#and half of it was just a Large Black Void with a castle in the middle of it
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Cat Animagi Au
Purely self-indulgent- I simply wanted to draw some kitties and honestly, I feel like this could be hilarious so here's some head canons I thought of while drawing this ---->
Harry
Harry was not at all expecting to be a cat Animagus. He fully expected to be a stag like his father or some sort of dog like Sirius was. The last thing he expected was to be a cat, and a very large one at that.
Harry became an animagus in eighth year.
Professor McGonagall was thrilled that she was no longer the only cat Animagus at Hogwarts. She personally saw to it that Harry was registered as an animagus at the Ministry.
Hermione often finds Harry curled up in the common room on the windowsill.
Ron is convinced that Harry is some sort of "titan" cat due to his humungous size but Hermione speculates that he's some sort of maine coon or Norwegian forest cat.
He is very much a void in the darkness and has scared the piss out of Ron, Seamus, and Dean many times.
However, his animagus status is kept quiet from anyone other than his housemates. The other houses now recognize his animagus form and give him weird or outlandish nicknames. They're mostly to do with either the faint glasses markings around his eyes or his larger than normal size.
Harry takes advantage of his smaller size to sneak around the castle during the night.
He has taken pleasure by nipping Draco's heels in the hallway between classes.
Draco
Draco, on the other hand, was hoping his animagus form was anything but a ferret. Every since that incident in the courtyard with Professor Moody he has loathed the creatures.
His mother predicted he could have been an exotic bird and for a while he was fond of the idea until he realized he would have to molt feathers every year.
The first time he transformed Pansy gushed over him and promised to purchase him one of those pretty necklaces that she's seen muggles give their cats. Draco had to explain to her how that was, infact, not a necklace, but a collar. Blaise would not shut up about giving Draco a collar for the next month.
Draco takes pride in his appearance and that does not stop when he's in his animagus form. He's always very sleek and shiny without a hair out of place. His tail is by far his favorite feature with how it looks like a fancy feather when he walks.
He's yet to register with the Ministry as an animagus.
He can often be found infront of the fire in the Slytherin Common room curled up on a silk pillow.
Draco hates the black smudge on his right foreleg that imitated the dark mark on his arm. Even as a simple cat he can't escape the choices he made in the past. He's tried ripping the fur out there but found that the skin underneath was also just as black. He had a mind to dye it but that idea quickly went out of the window for a multitude of reasons. One being he did not have opposable thumbs.
Draco and Harry
When Draco stumbled upon Harry in his animagus form it was completely by accident. At first Draco was afraid that the Chosen one would somehow recognize him but was surprised to find a gentle hand passing over his head and spine. It was the weirdest experience he has ever had.
Draco took to following Harry around the castle on weekends convinced that Harry was none the wiser about who he was. It was nice. Of course when Ron and Hermione weren't around. WHen they were Ron teased Harry about gaining a follower, as if he did have those already, and Hermione studied him as if he was one of the massive tomes she carried around. He was half convinced that she had figured him out long ago, but just hadn't said anything for some unknown reason.
Draco met Harry finally in the other's animagus form while stalking the halls late at night. A quick glance and Draco was petrified by two glowing green eyes in the darkness and it took everything in him not to flee down the hallway.
It took awhile for the two to get along in their animagus forms and on several occasions had to be broken up by Professor McGonagall who during several of those occasions was in her animagus form as well.
After a while, Harry and Draco slowly form a weird routine of walking the halls at night. They bond quite well during their time together.
Harry at some point joins the gag about getting Draco a fancy collar. Draco is surprised that it doesn't seem like that bad of an idea when coming from Harry.
Draco teases Harry about how even as a cat his furr is still just as messy as his hair is in human form.
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A Mercy - AvM Mad King AU
An AvM Mad King AU! oneshot
Written by Sammy8D257
Word Count: 1036
TW/CW: Intrusive Thoughts, Discussions of Death and Murder but no acted upon violence, Manipulation, Angst no Comfort, Repeating Phrases
(This is a somewhat Dead Doves fic. MT thinks about ways to kill Purple. That’s the fic. Please read the CW tags!
If you need me to tag or add anymore Trigger or Content Warnings, Please let me know!)
Summary: On a routine trip to the castle in the End, MT contemplates murder.
[AvM Mad King Au Masterpost]
= ( | ) =
It would be so easy.
It was a thought that Mango, King, MT had often. It dug into his mind like a weed. It crawled through his thoughts like an infection.
It would be so easy.
There were so many opportunities. When they're asleep, when they're back is turned, when it's just him and them. All alone.
Do they think they could really stop him?
