playing tricks, but you swear you caught a glimpse of Hoseok in the deepest shadows. You saw him standing there in the darkness, his eyes flashing gold and his silky shirt billowing in an invisible breeze. But then you blinked, and he was gone, and you aren’t sure if he was in fact a figment of your imagination or not. Maybe I’m going crazy, you muse, suppressing a humorless laugh at the thought. Or maybe I’ve been crazy right from the start.

Later that night, as you lie in bed, you think of Hoseok. You think of his golden eyes and his slitted pupils, and his tattered wings silhouetted against the chapel walls. You think about his fingers and his lips, and when you eventually fall into a fitful sleep, you think of his cock too.

You’ve never been a lucid dreamer, but when you suddenly find yourself standing on the edge of a cliff overlooking a tumultuous blue-gray sea, you know that you are no longer awake. Down below, white-capped waves crash against the rocks, and you can just barely make out a precipitous path down the cliffside to the sandy beach. In the distance, you hear the mournful cries of seagulls circling overhead, backed by the sound of the sea.

“Nice, isn’t it?”

Hoseok’s voice. Somehow, you aren’t even surprised as you turn to face him, taking in the sharp angles of his side profile silhouetted against the cloudy gray sky. He’s wearing a simple white shirt that’s been tucked into brown pants, and his black hair is loose across his forehead instead of parted to the side. Like this, he looks much younger than you’re accustomed to, and your heart does a funny little flip in your chest when he tears his attention away from the sky and meets your gaze at last.

“Where… where are we?” you ask. “I’ve never seen this place before.”

Hoseok shrugs and glances away again, toward the edge of the horizon where the ocean kisses the sky. “It’s the beach,” he answers simply. “Your favorite place.”

Perturbed, you glance down at where the waves continuously break against the craggy rocks, churning up seafoam and eddying waters. “Isn’t this your favorite place?”

“Maybe it was, a long time ago,” Hoseok answers after a brief pause. “I was human once, after all. Many demons were. That’s all we really are at the end of the day—corrupted, hungry souls who were tempted by evil and damned for eternity.” He looks over at you, his brown eyes glimmering. “But you already knew that.”

And then the scene shifts. Instead of stormy gray skies when you look up, you’re greeted by the bold oranges and burnished golds of sunrise—color streaking across the heavens like a watercolor painting and leaking down into the watery waves below.

“Nice, isn’t it?” Hoseok asks again, and you can only nod.

“It is,” you breathe. “It’s beautiful.”

And in the light of the rising sun, Hoseok smiles—bright and brilliant.

///

Life, you’ve found, sometimes has a funny way of circling back. Maybe it’s fate, maybe it’s destiny, or maybe it’s a simple case of déjà vu. In any case, you find yourself standing at the center of a crossroads at dusk—right when the borders between worlds are weakest. In your hand, you hold a box carved out of wood from an elder tree, and inside it lies a mound of dirt and a single bone.

Wood. Earth. Bone.

Blood.

You barely even feel the sting as you prick open the pad of your finger with your knife, squeezing the skin until a droplet of red wells up. Tilting your hand, you allow it to fall into the box, watching as it absorbs into the dark soil before shutting it and clasping it tight.

It takes only a few short minutes to bury the box, placing it into the shallow hole you’ve dug and tamping down the earth. Once it’s done, you look down each of the four roads that make up the crossroads in turn, tilting your head back as a cool breeze blows by.

“Hoseok.” There’s no need to raise your voice. “I know you can hear me.”

A beat. Then you hear the sound of rustling wings from behind you, mere steps from where you’re standing. “Evening, darling.” His voice is a dark, dangerous lilt. “Did you miss me?”

You swallow, taking a moment to steel yourself before turning to face him. “I have a proposition for you,” you say, and watch as amusement settles across his handsome face. Already, his eyes are aglow—slanted into that distinctly inhuman gold—and you quell the quaver in your voice that threatens to escape when you realize you can see the shadow of his tattered wings on the ground, cast in the glow from your car’s headlights.

“Oh?” Amusement, flecked with a hint of derision. “And what would that be?”

You exhale hard through your nose and raise your chin, meeting his golden gaze directly. “Our deal. I want out.”

As expected, Hoseok bursts into laughter. “That’s not how this works, darling. A deal is a deal. You agreed to my terms, and there’s no backing out.”

“Really?” Deliberately, you reach into the satchel at your side—the satchel that Namjoon had dropped off just yesterday with a grim nod and a warning. Careful, he’d said. You never know how he might react to this. Your fingers scrabble against a hard surface, hollow and round, and you grab hold and raise it up so that Hoseok can see what is in your hand. “How about now?”

Shock flits across Hoseok’s face, but he quickly schools his expression back into neutrality. “Is that a threat?” he asks coldly, and you pull out a matchbook and strike one until it catches, holding it up to the human skull in your hand until the pale bone begins to blacken.

“What do you think?”

Hoseok’s hair is beginning to singe—the burnt smell carrying on the breeze and prickling at your nostrils. Pointedly, you drop the match and stomp it out, and when you look back up, Hoseok is much closer than he was before. There’s something unreadable in his gaze, and you very nearly reach for another match when—much to your surprise—he starts to laugh. Deliberately, he reaches out and tilts your chin up.

And he kisses you—his lips warm and firm and deceptively gentle.

“You,” he breathes softly once he’s pulled back, “are something else.”

And then he turns and disappears, leaving you breathless and alone in the center of the crossroads once more.

#bangtanarmynet #hoseok #hoseok x reader #hoseok smut #bts smut #jung hoseok #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #hoseok scenarios #bts scenarios #bts #hobi #jhope #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #hoseok x you #bts angst #demon au #demon!au #lia writes

[kimetsu-no-yaiba-writings]

Demon Tanjirou Kamado x (FEM) Reader - Prologue: In the Shadows

Pairing: Tanjirou Kamado x (FEM) Reader

Word Count: 1693 words

Warnings: None - this chapter

Notes: This is a Modern Demon AU that will be incorporating yandere themes later on in this series - I’m not 100% on how many chapters I’ll have and I think it’ll probably be dependent on how many people actually enjoy this....

Anyway!

Hope you enjoy this prologue chapter 

Prologue - here. >>  Chapter 1

Your ten years-old and its summer, there’s a field with wildflowers and butterflies that comes to mind, a feint breeze plays with the gentle fabric of your dress and the ribbon in your hair.

You can remember running with someone – a boy of the same age – laughing with bright smiles. A small warm hand is clasped tightly with yours, tugging you along the dirt path, sunshine dusting your forms.

There’s a peach tree in bloom – pretty pink blossoms vibrant and gorgeous against the vibrant greens of the surrounding oaks – that catches your attention.

Your memory blurs.

Things become distorted and the shadows grow long – it scares you.

And then your standing in front of the peach tree, facing the boy, back towards the path home.

 “(Y/N)! (Y/N)! We’ll be together for ever, right?”

 A boy spoke so warmly towards you, his tiny hands clasping yours tightly, a bright smile present on his face – even though his face was a blur of overlapping and constantly changing shadows

He made your little heart thump loudly.

 “Of course! I love you lots and lots -------” You proclaimed with a smile “Forever and Always!”

 Peach blossom swirled past you both prettily as your chubby cheek was kissed.

He made you so happy, this warm child that played with you whenever you could leave the house, who gave you wildflowers, trinkets and snacks.

Your memories were warm whenever he was there…

But why couldn’t you remember his face or name?

You can remember your childhood in a vagueness of washed-out colours, sometimes there was sharp contrast – a memory – that’d bring things back in a wave of nostalgia, much like overlapping water and foamed bubbles.

Certain smells, tastes and a particular shade of red gave you nostalgia for a boy who you remembered but not fully, his face and name lost to you.

Maybe it was because it was almost summer – almost the time to sit around and eat ice-cream – but those feelings of nostalgia and an unknown yearning filled you, got stronger with every year you weren’t in that childhood town or house….

Part of you was glad that your father was so understanding about your wanting for change from the big city, his demeanour calm and warm as he offered up your childhood home as your new place – a glint of something in his eye – over afternoon tea.

 “I know it’s a lot to ask dad…” You murmured “But I could pay you rent if you wanted? I’m sure that there’ll be a job that I coul-“

 “Don’t be daft (Y/N)!” Dad chuckled, mug partially raised to his lips “I still own the house, so I can take care of the water and electricity bills and you’ll only have to pay for groceries”

 Dad smiled, crow’s feet and laughter lines becoming prominent and wrinkling his face. A stranded of peppered black hair fell loosely in front of his face as he giggled quietly at your surprised expression, reminding you briefly of the younger man your dad uses to be – the one who’d put his hair into a ponytail whenever he cooked or gave you a piggyback ride – before the stresses of life and your mum got too him…

Reaching over the table and clasping your dad’s hand with a smile made you happy (even if it was a little bit) and gave you a small bit of comfort, afterall, you could count on one hand the amount of times dad had been dismissive and/or rude. He’d always been kind.

Dad was just like that.

 “Thanks dad…”

 Dad squeezed your hand in return, gentle and warm and calloused from work.

 “Stop ya thanking kid” He huffed with a twinkle in his eye “I’ll drop you off there myself in a couple of days, you reckon you can get packed by then?”

 You simply nodded, a hug of agreement slipping past your lips.

 Time passed quickly after that, afternoon tea turning into staying for dinner with dad – a faint lingering memory from your teenage years of helping make food with him, of laughter and music – and a couple of episodes of a tv programme.

With the passing of time came the lengthening of the shadows.

And the need to go home.

Part of you was surprised at how quickly time had slipped past and changed from afternoon into evening; in fact, you were back at your flat – illuminated by the orange neon glow of streetlamps outside – both earlier and somehow later than expected.

Your flat wasn’t huge nor was it small and you couldn’t even call it medium sized, it kinda fit somewhere in-between the realm of cosy + friendly and gets messy quickly if you put too many things down – e.g., shopping.

It was home; had been for a good number of years but it was time to move on, the yearning for something that you couldn’t place your finger on having set in once again,

 “The show must go on…” You murmured to yourself “…I guess?”

 You went about your business of checking you had indeed locked the door, having a drink and then grabbing pyjama’s and taking a shower, taking a little time to relax under the semi-warm water before going through your routine of moisturising and dressing.

With a huff you threw yourself back into the warm embrace of your duvet, rolling yourself up like some sort of demented little human caterpillar as your eyelids opened and closed slowly + tiredly before letting you drift off into the dark embrace of sleep.

That night you slept fitfully, dreaming – or maybe remembering? – of something that happened in your confusing childhood once again.

 You were eleven years old and its winter.

The house is cold, its wooden floorboards echoing a loose warmth from the copper pipes beneath and its dark and windy outside.

You’re wearing your mum’s apron, radio playing faint music as you stir a bowl of cake mix while the blurry faced boy hums to the tune, swinging his legs as he sits on the countertop – he’s not meant to sit there, mum will go mad if she saw him….

The atmosphere is warm. You feel warm even though its slightly cold, you feel warm whenever you’re with him... Maybe you’re in love?

The oven hums as it preheats.

What were you baking again? Was it cake? Or was it cookies? Maybe Macaroons?

Either way you didn’t care – the kitchen became a mess of shadows and stained with blood as you felt sick… the kitchen was normal, everything was ok - had your head always felt fuzzy? – you were spending time with your best friend, who’s form stood stirring a different bowl of unknown mixture – strange, had he always been there?

 “Hey, -----,” You murmured, turning towards him with a smile “You reckon we could finish these in time for dinner?”

The boy remained with his back to you, he hummed, head tilting to the side in thought before looking over his shoulder at you – face a gapping hole of inky black with eyes redder than sin staring at you, no, you didn’t remember his face… what did he look like again? – with an expression you couldn’t see, but you knew it was warm and kind.

 “Hmmm, maybe?” he said with a ‘smile’ “Actually I think by the time these are done, dinner will have already be in progress…”

 You replied, but the words never made it to your ears.

The boy laughed.

The radio still played – was this song backwards? It doesn’t sound right…

The oven still hummed with a warm glow – what was in the oven? Something’s cooking… whats cooking? – and the faint ticking of the timer he twisted into time.

Something was wrong.

You felt like mush.

Weak.

Brain a honeyed mush as you went through the motions of a memory that you couldn’t quite remember and was clearly being twisted and distorted by you dreaming. How strange, had you always been aware that you were dreaming?

Something flickered.

 Fingers were being clicked in your face, you were brought back into it as the warm figure of your childhood friend stood in front of you, his head tilted cutely to the side as his earrings glinted under the light of the kitchen – what strange earrings….

 “(-/N)! Hey (Y/N)!” His voice was a honeyed worry as his hands clasped yours and the bowl “You ok? You kinda spaced out on me there”

 His words were warm, they trickled in and set themselves heavily in your bones and echoed in your skull.

 What was happening?

 And in that moment, you became deathly aware of something.

 You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t look up from the bowl.

He was standing there, still holding your hands, still warm…no, he was hotter then warm it wasn’t comforting anymore, his touch was heavy and heated instead as you suddenly became aware of the eyes – molten red and filled with something dark – that drilled into you.

 So dark.

 Had his fingernails always been that length? Had they always been so sharp?

 “Hey (Y/N)….” He murmured

 Where was the bowl?

 “(Y/N)…..”

 A chill went up your spine as you were embraced as his breathe tickled your ear.

 “(Y/N)” His voice sweet “I’ll find you again, I’ll think about you always after you’ve moved…”

 You caught a glimpse of elongated canine in his mouth – when did he get a mouth?! – yet his face remained a blur, pearly whites a sharp contrast to the muddled thing that clouded his face.

 “I’ll find you (Y/N)! It’s a promise”

 You were aware of your pinky finger latching into a promise with his as your distorted voice said something that you couldn’t hear.

 You woke up in a sweat, in the darkness of your room.

Pyjama top clinging to your skin as you tried to calm your frantic heart, breathe coming out in barely controlled pants as the hazy fog of sleep clung to your brain. A honeyed voice clung to the barely solid thoughts of your brain, as something crept up your spine and in the coming days, weeks and months, you’d come to realise that the feeling was fear…

#yandere kny x reader #kny x reader #demon slayer x reader #yandere demon slayer x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #yandere kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kny tanjirou x reader #kny tanjiro x reader #tanjiro kamado x reader #tanjirou kamado x reader #demon tanjirou x reader #demon tanjirou kamado x reader #demon tanjiro x reader #demon tanjiro kamado x reader #x reader #In the Darkness lurks love Masterlist

[yuzukult]

after midnight 05 || jjk & reader

title: after midnight 05 - tonight pairing: jeon jungkook x reader genre: angst, smut, fluff, fwb!au, fuckboy!jk, doctor!reader word count: 6.6k warnings: bad words !! jk mostly just explicit language. no smut. a/n: ruh roh yeah no smut !! i decided to go without it this time because of the ✧plot✧ and wanted to focus more on that!! hope you guys still enjoy and read it without the freaky. :) (also next chapter is the last chapter. bye.)

He likes the colors red and black.

His favorite foods are donuts, grilled pork (wrapped in lettuce, a clove of garlic, a splat of red pepper paste while dipped into that sauce with the sesame oil or the one with the soy sauce), and he enjoys a good combo of the corn dog—half hot dog, half mozzarella cheese—and he rates the cheese pulls out 10; he even writes the name of the store, location, his order, and the ‘cheese pull rating scale’ in the notes of his phone.

He sniffles a lot, something about his nose that makes him do it frequently, but he does this thing where his nose scrunches up and the space between his brows crinkles while a finger does a quick swipe underneath despite nothing coming out.

Apparently, he’s got a black belt in taekwondo (you have yet to ask him to show you some moves), and he’s a ‘pro-gamer’ (his words, not yours). He does this weird thing when he’s focused on something; occasionally bites down the flesh of his bottom lip, or sticks out tongue with a furrow of his brows, only blinking between five minute intervals (you’ve actually timed this). And when he uses the bathroom, he has this strange habit of having to double check to see if he already flushed, even if you tell him that you heard the water go down. He has to watch it himself.

It’s peculiar that you’ve suddenly learned all these things about him, despite just weeks before, you told yourself that you didn’t even know Jungkook like that. The only thing you knew about him was that he’s got this “fuck-it” attitude, but when you uncover that blanket of a reputation that you assumed, he’s… more than just that.

He vaguely mentions that he wants to open a tattoo parlor, but he’s got a bolder, stronger goal of opening his own duck meat restaurant within the next ten years. It’s not fitting to his… vibe, so to speak, the tattoo parlor is more appropriate, but the way his face lights up at the thought of having his own duck meat restaurant is… sweet. Makes him seem less like an asshole.

As much as you resent yourself for admitting this, you’re warming up to the idea of Jungkook being your boyfriend. It’s not impossible, you’re beginning to realize, but it doesn’t help that there’s some hesitance in making a decision as big as that. Jeon Jungkook as your boyfriend? Pft. Sounds crazy.

The trait about Jungkook that you favor is that he’s honest. Even if it’s a rude statement, an opinion that you absolutely do not agree with, and even if it’s completely indecorous, he’s still purely honest. He doesn’t lie, and you know that he might not be lying about that girl that was in his apartment, his reputation still stands.

But sometimes, Jungkook can be honest but you still have no idea what’s going through his head.

You don’t get Jeon Jungkook.

It’s so complicated, yet at the same time, everything he wants and expects is laid out in front of you. He’s like a secret agent, only that he has his tools placed on the table for all the showcasing purposes and you still can’t understand what his plan is.

“When is your sister’s wedding?” He queries one day, lounging on your couch in the living room. He hasn’t probed you for much lately about the relationship, but to be quite fair, you’ve dropped pretty much every guy you’ve had romantic connections with in lieu of just… spending an oddly large amount of time with him instead. “Is it going to be back in your hometown?”

“Mm,” you hum in agreement quietly, paying attention solely on the television and the channels you’re browsing through. “It’s about two weeks from now. Really, I should be going home this weekend to prepare, but the hospital has been busy lately so I’m going to work.”

Jungkook furrows his brows. “Her wedding is two weeks from now and you’re just telling me?”

You turn to look at him, blinking blankly. “W—Is it supposed to matter?”

“Yeah, I’d like to be your plus one, if you don’t mind. Unless… you were planning on going alone?”

Melting into the couch, you sigh while carding your fingers through your loosened locks. After the last encounter, your family has been blowing up your phone nonstop about the true nature of yours and Jungkook’s relationship. Was he paid to be your date for one weekend? Were the two of you just friends? Did you already scare him and he broke it off? ‘He’s sweet,” you remember your mother saying on the phone one afternoon. ‘Can you try to seem more appealing so he could take your friendship to the next level?’ Because she still doesn’t think that you guys could ever be something serious.

But to be quite frank, you didn’t either. It had nothing to do with you, though, more of Jungkook and the reputation that precedes him. You still had your doubts, especially that night you came to his apartment and saw her there, and although he consistently denies having any relations with her, part of you is a bit… sad about it. As possessive as it sounds, he was supposed to be yours, and the fact that she came into his apartment so easily didn’t sit well in your stomach.

“It’s not that, I just…” you inhale sharply, sucking in your cheeks in thought. “Do you genuinely want to go? Like why do you want to go? I mean, yeah, if you don’t go, it’ll prove everything my family has been theorizing about having a fake relationship, but… I don’t want to force you.”

“I feel like I’m a broken record. I said I’d try to be your boyfriend. So of course I’m going to want to be your date for your sister’s wedding. Plus, I can… see what this wedding hype is that everyone is talking about.”

You snort. “You’ve never been to a wedding?”

“Eh. I have, I just… always tried landing dates on them. So I never really got to enjoy that actual event.”

There’s no harm in bringing him as your date, is there?

There’s harm in everything.

For one, you didn’t expect Jungkook to attract this much attention here. He’s got a suit that you’ve never seen him wear before, hugging his body in all the right places with his hair slicked back with a comma curl brushing against his forehead. Jungkook doesn’t notice you in the crowd, busy keeping himself busy by conversing with some of your relatives, and you’d be lying if you didn’t admit that he stole the breath in your lungs at that very moment. Brows crinkled in curiosity, lips pink like they’ve been stained with strawberry juices paired with a smile that nearly ropes in the hearts of all those around him, this sight of Jungkook from this distance does the same to you.

God, he always looked so good but today, he wasn’t.. Hot, he was more than that. He was… handsome, beautiful—all of the above.

This was bad. This was so bad because you’re sinking in quicksand disguised with the ways of Jeon Jungkook and the thing you least imagined to happen is starting to happen. You need to grab on something, someone, anywhere where there’s a branch of hope to get you out, but you’re in too deep.

You might… actually like Jeon Jungkook.

But before you could get lost in your thoughts, your sister snaps you out of it with a panicked whine. You could hear her through the walls of your house—and although you’re not the maid of honor, the person she picks for it isn’t exactly the most reliable either. She isn’t quite equipped for a pressuring scenario, and well… a wedding is a taxing event.

“Yuri!” She wails, stomping her feet against the carpeted floors of her childhood bedroom. Yuri gets hit with a tsunami of worry washed over her face as Suji turns her head with the scariest expression on her face—like a tiger going after its prey. “I thought I asked you to take care of this!”

“I’m sorry,” she responds, voice quivering as she gets on her knees. You furrow your brows at the motion, unsure what to make of what she might potentially do next. “I’m trying…”

“Suji, what’s happening?”

“There’s a stain on my dress, and Yuri was supposed to make sure it’s in perfect condition!”

“She’s your friend, not your servant. Here—” you gesture one of the bridesmaids over and hand her the key fob to your car. “Grab the tide to-go pen in the glove compartment. We’ll try that first and if that doesn’t work, I’m sure mom has something in the laundry room.”

Suji is huffing and puffing, smoke practically whistling out her ears with her arms crossed over her chest, veil draping over her shoulders and dress dragging along behind her. She’s so pretty today, despite all the anger boiling in her blood, but she looks like an angel from heaven. “Don’t be sad, lil sis. It’s just a little stain. It’ll get stained worse anyways when you walk down the aisle in grass to your future hubby.”

“OK, but this day needs to be perfect. I had a binder that planned everything out since I was in middle school—” Suji is the epitome of what you described as those girls at that age, and she’s currently living the dream of being able to make it happen. “—and it has to be what it looks like. Sure, I upgraded the tacky stuff to find me at my age, but I need it to be… that.”

“It doesn’t have to be that.”

“It does!” She exclaims, a foot slamming into the floor that’s only cushioned to muffle the sound. “If he’s going to be my forever, then today is the only day that I can make this my day.”

“Right, but you also forget that it’s his day too. And not to mention that it’s possibly the only time you’re going to get married, so you want this day to be great. So instead of wasting your time throwing a tantrum like an actual middle schooler, how about we just make this day as lovely as we can and reminisce on the good memories instead of creating bad ones.”

Her tongue pokes the inside of her cheek. “I guess… you’re right. I love him, and I know that he’s the ‘one’ so…” She sighs, shoulders dropping along with the look on her face. “I just want it to be perfect. Imagine our kids in the future, turning the pages of our photo album. I want it to be perfect, to be special—“

“You keep saying ‘perfect’ when in reality, they’re just gonna wanna see their parents happy on their wedding day. They’re not gonna care that their mom has a tiny dirt stain on her dress, or if the flowers aren’t the exact shade of lavender that you wanted. They’re gonna be focused on those smiles plastered on your faces—grinning from ear to ear, big teeth in everyone’s faces.” You steal a seat on the stool beside your sister, fingers fiddling on your lap. “You’re living your dream. Sure, not everything is going to go by the book tonight, but the fact that it’s pretty damn close is good enough.”

She nods; tears begin to well up in her eyes and you groan. “Don’t cry, you’re gonna ruin your makeup!”

“I just—“ She snatches a tissue from a box nearby, dabbing the inner corners of her eyes to catch the tears before they fall. “That was good advice. And… I’ll take you up for it, that is… if you’ll take up on mine.”

Well… that’s different.

“Uh, what do you mean?”

Suji frowns. “I’m your little sister, but I’m not that little and I’m also not that dumb.” You tilt your head in confusion, uncertain where she was leading the conversation. “Remember back a couple months ago, when I came to visit you, my big sis, in the big city, living out her big dreams?”

“Uh… yeah?”

“And, despite your constant denial of being with someone, I still saw that bright look on your face whenever your phone lit up with a specific name that spread across the screen?”

You grimace. “I did not look like that.”

“Well, in comparison to now, I would say that during that time, it was a bit dim because now you look like the brightest star in the sky. I know… I know that you and Jungkook were uh… not really a fling, but not really a couple either.”

Intriguing, because you never showed any signs of this but Suji picked this up? “When you went to work that one day, he came by your place while I was staying there.” Your face drops. “OK, but before you get all pissy, hear me out.”

“Jeon Jungkook stopped by my apartment… as a fuck buddy, while my sister was there.”

“Right but—“

“What the hell!”

“I said listen!” Although you want to counter back, it’s her special day after all, and starting a fight with your sister on her wedding day isn’t the most ideal scenario. “I uh, he might’ve not realized it then, but he’s been smitten with you since then. Well, before, really, since it seemed like it wasn’t the first time he looked that way.”

Annoyed, it’s your turn to cross your arms. “Like what?”

“Like he wanted to impress me because he liked you.”

This is new. You can’t help but snort a laugh, the back of your hand covering your face in utter shock, shaking your head in disbelief at her observation. “Where are you going with this?”

She shrugs, pursing her lips as her eyes skim her bedroom. “That… I’m glad you finally took him in as your boyfriend officially. I know you’ve always advocated for being a career woman, but there’s no harm in being both a career woman and being in love. You don’t have to be those people who are dependent on their significant other, like mom, but you can just be… you when you’re with him. He can take care of you, and you can take care of him. Goes both ways.” Her eyes eventually meet yours. “I see the way he looks at you. He’s not the type of person like mom is, expecting you to toss everything you’ve worked hard for just to be a housewife. He likes you for… you. Potentially even love.”

There’s that l word again, the word that slipped off the tip of your tongue so carelessly during a night of intoxication. You weren’t even that drunk, you have to admit, because it was only a couple shots, but something in you spurred the words out like vomit. Jungkook has yet to confront you about it, and it only makes you feel queasy just thinking about what he’d potentially say.

“I… Maybe, I don’t know,” you sigh, watching outside the window to see the bridesmaid that you sent on a mission run back in a frenzy, probably fearing that your sister has transformed into Bridezilla once more. “Maybe I need a sweeter guy, one that has a decent job, shares a lot of things in common with me, and one day wants to settle.”

Suji furrows her brows. “Jungkook is sweet. When you went to the bathroom the other day, Horny—” Suji clears her throat, eyes scanning the room to confirm that your cousin isn’t there, “—Horny Hyunae tried pulling a move on him and he was quick to just reiterate once more that he’s yours and not hers. He’s sweet, sis, you’re just too scared to see it. And a decent job doesn’t mean he has to be a doctor. Imagine you being with another doctor. You guys would probably rarely meet. Plus, not all couples have to be a replica of each other—wouldn’t that be boring? And… And Jungkook… maybe he’s not confident right now, but if he really wanted to be with you and you wanted to settle, he’d at least take it into consideration. So… why can’t you fully put yourself in a relationship with him and give it a go? Not just use the term ‘boyfriend’ loosely, but… treat him like he’s your boyfriend, because he is.”

Before you could formulate a response, the bridesmaid is already up the stairs, panting as she hands you back the key fob while waving the tide to-go pen. “I got it!”

“There you are,” Jungkook has a glass of champagne in hand, the liquid courage halfway full, with his other hand dug deep into the pockets of his trousers. “I’ve been waiting all this time for you. Met up with your sister?”

“Uh, yeah,” you nod, realizing that the two of you are matching in black attire. You’ve opted for a silky midnight dress, one that follows your silhouette almost tightly, and Jungkook would be lying if he didn’t say that he was watching you the entire time as you made your way toward him. “She was unleashing the demon inside of her because there was a minor stain on her dress. Worked out though, she’s calmer now.”

“Mm,” he hums, mimicking your nod. “Hope you’re not like that on our wedding day.”

You freeze.

There’s something weird about hearing Jungkook say ‘our’ instead of just ‘your’ with the word ‘wedding’ trailing behind it because it’s not… your wedding he’s thinking about, it’s the both of you. The thought of Jungkook standing at the alter, patiently waiting for your appearance down the aisle—fuck, erase erase. You shouldn’t even be thinking about anything of that nature, especially not since you haven’t even claimed Jungkook as your boyfriend officially. It’s too soon. It’s way too soon. He’s still a fuckboy.

Right?

Right.

Or so, you think. He’s different these days, and you say that quite often, but he’s truly been… different. He’s actually been toning down, trying to be less intolerable, but enough that he’s still himself. The other day, he made a flirtatious comment about your ass, but when a passerby complimented a girl standing inside the store, Jungkook glanced for a brief second but didn’t even bat a lash. He didn’t try getting her number, approaching her to compete with the other guy to ‘state his dominance.’ He just… stood by you, holding the menu in hand for you to see more clearly and asked, “are you sure you don’t want to get the spicier one?”

It’s even stranger that the two of you hang out casually now. Before, it’d be a quick booty call, sleep over, and that’s it. Wake up the next morning, shuffle to get your clothes on and make your way to work.

But now, he comes straight after work to your place, offers to either help cook dinner or stop by somewhere to grab something and stays the night.

Who the fuck is this guy?

You definitely need a drink. Eyes zooming directly on the glass in his hand, you don’t hesitate to snatch it and give it a swing. Jungkook isn’t fazed by this, using his now vacant hand to stuff into the other pocket. “I have a scar now from the stab,” he states nonchalantly, inspecting the look on your face. You’re without a doubt troubled, fighting with whatever thoughts it is inside of your head, and he assumes that it’s from your sister being married and not you, so his goal is to create some type of distraction. “I thought you said I wouldn’t get any scars from your stitching.”

“I never said that,” you roll your eyes. “I said it’ll make the scarring results a bit better. Why? You don’t like my work?”

“No, I love your work,” he responds, and that l word haunts you worse than a demon in those horror movies. “I just figured I would try to keep your mind off things by bringing it up.”

“Off what things?”

“You know,” he shrugs. “Your sister is getting married. I know you wanted to get married, and the stigma is that the older sibling is supposed to get married first, and there’s that superstition that if the younger one gets married before the older one, the older one won’t ever get married.”

Is… that what he thinks you’ve been so lost about?

It’s sort of endearing, hearing the way he talks about making attempts to create a shift in conversation so that you’re not feeling conflicted about being at your sister’s wedding. Because in reality, he’s the one occupying your mind. He’s taken over like a plague, infiltrating all your thoughts, to the point that when you’re grabbing boba tea from the shop around the corner for your apartment, your head immediately directs to ‘Is Jungkook over? Does he want a cup?’ And when you know he’d be over for the night, you don’t forget to put that extra towel on the hook in the bathroom for him when he showers. Or even making sure you have a couple water bottles in the fridge because Jungkook prefers to drink water cold than room temperature.

“Oh, I uh, I’m not really so worried about that,” you mention, rubbing your nape awkwardly. “They’re just superstitions.”

“Good, because they are. Your sister is about to get married and I still want to be with you.”

You nearly choke on the champagne, mid-sip and Jungkook rubs your back soothingly. “You alright?”

“Sorry, I just… I wasn’t sure if I heard that right.”

“Yeah, you did. I uh… I still mean what I said, even though this is entirely a new territory for me. I don’t want to say that we technically are boyfriend and girlfriend, but we’re literally at each other’s places everyday, I even have a spare toothbrush sitting on your sink. So… I hope that in comfort, that superstition doesn’t play when it comes to you. I still want to… be with you.”

You don’t get a chance to slip in a response because the music begins to play, and you and Jungkook quickly claim the seats in the front row.

It’s beautiful, you have to admit, all this effort that your sister put into this day has really been worth it. Your childhood home’s backyard doesn’t feel like it today—today, it’s her wedding venue.

The flowers are a beautiful shade of lavender (her favorite color), and they cascade down the armrests of the seats that line the aisle, with matching ribbons that tie around the backings on top of the white cloth that cover the chairs. Her future husband stands at the front, hands probably sweaty and heart racing like he’s just run a marathon. And the way his eyes light up at the sight of your sister, at the other end of the aisle with her arm linked with your dad’s, your heart swells.

The little flower girl that tosses the petals into the air practically dances on her route, and the ring bearer can barely walk without falling (he’s adorable, they have the rings tied to the pillow he’s holding because they predicted this). You can’t help but notice your mom’s face through it all—eyes welling up with tears, smiling so wide with her cheeks close to bursting in happiness and excitement, all while clasping her hands together and constantly gushing with her friends surrounding her. “Oh!” She exclaims, shaking her head. “My lovely daughter is getting married!”

You want to scowl, but you won’t. Today is your sister’s day, not yours, and her happiness was a priority. But the way your mom gazes at your sister dreamily, walking down the aisle with the biggest grin on her face, and her constant probing from the weeks before about how you’re never going to get married at this rate only makes you feel small, despite the fact you made yourself into this independent, strong person. Albeit none of that matters when your mother still looks at you disappointingly.

It’s like Jungkook senses the shift in your emotions, because he rests his hand comfortingly on your thigh, just above the knee, and when your eyes lock, his expression softens.

The ceremony flows well; there’s tears, laughs, and hollers, all supporting the main couple. They say their vows, exchange rings, and end things off with a loving kiss that sparks fireworks into the sky. That look on Suji’s face is filled with infatuation, hopelessly in love with the man in front of her, but the moment you glance at her new husband’s face—it’s a mirror of hers.

You… want that.

Jungkook has mentioned before that maybe these things are just something that you might want but may not truly want for yourself. But seeing your sister have it is only confirmation of it, and part of you… wishes that you had someone like that.

And for the first time, Jungkook comes to mind.

Maybe it’s because he’s sitting next to you, you attempt to reason, albeit he’s always been running through your head. The fact that the two of you had gotten relatively closer these past few weeks, him waiting patiently for a specific label to be presented by you, was adding to more of the reasons why he’s now a perfect candidate versus the old version of himself.

When the reception begins, you shoo Jungkook to find something occupy himself while you lend a hand to your sister and mom with greeting any additional guests that come in.

From his perspective, he feels like a balloon with too much air in it, threatening to burst.

Not that he was gassy, but more like he was filled with… emotion, and impatience, close to rupturing. Especially lately, Jungkook has been rethinking his entire life plan, ever since you decided that it was either date seriously or nothing. Truthfully, he thought that he could convince you otherwise—lead you to wish for an uncommitted relationship, but if he was to confess sincerely… you seemed to have changed his mind.

He saw your relatives chasing the kids around who holler and giggle gleefully, smiles plastered widely on their faces. One of your cousins, Nayeon (if he remembers their name correctly), was running after her toddler daughter around the second floor of your parents’ house after the baby showered, completely in the nude. He saw your grandfather, standing in the corner of the hallway, trying his best to catch the little one but his stomach was too big and he couldn't bend over far enough to grab her.

But then he saw Naeun’s husband; albeit his wife was sweating, hair out of place and completely stressed out by this crazy toddler, his face… exhibits adoration.

“Baby,” he remembers the man calling out to his love, snatching her up into his embrace with a soothing hum. “Go rest up. I’ll get her dressed and ready for bed, yeah?”

Naeun’s shoulders drop, eyes sunken from tiredness. She’s probably been taking care of the baby nonstop, and having to deal with family members in the midst of it, so when her husband stops her, it’s like she’s finally got a second to breathe again. “I—But the baby,”

“Yes, I got her,” he assures her, pressing a kiss on her temple. “I’ll take care of it. Go shower and rest up.”

And for a brief moment, Jungkook thought it was the two of you.

He sees himself, telling you to take a breather, to let him watch over the little ones as you shower. He sees himself, pressing gentle kisses on the crown of your head with an exchanging soft chuckle between the two of you, whispering a brisk ‘I love you’s because the kids are at it again with their crazy shenanigans, bulldozing everything in sight before he can get a chance to keep up with them. He sees himself, that day when your sister is looking up at her now-husband, but instead of your sister, it’s you.

To be quite fair, Jungkook isn’t a hundred percent solid on whether or not he wants this specific future. It’s particularly different from the route he’s always presented to himself, and it’s an uncharted territory for him but one thing he knows for sure is that he wants you.

He wants to see you when he comes home after a day of work, he wants you beside him on weekday nights, snuggling underneath the blanket while on the couch, watching some stupid movie you chose. He favors eating from those take-out boxes or even a nice home cooked meal, but only because you’re with him, despite the fact that there’s not much that the two of you have in common… something about you specifically that has his heart stuttering recently, and being around your family only furthers it.

So when he’s resting his arms on a tall table, beer in hand, blazer unbuttoned and the first few of his dress shirt let loose while faintly listening to some of the men his age that he’s become familiar with at the wedding, he can’t fully focus on anything other than you from across the venue.

Hair let free, cascading over your exposed shoulders, and pretty collarbones out for everyone to see, Jungkook doesn’t think there’s anyone in comparison when it comes to you. The head attached to those graceful shoulders holds so much intelligence, always teaching him something new with each encounter he has with you, and he truly feels grateful to have met someone like you.

“Hey,” one of the dudes calls out, interrupting Jungkook’s dreamy gaze in your direction. “Hottie at 6:00.”

Jungkook clicks his tongue, lazily turning to where the guy points out, along with the other three guys with him. It’s both Horny—Hyunae (he has to remind himself to stop saying that because you keep engraving it into his head) with another one of your relatives (Jungkook can’t keep up with all their names). “Which one?” the one dude with purple hair queries.

“Both,” the original guy says, smirking as he takes another sip of his drink before nudging Jungkook. “You tryna get one and I get the other?”

“Hey, what about me?” the purple hair guy looks at him with a confused expression. “Am I not hot enough?”

“In comparison to him? Nah. I’d rather have him as my wingman. You see the tattoos on his hands? Probably makes those girls’ panties wet in mere seconds.”

Jungkook waves them both off. “Nah, count me out. I got another one I’m targeting.”

The first guy scoffs, putting his drink beside Jungkook, more intrigued by him than the girls now. “Interesting. You have another girl in mind? Who is it? I wanna see.”

Without hesitation, Jungkook gestures to your direction, straightening his posture when he sees you turning, giving him a small wave before going back to the guests again, shaking their hands and giving them your lovely smiles.

“The bride’s sister?”

“Shit, I know her. That’s a stretch.”

He can’t help but let out a laugh, shaking his head at the guys, lifting his beer up in the air. “Wanna see my game? Since you think I’m hot enough to land any girl, right? Watch this.”

With that, he makes his way over to you, and when you turn to him with a smile that’s softer, warmer than the ones you’ve been handing off to the guests, he feels his heart blooming more than all the flowers at the venue. He’s never felt like this before—this thing happening inside of him where his chest is tight, stomach doing flips despite not being nervous about anything, other than just being in close proximity. Have you always been this pretty?

A hand on your waist, you pat his chest comfortingly before resuming back to your activities, and Jungkook turns to give a wink at the guys who stand in awe, mouths dropped at his game.

If they only knew.

He wasn’t the one that caught you. You caught him.

The weekend was nice, you have to admit; spending time with your family (even though they were super judgemental at times) and seeing your sister get happily married was blissful.

But all good things come to an end.

Holding the end of your clipboard against yourself, you’re skimming through the patient’s chart with previous notes made by the doctor, orders on what she should be more cautious about, and directions on how to prevent another instance. Yet, she’s here. In a room in the ER, claiming to have liver issues yet again.

“This is your second time here, Lisa,” you purse your lips, taking a seat on the swivel stool. “What’s up? I thought the last doctor told you to cut your alcohol intake. Even the specialist said the same thing.”

“I did!” She exclaims defensively.

You drop the clipboard onto the tray beside you before crossing your arms, “... so how’d you do that? How much were you drinking instead?”

“What do you mean? I just ran a knife through it while pouring.”

You almost gave yourself a physical facepalm, but your job description doesn’t have ‘make patients feel dumb’ or ‘call them fucking idioits’ in it, unfortunately.

After following the procedures to take care of Lisa, you’ve sent her off to proper care. Leaving her room, you let out a heavy sigh, pumping a couple squirts of hand sanitizer from a bottle that sits at the nurses’ station when you notice Nurse Hyerim peering at you suspiciously. “Uh… yes, Hyerim?”

“So, about Dr. Hyunjin—”

“Mm,” you hum teasingly, resting your forearms against the counter, a smirk tugging on the edges of your lips. “Dr. Hyunjin’s name seems to come out of your mouth quite frequently. Are you going to ask me if I’m going on a date with him again? Just out of curiosity and thirst for drama to share through the grapevine? Or perhaps…” your wag your finger jokingly before pointing at her. “... you’re interested in Dr. Hyunjin and wanna take him out on a date.”

Hyerim is stuttering, words unable to escape from her mouth properly. “I-Uh, I—”

“Mm, if that’s the case, then no, I am not seeing him again, and you’re more than welcome to hit that.”

In disbelief, she puffs a breath of air that blows her hair away from her face. “Wh—What? It’s not even like that! What about you? What happened between the two of you?”

You shrug nonchalantly, playing with the pens in the plastic holder. “Nothing just… you know.”

This time, it’s Nurse Hyerim’s turn to taunt you. “Does this… have to do with that pretty boy from 18B?”

“I mean…” just the thought of Jungkook has your face heated. The two of you haven’t been able to have a proper conversation about what happened the day at the wedding, what he professed, and how you felt in return. “Would it be crazy? You know. For the two of us to be together. Insane, right?”

Hyerim’s confused. “What? You do realize you’re two hot people… right?”

“It’s not even like that.”

“Well, what’s the problem?” She tilts her head, puzzled. “Does he still not want to be your boyfriend?”

“Uh, actually, he wants to date now.”

Hyerim slams her hand on the counter, completely baffled. A couple heads turn and you wince internally. “Are you kidding? No offense doc, you’re hella smart but also very stupid. We’re talking about hottie in 18B here—“ geez, you’re praying no one is currently occupying 18B right now “—the one that has that rep of being a ‘fuckboy’ and I don’t even have to know him to know that. He wants you, bitch you better go for that before someone else snatches him.”

“Did you just call me a bitch?”

“Heat of the moment. You get it.”

“Mm,” you hum because everything Hyerim is saying isn’t new information. “Alright. I’ll… I’ll talk to him tonight. Maybe. We’ll see.”

Jungkook mentions prior to your lunch break that he’ll be over tonight, but “later. gotta take care of some stuff back at my apartment.” And at first, you considered waiting patiently in your living room, wine on the table and maybe in some cute ass lingerie and a silky robe—but why wait when you can just… go to him?

Of course, you’re not insane. It's been chilly recently these nights, so you’re not going to go strutting in lingerie underneath a thin ass robe. But, you’ll sport those jeans he says makes your ass look juicy, and a comfortable long sleeve to get him thinking that nothing will happen at the end of the night. (Spoiler: dirty things are going to happen that night.)

But you’re starting to learn from your mistakes, something that they teach you throughout all of your education career, from preschool up to high school, and even in college. They teach you in books; the life lesson is to learn from your mistakes and try your best not to make them again.

So, when Jungkook opens the door, completely shocked and unsure what to say, you’re left speechless too.

He didn’t lie—you make this very clear, but he wasn’t being entirely candid and open either.

Because that girl that stabbed him—the one that caused the scar in his abdomen, the one that made you be the one to tend to his wounds, is sitting in the dining room, with who you assume is her parents, all dolled up for the occasion while the mother lays the dishes on the glass table.

“What—What’s happening?” That’s all you can say. Well, what else could you say? You’re a doctor. You should keep your composure—acting out only makes you look bad and what if the cops come? A doctor getting arrested?

To be fair—you’re not that intense to warrant a visit from the cops.

But nonetheless, you’re fuming.

“Baby,” he whispers softly, shutting his door behind him to push you out into the hall. “I thought I said we’d meet after I take care of some things.”

“Take care of some bitch like she’s your girlfriend?” What the fuck is this guy talking about? How dense is he? “You got her parents in there too? What is this? Meet-the-boyfriend dinner? Did you come to my place for practice or what?”

“Baby,” Jungkook says again, quieter. “Relax. I actually wanted to talk to you about this tonight.”

“Bullshit—“

“Fuck! Alright, I know it was wrong of me and I should’ve told you earlier, but I thought she was over it and I cut her off, okay? I didn’t know she’d bring her fucking parents here!”

If having question marks above your head was an action that occurred in real life, now would be the time for them to appear. “Huh?”

“Can we talk about this later?” He says, those chocolate pools he calls his eyes are pulling you in, and in mere seconds, you’re already drowning in the sweetness. "I know it sounds insane, but there's a very good reason why I'm being so shady about this. It's not because I don't like you, or that I'm playing you either. I just... this is an embarrassing side of me and I really just want to figure this out before I make... us work."

You suck in your cheeks in defeat. He has a way with words, you admit, but you're starting to feel like he's testing his chances with you. “11:00PM. Sharp. If you’re not at my doorstep by then, you can consider this done.”

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#jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #gyukultfics #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts

[sehunniepotwrites]

if we were a movie | j.jh

for @nctsworld’s first writing challenge

SYNOPSIS. For someone who was always the understudy and never the lead, scoring this role was huge for you. All you had to do was pretend to be in love with your best friend. No big deal, right? Wrong. It was the biggest deal because, for the past four years, you had been hiding your feelings for Jung Jaehyun.

If this were a movie, he would be your perfect match and the story would end happily with the credits rolling to a perfectly timed soundtrack. Too bad this wasn’t a movie— this was real life and life came with complications.

GENRE. childhood friends to lovers!au, college!au, drama school!au, slow burn, angst, humor, mutual pining, fluff (loosely based on the Filipino rom-com Must Be Love and If We Were a Movie by Hannah Montana) PAIRING. theatre major!Jaehyun x  theatre major!reader WORD COUNT. 14+ k

WARNINGS. point of view switches from first (”I”) to second (”you”); self-doubt, insecurities, mutual pining, cursing, lots of references and direct quotes from musicals such as Rodgers and Hammerstein’s Cinderella, Disney’s Newsies, Disney’s Beauty and the Beast, Shrek the Musical, and Wicked (edited but i might’ve missed some mistakes; bare with me!)

There are moments where time flows as normal, where people carry on with their days as they usually do. Then, there are moments people experience in slow-motion, where the world just stops spinning and all the background noise just fades away. These are the moments people look forward to. They’re the breathtaking ones, the ones that capture your heart and soul. After those moments, people are never the same. 

The first time I experienced something in slow motion was when I made my stage debut at a small talent show. There was thunderous applause after my performance and while my heart thumped against my chest, the world seemed to come to a stop. That’s when I knew my heart belonged to the stage or rather, the stage belonged to me. 

Some of these slo-mo moments are the ones where people fall in love. 

My father said that’s how he knew my mother was the one for him: he experienced it all at a slowed rate, everything fading into black and she was the only thing he saw. She was his brightest star and he was the one who reached for the sky to bring her down to Earth. 

When I was younger, I always dreamed about my “falling in love” slow-mo moment. I pictured a grandiose event with large actions and sweet words.  For it to actually happen at theatre camp during the initial dress rehearsal for Disney’s Beauty and the Beast J.R.— well, that was far from what I hoped for. 

And yet, it was just as special as I thought it would be. 

I was in my obnoxious fork costume, waiting for my best friend to leave the boy’s dressing room. 

Jung Jaehyun had been my best friend since the beginning, otherwise known as my first year at theatre camp. Only ten years old at the time, we both were cast as two of the three blind mice in Shrek the Musical and had been inseparable ever since. Although we attended different middle schools, our friendship grew from our shared vocal and dance lessons as well as our summers at camp. You know how it is; those who end up in the ensemble together stay together. 

Going over the dance moves in my head, I didn’t hear my friend’s voice calling my name. He gripped my shoulder, the action surprising me to the point where I lost my balance. I yelped and shut my eyes, expecting to fall onto the hard ground but a hand grabbing onto my wrist prevented my doom. With an arm around my waist, I barely missed the ground.

Slowly opening my eyes, I glanced up to see Jung Jaehyun looking down at me with a worried gaze. He was just a sixteen-year-old boy dressed as a spoon and yet, the world around us came to a halt. Gone were the other frantic theatre kids and the backstage messes. The couple playing Belle and the Beast was no longer sitting across from us, running through their lines. No hustle and bustle of the crew and the props masters.

It was just me dressed as a fork, falling down while my spoon for a best friend caught me in his arms. 

“We make quite a pair, don’t we, Forky?” he chuckled lowly, hitting the top of his costume to mine. It was a ridiculous sight— a pair of oversized cutlery in a crowded dressing room.

A burning hot sensation crept its way up to my face as he gently pulled me up. “I guess we do.”

Since then, my life has never been the same. I was in love with my best friend, Jung Jaehyun. I fell for him when the world stopped spinning beneath my feet while his world, unfortunately, kept on turning.

I remember each and every slowed-down moment in life —the good, the bad, and the absolute worst. I never thought a bad slo-mo moment existed, I simply didn’t think it was possible. 

I was young and naive then and I was so incredibly wrong.

The moment that hurt me most took place in my senior year of high school. The final callbacks for our community’s production of Disney’s Newsies were in order. The role of Jack Kelly, the headstrong and flirty newsboy, was easily given to the ever-so-charming Jung Jaehyun. He was not only my best friend at the time but he was the it-boy of our small theatre. People were either in love with him or wanted to be him— his talent matched his insane looks. His kind personality made him all the more lovable.

Jaehyun had his two fatal flaws, though. Everyone knew them but still saw him in such a bright light.

One: the boy was extremely clumsy. Jaehyun was often called “magic hands,” constantly ruining his props. It was a running gag in the theatre but the props committee never minded; one smile was all it took for them to forgive him and his cursed hands. 

That was his first flaw. And his second? Jaehyun fell in love way too easily and way too fast. 

How exactly did I find this out? Well, I was there to witness the scene that lifted his heart to the highest of levels while mine dropped straight to the ground.

I was in the running for the stubbornly intelligent female lead named Katherine Plumber. My opponent was the confident and radiant Son Wendy. She always played the lead in her high school productions but this was a community musical and I was determined to claim that part as my own. 

I went first, entering the audition room with a smile with the script gripped tightly in my palm. Performing alongside my best friend was easy. The romantic scene was a piece of cake, not because the lines were a breeze. That wasn’t it at all. It wasn’t because I memorized the Newsies script as a child either. It was because, at that moment, Jung Jaehyun was in love with me as much as I was in love with him. It was a moment I wanted to cherish forever: the way he looked at me was something I had never experienced before. It was so full of emotion and passion, like he had me within his grasp and never wanted to let me go.

“You got this. I believe in you,” he whispered in my ear, squeezing my hand in support. His breath tickled my skin and sent shivers down my spine. The nerves were back, not because of the audition, but because of him. 

“You’re just saying that because it’s the scene we’re about to act out, Jae,” I hissed. The sheet music for the duet, Something to Believe In, wrinkled in my free palm. 

His warm, comforting hand pressed harder against my own. “No, it’s not that. If you need someone to believe in you, I’m right here. I’ve got you, Forky. Always.”

The director cleared his throat from his seat, his scrutinizing eyes watching us closely as we got into position, just like we rehearsed a thousand times. “Whenever you’re ready.”

I watched as Jaehyun took a deep breath to get into character. He closed his eyes, rolled his broad shoulders back, and then his lids snapped open. His brown-eyed gaze aimed straight at me, with a vulnerable expression taking over his features. He was no longer Jung Jaehyun— he was Jack Kelly, a scared newsboy who was in love with a newspaper company heiress. 

The line came pouring out of his mouth with the utmost sincerity, the confusion and affection seeping through his words, “Just standing here tonight, looking at you, I’m scared tomorrow is gonna come and change everything.”

 Jaehyun took a step forward towards me, an unsure smile curling on his lips. “If there was a way I could just grab hold of something to make time stop just so I could keep looking at you.”

His body stops right in front of mine, keeping a clear distance but enough to feel the passion radiating off of his words and actions. For once in my young life, my best friend looked at me with a different kind of love in his eyes and I returned it, my genuine feelings seeping through my words. 

Biting my lip, I replied coyly, “You snuck up on me, Jack Kelly, I never even saw it coming.”

“For sure?” he stage-whispered. His upstage hand unexpectedly reached up to caress my cheek. The action was unrehearsed, almost catching me off guard. It was a different take on the scene. The characters were supposed to be shy, their thoughts wavering on their own feelings for each other and the impending strike that was to come the day after; yet, Jaehyun played Jack as someone certain of his feelings.

“For sure,” I answered back at the same volume, my hand cupping his own to follow along with his direction. It felt as if he was searching my soul for my thoughts and I could not let him in. The opening bars of the romantic duet echoed throughout the room and after taking a breath, I began to sing. Jaehyun joined in on the second verse and instantly, our voices blended together in a beautiful harmony, one that beat our Newsies karaoke sessions in his car. 

The scene ended as quickly as it began. The director hummed before jotting notes down and whispering to his casting assistants for a few seconds. I thought they were the longest seconds of my life. Jaehyun nodded his head to reassure me. “You did well, Forky.”

“Of course I did, it’s me we’re talking about here,” I nudged him back. “I can do no wrong, Jae!” 

“Thank you,” the director finally spoke, “you may go. Jaehyun, if you could escort her out and fetch Wendy for me?”

“Of course,” your friend nodded. The feeling of his large hand on my back slowly guided me out of the room. The spot he touched me burned but my cheeks were burning even more. Why was it that every little touch drove me to the brink of insanity?

“You’re so going to land this part,” I remember him saying as he squeezed my waist. My heart was beating erratically against my ribcage, the butterflies in my stomach threatening to fly their way up my throat.

“You think so?”

“Oh definitely,” Jaehyun stressed with a wink. 

He said it too soon. 

Because the minute he locked gazes with Son Wendy, I just knew he had found his leading lady. 

“S-Son Wendy?” he stuttered as he caught sight of the pretty girl in the waiting room. Her hair was styled similarly to a young maiden from the turn of the century, perfectly curled and out of her face. 

“Yes?” she smiled back.

It seemed like the words were caught in my best friend’s throat. Sneaking a glance at Jaehyun’s ears, they burned a bright red. “We’re, um, we’re ready for you.”

I watched as Jaehyun nervously offered his arm to her, his eyes never leaving her face. It was like he was her own personal spotlight, the way his eyes shone just for the girl in front of him. The boy was completely enamored and I was instantly in the shadows. The sweet smile that was reserved for me was directed towards another and it sparkled in a way it never did before.

The world around me moved incredibly slow as they passed me by. With everything frozen, all I saw was the gorgeous couple headed to the audition room with hushed exchanges. Jaehyun took his time heading to the private room to spend more time with the girl while Son Wendy steadily made her way into my friend’s fragile heart. My own heart clenched at the sight. It was breaking ever so slowly and I felt every little crack and tear. 

Even with the role of the understudy, it was as if I never even had a chance at winning his heart over. If Wendy wasn’t present for one rehearsal, Jaehyun didn’t even see me— his own best friend since our ensemble days. He was way too deep into his “showmance.” It was like I never even existed. It wasn’t long before he called Wendy his girlfriend and then, I was invisible. Cast aside. Ignored.

Needless to say, my heart broke in slow-motion as Jaehyun’s pounded rapidly for a girl that took two parts I desperately ached for: Katherine Plumber and the girl who held Jaehyun’s heart. 

But this was just the first time his heart was stolen by his opposite. The first of many.

The first two years of university passed me by like a summer breeze. Constantly busy with general education and introductory drama courses, I was constantly flitting around from building to building. My hands were usually occupied by my laptop, a blazing cup of caffeinated tea, and a worn out script while my mind was filled with jumbled up lines and the dramatic cries of an overwhelmed university student. I probably wouldn’t have made it this far if it wasn’t for Jaehyun and Xiao Dejun, another theatre major we had met during orientation, by my side.

Fast forward to my third year and the three of us were headed to the office of the theatre department. It was posting day for the spring musical— the day the cast list was revealed. This year’s musical spectacular was Rodgers and Hammerstein’s Cinderella. The play itself was a modern classic and it was also my dream come true.

This day, just like any posting day of the drama department, was nerve-racking. Everyone was anxious to find out what parts they were given and how the fairytale would play out. The part of the brave and kind Ella was always on my list of roles I wanted to fill. As much as I thought I did well on my final callback, I didn’t want to set my hopes too high.

“Are you nervous?” Jaehyun asked while draping an arm over my shoulder. He playfully put all his weight onto his right side to throw me off balance. 

“Nervous? Me? Why would I be nervous if I’m like 95% sure  I’m going to get the understudy again?” I chuckled sarcastically. Bitterly. It happened every year, so why get my hopes up now?

“Yeah but—”

“No buts, I’ve accepted the title of the Wonderstudy! I think you should too, Jae,” I slapped his shoulder before quickly slipping out of his hold before linking arms with Dejun. My best friend let out a yelp, almost tripping over his own two feet as we continued down the hallway. “I’m mediocre at best.”

The Wonderstudy: it was the nickname the other students in the department gave me because I was always the understudy. I was never the star of the show. It said that I was good but not good enough. 

Dejun leaned in and whispered, “You do know that you’re more than just that, right? You’re an actor. A phenomenal one. You weren’t accepted to this drama program by just being mediocre at best.”

I ignored my friend’s comment, eyes zoned in at the other end of the building. The crowd of usual theatre students crowded around the bulletin board, curious heads popping up and down trying to take a peek at the list. Some buzzed with excitement, happy they got a major part while others groaned in disappointment. You were most likely going to be with the later group. 

Once the cluster of students caught sight of Jaehyun, they parted like the red sea to let him through. It wasn’t really necessary, though, everyone knew the it-boy of the drama department was cast as the role of the misguided prince, Topher. 

The only question was: who was cast as his princess? Who was this year’s Ella?

I fought my way through the bunch with Dejun following behind me as our best friend was showered with congratulations. Jaehyun was all smiles, dimples prominent as he was lavished by the mass. Dejun made it to the list first. His finger dragged along the thin paper until he found his name. He cheered, pumping his fist up in joy. “I got the part I wanted! I’m Jean-Michel!”

Grinning at my friend, I sincerely congratulated him. He got the second lead: the feisty peasant looking for change. Turning again, his eyes grazed the list until Dejun found my name. His smile dropped ever so slightly and that was when I knew: I was beaten once again. 

“What part did I get?”

“Gabrielle,” he answered. Ah, the outwardly abrasive but quietly empathetic sister. The second lead, love interest of Jean-Michel. At least I was playing Dejun’s opposite. 

I took a step closer, wondering who took the part of the kind princess. Squinting at the small print, my eyes scanned the jumble of words until I saw it.

Ella……………………….Lee Naeun Ella u/s………………….Y/N

I scoffed. Forever the understudy. The Wonderstudy of the Theatre Department indeed.

The first rehearsal, otherwise known as the read-through, took a toll on me. It was usually a two to three hour long session, filled with loud chatter, crazy introductions, and a variety of crazy theatre games to break the ice. When the niceties ended, everyone took their seats in their plastic chairs that were arranged in a huge circle. Bae Joohyun, the head stage manager began reading the stage directions aloud as the table read began. The production’s director, Professor O’Hare, sat alongside Joohyun, jotting down notes and giving out commentary when needed. 

Amongst the reading of lines were tiny whispers, the sound of highlighters and pencils marking the paper, and the simultaneous turning of pages. The music director, Professor Lau sat at the piano bench and sight-read the music to give the cast a taste of the songs. Being the first rehearsal, the few who knew of the songs sang along to the accompaniment with joyous smiles, myself and Dejun included.

When Professor Lau played the first romantic duet between the leads, all heads turned to Jaehyun and Naeun who sat side-by-side. With it being their first time together, the performance was far from perfect but it was still something. His lower tone blended nicely with her softer voice and the shy glances they exchanged made their duet quite a sight. 

As Jaehyun and Naeun read the last lines for Act One, I noticed the way Jaehyun’s gaze kept flittering back to Naeun’s pretty face. The girl was focused on her lines, head down and hair blocking her gorgeous features, but he still kept looking at her and only her. I could imagine how the scene was playing out in his head, the world slowing down until Naeun was the only one moving.  He was infatuated. Twitterpated. 

And it hurt. It hurt more than reading the tragedy of Romeo and Juliet or listening to Elphaba’s desperate cry she lets out when she loses Fiyero. Call me dramatic but that was how I felt. 

It wasn’t like I tried getting over him. It wasn’t like I tried dating other people before; I had many, many times but my mind always drifted back to my best friend. He was the boy with the richest brown eyes, the perfectly dimpled smile, and the lowest laugh that set my heart aflame. Without even knowing it, Jaehyun had this incredible hold on my broken heart and he would not let me out of his grip. 

The green-eyed monster inside me resurfaced and I hated it. I absolutely hated it— why was I so pathetically in love with my best friend? 

 “Here we go again,” I said before dropping my head onto the table. 

“You say that every time and you keep running back to him at the end of the day,” Dejun whispered before looking back down at his script. His hand continued to jet across the page, his highlighter marking his many lines. 

Rolling up the script in my hand, I whacked his side. The action caused his hand to jerk the bright marker in another direction, striking a distorted line on his page. “Look what you did, twerp!” he hissed.

“Your fault, Eyebrows!”

“Stop calling me that, you fork!”

“Hey, only I can call her fork!” Jaehyun appeared out of nowhere, plopping alongside me. His voice snapped us out of our little argument, making us realize that the director called for a fifteen. 

“That’s only because you’re a dumb spoon,” I stuck my tongue out at him. Jaehyun pretended to reach for it and I blew a raspberry at him to retaliate. 

“You two idiots are my favorite cutlery set,” Dejun shook his head with a laugh. He was probably wondering why he stuck around us the majority of the time. 

“Let off it, Dejun,” Jaehyun said with the roll of his brown orbs. 

“Only if you let me be the knife to your set.”

“As if, dumbass,” I countered with a laugh. 

“Okay but you guys, can we stop fighting for a sec and talk about how I got her number?” Jaehyun beamed, throwing his arms over both our shoulders. He pulled us closer to his body and the faint smell of his musky cologne hit my nose. I held back a sigh as it filled my senses. Oh, to be drowned in his scent. 

“I got Naeun’s number!” he repeated excitedly, his strong arms shaking us. I held back my abrupt want to push him off. I wasn’t in a celebrating mood. My heart was too broken to care.

“Of course you did, when do you not get a girl’s number?” I answered a bit too bitterly. Raising a brow at him, I added, “Are we supposed to be surprised?”

“Listen,” Jaehyun countered, pulling back from me. “I don’t like that attitude, Forky.”

I scoffed, “Never stopped you from being my friend before, Jae.”

Jaehyun didn’t answer; he was too busy clutching his phone. His pretty brown eyes were fixed on Naeun’s contact page like it was the world’s greatest treasure. His eyes were sparkling in admiration before his gaze turned to the girl across the room. The look my best friend wore on his face was soft, the smile on his lips light. “I think she could be the one.”

Some thought him to be a player but I never thought of him that way. He might have had the looks of a heartbreaker but he had the purest heart of gold. The boy with the dimpled smile, porcelain skin, and cheeks as red as roses was a hopeless romantic to his very core. He was simply looking for his other half. 

“I think she could be the one.” His words repeated in my head, his voice pestering me. My heart lurched at them despite hearing them each semester. 

Jaehyun said this every year, with every girl. He said this when he crushed on Son Wendy, Kim Chungha, and so many more. His infatuations and crushes ended just as easily as they started. The boy was more than disappointed when the initial spark with each girl ended after a show’s run ended. When the musical closed, so did his feelings for each opposite. 

I never got stage fright; I was usually the one who said what was on her mind without a moment’s hesitation. So why was I hesitating to tell him my feelings?

Why was I hesitating to say that the one Jaehyun could be looking for was standing right next to him?

Just another rehearsal at the auditorium. 

Just another day watching my best friend fall for his leading lady.

Jaehyun and Naeun were standing in the middle of the stage, the ensemble surrounding them. He stood behind her, his hands gently placed on her waist while she leaned back into his touch. Naeun was wearing a fluffy tulle skirt, a mock-up of her ballgown. Park Sooyoung, the resident fashion major and lead costume designer, pushed her to wear it so she could get used to the estimated size of her dress. Even in a mere tank top and tulle skirt, Lee Naeun looked like a princess.

Professor Kwon, the choreographer of the production, stood at the end with a watchful eye. She counted them off, walking them through the routine while the rest of us practiced our steps off to the sidelines. 

Once the two main characters got the hang of their steps, Professor Kwon motioned for Professor Lau to play the songs from the beginning. As much as I tried to focus on my own dance moves, my mind kept wandering back to Jaehyun. 

Imagining him under the spotlight in a perfectly tailored suit, a crown sitting on his head, extending his arm out not to Naeun but to me. It was one of those movie moments where the characters and the audience watching fell in love. 

If life was like a movie, things would be so much easier. 

So lost in my thoughts, I missed a count and stepped on my partner’s foot. Muttering a quiet sorry to him, we continued on with the routine. As my partner swirled me around the dance floor, I drifted back into my daydream.

My utterly impossible daydream where I was the girl Jung Jaehyun was infatuated with. Although this play talked about impossible things happening everyday, I couldn’t imagine this ever happening. 

The terrible thing about being a theatre major in university was being a theatre major with midterms. Not only did I have to deal with hours of my back hunched over a desk and scattered study materials, I had to spend half of my days in the school’s theatre rehearsing. 

If I was not in class scribbling down last minute notes in notebooks,  I was learning dance routines or running lines on and off stage alongside Dejun. The days were long and the nights were even longer. Sometimes, the cast fell asleep in the seats of the auditorium while rehearsals were going on. We were all losing sleep. Some of us were losing our sanity but hey, welcome to the theatre. 

My schedule was filled to the brim and I wasn’t even the main character of the show. On top of that, I had to memorize the part of Ella. Not that it was really needed in the first place. 

No one ever stepped down from a lead role while I was their backup. It just didn’t happen.

Despite the hectic lives of belonging to the theatre department, the musical was two months into production and everything was running smoothly. With a month and a left until opening night, everyone was off-book and the initial stage blocking was done. The costuming and makeup committee were finishing up their mock-up designs and the student orchestra sounded divine. 

I saw more of Dejun than Jaehyun lately, my best friend being preoccupied with his new love interest before, during, and after rehearsals. I was cast aside once again.

Was it something out of the ordinary? No.

Did it still hurt? Yes.

Did I do anything about it? Absolutely not. I didn’t want to ruin his happiness. I rather suffer than see him as nothing but joyous, even if the happiness was temporary. The grin he wore when he was in love was too beautiful to rip away. Jaehyun shined like the light from the sun. I could never bring myself to do it. 

It was week eight of rehearsals when I stepped out of my last midterm, my head absolutely empty after reading small text for over an hour. Reaching into my backpack’s front pocket, I pulled out my cell phone and quickly turned it on. My screen was flooded with missed calls and texts from Professor O’Hare, Joohyun, Jaehyun, and Dejun, the notification numbers reaching over a hundred total. 

Something must have happened. Talk about a theatre emergency. Knowing our kind, they were probably being overdramatic. 

Just as I was about to unlock my phone, a video call went through. It was Dejun. Rolling my eyes, I slid my finger across the screen to answer it. “Jeez, I know you love me but give a girl a break, Eyebrows!”

“God, you’re so conceited sometimes. Why didn’t you answer my calls?!” He shouted, face close to the phone. I winced at the volume, immediately lowering the level as I slipped on my wireless earbuds. “There are important matters to discuss here!”

“What happened this time? Did someone say Macbeth in the theatre again? You know I don’t believe in that shit,” I said sarcastically.

“Oh my god. This is not the time for jokes! Everyone’s been trying to reach you!” Xiaojun yelled once more. “Where are you?!”

“I just got out of my musical history midterm in Maple Hall. Heading to the theatre right now. Why?” I never received an answer; Dejun hung up the call. Giving my phone a weird look, I shoved it in my pocket before continuing on my way. A light push on my back prevented me from going too far. 

“Twerp!” Xiao Dejun’s voice came from behind me, yanking me by the straps of my backpack. He was breathing heavily, trying to catch his breath. “Oh my god, we’ve been looking for you everywhere,” he said in between heavy breaths. 

Crossing my arms, I cocked a brow at him. “Why’s that?”

Dejun placed a hand on my shoulder for support. The words came flying out of his mouth, I almost couldn’t catch what he was saying. So much for being a theatre major. 

“Speak clearly, Dejun. Enunciate, articulate, exaggerate, remember? We are thespians and thespians do not mumble!”

The exhausted boy ignored my theatricals. “Naeun didn’t land a switch leap right and she rolled her ankle during advanced ballet. She’s going to be out for at least three to four weeks,” my friend replied breathily, his words a lot clearer than before.

The news shocked me to the core, my feet suddenly planted to the ground. It sounded like he said Naeun was out of commission. “What?” 

“She’s out for three to four weeks! I mean sucks for her, I wish her a speedy recovery but do you know what this means?”

The lack of response from me urged him to continue, “Sweetheart, she’s out. You’re in!”

Oh shit. I was in.

The part I had always dreamed of was mine. The lead role was finally mine.

I was now Ella and Jung Jaehyun was my Prince Topher.

Having an understudy step up to their role halfway through production was always something to get used to. It was a setback, a minor one, but still a setback. Just as Jaehyun finally settled into his role and built an unshakeable bond with Lee Naeun as his opposite, the accident happened. His potential girlfriend was now out of the show and off her feet in order to push for a speedy recovery.

The lovesick boy couldn’t even be there for her because his rehearsal times increased in order to get his best friend adjusted to your new role. There he was, leaning against the piano while waiting for you to arrive.

Professor Lau sat at the bench, flipping through his sheet music until he found the song he was looking for. 

The door slammed open and you stumbled in. “Am I late? I’m sorry, I just heard the news.”

“No, not at all. You’re right on time,” the professor smiled at you. “The situation’s weird, I know but congratulations on getting Ella.”

“Thanks, Professor. That means a lot,” you grinned back. 

Dropping your bag by the piano, you swiftly pulled out the script. You glanced at Jaehyun’s opened book for the page number before hastily flipping through the pages. Jaehyun nudged your side. “Hey, Forky.”

“Hey yourself,” you elbowed him back, biting your bottom lip.

“Congrats, bubs. You did it,” he pulled you into a side hug before ruffling your hair with pride. You had finally gotten a part you wanted. It was your time to shine. As your best friend for many years, Jaehyun had been waiting for the day you could show the crowds your full potential.  

“Did I really do it or did your girlfriend just get injured? How is she, by the way?” 

As much as you tried to play the overdramatic, conceited girl, you never believed in yourself but Jaehyun always did. You deserve the spotlight; your talent was out of this world and the masses were finally granted a chance to see you for what you were— a star.

“You did this. You were made for this part as much as she was,” Jaehyun reassured his best friend with a smile. He tapped your nose. “And she’s not my girlfriend but she’s doing alright. Just in a little bit of pain. I’m going to see her after we finish.”

“Give her some well wishes for me,” you answered. Jaehyun didn’t notice your smile dropping into a small frown.

“You ready to act like you’re in love with me?”

“I was born ready, you doof.” There was something weird in your voice when those words left your lips but Jaehyun didn’t have time to process it.

Professor Lau guided the students through a series of warm-ups before asking, “Shall we start with Do I Love You Because You’re Beautiful today? We’ll do a couple of run-throughs before Jaehyun teaches you the blocking.” His fingers played the beginning notes of the song, the light melody drifting to their ears. 

Already off book at this point, Jaehyun closed his eyes and began to sing.

Do I love you because you’re beautiful? Or are you beautiful because I love you?

Am I making believe I see in you A girl too lovely to be really true?

Do I want you because you’re wonderful? Or are you wonderful because I want you?

Are you the sweet invention of a lover’s dream? Or are you really as wonderful as you seem?

When his eyes fluttered open, Jaehyun found himself facing you with a script in hand. Your face wore the softest look as you stared back at him. His breath almost caught in his throat at the gentle smile you wore. You played the part differently from Naeun and it was a refreshing sight to behold. You were playing a confused peasant but your eyes still sparkled with the gleam of a thousand suns. 

There was a flush of heat that started from his cheeks and extended to his reddening ears. His heart was doing its best to break out of his ribcage and the star of the show wasn’t sure if his chest could keep it in for very much longer.

When singing with him, Naeun was a pretty princess.

But when he sang with you, the girl in front of him? Jaehyun thought you were absolutely breathtaking.

Two hours later, we were finally free of rehearsals. My first rehearsal as Ella. My throat was a bit parched from all the singing and projecting I was doing but I felt lighter than air. Singing with Jaehyun made me feel lighter than air. I was weightless, nothing could hold me down.

“Forky, you’re really good,” he said to me as we walked to our cars. I tried to fight the sudden heat making its way to my face. Lately, compliments from him were hard to come by.

 It was already late when O’Hare and Lau finally let us out, the moon sitting high in the sky. The night breeze crept its way into my thin jacket, causing me to hug myself to retain some warmth. Noticing my struggle with the cold, Jaehyun quickly draped his jacket over my shoulders. I was immediately hit with his familiar scent, it was almost overwhelming. I should be used to this, his action of sharing his clothes with me was nothing new but I was weak. It affected me every single time. I guess I was that head over heels for him. 

Head over glass heels, one could even say.

“You’ve seen me in action before and I mean, I was chosen to be the understudy for a reason,” I gave him a shrug. 

“Yeah but I’ve never seen you act and sing like that. Just...wow.” Stealing a glance at him, Jaehyun almost looked enamored with me. He was giving me a look that was usually reserved for someone else. I felt my heartbeat pick up in my chest and flutters in my stomach.

“Stop that,” I blushed, pinching his skin through the thin material of his long-sleeved shirt. A satisfying buzz ran through my body. Was he really looking at me like that? I was probably reading too much into it.

“No, but it seemed so real. Like you weren’t pretending.”

“That’s because I wasn’t,” I whispered under my breath as we arrived at our cars. 

“Hmm, you say something?” Jaehyun asked, leaning closer to hear me. 

Shaking my feelings away, I ignored the dull ache in my chest and acted through the tears I was desperately holding in. I wrinkled my nose at him playfully, secretly pushing the pain down my throat. “You really don’t listen to a word I say, do you, Jae? I said, I’ll see you later.”

“See ya, Forky! Get home safely!”

Scoffing to myself, I realized how much of a great actor I was. I deserved an Oscar or a Tony for the scenes I played out, the ones where I pretended to be okay when I was far from it. 

What award do you ask? Best Actress in a Supporting Role— the best friend to Jung Jaehyun but never the love of his life.

Wardrobe fittings for productions were always an exciting day for the whole cast and crew. It was one step closer to putting on a show. Jaehyun was already dressed in one of his many costumes, a white suit with golden trimmings. It fit him for the most part, only tiny adjustments were needed. Members of the wardrobe department quickly pinned his neatly pressed jacket before taking it off his hands. Since he was the main character, Jaehyun was one of the first ones done. He was simply waiting for you to come out in your first dress— the white gown for the ball scene in Act One.

When you finally did all those minutes ago, Jaehyun swore his heart stopped. 

Ten minutes ago, Jaehyun saw his best friend walk through the curtains. Your face was bare, hair still in that lazy style you always sported but your clothes. The comfy clothing you usually rehearsed in was gone and replaced by a beautiful ball gown. Despite the pins that scattered throughout the material to fit your form, it still appeared majestic. There you were, standing before him and the rest of the cast, and you were the loveliest you had ever been.

Ten minutes ago, you walked in and his head was reeling. Time slowed down as you tentatively made your way towards him. You did not meet his eyes but Jaehyun was dying to catch your gaze. He never wanted to let you out of his sight. The picture of his best friend in white was something he wanted to treasure and suddenly, the slowness around him stopped. The cast’s cheers and squeals disappeared. There was only you in that beautiful ball gown. 

Was this the slow-motion moment you always talked about? The one you always dreamed about experiencing? Jaehyun could see why people thought it to be magic. It was almost like a movie, movie magic if you will. 

Another look at you and then Jaehyun was in the future, watching you make her way down the aisle. A thin veil covered your face and he was so tempted to push it away from concealing your dazzling smile. His heart was fighting its way out of his chest, wanting to head down the path straight to you. How he wanted to reach out and touch you, cradle you in his arms. 

You were truly an angel in white. A princess. A queen.

The mere sight of you took him to the skies, the one place he was sure you were from. Although Jaehyun would never admit it, he always thought you to be beautiful. Throughout the many years of being best friends, he would find his gaze subconsciously drifting to you. He would rip it away before you would ever notice him doing so, knowing you would tease the hell out of him for it— it was his own little secret tucked away into the corners of his beating heart. 

“How do I look?” Your question snapped him out of his daydream and back to reality. Back down to earth. 

“Sorry, what did you say?” 

“Oh my god, you stupid spoon! I said, how do I look?”

“Lovely,” he answered sincerely, his brown eyes digging into your own. “You look absolutely lovely.”

Ten minutes ago, you simply murmured a question while Jung Jaehyun came to a realization. The realization that he might’ve fallen for you: his Forky, his best friend.

The loveliest girl he had ever seen.

With Cinderella’s opening night being only a few weeks out, you and Jaehyun decided to fit in extra time together to run lines and songs outside of scheduled rehearsals. That was the plan for every weekend and that particular Saturday was no exception to this plan. When his doorbell rang frantically, Jaehyun groaned loudly before getting up to answer the door. Did you always have to be so obnoxious?

Just as the door swung open, your loud voice boomed into his apartment, “‘Sup, ho! Ready to rehearse the hell out of this show or what?”

He stepped aside to let you in and you immediately made yourself comfortable in his humble abode. Jaehyun almost laughed as he watched you. There was a particular routine you stuck to when visiting his place. First, you would take off your shoes, slip on your personal pair of slippers you left at his house, drop your bag on the kitchen counter, and then open his fridge to raid his food supply.

Precisely as Jaehyun predicted, you waddled to the fridge in your memory-foam duck slippers and stole one of his yakults. He loved how comfortable you were in his home. It was truly a heart-warming sight.  The act itself was extremely domestic and he quite liked the domesticity when it was with you. That flash of you in a wedding gown came back to him and he blushed at the thought. The idea of spending a future together was flooding his brain recently and he didn’t know what to do. 

You weren’t the one he liked. Naeun was but why were you the only person on his mind? Was it wrong to have you in his mind? Naeun wasn’t his girlfriend— they were still getting to know each other. His time with her decreased over time since you had stepped into the role of Ella. He was very fond of you. He always had been. There was this little piece of his heart that was reserved for you but was it because you were his best friend or was it more?

Jaehyun quickly snapped himself out of it. 

“First of all, I’m not a ho,” he said before grabbing a yakult of his own. He poked the straw through the foil a bit too harshly, the liquid splashing over the top. Damn his strength— now half of his drink was gone. “Second, stop slut-shaming me for my dating choices. It’s 2021. If I wanted to be a ho, I could be a ho.”

You rolled your eyes as you took a sip of your drink. “God, I hate you sometimes.”

“You need to stop lying to yourself, I know you’re hopelessly in love with me,” Jaehyun said, pointing his drink towards you. He caught you rolling your eyes at his answer.

“Oh, you’re absolutely right. I am irrevocably in love with you, Jung Jaehyun,” you said sarcastically, dramatically batting your eyelashes his way. Your confession, despite being a sarcastic statement, left his heart racing against time. 

“Alexa, play Hopelessly Devoted to You!” you yelled ironically. 

“Now playing Hopelessly Devoted to You by Olivia Newton-John,” an electronic voice boomed across his living room before the opening notes of the ballad began to play. 

“Shit! I forgot you actually had an Echo,” you jumped, not expecting that at all. Jaehyun chuckled at your reaction, loving how easily you scare. He always thought it was one of your cuter traits. 

“Alexa, stop!” he called. 

Jaehyun ran a hand through his hair. He dragged his feet to his bedroom, knowing you would follow without a word. “I can’t rehearse today, I have to write this damned analysis paper for a class. It’s due in two days.”

“I’m sorry, is that paper more important than your best friend in the entire world?” you pushed from behind him.

“Yes,” he deadpanned, taking a seat at his desk. Jaehyun’s study area was an absolute mess. His notebooks were scattered around the floor, textbooks opened to random pages, and his laptop opened to a google document.  

“That’s a motherfucking lie and you know it.”

“I really can’t rehearse now, Forky,” he sighed.

He glared at you as you theatrically fell onto his bed. The notes spread out on his bed flying to the floor. “Oh, woe is me! Jung Jaehyun cannot give me the time of day to rehearse. What am I to do?”

“Why are you like this?” 

“I’m a theatre student, I’m wired to be this obnoxious,” you said with a straight face. 

He stared at you through narrowed eyes. “I really hate you right now.”

“I know,” you countered with a flat tone. “But in all seriousness, Jaehyun. I won’t take too much of your time. I just wanted to practice our duets a couple of times and then I’ll be out of your hair. Plus, you look like you need a break.”

One look at you and he was a goner. How could he ever say no to his best friend?

“Ugh, fine.”

“Ha, I knew you would cave.”

“Shut up.”

The next hour with you was spent rehearsing the numbers. During the last run-through, Jaehyun suggested going over the blocking and putting their all in it. To act like it was opening night. You swiftly agreed and he played the music from the top.

Jaehyun led you around his room, spinning you across the floor as you sang. The smile on your face was so lovely, he could not take his eyes off your lips. His eyes fluttered to a close and he imagined you in your full costume, downed in your gown, as dainty as a daisy and as graceful as a bird. The thought of you dressed like a princess drove him crazy.

He never thought of Naeun this way. This was different. You were different but why?

Jaehyun opened his eyes to see you smiling so gracefully at him as the song was coming to an end. Just as planned in the show, your gaze flitted to his lips. You leaned closer and he followed, dipping his head to meet you halfway. His heart was skipping to its own beat as he inched down. Your soft lips brushed against his oh-so-gently as he held you in his arms but before the boy could press back, the door to his room swung open.

You broke away from him, shocked at the sudden arrival to see your other friend and Jaehyun’s roommate, Dejun. “Oops, was I interrupting something?” 

“I, uh, I gotta go.” Before you could even stop him, Jaehyun grabbed his wallet and phone off his desk and ran out his room. 

Confusion clouded his senses. Why did he feel empty after you pulled away? Why did he want to kiss you so badly? It was just a stage kiss.

Was it not?

Jaehyun’s door slammed shut behind him, leaving me and Dejun in his room. It wasn’t long before we heard the front door close, too. “Well, that was something,” Dejun said after his roommate shuffled out of the apartment.

“Shut up, Xiao Dejun,” I replied, smacking his arm. 

My friend lifted his arms up in defense before he gave me a pointed stare. “I’m just saying, the two of you looked really into it. It looked great, to be honest with you. No notes to give here— I’m sure O’Hare and Lau would say the same.”

“It’s just acting,” I tried to shrug it off. 

“Stop lying to yourself.”

“I’m not!”

“Bulltshit. I saw the way he looked at you— that’s not acting, twerp,” Dejun declared, his voice dropping. His voice never dipped in tone unless he was serious and in that moment, he was dead serious. My friend sounded like a frustrated tutor deliberately explaining a concept for the fifth time and I was the stubborn student who just didn’t understand.

“Yes, yes it is!”

“No, it’s not because that’s how he always looked at you!” 

“Lies!” I yelled accusingly, “We got Liza Minnelli over here!” 

“God, you’re so annoying sometimes! Why won’t you confess? Cat got your tongue? Nothing’s really stopped your sharp tongue before,” Dejun groaned at my stubbornness. He slapped a hand onto my shoulder. I tried to shrug him off but his grip was too strong. Maybe it was him trying to help me get a grip. Who knew? I honestly didn’t. 

“It’s not like I haven’t tried, you know?” An exasperated answer left my lips. I was tired. So ridiculously tired of dealing with these feelings for my best friend. It had been four years since I fell for him. Four years of trying to see other people, four years of trying to confess, and four long years of failing every time.  “I just freeze up like a deer in headlights or like you did when you performed that one monologue sophomore year in voice and movement class. Remember that, Jun?”

I felt his sharp glare burning a hole in my back. “You promised to never talk about that moment, you traitor,” he hissed, his hand squeezing the hell out of my shoulder. 

“Okay yeah but you get the point, right?” My nails dug into his skin, leaving little indents onto his hand. He yelped, finally jerking his hand back to examine it. Shaking my head, I added, “Plus, he’s my best friend. I just can’t do it!”

“So, what you’re saying is that you choose friendship over the possibility of him loving you?” 

“It’s just...I don’t know—” I started, shifting my body to face him, “—choosing friendship means that I’ll only lose love. But if I chose to confess and put my feelings out there, I could lose him as a potential lover and my best friend. I’m not prepared for that. I don’t think I ever will be.”

And there it was again. The self-doubt hit me, imposter syndrome resurfacing at an all time high, bringing me to the lowest of lows. 

The feeling of being a fraud, of being not good enough. 

For Jaehyun. For any love interest for that matter. For the role of Ella. For taking my place under the spotlight. 

“Dejun?”

“Hmm?”

“Am I—am I good enough?”

“For?”

“I—I don’t know—” I stuttered as my mind was consumed by my own crippling thoughts. I tried to stay strong but the crack in my voice gave me away, “—for anything? Everything?” 

“Oh, twerp,” Dejun said in that particular voice and then that was when the floodgates opened. The tears just came pouring down with no sign of stopping. My friend gently pulled me into his comforting arms. They were snug and I felt safe but not as safe as I did in Jaehyun’s hold.

“You, my darling, are definitely good enough. Don’t let your thoughts tell you otherwise.” Although his voice was comforting, it did not help the unhinged thoughts running through my brain. 

“Then, why does it always hurt when I don’t get the role of the leading lady? Of his leading lady? I always get so far and then, at the end of the day, I’m just not what they’re looking for. What he’s looking for.” Pining for something so unimaginable was too taxing. Having the lead role in a play and having Jung Jaehyun wear his heart on his sleeve just for me. 

“Sometimes, the roles aren’t made for you and that’s okay.”

“But what about this one?”

“This one, twerp, this one is a little different.” 

“And why’s that?”

“Because there is music in you; it goes hand in hand with Jaehyun, like a melody to his harmony. You are his Ella and he’s your Topher,” Dejun urged. It was like he was begging me to not give up hope. 

“You’re just saying that.”

“I’m really not. You just gotta do what the theatre gods tell us to do: just trust the process.” 

How could I trust the process when all it did was hurt me by allowing me to have a glimpse of a love and a life that would never be mine? 

Opening night finally arrived. Everyone was called to the theatre for a full run through in the afternoon: the final dress rehearsal hours before the doors opened and the curtains were drawn. I had gotten there earlier to soak in the calmness of the empty auditorium before the chaos began.

I heard heavy footsteps come from behind me. Even without turning around, I knew it to be Jaehyun. The boy took a seat next to me on the wooden prop walls that were locked into the ground. If the stage managers and props committee saw us, they would’ve definitely ripped our heads off but they weren’t— it was just us.  

“Penny for your thoughts, my dear Ella?”

“Topher,” I answered, playing along with his game. “Lovely to see you here bright at early.”

“I knew you would be here and I wanted to be here with you,” he said, pulling me into a side hug. Jaehyun knew me well but did he know me well enough? “Spill it, Forky. What’s wrong?”

“Sometimes I still doubt myself,” I said a little too fast. A loud sigh followed my reveal. The crippling doubt was always there, haunting me. Let me tell you, it was not the best thing in the world to have during an opening for a new production. 

“Oh yeah?” Jaehyun asked, pushing me to continue. I felt the soft brush of his palm against my hand. His fingers grabbed hold of my wrist before fighting their way to tangle with my own fingers. The sensation tickled, taking me away from my thoughts for a fraction of a second. I played with his fingers, watching the way his pinkish hand fit with mine. 

I refused to look at him; I was too afraid of breaking down.“Doubting myself, my abilities. Always the understudy, never the star, remember?”

Jaehyun hummed. He rested his chin on my shoulder. “Did something change?”

“Yeah, I finally realized that maybe it wasn’t that I wasn’t right for the part; the part wasn’t right for me,” I laughed a bit dryly. “Does that make any sense?” 

“Weirdly, yes,” he replied, his breath blowing against my neck. I tried to ignore the tickling sensation and the way it made me feel. 

“But this is different— I feel like I was made to play Ella. Made to play her even though I got the part in this odd, unconventional way,” I turned my head to the side to avoid eye contact. “The girl who sees the good in everything despite the hardships and suffering she went through.”

“Without a doubt, I believe that you belong on stage with me,” Jaehyun answered sincerely, “and I’m glad we have the chance to finally play opposites.” 

He squeezed my smaller palm in support. I appreciated the reassurance; the action slightly calmed me down before she took the next step. Possibly the biggest step of my entire life. “There’s something else I realized, too.”

“Oh yeah, what’s that?” Jaehyun asked softly. 

Taking a deep breath, I said, “I realized that I could be right for you.” 

It took him a minute, a long solid minute before Jaehyun could bring himself to respond to my confession. I wondered what he was thinking at that moment, when those words left my mouth. “Right for me?” came his tentative reply. A quick glimpse at his ears and I saw the burst of red. He was caught off guard, embarrassed. 

“Yeah,” I said almost shamefully. Was I ashamed of my feelings? I never was ashamed before. Maybe it was because Jaehyun finally saw me for who I truly was— his highly dramatic best friend that was head over glass heels for him. 

“How long— how long have you felt this way?” The red of his ears seeped to his rosy cheeks. 

“Ever since we were a dumb pair of utensils,” I replied sincerely, my voice wavering at the truth, “a set of ridiculous tableware.”

There was an awkward chuckle that left his drying lips. I heard him click his tongue, a habit he did when Jaehyun never knew what to say. It seemed like I rendered him speechless. “Since we were sixteen? That long and you didn’t say anything?”

“You’re really asking me that?”

“Yes, I really am!”

“Jaehyun, c’mon. Use your brain! How was I supposed to? You’re my best friend and when you’re not my best friend, you’re out there chasing other girls,” I stopped to lick my drying lips. There was another inkling of silence and I gulped at how tense the atmosphere was. “And I thought maybe once, just once, you would chase after me, too.” 

I almost laughed; my greatest desire was finally out in the world and it was greeted by silence. 

“But what if I’m wrong for you?” 

And there it was. The rejection I was preparing for. Giving him a pained smile that failed to meet my ears, I said, “Then that’s life, I guess.”

“You guess?” 

“Well, I can’t make you act like you’re in love with me, can I?” I snapped, my pain taking the best of me. It clouded my brain, blocking off all rational thoughts out of my head. “This isn’t a play or a movie with a script, Jaehyun. This is real fucking life.” 

Hurt. I was being overwhelmed with a wave of hurt and anguish. My body was trembling as much as my eyes were. I felt them growing wet and I shut them closed. My hands curled into fists, nails digging into my skin. It stung but not as much as being rejected by the one you loved most. The lead of the movie in your mind. 

“Wait, no, that’s not what I meant,” Jaehyun tried to stop me from getting off the stage. I pulled away from him, quickly snatching my belongings before heading to the nearest exit. Turning back around before I left the empty auditorium, I experienced another moment in slow-motion. 

There Jaehyun was in all his glory— denim jacket slipping over his broad shoulders, dark brown hair sticking up in all directions and a confused look on his face. He looked like a mess under the spotlight of my mind but nevertheless, he was my mess of a best friend.

He was my mess of a best friend and that was all he was going to be. That fact hurt more than being the forever understudy. 

Why couldn’t I fast forward this portion of my life? Why must I suffer this much?

Why couldn’t I escape the role of being second best?

If only my life was a movie, then maybe I wouldn’t be everyone’s second choice. His second choice.

If we were in a movie, Jung Jaehyun would be my best friend and my perfect match. Our story would be the typical friends-to-lovers saga that every girl dreams of. It would end happily with the credits rolling to a perfectly timed soundtrack. 

Too bad this wasn’t a movie— this was real life and life came with complications.

After that confrontation, you and Jaehyun were off and not off the charts— just off. The directors noticed it. The stage hands noticed. The cast noticed it. The final run-through before the curtains opened just finished and it was an absolute disaster because of the way you acted with Jaehyun. Every time he opened up his body to you, the response you gave him was closed off. Cold. 

To the rest of the cast and crew, the prince and princess didn’t seem very much in love that day— they didn’t even seem friendly. You and Jaehyun seemed like two strangers trying to work their way across a stage. There was no connection. There was nothing else there. 

Now, if only you would let Jaehyun talk to you, maybe something would change but you didn’t. You ran away every chance you could. It was like Cinderella, but you didn’t leave a glass slipper behind. You didn’t leave anything behind. 

Less than an hour before showtime and he couldn’t even talk to you. Let alone look at you. He sighed into his hand, palms applying pressure to his eyes. Jaehyun cursed under his breath, forgetting that he had a heavy amount of stage makeup on his face. Looking into the mirror, he saw his makeup was still intact. Thank the theatre gods for the Ben Nye Final Seal Setter. It seemed like that it was the only thing set in stone at that moment. 

The door to Jaehyun’s dressing room slammed open and Dejun waltzed in, fully dressed in his costume.“Dude, what was up with you and the twerp during that dress rehearsal? You were so off!”

He received no reply, Jaehyun was too zoned out to hear. Dejun hopped onto the counter of Jaehyun’s dresser. Usually, the action would shock the main lead but Jaehyun was too lost in thought.“Well, you know what they say about a bad dress rehearsal. That means we’ll have a good opening night,” Dejun said, eyeing his friend for his lack of response.

Finally looking away from his reflection, Jaehyun glanced up at Dejun with a look of disbelief. “She likes me?”

His friend jumped off the counter with widened eyes.“Oh my god, did she finally confess? Was that why you were acting weird?”

“Dejun, you knew?” Jaehyun slammed his palms on his dresser. The makeup products on the tabletop shook, leaving the other guy to wince at the show of strength. 

“Honestly for being the ace of the theatre department, you sure are dumb,” Dejun replied a bit too casually as he leaned into the mirror to examine his appearance. He clicked his tongue upon realizing his cheeks didn’t have enough color. The stage lights would wash him out. The boy reached for Jaehyun’s pink blush and a clean wedge before applying it onto the apples of his cheeks.

“What should I do?”

“Well, Jaehyun, what do you want to do?” Dejun asked, turning side to side to double-check his reflection. 

“I don’t know that’s why I’m asking you!” Jaehyun fired back with vigor, hating how casual his best friend was acting. He was having a before-show crisis and his best friend was calmly stealing his bottle of Ben Nye, spraying his beautifully sculpted face with the setting spray.

“Well, do you like her more than a friend? And what about Naeun?”

“Yes? No? I don’t know! But—”

“But?” His friend asked before hopping onto the countertop. The actor raised his perfectly shaped eyebrows at his friend and Jaehyun had the sudden urge to pluck the beauties they were until Dejun had no eyebrow hair left. When Jaehyun didn’t reply, Dejun repeated his question.

Dropping his head in his hands, Jaehyun hesitantly replied, “There was this moment when I saw her and it was like that thing she always said? The slo-mo thing?”

Dejun’s head perked up. “You saw her in slow motion?” 

“Yeah, it was like time stopped. All I saw was her and then…” Jaehyun thought back to seeing you in a wedding dress. He changed his mind; he didn’t want to talk about his feelings. All he wanted to do was make sure opening night ran as smoothly as possible. Grabbing his white suit jacket for the top of Act One, the boy stood up in an attempt to escape his friend’s sudden peak in curiosity. “Never mind, this is ridiculous. I gotta go, Dejun.” 

“No, you’re not going anywhere until you actually confront your damn feelings,” Dejun said, shoving his friend back in his chair. “Do you like Naeun?”

There was a pause before he answered truthfully: “Yes.”

“Okay, and are your feelings for Naeun stronger than what you have for your best friend?” 

“No,” Jaehyun released another sigh as he leaned back in his chair. A hand reached up to brush through his hair before he remembered that it was gelled back in place. He dropped his hand to rub the back of his neck, not wanting to mess with his looks before places. “I was infatuated with Naeun but with her, god, she’s something else and it took me this long to realize it.”

“How do I know you’re not just saying that?” Dejun questioned, squeezing his friend’s shoulders a bit too tightly. Jaehyun thought his friend was testing him and for a good reason. If he was in Dejun’s position, Jaehyun would’ve grilled his friend, too. “How do I know you’re actually in love with her? Yes, you’re my roommate and best friend but she’s my best friend, too. I can’t let you hurt her if all you feel is something temporary. I can’t let you treat her like those other girls.”

“Because she’s The One, Dejun. I’m certain of it,” Jaehyun snapped back. “When I look at her, I see everything I’ve been searching for. It’s like I was blind for the longest time, you know? She was always just Forky to me back when I didn’t know any better. But now I see and all I see is her— her, with all her flaws. The way she hides her insecurities with her dramatic outbursts. How she picks at her cuticles when she’s nervous or how she always steals my food at home. And the way she just fits with me. I can’t explain it.”

Jaehyun didn’t even give his friend a chance to butt in. He was still rambling on with a fond smile, his mouth running a mile. “She’s been there with me since the beginning, Jun. Before I was this prince of the theatre department, she was there. She’s been there since the beginning and even when I was chasing after girls, she was there at the middle of it all, and fuck, I want to go all the way to the end with her.”

Dejun released his hold on his friend and rolled his eyes. The boy made his way to the door of the dressing room before mumbling under his breath, “God, what is with you two and giving out monologues? I swear, when this is all over, you should become playwrights.”

“What?”

“Never mind me, Jaehyun,” Dejun opened the door and gestured for Jaehyun to follow the path— the path down the hall that led to you. “What are you waiting for? Go get her, we have 30 until Joohyun calls for places!”

“Dejun, it’s much more complicated than that.”

“It’s only as complicated as you make it out to be. Just— just go and talk to her, yeah?”

Jaehyun sighed deeply as he reached your dressing room door. He knocked lightly, running through the lines he wanted to say in his head before you shouted a faint “come in.” The door squeaked open to reveal you, his best friend in the whole entire world, touching up your makeup. The best friend that he was inescapably in love with. You watched him through the mirror as he leaned against the frame with crossed arms. 

“Can we talk after the show? There’s something I need to tell you— it’s important. I don’t think I—um, I have enough time to tell you now,” Jaehyun asked, stuttering through his words. Gone was the confidence he usually bared. The only thing left in him was a scared little boy, afraid of the problem his words may cause. 

The smile he received from you did not reach your ears. “Of course,” you replied curtly before turning away from him. He noted how you were over applying your blush and fidgeting with your costume. You were doing everything in your power to avoid him. 

The tugging of your ear, the biting of your lip, the picking of your cuticles. He saw all your bad habits. You were a ball of nerves and the speaker announced it was ten minutes before places.

“Hey, Forky?”

“Yes, Jaehyun?”

“You know that I believe in you, right? Always?”

There was a twitch at the corner of your lips. “I do.”

“Good,” Jaehyun approached you with caution. You watched him from your mirror, never making direct eye contact as he came closer. He dropped a kiss on the crown on your head, relishing in the way his plush lips against your torn bandana and the lace front wig. “Break a leg, my Ella.”

He observed you through your reflection and took in how beautiful you looked in your rags. You made the rags the costume department designed for you look like riches. 

“Same goes to you, my prince,” he heard you answer in that soft tone.  Again, you had sent him to the skies and the boy was struggling to find his way back down.

When it was time to draw the curtains and light the lights for the first performance of Cinderella, it seemed like everything fell into place.  Jaehyun stared at you across the stage, falling for the way the lights illuminated your figure in that white ball gown. The bright glow brought his attention to your bright grin, that beautiful and radiant smile of yours, that shocked him to his core. 

Jaehyun locked eyes with you and suddenly, he was drowning. He was drowning in your expressive eyes. He was drowning in your overflowing love. 

It was different being across from you in front of a full audience. There was a rush that took over him whenever he saw you and it beat the flurries his heart experienced with his other leading ladies. As you said your lines with that bewitching sparkle in your eye, Jaehyun hated himself for not realizing how much he loved you sooner or how you were never playing pretend. 

But that was okay because Jung Jaehyun loved you now. He loved you in the world you made believe on stage, where he was Prince Topher and you were his Ella, and he loved you in reality where you would always be the fork to his spoon. 

Opening night went smoothly and the roaring applause I received during my final bow sent me to the moon. The way Jaehyun looked at me across the stage with eyes filled with pride and joy blasted me to places I had never been before. I became high on this feeling of being under the burning spotlights. The feeling of wearing the most intricate costume and the way his hand slid into mine for the last bow before the curtains were drawn; it was something I wanted to treasure for the rest of my life.

But with every high came a low— my low hit me when I ran into Jaehyun’s dressing room. I caught him in an embrace with Naeun who gifted my best friend with a rose. She placed a kiss on his cheek, causing his white ears to flush a deep red that rivaled the flower he held. The girl gave him a quick shove of the shoulder before heading to me. 

Her congratulatory statement went in one ear and out the other. I could barely process Naeun handing me a rose of my own before she walked out of the room, the sweet scent of her perfume lingering in her wake. She gave my best friend one more lingering look as she left and it hurt me in so many ways.

“Ready to go?” Jaehyun said, clearing his throat. “Wanna stop by the stage first? Soak in your first opening night as a lead?”

“Why the hell not?” The walk back to the stage was short. It felt different somehow.

“We did it,” I whispered.

“That we did,” he answered back. 

We walked onto the stage together and I could still hear the crowds cheering for me, giving me the standing ovation I earned. It was electrifying, the way the sparks ran through my body. It ran from the top of my head to the tips of my fingers and toes. 

Glancing around the empty auditorium, I pondered aloud, “But do you know what sucks about it all, Jaehyun?”

“What?”

“There’s nothing worse than the feeling of not being chosen and it still hurts that I wasn’t the first choice,” I replied truthfully, “Not as much as before. But I’m learning to get over it. The casting directors saw potential in me.”

“That’s because you do have the potential to be a star. You’re practically glowing right now.” I felt his eyes trained on me, just like they were the entire time we shared the stage. 

Turning abruptly to face him, I said, “You really can’t say that to me, you know?”

“And why’s that?”

“Because it makes my heart beat against my chest and these stupid butterflies come around before I remember that you have never chosen me to be your first choice,” I glared. 

“But I do choose you,” Jaehyun pushed, his voice laced with desperation, “That’s what I was trying to tell you before you stormed off on me earlier!”

“Are you really choosing me, Jaehyun? The real me? The me that has been your best friend for years? Or are you choosing the me that shares a stage with you every night? The me that could potentially be your next whirlwind romance?” No matter how desperate he sounded, he couldn’t beat the hopelessness that was dripping from my own voice. 

“No, that’s not it at all!” his voice boomed, the sound echoing throughout the empty auditorium. 

“Then, what is it, Jung Jaehyun? Because I am tired of being second best and I’m tired of not being chosen,” I almost cried. The anguish was just taking over my body and I couldn’t make it stop. “Yes, I know some parts are not right for me but I can’t help but be hurt. And then you say that you’re choosing me? Of course, I’m going to think of it being because I’m your newest love interest on stage.”

“If you could just listen—”

Unable to stop the words from coming out, I just kept running off at the mouth. Everything I wanted to say to Jaehyun was flying out of my lips at rapid speed; I couldn’t even stop it. “I have seen you in slow motion so many times and I want to just fast forward from those moments. To speed past them so I can move on from the idea of not being yours. I refuse to be a temporary love that you lose interest in. I just want you to pick me, to choose me, and to love me, damn it— is that too fucking much to ask for? To be chosen and loved?”

While I was taking a breath to continue with my rant, Jaehyun cut me off and the words he said rattled the stage, the ground beneath my feet, and my whole entire world.“No, it’s not and you are way fucking more than that, if you just take a moment out of your godforsaken monologue and listen to me! I choose you not because you’re my leading lady but because you’re you. You’ve always been this— this incredible, breathtaking you.” 

He took one step closer and I took one step back. “And you’ve the person at my side when no one else is.” 

Every single time I would retreat, Jaehyun would follow. The boy was persistent, his brown eyes trained on me. “The one who figured out you loved me first while I was too blind to see it. You’re the fork to my spoon. We’re a set, we go together. And I was too dumb to figure out that at the end of the day, I always think about you and how no one I’ve ever been with compares to you.”

 When my back hit the wall, I was trapped. Trapped in between his arms and the way they propped themselves on either side of my face. Trapped in the haze of his brown eyes and how they dug deep into my soul. 

 “I don’t see you in slow motion— I see you in fast forward. I see you in the future, my future, walking down the aisle in white and I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore. All I know is that I choose you. I will always choose you.”  

I was trapped by Jung Jaehyun and there was no escape for me. Judging by the way his eyes never let me out of his sight, there was a chance my friend didn’t want to let me go either. He wanted me to stay. 

“Jaehyun, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I love you. You’re my beginning, middle, and my end.”

“You love me? Like you’re in love with me?” Jaehyun heard you ask, like the possibility of being loved by him was so impossible. You were searching for any inkling of doubt but he made sure you couldn’t find any because you were the only thing he could see. 

Jaehyun brought a hand near your cheek. It hovered there as he hesitated to touch it to your skin until you leaned into his touch. Your cheek felt so warm in his palm and it was so comforting to have you in his hold. “I wanted to say it earlier but I was just so scared of losing you as both a lover and a friend because what if it all goes to shit? What if we go to shit and things hit the fan? I can’t lose you.” 

“But you, Jung Jaehyun, are in love with me?” you repeated as your hand cupped his own. The smile you gave him was bright enough to light up the stage. 

“Yeah, I thought I made that clear. I’m sorry, did I mumble that line?” he teased playfully, trying to coerce a giggle out of you. “Should I start the scene over?”

“No, no. I’m just—” you paused and he watched you recollect your thoughts. His glittering brown eyes were trained on you as the words processed in your head. “You love me,” you laughed in disbelief. 

Jaehyun took a step closer, his hand tentatively reaching out to stroke your face. He sighed in relief as you relaxed into his touch. “You’re my number one girl. I choose you.” 

“Well, it’s a good thing that even after all this time, I’ve always chosen you, too.”

Once those words left your lips, he couldn’t hold himself back. Wrapping his arms around your waist, Jaehyun pulled you against his chest and smashed his lips against yours. Yes, he had kissed you on multiple occasions prior to this— onstage and off— but this time was different than the rest.

 This was the first time he really kissed you after your feelings were out in the open.

The first time he kissed you and finally felt the love you harbored for so many years. Jaehyun just hoped you could sense the love he was pouring out for you, too. 

He did not want to let you go but he was struggling to breathe. You were so lovely, everything about you was so incredibly lovely, and to have you in his arms was the best feeling in the universe. Everything around him turned dark and he felt the warmth of a spotlight and the flush of your body against him. The entire world was spinning beneath his feet, his heart racing, and his lips chasing you and only you. 

Jaehyun did not understand why people did drugs— the high of being so ardently in love with another person, with you, gave him the high that he needed. 

He felt you hit his chest in an attempt to end the kiss but Jaehyun did not want to stop. A light shove to his shoulders was enough to separate his lips from yours and what a sight you were— chest panting heavily for air, lips plumped and swollen, and the prettiest set of eyes widened in shock.

“You kissed me!” you said in between pants. “Like not a stage kiss but you actually kissed me!”

“That I did, love,” Jaehyun replied cheekily, taking another step towards you. You stepped back to lean against the wall but did nothing to stop him from coming forward. “Are you gonna do something about it?” 

The look in your eyes changed after you heard his new nickname for you. It was coy. Flirty. Challenging. “Do it again, I dare you,” you whispered a bit too loudly. 

Before Jaehyun closed the distance, his eyebrow perked up at the challenge. “Gladly.”

Senior year was there before we knew it. 

Another year, another posting day. 

Dejun, Jaehyun, and I swiftly made our way down the hall to the front of the theatre department, curious to find out which roles we were given. The spring production and the final musical of our college career was Disney’s Beauty and the Beast. 

Callbacks for Belle went as smooth as ever— the chemistry between Jaehyun and I were off the charts. But why wouldn’t they be? We were together now. 

Just like any other time, the crowds gathering around the cast list and bulletin board parted immediately once they caught a glimpse of Jaehyun approaching. The only difference was that this time, he was tightly clutching my hand. 

When we arrived in front of the board, I shut my eyes before I could read the cast list. An anxious buzz flowed through my veins, tickling the tips of my fingers and toes. My boyfriend must’ve felt the twitching of my fingers or the sweat dripping off my palms. 

I felt his body shift towards me. “Want me to take a peek first, love?” Jaehyun asked as he pressed his plump lips onto the crown of my head. He nuzzled his nose into my hair, a small but sweet action that always comforted me. 

Shaking my head, I looked at him and said, “No, why don’t we look together?”

“On three?” he grinned lovingly.

“On three, you dumb spoon.”

The countdown was quick but the glance I took at the cast list was even quicker. It was so quick, I almost didn’t catch who was put into the role of Belle. Taking a double take, I let go of Jaehyun’s hand as my eyes zeroed in onto the tiny print. 

Everything around me came to a stop as I read and re-read the cast list. Everyone around me was celebrating their parts but I couldn’t hear them, they were all muted in my mind. All I could hear was the sound of my own breaths  and all I could see my name on the top of the page. 

Belle……………..Y/N The Beast……..Jung Jaehyun

“Oh my god, I got the part,” I whispered to no one in particular. Backing away from the board, I repeated the same words a little louder and it got the attention of everyone surrounding me. Before I knew it, everyone threw a congratulations my way. The cheers were loud and obnoxious but they were for me because I did it. I finally did it.

Feeling a little overwhelmed, I backed away from the blustering crowd before bumping into my boyfriend’s firm chest. Jaehyun caught me in his hold, his arms circling around my waist. He dropped his chin on my shoulder and placed a tender kiss on my temple. “Would you look at that? We’re not a ridiculous set of tableware this time.”

“No disrespect to those parts, they were awesome, but I think I like this a lot more,” I giggled, turning in his hold. 

As I circled my arms around his neck, he whispered, “Same here.”

I yanked him down into an earth-shattering kiss that sent the world spinning beneath my feet. It slowed down, speeded up, and it did everything in between. I saw flashes of yellow ball gowns, royal blue coats, and Jaehyun smiling at me gracefully across the stage. 

Jaehyun staring me down from the other end of an altar. 

I saw it all. 

If my life was a movie, then this would be the time that the screen would fade to black and show the names. Some overly poppy song would resonate through the speakers and everyone would get up from their seats and gush over the happy ending.

But it wasn’t. My life was as real as it could be and it was even better than any romantic-comedy that would ever grace the screen. 

This wasn’t the ending. 

This was the perfect beginning. 

AUTHOR’S NOTE. hello, my darling readers! you really didn’t have to wait that long for this release, did you? a big thank you to several people: @johtenrecs for always being my beta and for the helpful feedback, to my chaotic gc ( @smoll-tangerine, @ppangjae, @jaedore​, and @jeongvision) for listening to me complain about how i was losing it while writing this fic, to @suhpressed​ for helping me with brainstorm, and lastly, to my lovely @notnctu bc without her and our crazy idea of hosting a hannah montana collab, i wouldn’t have gotten this idea! love y’all! hope you enjoyed this and please leave feedback! uwu

TAGLIST. @yasmini24 @jaehyunnie77 @emmybyeakitty @fluffyjaes @aevizen @dearjaehyxn @yourmagnanimousholiness @jaehyvnsvalentine @keemburley @softieus @lanadreamie @lebrookestore  @notmangojuice @felixn-recs @captainsjoongs @anotherfullsun @ukiyoneo @kunrengui​ @babyyynatty​ 

© sehunniepotwrites, 2021

#nctsworldfwc #neowritingsnet #cznnet #nct scenarios #nct fic #nct imagines #nct x you #jung jaehyun #jaehyun #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun x you #jaehyun fic #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun angst

[yoonia]

white lies ● chapters v

➬ Subtitle | The truth about us

➬ Pairings | Kim Taehyung x reader

➬ Genre | Childhood/Best Friends!AU, Angst, Smut

➬ Summary | Growing up together, you had always thought that he would always be a part of your life forever, until he suddenly chose a different path, leaving you altogether in the shadows of your past. What happens when you finally decide to move on, to walk down your new path in life without him, while completely unaware of how it had been him who had been standing in the shadows, drowning in his own little secrets?

➥ Ratings & Warnings | NC-17 or +18 / M for mature and triggering content; (PLEASE READ!) this chapter involves implied acts of emotional manipulation/treachery (not done by Taehyung or any BTS members, of course), implied sexual intercourse done under emotional overwhelm/happened as a coping mechanism, first-time sex (Taehyung; both characters are over the age of 18)

➥ Word count | 7k words

➥ Author’s Note | We finally come to the part of the story which became the reason why I discontinued this fic a long time ago. Please pay attention to the warnings. This chapter is heavily angsty as it talks about lies and deceits done by a character and you may skip this chapter or some parts that you are uncomfortable with. This part is also highly unedited, so I might return to this one day to finish editing it. Thank you for your patience. 

➥ Main masterlist | ⤎ Previous Chapter | Chapter List | Next Chapter ⇢

chapter v. his undoing

Autumn, four years ago…

It was the last summer that you would be spending in high school.

The enthusiasm pulsing around you was high, as graduation day was right around the corner and the weather had been nice enough for everyone to come out of their houses and enjoy the warm sun. It was the time of the year that you had been expecting the most. Not only because you had always loved summer and all its festivities, but also for the small tradition that you had kept for years since you had been friends with Taehyung.

The town’s annual summer night fair had started ever since before you were born, though you had only gone there to experience it for the first time when you were 8 years old, when your parents took both you and Taehyung there in the middle of summer break. It had been the first getaway you had with your best friend that you vowed to each other to keep that moment as a small tradition that you would do together for the rest of your lives for as long as you were given a chance to.

Each year since, you would anticipate its return, and you had continued on going there together—starting from having your parents chaperone you on your night out until the day you were both old enough for them to let you go on your own.

You had already begun waiting and anticipating it since the beginning of summer, hoping that it would become the perfect way to celebrate pre-graduation day and the last summer before college. But you had another reason why this trip to the fair would matter to you the most that very year.

It was then when you had made the decision to take the leap of faith and confess your feelings to the boy who had shown you his heart from time and time again for the past—nearly—ten years. You had felt guilty for making him wait for so long, but your Dad had been strict about keeping you from dating anyone before you would reach the age of eighteen. Knowing this, Taehyung had even admitted that he would rather wait, constantly reminding you of the promise he made when you were children, where he vowed that the only time he would claim his place in your life as your lover would be the day when he was old enough to do so, only once he was mature enough and when he was ready to show you his worth.

You understood his reasons and had always been so grateful for his patience. You had always known that other boys wouldn’t have been so understanding the way he was when dealing with your strict and uncompromising parents. Though you couldn’t blame your parents for giving you their restrictions either.

Both of your parents had always perceived your relationship with Taehyung differently, knowing that there was something more than a simple friendship in what you had built together since you were kids. They had both noticed the bond between you even before you realised it, though it was not until the moment Taehyung came to put the promise ring on your finger on your 12th birthday when you finally found out that his intentions had been real. For years, your parents had been adamant in making you understand that you should be focusing on your study first before ever thinking about having a relationship with the opposite sex, even if they had known Taehyung well enough to treat him as if he was just another member of your family, and it had been one of the reasons why you have yet to give him the green light to make his move.

Until now.

Despite being so determined about what you were about to do, there was no denying how nervous you had felt ever since the sun came up to mark the start of the day and to remind you of what was about to happen.

There had been many reasons why you were so nervous that day.

Being honest with your feelings had been one of them, since you were not the kind of person to always voice them out loud and you had been so used to having Taehyung be the one to read you so well that you simply never had to. Another reason was the fact that you had not seen him as often as you used to, as you had both been busy preparing for graduation and applying for college, and he had been doing his own thing for the past few months that you barely had any chance to spend time together as much as you used to.

But those were not the only reasons why your heartbeat was racing as you made your trip to the fair and why you had this weird sensation in your gut telling you that things would go wrong. That there were some possibilities that perhaps Taehyung wouldn’t accept your confession even if you had been showing him your feelings even more for the past year you were in senior year.

As you finally caught sight of the fair right in front of you, your mind instantly flew to Mina, adding her to the list of your worries.

You had noticed that Taehyung had started hanging out with the new girl, Mina, during spring break, though he could never quite explain why or how they had become so close. It made you feel jealous that he had allowed someone else into his life, but you knew that Taehyung had always been so open and welcoming to anyone around him that it was no surprise to see him approaching the new girl and making friends with her. But you had found yourself feeling neglected, pushed aside for the sake of his new friend when he would often excuse himself from hanging out with you to help out the other girl.

Perhaps that had been one of the reasons why you decided that it was finally time. That today was going to be the day. You had been patient until the day would come, as you had planned everything. Once you had arranged for the two of you to come to the summer fair tonight, you had pulled out the promise ring that he had given you years ago. It had been too big for you then, but it had fit so perfectly around your ring finger when you put it on right before you left home for the fair.

He had promised to meet you at the front gate at 5 PM, the usual time for him to come to the fair, when the sun was still up so you could watch the sunset while riding the mini ferris wheel together. You had come ten minutes early, too excited to see him and to watch his reaction to you wearing the ring as a sign that you were ready to finally become his girlfriend.

And so you waited. And waited. Until ten minutes became one hour, and one hour became two.

By the time the sun was gone and the fair was getting more crowded, your heart had been left in shambles. All hope was gone, while the pain from your disappointment came in its place. You looked down on the ring that you were wearing, admiring how it was glowing under the bright lights that were starting to come on to brighten up the fair, while the painful pinch inside your chest kept growing stronger the more you waited.

The two hours were slowly fading into three, and you were finally on your last thread, ready to give up and leave when you looked up from the ring to finally see him coming. Except that he wasn’t coming alone. Right beside him and clinging to his arm was Mina, the girl that had made you feel so worried about having your best friend stolen from you. The sight that you saw then took the air right out of your chest, unable to believe the fact that not only had he come hours late without any news or any regards to your feelings, he had also taken someone else to join your little tradition, no doubt the reason why he had taken such a long time to come.

But the pain and betrayal that you felt then was nothing compared to what happened next.

As if his tardiness and his decision to involve a stranger to become a part of something that you had seen as sacred were not enough to hurt you, they both turned your broken heart into nothing but dust when you saw her pulling him back to her arms. A coy smile on her face was the last thing you saw when she came rising to her tiptoes to kiss Taehyung, your first love, right on his lips, showing you the end of your hope, as the one thing that you had feared the most had already happened.

She had stolen the boy you loved, and he had given in without so much of a glance to see you breaking apart.

Present day…

The moment you were done bidding your goodbye to him and left the cafe, Taehyung had fled the place in haste.

His heartbeat continued to pace rapidly, pounding so hard inside his chest that it became the only sound that he could hear as he raced across the town. He wasted no time to head back towards his hotel, going on foot as he was too restless to sit inside a cab. His head was spinning so hard it almost felt like he was floating above the ground. People kept away from his path, and yet he couldn’t care less about any of them. To his eyes, they were nothing but blurry images as he had his eyes set on one destination, and he had to get there—fast.

His mind kept reeling over the circumstances and the events happening from the encounter he had with you, unable to make any sense of it. He replayed back to the conversation, to the slight of hope that came across him when you promised to give another try on fixing the broken friendship that he had cherished the most. Then the sight of the rose gold ring that you were wearing came flashing into his mind and he nearly stumbled on his steps, before he finally got a grip on himself and accelerated further to reach his hotel.

It can’t be. It’s impossible, he kept chanting these words inside his head, while everything else had been muddled ever since he laid his eyes on the ring on your finger and his mind had been locked on that small item since.

The ring.

The sound of his heartbeat kept getting louder, and louder, accompanied by the sound of his laboured breathing as he came bursting through the entrance door to his hotel and ran through the front lobby, not giving a single care to what people may think of him as he continued to move as fast as he could towards the elevator.

Doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t make sense.

He repeated these words over and over again as he traveled all the way to the upper floor. How he managed to find his suite was some sort of a miracle, when the world around him simply appeared as if everything was veiled behind a thick fog, making it hard for him to think clearly, while the ground beneath his foot seemed to tilt sideways the more he tried to pace.

His hands were shaking so hard as he opened his door, and he practically raced inside and immediately ran into the bedroom. Blurry eyes focused on the bedside table where he rushed towards and pulled the drawers with his shaking hands, nearly toppling over everything that he had laid on top of it as he searched for the little box that he had kept in his possession for years. Fingers numb, he nearly ripped the box apart as he opened them, and his breath got caught in his throat as his eyes landed on the ring that had been kept safe inside.

The rose gold ring with the small diamond on its center which had cost his entire allowance and savings when he bought it for you as a gift on your 12th birthday.

The rose gold ring which was the perfect replica of the one that you were wearing today.

“How—?” he whispered to the empty bedroom, to himself, as he dropped down on the floor. His legs felt like rubber while his energy depleted from his whole body. He kept hold of the little velvet box in one hand as he fell back against the bed, while he ran the other hand through his hair, pulling the strands to the point that it gave him enough pain to let him know that he wasn’t dreaming.

How was it possible that you were wearing the ring, when he had thought that you had thrown it away years ago?

How was it possible—?

He kept asking himself these questions over and over again, as his mind traveled back to the past, searching for answers, until the answer itself finally came to him.

Mina.

Autumn, three years ago…

Taehyung was livid.

But most importantly, he was angry at himself. The more he kept getting too deep into this ruse, the more he continued to hate the person he was becoming.

He had been feeling this way since last summer, and the feeling had only escalated as time continued to pass and he kept feeling that you were slowly drifting away from him. Though he had always known that everything was entirely his own fault.

He knew that he had been doing a shitty job of showing you how important you were to him and how much he still cared when he had been absent from your life since after high school graduation day. His obligations and his role had kept him apart from you, leaving him to keep missing out on the special days that he used to spend with you. How he missed all the birthdays and the special dates, and even to the little things that he used to do together with you like the morning runs and the weekend hiking up the hills behind your houses.

Today had felt like the last straw, when it had become painfully obvious to him that you had been purposely avoiding him on campus as long as you found him with Mina tagging along. He couldn’t exactly blame it on you. Not at first, when he knew just how uncomfortable it had been for either of you whenever you and Mina would be present in the same room. Not because you truly ever had any disdain directed towards her—not that he knew of, at least—but mostly because Mina had never been shy in showing her disapproval of having you around, no matter what Taehyung had said to her.

Not even when Taehyung had to remind her that you were the only reason why he had become a part of this ruse at all.

He hated lying to you. He hated what it made him feel whenever he saw you and he would see the way you were looking at him with both pain and curiosity as if you could see right through him. He hated how he had always come so close to reveal the truth just by looking into your eyes, when your gaze would be enough to ignite the guilt feeling that he had for hiding the truth and for deceiving you. He knew that you had questions and he had been doing all he could to avoid giving you a chance to voice them out since he knew he could never give you an honest answer. And he hated it the most when he realised how things had been slowly changing for the past year and how he had no power to stop it from happening.

As the thought of what happened summer last year came to his mind, the urge to scream and run to you came over him. Right at the same time, he was cursing at himself for how powerless he had been in keeping his words to you or to be more firm when it came to saying no to Mina. He should have fought harder against it when Mina had first demanded him to keep things as a secret from you. Now that he had been too deep into the ruse, it would be too late for him to spill everything.

No, it’s not too late, the inner voice in his head kept telling him as he trudged impatiently towards his mini studio. You can still tell her before things get any further and she truly believes that you have given up on her.

These thoughts kept running through his head as he made his way to the place that he had kept hidden from the people around him except for one. The inner battle happening between his conscience and the greedy, yet logical part of his brain kept him from getting there on time as he had to stop himself from turning around to find you multiple times already.

He should have learned how to say no to Mina and stop doing her bidding, he realised this now, and far too late, as he had already seen the damage that it had done so far.

His mind flew back to that unfateful summer, when he had ruined yet one of the memories that he had shared with you. He had been anticipating that summer, hoping that he could finally have a moment where he could be alone with you, to spend time with you like he normally used to before he would start acting out as Mina’s boyfriend in public as they had only shown their act in front of her family at first. Perhaps he could find a way to reveal the secret to you then without Mina’s knowledge just so he could have someone on his side and to let you know that nothing would change.  

He should have known that things wouldn’t go as planned when Mina suddenly got in the way.

Despite knowing that Taehyung had made a promise to see you that day to go to the annual fair, Mina still caught up to him, appearing at his mini-studio right before he was able to go and insisted that he should come with her as her grandfather suddenly fell ill. At that moment, Taehyung couldn’t find it in him to say no. Although, looking back to it now, he could have insisted to stay away. He could have offered just to drive her off, and to only stay long enough to greet her family before leaving. There was really no need for him to stay longer than he should, no matter what Mina kept saying to make him feel guilty for leaving.

And he should have stopped her from tagging along once the deed was done.

It was already hours too late when he was finally able to leave, and for some reason, he had let Mina continued to convince him and make him believe that you may have left the fair already instead of waiting for him. A part of him believed that you would be there, but Mina had always been able to get inside his head, and he was too mentally exhausted after dealing with her family to fight it, and he was even unable to stop Mina from kissing him in public as she simply did it without a warning.

“It has begun. We have our schoolmates coming here, this could be the perfect starting point for our ‘relationship’,” she had whispered to him then. Taehyung had been deep in his despair that he had no power to push her away, knowing that he had to do his part somehow, so he let her kiss him right there for everyone to see.

He had looked around at one point before that moment happened, and while he hadn’t noticed any of his school friends around, he had thought that perhaps she had noticed them while he was busy searching for you through the busy crowd in front of the fair. And so he simply gave in to the kiss, albeit reluctantly, not knowing the presence of the pair of eyes witnessing it happening and thinking that it was real. He didn’t notice you standing there not too far away until it was far too late, and all he could see the moment he pulled away from the kiss was your retreating back as you turned and walked away from him with your eyes glistening under the lights when you gave him one final glance before you disappeared through the crowd.

He could have sworn that he had seen something glowing on your finger, making him think that you had been wearing the promise ring that day as you waited for him. The pain in his chest expanded as he kept thinking about that day and when he remembered the look on your face that he saw right before you left without giving him a word of goodbye. His shame and his guilt kept moulding into one as he thought of all the possibilities behind the reason why you had put on that ring that day and what would have happened if only he had been there on time and if only Mina was not around.

And what would have happened if you had stayed.  

All this time, Taehyung had been holding on to false hope that maybe the ruse wouldn’t have to last any longer than it should and things would get back to normal once high school was over. Or that he would at least do his part only through freshman year when it would be the crucial period of time for Mina to change her parents’ minds about her planned future.

But things had progressed rather slowly, and things kept getting in the way to prevent him from ending things with Mina even once they had graduated. From her need for him to remain playing the part so her family wouldn’t instantly send her off across the globe and so that they would give her a chance to go to a local college after graduation, to having his presence at various family events to show how serious and sincere he was to take his role as both her lover and her grandfather’s apprentice in the art world that the elder man had cherished the most.

“Just another year. We wouldn’t even have to see each other privately unless it’s time for you to see my family or when you need to paint me,” that was what Mina had promised him when he talked about ending things right at the start of college.

He realised then that the due date of that deal was closing in, and yet there was still no sign of the ruse truly turning on his favour or if their actions had been enough to fool her parents into canceling their plans on sending Mina away. The only thing he noticed then was how his own world seemed to be falling apart, and he knew that he couldn’t let it go any further.

It was then when he started thinking that maybe he should end this whole thing now, before things could get out of hand. Before everything he held dear to his heart would start slipping away from him and he would be left with nothing waiting for him at the end of his journey.

Yes, perhaps it would be better to just end this before it would be too late to get out.

It would be such a waste to end his special lessons with Mina’s grandfather too soon, just when he was getting a good start at college and was finally heading towards getting into an art school under the elder man’s recommendation. But he has had enough time to build a supportive relationship with the man and he was quite sure that he would be able to convince him to keep supporting him in one way or another, even if it wouldn’t be the same as the support he would have gotten while acting as his future grandson-in-law.

Even if he couldn’t have that, there must be another way. And he would go through anything, as long as he wouldn’t lose everything else. As long as he wouldn’t lose you.  

These thoughts continued to fill his head that he barely paid attention to his surroundings as he walked into his studio. It took him a moment to realise that someone was standing inside the room as he entered, and it wasn’t until she called his name when Taehyung finally snapped out of it and noticed her.

“Tae—?”

“Holy shit, Mina,” he nearly shouted as he jumped on his feet. “Christ, you scared me. How did you get in?”

Mina gave him a somber smile and pointed to his desk. “I found the spare key. You left the new spare under the floor mat after you lost the old one, remember?”

Taehyung followed to where she was pointing at with his eyes only to stop. Only that it wasn’t the spare key that she had placed on the table that caught his gaze. Instead, his eyes were transfixed on the rose gold ring that she was toying in her fingers.

“Why do you have that?” His voice sounded like it came from outside of himself when he questioned this, feeling as if he was dreaming when he saw Mina handing out the ring that seemed too familiar to his eyes.

Mina, on the other hand, looked a bit sympathetic when she glanced down at the ring in her hand before looking up at him again. “I saw _____ today and she just gave it to me. She said something about not needing it anymore and that you might have a better purpose for it.”

Hearing that, Taehyung could feel his heart plummeting in his chest. “She—” he choked out as the pain slowly grew inside him. His head was spinning so hard, that it was hard for him to understand what she was trying to say. “She said that?”

Instead of answering him, Mina simply shrugged, giving him a small smile which instantly faded as Taehyung fell to the ground.

“Taehyung, are you okay?” she asked, rushing to his side and falling on her knees as she supported him, though it was clear that she wasn’t aware how the news had rendered his legs completely powerless. The ring was caught in her grip, and yet never once it had slipped away from Taehyung’s gaze. Seeing this, Mina handed over the ring, to which he received it with shaking hands.

“No,” he said, barely recognising his own voice as the sight of the ring on his palm started to blur. “No, I’m not.”

At that moment, he could see his life fading away. All of his hopes and dreams seemed pointless at the thought of losing you. Everything from the past year came flashing through his head and he finally began to see it more clearly—how despite having something to gain from this, he was already starting to lose everything else. That no matter what he was planning to do to stop it from happening, it had been far too late for him to do anything as he had failed to notice it until everything was already gone.

That he had already lost you.

Even when he remained focused on his goals, he kept holding on to hope that the day would finally come for him to return to you, and that by then, both of you would be ready to take things to the next step and to embrace the future together. He had watched how you excelled in school, and how you had dedicated your time and energy to studying in college since day one started and it had become the encouragement he needed to do more, and to do better.

Never once had he let the thought of you leave his mind even when he was unable to stay by your side throughout the whole thing, when he couldn’t be there to experience your breakthroughs or for him to share his own.

One small sacrifice for a bigger picture.

Those were the words he kept telling himself ever since the day he came to the annual summer fair a few months ago only to find out that you had chosen to be somewhere else, being the one to leave him behind this time around. He had taken it as the punishment that he deserved after what happened last year. Though he refused to stop hoping when he still managed to talk to you after that day and he had noticed that you were still wearing the promise ring once in a while to show him that you still held on to the old promises that you had made to each other in the past while giving him the space that he needed.  

He had thought that it was simply a sign that his wait would be worth it, and that you were still waiting for him as well. He closed his eyes as he finally realised that the words he had given to himself had been nothing but white lies. Nothing but empty words to make himself feel better despite knowing that he may have hurt you—one too many times, no doubt—as he kept on failing to be there for you whenever his presence would have mattered. Never once had he realised just how badly he had ruined everything, letting things go out of control since the moment he had begun walking down this path filled with lies and deceit. And it took him too long to realise that his choices would be his undoing.

And now, that final thread of hope had been officially severed as he held it in his hand. Giving the ring back could only mean that you were setting him free, that you had decided that you were going in a different direction to what you had promised him to. That you were letting him go.

“Taehyung, talk to me.”

Mina’s voice slowly came through his head, and only then did he finally realise that he had been crying. Lost in his own grief, he had curled to a ball and had started rocking back and forth on the floor with Mina waiting by his side.

“Taehyung—” Mina tried again, only to have Taehyung flinching away from her touch and began shaking his head frantically.

“No! Don’t you get it? It’s over. There’s no use to all of this anymore. There’s no reason for me to—”

Right then, he began to fall apart just as the situation started to sink in. As the last remaining hope that he had was gone, his heart continued to break into pieces.

You should’ve told her the truth, the voice inside his head kept scolding him, blaming him for losing you. She wouldn’t have thought that you had let her go.

“Taehyung, don’t say that…” Mina tried to plead with him, yet her words simply faded while the hateful voice kept scolding him.

She would’ve supported you and she would’ve waited instead of walking away like this.

“We’ve come so far, and you’re getting closer—” Mina’s voice sounded faint, drowned by the voices that kept echoing inside his head. Her presence seemed far even when she was near, muddled by all the guilt, the pain, the betrayal—

“You can still succeed, even if she won’t be there to celebrate it with you at the end of your journey. There is no need for you to give up now. Not when I’m still here with you.”

Taehyung raised his head just then. His heart and soul were still breaking inside him, and everything else around him became nothing but white noise, even the sound of his heartbeat and the sound of his sobbing that was slowly winding down.

Mina gave him a smile as she cupped his face in her gentle hands and whispered to him, “You still have me. I’m here for you.”

For some reason, he wanted so badly to hold on to those words. To have a reason to carry on when he could no longer put his hope on you to be there for him. As if enchanted, he felt drawn to the only person who was holding him up from falling back down, to the one who was holding him tight in her arms as he continued to fall apart.

He had no idea what went on inside his head when he let Mina pulled him to her, and he had no clue of what he was doing when he reached out, placing his palm on her face and then leaning in until their lips touched. His mind was a jumbled mess, but for a moment, everything seemed to make sense as Mina returned his kiss and began to take over.

Deep down, he knew that he was making a mistake. He knew that he needed to stop before he would do something that he would regret for the rest of his life. But the pain inside him had been too strong and he was feeling completely out of bounds that he could only hold on to the one last thread of what would keep him grounded.

All he ever wanted was for the pain to go away. All he wanted was to feel numb, to feel anything but the hurt that was eating him from inside. Anything. Anything but this hurt of being rejected after waiting for a long time to finally be with you.

You were the one he saw inside his head as he continued to kiss her and as he deepened the kiss until it felt like his body was burning. You were the one he had in mind when he traced his fingers down her body and started to peel every piece of fabric off of her and his body until there were no more barriers coming in between their naked skin. It was your face and your delicate fingers that he pictured inside his head when he let her touch him, when his lips began trailing down the column of her throat while he gently laid her down on top of the plush carpet that he had spread on the floor of his studio.

He closed his eyes and bit his tongue when he slowly descended, sinking into her warmth and let their bodies joined in the mix of lust and despair, when it was you that he still had in his thoughts, it was your name that he wanted so badly to cry out as his body pulsed with the rising pleasure. With each thrust he gave her, he put all of his pain into it, spilling all of his emotions with every grind of his hips until she was thrashing wildly beneath him with the mixture of pleasure and pain.

And he simply kept going, getting more and more lost in his despair until the moment the lust and pleasure all came in to take its place.

And he kept going, moving faster and harder until the waves of pleasure began to rise, rolling intensely inside his body and pulsing through hers until the moment came when they both reached their release, and he let himself go, mending his broken heart with nothing but carnal pleasure.

It was to the thought of you that he simply gave in to, when he continued to make love to Mina on the floor of his studio, wishing that he was making love to you instead, that it would be you that he simply gave himself to after years of waiting, just the way he had pictured it so many times before as the final reward of all the sacrifices that he had made.  

Present day…

Hours had passed since Taehyung returned to his hotel bedroom.

Hours since he uncovered the lies that had been fed to him for a long time.

Despite his exhaustion and the jet lag that was still hanging over his shoulders from the long distanced trip, sleep had evaded him a long time ago that he simply stood there in the silence, looking out the window with his somber mood flowing through his veins. Outside, the night had fallen so deeply that the entire sky was nothing but a wide plane of black void, ready to engulf him in his sorrow. Meanwhile, the entire town seemed to have fallen into its slumber, leaving him accompanied only by silence, allowing his mind to grow louder as the seconds continued to pass.

As his mind kept traveling back to the past, he continued to feel his anger boiling at his own foolishness, to how easy it was for him to fall for Mina’s deceit.

He was too blinded by his own desperate need of reaching his end goal that he failed to see the truth that was being laid upon him. He should have known. He should have seen through all the lies, to see through the sham he had been pulled into. He should have realised from the start that nothing about it made any sense. Not only for what she had made him believe when she came to him with the fake ring, but to the entire ordeal that she had placed him into.

He should have been able to read through the entire lies since the very first time Mina had proposed the entire ruse. He should have started questioning everything the way he was doing it now.

How was he supposed to help Mina by pretending to be her lover? How was his presence supposed to change anything at all, when her family had always held the blueprint of her life the entire time and there was nothing that he nor she could do to change it?

He should have known that everything had been nothing but a ploy, that he was simply a pawn in the game that Mina had been playing against her own family. Except that she had never seen her freedom as her endgame, knowing already that it would never be in her future no matter what she did to gain it. All those times, Mina had been using him as an escape, a tool to help her rebel against her parents while gaining something for herself.

All she had ever wanted was to have something of her own, something that belonged to her and her alone, a part of her life that would never be under her family’s control. All she needed from Taehyung was the false sense of freedom, and to have someone beside her who would never try to take control over her life, and in return, someone for her to control and for her to wrap around her little fingers.

Just like a puppet. An obedient, little puppet whose life she could easily manipulate to however she sees fit.

He was never a means to an end. It was a phrase that Seokjin had tried to paint Taehyung with in his own way, back when he was trying to open his best friend’s eyes when it all happened.

No. He was merely a toy. Something to admire, to use, only to dispose of by the time she was done with him.

And it had taken him too long to see it. For him to finally understand the reality of their arrangement and to finally have reasons to walk away from her trap just before her family finally shipped her out of the country. But it certainly did not happen until it was all far too late for him to fix everything.

It’s not too late, the familiar voice of his conscience reminded him, taking him back to the conversation he shared with you earlier. She was willing to give you another chance, and you need to take it.

He knew that the voice was right, and with a deep sigh, Taehyung found a new determination to look far ahead in the future instead of continuing on digging into the past. He had been given one last chance, and he was not going to waste it again the way he had back then.

Taehyung ran his hand through his hair, something that he had been doing all night when he was not pulling and tugging the messy strands out of his despair. This time, he gave another pull just to snap him out of it, to make his mind work harder in figuring out just how he was going to make things right and how he was supposed to make you believe that he meant every word he said about keeping his old promises.

He knew that it would be impossible for him to go back to the past and change everything, so the only thing he could focus on was the future and what his next steps would be.

But first, he needed to severe one part of his past that was still haunting him to this day. Knowing how it would only come in his way one day in the future if he simply let it be.

As if on cue, his phone started ringing from the other room. He had barely gotten himself back together as he walked out of the bedroom to retrieve his phone, but he still went for it, as he suspected that he might know who was on the line to speak to him this late at night.

The phone kept on ringing, drawing him towards it. The phone kept blaring through the empty room, its lights flashing against the walls, and yet it didn’t stop him from looking down to see the ID number and to confirm that his suspicions were true. The tightness in his chest returned when he took the device in his hands, raising it up for him to answer the call.

“Hello, Mina. What an amazing coincidence. I was just about to call you.”

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#taehyung scenario #taehyung fanfic #taehyung smut #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #taehyung x reader #bts taehyung #kim taehyung #bts scenario #bts fanfic #kpop scenario #kpop writing #kpop fanfic #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #bts x reader

[lebrookestore]

the one; l.ty

Pairing: Lee Taeyong x reader

Themes: exes! au, best friends to nothing, exes to nothing, college! ish au because they’re graduating, the angst is a very subtle type but its still pretty heavy

Warnings: unrequited love, heavy angst, mentions of kissing and food (ice cream)

Wc: 1.6k

Playlist: the 1 by taylor swift, closure by taylor swift, 2 kids by taemin, dancing after death by Matt Maeson

Authors note: this is a deleted scene from my fic, favorite crime! (which you should go read. please lmao but also because it will give this story even more context) i have altered it so it sort of works as a oneshot? Anyways, I hope you like it<3

You know the greatest loves of all time are over now

~

When you’re younger, you’re told to live your life to the fullest, to enjoy your youth. You’re seen as naive and and wide eyed at the world around you. When you’re younger you’re allowed to make those stupid mistakes and mess up, because people look past them.

But some mistakes, everyone but yourself can look past. These type of mistakes could haunt you for the rest of your life with every little thing you do. The what ifs.

And when you’re young, even though you have so much of your life left to enjoy, you can’t ever go back and fix them. They were permanent, like a life long promise, or a tattoo inked into your skin. You would never be able to escape them, even if you moved on.

At age twenty one, standing in front of your full length mirror donning your graduation cape, you had already made one of these mistakes, and it weighed you down everyday, simply because the reminder of it all was just a window away.

You glanced through your window, seeing him there, doing the same thing as you were, trying to adjust his tie. If you hadn’t been so stupid, then the two of you would have been getting ready together, you would be the one tying his tie and he would be the one teasing you about how your your cap was too big for you.

You let a smile brief your lips, before looking away. Even though you were no longer staring at him, you knew exactly what he was, the image burned into your mind. Bleached blond hair still messy no matter how much he tried to tame it, his bright eyes that seemed to hold the universe and that intoxicating smile.

Your biggest mistake was falling in love with the boy who never loved you back.

And how you had fallen, hook, line and sinker for him. Taeyong was the object of your affections, your best friend- well former best friend. That was where your mistake came in.

You foolishly let it happen, a relationship of sorts with him. At first, it was everything you had ever wanted, but that slowly started turning into a nightmare you wanted to wake up from. Sometimes you still wonder if you’re in a nightmare.

The two of you worked so well together, because you had known each other since you were four. He knew all your flaws, had seen you at your worst and at your best. You would have never thought he would be the cause of one of your worst moments.

But Taeyong, he wasn’t in love with you, but rather, was infatuated. Infatuated with the idea of love and loving you. Once he figured that out, he did the right thing and told you, effectively breaking up with you.

You lost your best friend and lover all at once. It was painful being around him, because you were still in love with him. He had been your everything, and now you had nothing at all. He slipped through your fingers like sand on a beach.

You hadn’t talked to him since that night he told you the truth. You made an effort to not look at him through your window, because it would just break your heart more. You had never known what it was to be heartsick until you experienced it yourself, and extremely violently.

He didn’t push it either, giving you your space. And while this helped you heal, it also felt so wrong. From spending almost every moment together, to spending no time at all, your lives had completely changed.

For some, love was a breeze, it gave them a fuzzy warm feeling that they wanted to hold onto forever. For you, love hurt like a bitch.

You couldn’t help but think about what could have been, if he had actually loved you. Or if you never indulged in what you wanted and just stayed friends. Sometimes- no, all the time, you wished that had happened instead. You were fine with loving him quietly.

Another part of you, the more selfish part, wished he never realized he didn't love you. You would have been fine living that way, but that was only thinking about yourself. You deserved to know, and he deserves that freedom.

What if?

Falling into love is easy, especially with someone like Taeyong. He was the most beautiful guy you had ever seen, with the kindest heart you could think of. You had fallen when you were merely seventeen, still in high school.

No, it was the falling out of love part that was harder. After loving someone for as long as you had loved him, you couldn't imagine ever loving anyone else. The sheer thought of it didn't make sense to you.

So what if you were still with him, what if you never lost him. What if he was still your best friend through thick and thin?

Snapping out of your thoughts, you made one last adjustment to your graduation cap and sighed, scanning yourself over in the mirror. Deeming yourself presentable, you walked out of your apartment, jogging down the stairs of the building and reaching the ground level.

You were hitching a ride with your friend Ryunjin, who was arguably the world's worst driver but you didn't really have a choice. If you did, you would be going with Taeyong, but well, that wasn't going time happen.

You yourself couldn't drive, simply because you were too scared of accidently killing someone. Taeyong had even tried to teach you how to drive when the two of you were dating, but it was discovered that you were probably even worse than Ryunjin.

A few traumatized minutes of the drive to campus later, you found yourself lost in a sea of students that were also graduating with you. Thankfully you had a few friends, but it was still pretty overwhelming.

The ceremony itself was a blur, of you were being completely honest. You saw your friends get called up on stage and receive their scrolls. Ryunjin flashes an awkward peace sign at the principal because she shook his hand, Ten did a happy dance after, and Renjun pretended to click a picture.

You saw Taeyong go up there and receive his scroll, a bright smile on his face, a smile you so loved. You clapped for him, a proud, yet bittersweet smile gracing your features.

And soon it was you up there, and after you had gotten your scroll and take your picture, it had literally turned blurry. You didn’t realize you were tearing up until a wave of emotions crashed over you. You had finally graduated, you were out of this place after four years.

You hated change, despised it even. Now you were thrust out into the world, gone was the familiarity of attending classes and parties with your friends. First you lost your best friend, now you’d probably lose most of your other friends. It wasn’t as if all of you were going to stay in the town, you had first hand experience of this when your friend Yeji graduated the year before and moved away.

You were so young, so naive and yet it felt as if you couldn’t hold on to a single moment long enough. How were you supposed to enjoy your youth then? You were slowly loosing everything.

Sucking in a deep breath, you composed yourself, a laugh escaping you when Ryunjin practically threw herself onto you in a hug of celebration. You quickly wiped your tears so no one saw them, smiling. 

Turning around to talk to another friend, your eyes met Taeyong’s. He was much further away from you, but you knew it was him, you’d always know him. He didn’t break the contact, a small smile appearing on his lips as me mouthed something.

‘I’m proud of you’

You mustered up the best smile you could, repeating the same things silently so that only he would know it. Pressing your lips together pacified, you once again accepted that it was over. You had accepted it so many times, but you had to keep reminding yourself.

With one last look in his direction, you raised your hand up, curling your fingers into a fist before bringing it down to your chest, right over your heart. His smile only grew as he gave you an affectionate wave. Best friends after all, you knew each other like the back of your hands.

And then everyone tossed their caps into the air, as cheers resounded through the hall. Laughter and chattering filled the area, and you knew it would be alright in the end. 

You accepted the fact that Taeyong would haunt all your what-ifs, even as you tried to move on. All the kisses at midnight and late night talks out on your adjoining roofs, the long drives and ice cream dates- it was a thing of the past.

And yes, it still hurt when you recalled all the beautiful things that had happened with your time with him, the way the two of you were so beautiful.

It simply wasn’t meant to be, even if you were still in love with him. Heck, you were sure you’d always be in love with Taeyong, a part of your heart would be reserved for him and him only, but it was time to let go. You weren’t okay right now, but you’d learn to be okay. 

Still, it would have been fun if he had been the one.

fin.

#taeyong x reader #kpopscape #kokonomi #ankathia #nctcreations #neowritingsnet #cznnet #nct-writers #lee taeyong x reader #nct taeyong x reader #nct 127 scenarios #nct #taeyong imagines #taeyong scenarios #taeyong angst

[luvdsc]

mark lee sucks at technology.

tap the heart if you have a big, fat, embarrassing crush on your best friend!

pairing :: lee mark x reader genre :: fluff / best friend + social influencer au word count :: 5,883 words warnings :: none playlist :: dumb stuff (lany) ⋆ feeling (coin) ⋆ so far so good (gabrielle aplin) ⋆ electric love (børns) ⋆ love by mistake (bad suns) author’s note :: i was debating if i should post it on his bday instead, but i decided to drop it earlier, so uh, happy (approx. one week early) bday to mister absolutely fully capable (except when it comes to tech stuff) !!!! thank you for blessing us with your god tier raps ♡ ↳ part of the not clickbait series.

In your required upper division business course aptly titled “Essential Marketing Strategies,” you had learned about a concept called personal brands. A personal brand is explained as the first impression a person wishes to perceive based on their own experiences, qualifications, and achievements. Your professor had told you and your classmates to pick three words to define your own brand. For instance, you chose to label yourself as charismatic, fun, and creative.

Your best friend’s brand would be awkward, endearing, and technologically challenged. 

Okay, so that is definitely more than three words, but who’s counting? You might as well tack on “Y/N’s big fat crush” at this rate because everyone and their mother knows that you carry a torch—or more accurately, a blazing wildfire that can easily be spotted from Pluto—for your best friend.

Well, to be more precise, you should probably say everyone, except Mark, knows. And that’s not for lack of trying either. You completely dropped the art of delicate subtlety months ago already. Maybe you should add “hopelessly oblivious” instead.

The rolling end credits to the sixth Harry Potter film are playing on the screen in front of you, signaling the nearing end of your magical movie marathon. You’re seated on the worn down couch in Mark and Donghyuck’s shared apartment, watching the former make his drink with the fancy, gently used Keurig newly settled on the scratched countertop. Johnny dropped it off a few days ago because he had splurged on a better coffee machine (“It even makes Instagram worthy whipped frappuccinos!”) and didn’t want his old, but still perfectly functioning caffeine provider going to waste.

“What’s wrong with this thing?” Mark slaps the side of the machine, and it starts to emit a low whirring noise. “Oh, that’s good, right? That sound is good, you think?”

His question is immediately answered by the sad squirt of hot water speckled with coffee grinds falling into his mug for a few seconds before the machine shuts off.

“What the hell?” he mutters angrily, carding his hand through his hair in frustration, and you finally decide to take pity on your best friend. Getting up from the comfy spot you know you sadly won’t be able to recreate perfectly again later, you stride over to where your best friend stands and flip open the top of the Keurig.

“Hyuck didn’t take out his used coffee pod,” you say, pulling out the incriminating evidence of your best friend’s roommate and disposing it in the trash can next to the refrigerator. “Where’s the espresso one you’re gonna use? Why didn’t you put that in?”

His jaw slackens, and he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze and mumbling, “I thought I’d just open it later and pour it into my hot water.”

“Mark,” you start, placing your hands on his shoulders firmly and staring into his eyes with a serious look on your face. “Please know that I’m saying this in the most loving way possible, but you are an absolute idiot.”

You release your grip on his shoulders and grab the espresso pod dangling from his fingertips before slotting it into the Keurig. You remove the mug he placed underneath the spout and wash out the accidental coffee water before placing it back in its original position and pressing the start button on the machine. With a sigh, you lean against the side of the counter, glancing at your friend who looks like a child being scolded for stealing from the cookie jar.

“If you pour the pod into your mug, are you just going to chug all the loose coffee grinds, too?”

“... I didn’t think that far ahead.” His lips start to unintentionally form a tiny pout, and your eyes (and your heart, too) soften.

You’re very relieved that Donghyuck is off filming with your friend because he definitely would be making fun of your heart eyes that frequently make an appearance around a certain Mark Lee. Which you always deny. Because you certainly do not have a gigantic crush on your technologically inept best friend.

You glance over at him again and have to physically fight yourself to resist the urge to kiss his cute pout away. Okay, so maybe you harbor a very respectable, medium sized crush. But it's no big deal. It’s completely under control. Unless you’re counting the fact that your best friend is still unaware, and you’re running out of ideas to try and see if he likes you back before you actually shoot your shot. Then it’s very much not under control because you’re losing sleep over it and you don’t know what to do to be any more obvious without stating the, well, obvious.

“Well, now you know. If you forget, you can FaceTime me and I’ll give you instructions on how it works.” You pat his shoulder reassuringly before pausing. “Wait, you do know how to FaceTime, right?”

“Yes!” he exclaims, sulking even more before confessing in a quieter, defeated tone, “Hyuck showed me last month.”

Mark grabs his finished drink and follows behind you, settling back onto the couch next to you. The streaming service already has Deathly Hallows Part 1 in the queue and ready to go, and your best friend is ready to click play until he notices your attention being focused on the smaller screen in your hands. He wonders if you’re about to post another one of your popular cooking videos on that app that shares a name with the most iconic song of the 2000s (hint: the name of the song’s singer is made up of four letters and a dollar sign).

“Are you uploading one of your videos?” he implores before taking a sip of his drink with a satisfied smile. Somehow, it always tastes better when you make it, and he can’t figure out why for the life of him. When he went to Johnny’s place, his older friend uses the exact same pod and water ratio for his espresso, and yet, it’s never as good as yours.

“Nah, I’m ordering my grocery delivery before I forget. Do you want anything?” You select the option to load your usual grocery items into your cart before debating on whether or not you should splurge on buying several packages of those seasonal Pillsbury sugar cookies that only come in stock during certain holidays. It seems like such an insult to the entire premise of your Tiktok account based on baking and cooking, but you’re an absolute sucker for those soft pastries.

“Yeah, can you get me a Shin Ramyun ten pack? Hyuck ate the last one two days ago and didn’t tell me.”

“You sure you don’t want ten boxes again?” You decide to get those Pillsbury sugary delights, happily adding three boxes to your cart. Everybody has a weakness, and yours just so happens to be a premade one way ticket to diabetes. You’re here for a good, delicious time, not a long time.

“No! That was an accident!” He objects, flailing his hands around, before falling back against the couch cushions in defeat. “But Hyuck does all the online grocery shopping now.”

“Thank god. You guys finally have quality toilet paper again.”

The past month of bathroom occurrences was plagued with scratchy tissue that felt more like goddamn sandpaper from the horrible depths of hell. To be honest, you probably would have rather used actual sandpaper, given the choice. You even made sure not to drink too much water any time you came over, but today, you decided to splurge on a venti passion fruit iced tea with sweetener from that very popular franchise sporting a mermaid logo and fiscally cosmic name. To your pleasant surprise, your trip to the toilet this time was wonderfully padded with Charmin Ultra Soft, not that absolutely awful off brand one with the gross texture of a dried pinecone from inferno.

“Hey, that toilet paper was a good steal! It was a three for one deal,” Mark protests, and you narrow your eyes at him.

“Wow, I wonder why it was priced so low.” You deadpan, and Mark blanches, recalling all those restroom incidents that were rather rough. Literally.

“Anyway, do you think my viewers wanna see me make chocolate crinkle cookies or mochi doughnuts?” You bring up the two recipes you managed to perfect and add your own spin to on your phone, eyes scanning the ingredient lists.

“Both. And tell me when you’re making them, so I can come over and eat them.” He gives you a wide grin, and you let out a snort at that. His smile only grows as he says happily, “I love your job.”

“You only love it because you can freeload off of me,” you jest, but nevertheless begin to start to add all the ingredients for both recipes to your shopping cart. You always film cooking videos on Tuesdays, edit on Wednesdays, keep Thursdays free for last minute touch ups and emergencies, and post one every week on Fridays with other various random videos uploaded whenever in between. With that in mind, you schedule your upcoming grocery delivery for Monday.

“Hey, you need me. I’m the best taste tester.” He puffs up his chest proudly before hastily tacking on a more genuine reason. “And because I’d starve without you. I can’t live off of instant ramen and frozen chicken nuggets forever. Gordon Ramsay already confirmed my shitty cooking skills. I need you to survive.”

“Oh my god, when I uploaded those pics of your scrambled eggs on Twitter, I lost like a hundred followers in less than a minute.” You confirm the delivery and place your phone on the coffee table, picking up the opened bag of Cheeto puffs before settling back in your seat. “My cooking credibility was completely shot. I had to explain to my fans that I didn’t make those.”

“Yeah, but now everyone calls me Eggy Boi online!” he whines, and you laugh. You have to admit, it’s quite a funny play on the whole “edgy boi” terminology. You wonder if Mark will find it amusing if he discovers his roommate is the culprit behind his new online persona (He probably won’t, and you reckon Donghyuck enjoys living in a safe space where he doesn’t have to sleep with one eye open, so you stay quiet about it. You’ll use it as leverage some other time).

“Okay, Eggy Boi, come by on Tuesday because I’ll be baking in the afternoon,” you say casually, grabbing the remote control from your best friend and pressing play. 

You very narrowly avoid a green gummy bear to the face. It lands somewhere behind the couch, lost forever to the dust bunnies and other snacks that missed its target. You know for a fact that it’ll stay there until the boys decide to move to a new apartment. Mark grumbles at the miss, biting off the head of a red cherry flavored gummy bear perhaps a little harder than necessary.

“I hate you. But I’m still coming over next week because I want a doughnut.”

“No cookie?”

“... and a cookie. Maybe two.”

Wednesday comes faster than you expected, and you’re currently holed up in your apartment’s second bedroom—which you had transformed into a snazzy office space—completing the edits to your second video on mochi doughnuts. You already finished polishing the one about the cookies earlier, thank goodness. If you had to stare at your computer screen for another three hours, you would rather eat those pastries Mark tried to make two months ago, but had mistaken salt for sugar. Adding a cup of salt to any baked good is an extremely effective way to make anyone who tasted your best friend’s brownies experience a trip to the beach. Because they essentially just swallowed a mouthful of sand and ocean water. Because it’s salty as heck. Just like Mark was when you told him.

Speaking of your best friend, he’s currently puttering around in your kitchen doing god knows what. He knows better than to try another recipe and possibly blow up your number one moneymaker—your prized oven—in the process. Your heart nearly drops when your ears pick up the faint chopping sounds of a knife against your wooden cutting board. Is he going to try to temper chocolate again? He nearly burned through your entire stock of dark, milk, and white chocolate last time.

After much contemplation and deciding that you deserve a good procrastination break and a fully intact kitchen, you’re about to go out and see what he’s up to when Mark timidly appears in your doorway, clutching onto a white bowl of watermelon cubes with a fork tucked neatly in it. He shuffles in, dropping the snack on your desk before turning to walk out without a word, not wanting to disturb your work mode. 

Your heart warms up at the sight, and you speak up, a small smile slipping into your face. “What’s this for?”

“Knowing you, you probably haven’t eaten anything since breakfast.” He pauses in the doorway and adds on sheepishly, “And I can't cook anything, so this is what you get.”

Your heart swells tenfold, and your smile widens even more as you spear a piece of fruit with the fork and quickly pop it into your mouth. “Thanks, Marky.”

His cheeks flush with a pretty shade of carmine, and he fails to suppress the little giddy smile that appears on his face at your nickname for him. He walks out of your office, reddened cheeks still rising up higher than ever. “Y-Yeah, of course. No problem.”

By the time you finish adding the final few touches to your edited video, the bowl of watermelon has been picked clean. You save your video and transfer both of your completed projects to your phone, making a mental note to schedule their uploads and add them to your account’s posting queue later. Shoving your phone in the pocket of your sweats after ensuring the successful transfer of your videos, you pick up the empty dish and walk out towards the kitchen, the silver fork clinking against the side of the bowl with every step.

As you wash the dish and utensil, Mark wanders over from his spot on the couch, leaning forward and casually placing his chin on your shoulder. Almost instantaneously, you feel the heat rising to your cheeks as you briefly fantasize about your best friend wrapping his arms around your waist and how domestic and sweet the two of you would look, like one of those cheesy couples the two of you always made fun of.

“What’s up?” you ask, making a conscious effort to hold your voice steady and not waver over the fact that Mark is basically draped over you. After you place the dish on the drying rack, you turn around to face your best friend, sorely miscalculating the distance as mere inches separate your face from his now.

“I—” Puberty decides to make an ugly appearance in the form of an ill timed voice crack, and he internally curses as he takes a step back, willing the incoming blush to go away. Letting out a small cough, he tries again, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

“I, um, Jisung sent me some kind of dance video. He said it’s a challenge? I kinda don’t know what to do with it? Like do I make a new dance, record myself, and send it back? Actually, isn't it easier to just do a dance battle face to face?”

“Can I see the video?” You already have a good idea on what the video will be, but you want to confirm it. Mark fumbles with his phone, pulling up the video in his text messages. He angles the phone towards you for you to see, and you grab his hand, bringing the device a little closer to you for a better look and clicking play.

“Oh, it’s a Tiktok challenge! He’s doing the Say So dance!” you exclaim, recognizing the song almost immediately as your eyes follow the fluid dance moves, completely enthralled. “So a challenge isn’t going up against someone, like a battle. It’s just some kind of trend or concept that you try to copy yourself. You’re supposed to learn the same dance and record yourself for this one. I can show you some other challenges and help you practice and record this one tomorrow if you wanna drop by after work!”

“O-Oh, okay, sounds good.” Mark stumbles over his words, attempting to focus on what you’re saying and the dance Jisung is doing, but all he can think about is the way your body is pressed against his side, hand comfortably wrapped around his. He freezes up as the tips of his ears grow redder and redder with every passing second, and his face sports a similar color. He silently prays for the telltale crimson to go away by the time the dance is over.

When the video ends, you once again realize the close proximity between you and your best friend. Your face burns at this revelation, and you awkwardly take a step back. Clearing your throat, you hastily release Mark’s hand (He inaudibly lets out the breath he’s been holding in this entire time, yet he also already misses the way your hand felt grasping his).

“Uh, anyway, I’m gonna make a latte. Do you want a drink, too?” You walk towards the other side of your kitchen with Mark trailing behind you. You take out a floral, peachy colored mug from your cupboards before pausing and looking at your best friend. “Wait, do you remember how to use a Keurig?”

“Yes!” He says, slightly exasperated as he picks out his own cup from your cabinet. He always uses the same one—a cerulean blue mug with squiggles all over it—and all of your friends and guests know not to use it because it’s unofficially officially Mark’s mug (And perhaps, you did indeed buy it from that overpriced kitschy tableware shop down the street two years ago with your best friend in mind).

“Really?” You select the latte option and press start after you had already positioned the mug beneath the spout and inserted a green tea matcha pod. He finally relents, shoulders sagging and a defeated expression on his face.

“... No.”

You chuckle, taking the mug from him and carefully putting it on the counter. You grab the espresso pod you know he likes from the drawer below and place it next to the cup. “It’s okay, I’ll teach you again.”

Mark tries. He really does. He tries very hard to concentrate on memorizing the simple process, but he keeps getting distracted. His eyes are focused on the correct button to push before they start to trail up to your fingertips. And then, they go from your hand to your arm, then up to the elegant curve of your neck, and finally, to the way your lashes frame your pretty eyes and how the tip of your tongue sticks out slightly as you concentrate until all he can focus on is you, you, you.

Suddenly, in what feels like a blink of an eye, you’re done and handing him his finished drink, complete with a perfectly whipped milk foam on top. You ask him if he knows how to make it now, and all he can do is lie and nod with a barely convincing smile.

After all, how can Mark tell his best friend that the reason he never remembers is because you’re the biggest distraction?

Mark should be here in five minutes, according to his most recent text message. And in the text message below that, your friend had sent you a challenge. More specifically, it’s the one she completed with Donghyuck a few weeks ago. When you said you wanted bold suggestions on how to figure out if your best friend feels the same way about you as you do about him, you didn’t want one this bold. 

Yet, the video link to your friend’s “today I kissed my best friend” challenge along with a winky face from her is staring mockingly at you. While you aren’t one to back down from a challenge, the mere thought of kissing your best friend causes vast colonies of butterflies to erupt in your stomach and your ears to feel as if they have caught on fire. You’re already tongue tied with your head in the clouds, and he isn’t even here yet. How utterly fantastic.

However, your mother definitely did not raise a quitter, so you spring into action when you hear the faint jingling of a key being inserted into your apartment’s door (You had given Mark a copy of your key almost immediately after you had moved in). You move the pretty indoor fern given to you by Jaemin as a housewarming gift last year closer to the edge of your towering bookcase, leaning your phone against it. You quickly position the device to capture a good view of the couch area in your living room and press the record button, arranging a few of the leaves to hide as much of your phone as you possibly can without obstructing the lens.

You run full speed to your bedroom, letting out a sigh of relief when you’re safely inside and hear Mark finally unlocking the door successfully and shuffling in. When he calls out to you, you try to even out your breathing, walking out of your room with your tripod and laptop in hand.

“Hey,” you greet him in the most casual tone you can muster. You place the tripod down and sit before opening your laptop and setting it on the coffee table. “I thought we could watch a few challenges for fun before trying the Say So one. Have you watched Jisung’s videos before?”

“Um, well, no, not really,” he confesses sheepishly, taking a seat next to you on the couch, leg pressing against yours. He squints at the YouTube video you pulled up earlier before he had arrived, reading the title before clicking the space button to start it. “Savage Tiktok dance compilation part two?”

“Wait, hold up.” You pause the video and then turn to face him with an incredulous expression on your face. “You’ve never watched any of Jisung’s dance Tiktoks?”

“No… I don’t even have an account.” His cheeks are dusted with the lightest shade of pink as he quietly admits, “I watch all of yours though.”

Your eyes widen at his confession, face heating up as you stammer out, “O-Oh, well, I can help you make an account later to upload your video.”

“Sounds good.” There’s a few seconds of silence as you mull over his previous words before he speaks up again awkwardly, “Should I, uh, play the video?”

“Oh! Yes, right! Of course, hit play,” you laugh nervously, twisting and playing with the hair tie around your wrist. He starts the video again, and the two of you watch the compilation, slowly relaxing once more as you tap your fingers to the rhythm of the song and he bobs his head to the beat.

“Do I have to change outfits like that?” he questions a few minutes later, eyes growing round as he sees the girl on the screen switch between four different outfits throughout the dance. His closet basically consists of the same five black shirts that he stole from Jaehyun. Even if he did do an outfit swap, there would literally be no difference at all.

“You don’t have to,” you assure him, clicking the enter key to play the next video that’s recommended: another Tiktok dance challenge compilation. “All you have to do is copy the dance.”

Mark nods, taking a glance at the laptop screen before his hand shoots out and he pauses the video, leaning forward to take a closer look at the little recommended video title banner at the top. “Wait! What’s that one?”

He clicks on it, the new video now loading up. The two of you wait patiently for it to begin, waiting for the spinning disc to stop. But it doesn’t. In fact, the whole chrome page goes blank and then, the little pixelated Google Chrome dinosaur pops up on your monitor, announcing that you have no internet connection. Furrowing your eyebrows, you try to reload the page before trying to re-establish your laptop connection to your wifi. Unfortunately, you cannot find your appropriately named “drop it like it’s hotspot” wifi anywhere to connect to.

And that’s when it hits you. Your landlord had sent out a notice to the entire apartment complex last week about the electricity being powered down today from 4 to 6 p.m. for a maintenance check, and a quick glance at the digital clock on your laptop shows that it’s a little past four.

You groan, closing your laptop and flopping back against the couch cushions dramatically. Mark cocks his head, slightly confused, before he pokes you in the arm. “What’s wrong?”

“I completely forgot about the scheduled electricity shutdown for the entire building. We won’t have any wifi for the next two hours.” You pout, your bottom lip jutting out in the slightest, and Mark doesn’t think it’s fair that you get to be this cute and have this much of an effect on his racing heart rate.

“That’s okay, we can… play some board games?” he suggests offhandedly, pushing away the embarrassing thought and nudging your leg with his, and you smile before a sudden idea occurs to you. 

“Or we can still do some Tiktok challenges! What was the challenge you clicked on?” You quickly sit upright, turning to face your best friend, eyes sparkling in excitement. “I memorized a few of the dance ones already! Was it Renegade? I can teach you that one. Jisung showed me how to do it.”

“Um,” he starts, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. His eyes dart everywhere, except you, as he lets out a feigned cough. “It wasn’t a dance one. It was about, uh, going up to your boyfriend… and um, hugging him... when he’s playing video games.”

“Oh.” You answer lamely, not knowing what to say. You unsuccessfully try to push away the image of you attempting that challenge with your best friend. “Those are really cute.”

“Really?” He says doubtfully, wrinkling his eyebrows and fiddling with the frayed sleeve of his sweater. “Wouldn’t the dude get mad?”

You don’t know what suddenly possessed you to do this (you’ll have to ask Renjun and his paranormal loving ass later), but you thank whatever demon did for that split second because you find yourself gently grabbing Mark’s arm and slipping your head underneath it. You swing one leg over his lap and settle down until you’re securely sitting in his lap, bent legs on either side of his hips, hands curled around the soft fabric of his sweater on both sides and resting on top of your thighs. His arms instinctively go around your waist, wrapping around you securely.

You tilt your head to the side slightly, studying the flustered boy in front of you with a teasing, albeit a little anxious, smile on your lips. “Are you feeling mad?”

Splotches of red litter his cheeks and decorate the tips of his ears, but your best friend furiously shakes his head at your question, bashfully ducking his head afterwards and muttering a soft “No.”

You swallow hard, heart pounding erratically in your chest as you timidly ask, “Would you be mad if I do this?”

Mark looks up at that, confusion written all over his face. His arms start to loosen around your figure, hands now resting on your waist. “If you do what?”

You take a deep breath. “This.”

You lean in and gently press your lips against his. Mark freezes in shock, and you quickly retreat soon after, gnawing at the inside of your cheek as you wait anxiously for his reaction. Your heart feels like it’s about to fall out of your chest and be buried six feet under.

A tiny noise of surprise belatedly escapes from him and crimson spreads across his cheeks like wildfire. His doe eyes are wide and sparkling, staring at you in bewilderment. Your best friend lets out a small laugh of disbelief before a full blown smile breaks out across his face. He gazes at you adoringly, breathing out softly, “I’m not mad at that.”

You perk up at that, draping your arms around his neck as you lean forward, beaming. “Really? You’re not?”

“Definitely not.”

This time, Mark meets you halfway, his lips slotting against yours perfectly and making you feel tingles up and down your spine. Your eyes are closed, and you are so hyper aware of the way his hands grip your hips, how he tugs you closer, and how his lips chase after yours. The number of butterflies from earlier multiply in your stomach, and you have ascended past cloud nine by now.

When the two of you break apart, your eyes flutter open, and you nudge your nose against his affectionately. The brightest grin blooms on his face once again, and he buries his face in the crook of your neck, muffling his little giggles and hiding the awfully vibrant cerise that rapidly blossoms on his face.

“Is this a good time to tell you congrats for completing your first challenge?” you say, resting your cheek against the crown of his head. You pull away when he lifts his head up, surprised.

“I wasn’t playing video games though,” he says slowly, processing your words and thinking back to the challenge that started this all.

“It was a different challenge. It’s the one that Hyuck did a few weeks ago,” you confess, and realization dawns on him, his face lighting up for a split second before a look of horror takes over.

“Oh, no. Is that why you had your phone recording on the bookshelf?” Mark asks, dread beginning to cloud his mind.

“Yes…” you say slowly, a little perplexed. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“Oh my god, I ruined your video,” he moans, dropping his forehead onto your shoulder. “I saw your phone when I walked in and thought you were filming earlier and forgot to turn it off, so I turned it off for you.”

When the words finally register in your mind, you can’t stop the laughter from bubbling out of your throat, and he raises his head up to look at you with wide doe eyes at the pretty sound. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to!”

You can’t stop laughing at the situation, and he looks at you worriedly, gnawing on his bottom lip slightly. You force yourself to calm down, a soft chuckle leaving your lips before you beam at him, leaning in and placing the softest kiss on the tip of his nose. “It’s okay, Mark. I’m not mad. That video wasn’t important anyway.”

“But still,” he whines before letting out a groan and slapping his hand against his forehead when the realization sinks in even further. “I’m such an idiot.”

“But you’re my idiot now, right?” you say teasingly, albeit a little shyly as well, as you reach over to tug his hand away from his face and lace your fingers with his.

“I mean, I kinda thought I was always your idiot,” Mark laughs softly and a little embarrassedly, eyes averted and cheeks turning pinker than ever. The largest grin spreads across your face at that, and you turn away slightly to hide it. You didn’t think your best friend can possibly be any more endearing, but he manages to prove you wrong every time.

“Well, then now you can add ‘Y/N’s boyfriend’ to your resume,” you say, and he fails to suppress the pleased smile appearing on his face at your remark, his rosy cheeks rising even taller than skyscrapers.

“So, uh, what sort of job description does that have?” He gazes at your intertwined hands in wonder, still completely giddy at the reality of you being his best friend and something more.

“Sharing hoodies, giving me attention, kissing, holding my hand, going on dates, you know, the basics,” you answer, squeezing his hand tenderly, and his doe eyes instantly light up. Mark feels a little bolder than before, and it shows when he grins widely and says:

“Can we do number three again?”

“Yes, we can, Eggy Boi.”

He wrinkles his nose at the name, disgruntled and unimpressed, as he crosses his arms over his chest, sulking. You let out a laugh before leaning in and crashing your lips against his. He immediately relents at that, enthusiastically responding and hugging you closer to him, and you can’t help but smile into the kiss as you feel his own smile appear as well.

At that moment, you decide that you want to change Mark’s personal brand. Because his should be “absolutely wonderful, positively amazing, a cute kisser, your boyfriend, and your bestest friend.” And yes, that is most definitely more than the allotted three words, but again, who’s really counting?

Certainly not you when you’re too preoccupied with kissing your best friend. Correction: best friend and new boyfriend.

One new notification: donutkillmyvibe uploaded a new video!

moominjun commented:

so you’re saying the reason why we didn’t get the highly anticipated best friend challenge video is because @ marklyrawr turned the camera off?

donutkillmyvibe replied: yes 😔 I’m sorry to disappoint everyone 🤧

nanaislove replied: omg no bby it’s ok 🥺🥺💞💓💓💝💗 you didn’t have to make an apology video for that 🥺💗💓💘💖

goofys.chuckle replied: yeah it’s mark’s fault. he’s the disappointment here 🥴

morklyrawr replied: hahahahaha stfu hyuck

tytrack commented:

mark is going through puberty. I apologize

dobunny replied: @.@

goofys.chuckle commented:

are we getting whip(ped)lash pt 2 by eggy boi?

morklyrawr replied: YOU’RE THE ONE WHO STARTED THAT NAME?????

goofys.chuckle replied: uh gotta blast 🚀

showmethemonet replied: @ goofys.chuckle does this mean you’re staying over again?

goofys.chuckle replied: @ showmethemonet yes if you want your super cute, mega talented, very handsome boyfriend to still be alive 🥺

showmethemonet replied: @ goofys.chuckle oh my god I didn’t know I was dating bts jin???

moominjun replied: LMFAOOOOO

goofys.chuckle replied: heart 💔 been broke 📉 so many times ⏰ i don’t know 🤔 what to believe 💯 mama 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩 said 🗣 it’s my fault 😢 it’s my fault 🤦🏻‍♂️i wear my heart ❤️ on my sleeve 💪 i think it’s best 👍🏻 I put my heart ❤️ on ice 🧊

jenojam commented:

why am I not surprised……

itsmebetch replied: just mark thingz 🍉

suhprisemf commented:

mark your head looks flat af

jungjaeprince replied: 😂😂😂

10vely replied: @ jungjaeprince be quiet don’t cry

letswonwon commented:

whoop whoop

junguwu commented:

OMG CONGRATS ON YOUR RELATIONSHIP SWEETIE 😍😍

takoyaki_prince commented:

MARK!!!!! you look handsome !! 😘

jisungpwark commented:

rip to @ donutkillmyvibe ’s future videos that mark will ruin. press f in the chat to pay respects 🙏🏻

bigheadking replied: F ✊🏻😔

peachyangel replied: f 🥺🥺

yoitslucas replied: F 🤪🤪🤪 but glad you’re happy, man ❤️

donutkillmyvibe replied: F 💔

morklyrawr replied: @ donutkillmyvibe wtf babe????

officialgordonramsay commented:

didn’t i tell you to get back on tinder ?

apado_god commented:

nice 😎👍🏻

#nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct fluff #mark scenarios #mark imagines #nct dream scenarios #nct 127 scenarios #mark x reader #mark fluff #nct dream fanfic #mark fanfic #nct angst #nct scenario #mark lee imagines #mark lee #lee minhyung #mark #nct dream #nct 127 #nct

[warmau]

☆ko-fi au: nostoligic summer romance!au hanbin find other ikon aus here

the sun burns your shoulders and the skin of your heel. you stand on it and bear the pain as you look down at hanbin, whose face is covered by one of those three-dollar nude magazines

"get up"

"can't you see i am asleep?"

the wind blows some small wisps of hair around your face - somewhere in the distance, you hear junhoe chase a beachball down the shore as jiwon yells for him to race back to the rest of your friends

"hanbin, you are not wasting your summer spread out like this, not doing anything. you are not a piece of seaweed."

"you sound like my mother"

you nudge his elbow with your toe

"did you finish your graduate school application?"

"yeah, im working on it right now looking at -"

he lifts the magazine off his face and flips to a random page, turning it around to face you

averting your gaze you make a sound of disappointment

"the deadline already passed, the school is giving you an extension because they know you'll be a great addition to the program. does that not mean anything to you?"

hanbin lets the next gust of wind pull the magazine from his weak grip and float it pathetically to his left

the silence is his answer in a way and search his face, now that you can see it properly, for anything else

his dark eyes are void and highlighted by a shadow of darkness.

his lips are chapped.

the scratch he got from face planting in the public pool's changing room last weak is still sitting on his cheek only half-hidden under a kids bandage

"hanbin, this is your future"

you whisper it - like it's your future too

maybe because somewhere subconsciously buried in both your chests. you both know it is.

"i know"

you turn around and take his apathy as the final stake in the ground

after years of caring about him, of one-sided adoration hidden behind affectionate and worried friendship

you have learned the hanbin is more stubborn than an ox - especially when he gives up

when you find yourself walking home back alone - the sun still blasting an uncomfortable heat onto your skin - you try to pretend the overwhelming feeling of crying isn't itching its way out

i can't help him forever, especially if he doesn't want to help himself

hanbin calls three days later

"do you want to go fishing with me and jinhwan?"

"fishing?"

"jinhwan said he's trying new hobbies."

you are silent for a second, a part of you wants to explode.

what are you talking about fishing! the application asks you to finish an entire song. to show your effort! who gives a fuck about fishing!

the other part of you is dormant. uninterested.

jinhwan is already a successful editor, maybe he can help hanbin find the right path better than i can.

"no thanks."

you hang up first, something you've never done with hanbin

you're both balanced in that sense - you are usually soft and forgiving and never want to hurt anyone's feelings. you just want to keep helping and helping until there's nothing left of you.

hanbin is more strict - people have to prove themselves to him otherwise he cuts them off without a qualm.

you get a text a few minutes later from jinhwan:

are you and your husband fighting?

my husband? i didn't know i finally married that millionaire from my dreams.

haha im talking about hanbin

you purse your lips. everyone in the world wants 'us' to happen.

no. we're not fighting. he doesn't want to go to grad school.

so?

your fingers hover over the keyboard. right, so what? not like it's your business to run your friend's life.

but that's not it. something is so wrong. hanbin will work on music till his eyes and ears bleed. why is it that composing one little thing for this application that is just going to better his life so hard? why is he so against it?

leaving jinhwan without an answer, you throw yourself on your bed and tell yourself that you have to break this habit

you've been putting hanbin over yourself since you were both young

getting in trouble with him when in reality you'd done nothing but try to stop him from doing something stupid

staying up with him when he'd go through bouts of bad insomnia

shoving your own secrets and pain down to comfort him about his own

you have your own life, goal, and dreams

it's your fault for somehow always imagining that hanbin would want to be part of them

"can you please talk to hanbin again."

jiwon, junhoe, and donghyuk take up the space in your car as you pull into the parking lot of the local mall

you turn the key in the ignition, jiwon and junhoe are sitting far apart in the back seat, still managing to look cramped and donghyuk looks at you sympathetically from the passenger side

"im not avoiding him."

"you're totally avoiding him."

again. you want to explode and also say nothing at all. why are there expectations on you as his friend and not the other way around?

"have you guys asked him about his grad school application? you all have your futures planned - and he's lost."

jiwon pops his bubble gum at the worst possible moment and junhoe looks awkward without an answer to come out of his big mouth.

donhyuk puts a hand on your shoulder

"he didn't just give up, you know."

you snort, "it looked that way to me."

opening the door, you step out and tell the little voice in your head that wonders out loud if hanbin needs your help to please shut up

it's two days before the extension deadline. you know this because it pops up as a reminder on your google calendar and you grumble as you delete it.

having his deadlines on my schedule like he's my goddamn boyfriend or something.

you want to enjoy your summer before you go back to school too, so you dig out a big t-shirt and bathing suit to take to the pool

only when you sling the shirt over yourself do you pick at the worn fabric and groan

this is hanbin's isn't it? the coffee stain at the bottom is totally his signature.

someone knocks on the door of your room, half expecting a family member you open it without caution and nearly throw it shut when you see hanbin in the frame

the only thing that stops you from doing so is the look of utter desperation on his face

"hanbin? when is the last time you slept?"

he breaths through his nose and mumbles maybe three or four days ago

you pull him into your room and shut the door, you try to examine him for any other signs of fatigue but he looks otherwise the same

skinny, slightly hunched over and more beautiful than you could ever say out loud in fear of dying on the spot of embarrassment

"is it your insomnia? do you need to go to the doc-"

"i can't compose the song."

you wave your hand to dismiss the sentence, "that doesn't matter right now. you have to take care of your health first and-"

"i can't stop thinking about you."

suddenly irritated with his tone - you snap under the weight of it all

"you cannot blame your inability to finish this application or giving up or not sleeping on me. just because we haven't spoken in a bit-"

"that's not what i meant."

you cross your hands over your chest, you can feel a fire unlike any other of anger lick up your spine

if he is going to pin this on me somehow im going -

"i love you."

"are you crazy?"

you blurt out your words before you really even hear his own. you were expecting him to start spinning some elaborate tale about how not seeing you or you avoiding him had somehow damaged him further

but this is hanbin, and you admit that never has he put the blame on you without you taking it on willingly

so you blink past the initial shock and ask him to repeat himself

he straightens his bad posture, looks at you and sees past the surface level

"i love you. it's making everything else a blur, so i need to tell you."

"you- you should have told me before."

"i thought you'd slap me." he laughs weakly, but it is forced "or that you'd think i was lying to get you off my back about the application."

you soften, your hands uncross and you drop the defensive look on your face

hanbin runs a line from your eyes to your knees

"are you wearing my shirt?"

"i love you too."

the spell of dread that seems to have clung itself into every nook and cranny of hanbin's existence seems to be exorcised when you say those words to him

like a light has entered the part of him that has been pitch black for weeks now

he doesn't kiss you right after you say it, he kisses you two days later when he submits his application with a song he spent thirteen hours on creating

the song is about that light, the kind of easy feeling of being put into the right puzzle with the right person

that's when he kisses you - when he meets the deadline - and you throw your arms around him and the world starts rotating in the right direction again

summer is still left over for you two to enjoy, you rush around the beach with your friends, you go fishing with jinhwan who decides he hates it at some point, and you spend whatever minute you can with hanbin

even if you're with others, your hands are always glued together. you look at him when you think he's distracted. he looks at you regardless, unashamed of the teasing that comes your way

'it finally happened! they realized they're perfect for each other!'

and when you're alone with your legs tangled with his and hanbin's nervous, soft mouth on the slope of your back. that same uncapped love bursts from both of you.

when summer dwindles and hanbin gets an email about his application

he celebrates by pressing you up against the desk and nearly toppling his laptop over

"can i ask you something?" he plays with a strand of your hair after as the sweat sticks you two together "were you so adamant about me getting into grad school because you love me or-"

you rest your chin on his chest and sigh

"yes, but because it'll help you achieve your dreams. and it'll give you a future that's stable. a future that i want for you and-"

you get shy, tucking your face into his skin

"and?"

he asks, but you just kiss him instead.

when it's ten years after - and hanbin has become successful in ways he had never dreamed

you are successful in your own right too

you're equals and your lives are full of each other and your work and everything else

and hanbin realizes when he's looking at rings by himself after work one day what you wanted to say all that time ago

you wanted him to have a good future so that it could tie in with yours

he reminds himself to ask you when he gets home, by what age had you already planned the wedding?

he expects you will stick your tongue out at him when he does, and you do, but he doesn't expect you to cry for half an hour when he pulls the little box out of his pocket.

#nostalgia au #hanbin au #hanbin scenarios #b.i au #b.i scenarios #hanbin #b.i #ikon au #ikon imagines #ikon scenarios #ko fi commissions #slightly suggestive

[soobasaur]

spent all my love on you

lee!felix x gender!neutral reader

warnings: since laser tag is in this fic theres mentions of shooting and guns, which is referring to the game where they shoot other players in order to gain points, nothing violent

a/n: hey look a felix au finally in your pov! i told you i’d do it hehe,, and if you remember when i accidentally posted this then no you don’t (⊃｡•́‿•̀｡)⊃ i’ll finish ur requests i swear ಠ_ಠ anyways enjoy!

« masterlist prev work »

for the longest time, your lifelong friend jisung had been bugging you to go to this arcade with him

you eventually said yes since you physically couldn’t say no to his puppy eyes and he took you there one weekend

he was practically bouncing the entire way, babbling about all the people you’d meet

turns out he came here every weekend to play laser tag with a couple of friends he made here

this was news to you, but you let jisung lead you to a pool table in the back where six boys were..attempting to play pool?

after several games of game pigeon pool you were an expert !! or at least more then what these guys were doing

the one with long hair was holding the billiard the wrong way (╥_╥)

you could hear the cheerful laughs coming from them as jisung tugged you beside him

“guys, this is y/n, the friend i mentioned! y/n these are the dumbasses i started hanging out with-,”

“if anything, you’re the dumbass!” the one holding the billiard upside down reprimanded, dropping the stick and making his way towards you both “i’m hyunjin, nice to meet you!”

“hi hyunjin—,”

“move out of the way! hi i’m jeongin!” a new boy appeared, shoving hyunjin away as he held his hand out

“oh, hello!”

one by one all the boys came up to introduce themseleves to you, well six of them at least, didn’t jisung say there were seven of them?

“where the hell is felix?” jisung asked, looking towards who you now knew as minho “is he doing the thing again?”

minho solemnly nodded before gesturing to the claw machine a couple feet away from them, and there stood a blond haired boy with his back faced to them as he aggressively tried to win what looked like a stuffed animal

jisung shook his head before gesturing for you to follow him

“is this a normal occurrence?” you asked as you both made your way to the boy

“yeah, last month is was the dance revolution game and this week it’s the claw machine-felix!”

said boy let go of the claw to turn and smile widely at the both of them “sungie! do you have a token i can use to try again? pleaseeee?”

jisung rolled his eyes as he tossed the boy a token before pointing to you

“this is y/n, they’re playing with us now.”

“oh,” felix turned his head to you, giving you a once over before winking “nice to meet you,” before rolling the token in “let me make my first impression winning a stuffed toy!”

“you’ve been at this forever, which one do you want?” jisung asked, waking closer to press his head against the glass

felix solemnly pointed to the chick plushie tucked into the corner, and you admit it was cute so you could see why he was trying so hard

“want me to try?” you asked, stepping closer as you looked over the machine

“go for it!” he smiled, moving out of your way to press himself against the glass next to jisung

you clicked start and took a hold of the joystick

you squinted your eyes and found the same plushie a bit closer, hidden behind another one and aimed for that instead

you heard gasps coming from where the two boys were standing as the claw grabbed the two plushies and dropped them into the box

and since you had some extra seconds left you managed to grab one more

“there you go!” you pulled out the plushies and handed felix the chick one and gave jisung the squirrel one, keeping the llama one for yourself

“wow we all match now!” jisung cheered

“thank you!” felix said, his eyes shining with glee as he looked at you, and you were this close to getting all the plushies out so he could always look this happy

“no problem-,”

“HEY LOSERS OUR GAME IS STARTING HURRY UP!” you heard minho interrupt, as he and the other boys disappeared behind some doors

you guys ran behind him, tucking the plushies away for later

there was another group of people with you and since the teams were randomized, your group got split up after getting the gear on

“prepare to lose!” hyunjin teased, sticking his tongue out at you, chan, seungmin, and jeongin (who were on the same team as you)

“shut up!” jeongin glared, holding up his laser gun and pretending to shoot the other

jisung joined in and started to play shoot you, while you feigned getting shot

before you could play shoot him back the lights went off and the gate opened, letting you guys inside as the game was about to start

you and your team each split up, making plans to shoot at least one member

your ignore the way your stomach fluttered at the thought of felix chasing after you but quickly shook those out of the way, you had to stay focused !

once the bell rang you were off, you hid behind the walls as you shot a couple of the other team’s players

you spotted a familiar pair of shoes and quickly went to go shoot jisung, who gave you a pout as you ran off giggling

you watched your score steadily go up as you got more and more people, and the adrenaline was getting to you, you were motivated to win this thing 〴⋋_⋌〵

you had only been shot a couple of times so you weren’t too worried about getting caught,

you were currently hiding in the corner where no one had found you yet as you shot anyone who ran past

you were just about to shoot a player on the opposing team when you felt a prescence behind you

quickly turning around you were met with felix giving you a sly grin as he backed you into the wall

“your cornered now y/n,” he whispered, pulling out the gun as he aimed it at your vest, “game over for you.”

you ignored the fast beating of your heart as he made his way closer, his free hand coming to make trace its way down your jaw

“you look really pretty under these lights,” he muttered, quirking an eyebrow up and he angled his face a bit closer “lucky i get to see you like this.”

you were too nervous to squeak out a thank you as felix closed the gap between the two of you, but just before he could come any closer you heard the familiar beep on your vest

you look down to see you’ve been shot and felix shooting you a sly grin, the little shit

“distracted by my charm?” he teased, his lips right beside your ear, “am i that handsome?”

you rolled your eyes as he backed away

“i’d love to stay but your vest is charging up so i’m gonna blast, bye sweetheart,” he blew you a kiss before running off

you huffed as you waiting for your vest to reset, following after the blonde boy as you did so

no way you were gonna let him get the last shot between the two of you

and maybe you wanted to be that close again to him...

after ducking behind a couple of pillars you finally spotted him crouching behind a wall as he shot one of your teammates

you let yourself grin in victory as you made your way behind him, making sure you weren’t seen, then aiming your gun at the back of his vest

you shot him and watched in glee as his vest gave out a beep and saw him look around for the culprit before spotting you giggling behind him

“you!” he smiled, geting up from his hiding place on the ground and wagging his gun at you

“you didn’t expect to get away with that, did you?” you laughed, backing away as he made his way closer to you and holding out your gun, “i’ll get you again!”

“cool down time is a minute,” he grinned, letting you back yourself up into the wall, “what do you wanna do with that one minute?”

you let your eyes wander off toward his lips,,but you swear it was cus he was talking!

not cus he looked extremely kissable

perhaps you stared too long cus he took notice and cupped your jaw

“mhm, ten seconds is enough,”

“enough for what—?”

you were shut up with his lips capturing yours, leading you for a bit before pulling back

“sorry babe but my time is up,” he winked before shooting you in the vest and running off

took you a few moment to realize what happened before you were chasing after him

“FELIX YOU MF”

when the game ended you and felix were tied to your immense surprise, while jisung was currently boasting about his first place

now that you were out of the dim lit laser tag room you could see felix in better light,

and god damn

you could see the swear glistening on his face from all the running and his unkempt hair from the humid room

you weren’t too sure if this was a one time thing or he actually wanted to try something with you

you were crossing your fingers it was the latter

you got ur answer soon enough when you felt a tap on your shoulder and an awkward felix made his appearance

it was endearing to see his confident side and nervous one all in one day

“do you maybe wanna, grab lunch after tomorrow? just me and you?”

you played along to being oblivious before you replied,

“lee felix...are you asking me out?”

his cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink before nodding at you

you gave him a smile before saying yes, the rest was history

bonus headcanons:

apparently jisung had a bet on which one of his friends you would end up dating, ro your surprised he had guessed it would be felix

ಠ_ಠ sometimes you forgot how well jisung knew you

you also found out he didn’t come every week just for laser tag, he also wanted to get close to a specific boy named changbin ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

which was endless teasing material for you

after the lunch date the next day, you both stopped by the arcade again and this time he managed to win you a little prize

since you both had just met one another a good majority of your dates were just you two chatting as you walked aimlessly, getting to know one another

and after about one month he invited you over to his place to cook dinner for you, which is where you shared your next kiss <3

thank you for reading ⁂

#stray kids #stray kids lee felix #stray kids lee yongbok #stray kids au #stray kids fic #stray kids imagines #stray kids imagine #lee felix x reader #lee felix x y/n #lee felix x you #lee felix x gender neutral reader #stray kids x gender neutral reader #lee felix au #lee felix imagines #lee felix imagine #lee yongbok x reader #lee yongbok x y/n #yongbok x reader #lee felix fluff #stray kids fluff