It would be so easy.
They're sitting across from him, eyes half lidded and unfocused, staring at nothing but the inky void. The sounds of the flying machine chugging beneath them filling the silence. Only pieces of piston, slime, and honey form the barrier keeping them from the neverending black.
It would be so easy.
They think him docile, subdued and compliant, but he is not broken. How foolish they are to think he would just roll over and submit. When a dog is cornered, do they expect it to give in without a fight? What is a dog without its gnashing teeth and ripping claws?
It would be so easy.
They wouldn't see it coming. Not when their eyes are closed. Not when it's just them and him, all alone in this little pocket of space.
One step, one lunge, his arms outstretched, and their neck between firm hands.
It would be so easy.
Where would they respawn? Back at the Castle? Which one?
When the light leaves their eyes, would they wake up in their bed?
And what if he destroyed their bed beforehand?
Where would they respawn?
Back on the desktop?
Back in Interspace?
Back near that cliff he found them on all those years ago?
Or maybe…
It would be so easy.
He could do it. He could do it right now. He should do it, bed destroyed or not.
How many chances does he have like this?
He could do it.
One step.
He could do it.
One lunge.
He should do it.
His arms outstretched.
He should do it.
His hands around their neck.
Do it. Do it.
DO IT.
It would be so easy.
But MT never does.
And he doesn't know why.
It should be so easy.
They're there. They're right there.
He could do it. He should do it.
Hands around the neck. It'd be easy.
It should be so easy.
So why, why can't he?
He hates them. He knows he does.
And he knows they hate him too.
It should be so easy.
It's not fair. It's not fair!
Why? Why can't he do it?
How many times, how many times has he tried?
It should be so easy.
The two of them, alone.
Their back is turned or they're distracted or they've just laid down to sleep in cursor knows how long.
And he's there. His hands raised to push or his hands ready to grab or his hands holding a pillow just above their face.
And he's going to do it.
It should be so easy.
And he can't.
They turn around or they walk away or they mumble something in their sleep and slowly, so slowly, their eyes open to stare up at him. Their eyes are hazy from sleep but it's them. That horrible green barely present in those large trusting eyes and they smile at him and wish him a slurred good night and fall back asleep as if there wasn't years of resentment and hate and pain built between them. As if they were back at the start, before the egg, before the crown, before they entered this accursed game. As if it was just the two of them, back on that cliff. As if they were still friends.
It should be so easy.
But he can't.
So he drops the pillow and stumbles back. And he runs. And he finds a space away from everything. And he cries and screams and for the next few hours while they're still asleep, he mourns and wonders how everything went so wrong.
It should be so easy.
And then the sun comes up and the day is new.
They wake up and he stands by their side, awaiting orders.
And they both hate each other and everything is normal.
A giggle echoes across from him.
MT sits up straight, jolting from his thoughts.
He can't do it. He won't do it. Because he is afraid.
Afraid of the thing wearing Purple's face.
Afraid of what might happen if Purple is gone but it's still here.
It watches him and it laughs.
He hates it. He hates the way it smiles. He hates the way it laughs. He hates the way it spreads poison across purple irises.
It smiles and delights in his misery.
He knows it does. And he wants to scream at it. Shout at it until his voice is sore and gone.
He wants it to leave. He wants it to leave him alone.
He wants it to leave them alone.
It laughs and knows he won't.
And he knows it's right. He is a coward but he is not a fool.
He knows this game and he knows the consequences.
So he sits in fear and holds his tongue.
Its grin stretches wider in satisfaction.
And then he blinks and finds Purple with their eyes shut, rubbing small circles into their temple. MT releases a breath when they finally notice his presence and glare at him. The green had retreated back to surround a blackened pupil. They snarl at him and bare their teeth. A threat no doubt forming and he looks away as it spills from their lips. But it's them and that's all he could ask for.
They hate each other and everything is normal.
But even as the familiar feelings of resentment replace the fear, a new old feeling reemerges. He doesn't know what it is but it aches in his chest as he watches what used to be someone he's known for years, complain about a headache.
They're distracted.
It would be so easy.
But he won't.
He won't do it.
No matter how much he wants to. He won't.
But if he could,
It would be a mercy.
One last gift for a friend who no longer exists.
#Sammy8D writes#AvM Mad King AU#AvA Mad King AU#Mad King AU#alan becker#avm au#animation vs minecraft au#animation vs minecraft#avm king#servant!mt#MK!MT#cw intrusive thoughts#angst no comfort#cw death threats#cw repeating words#Sammy8D Stick Stuff
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Glass Steppes
Corobel uses Shape Land and Shape Climate, -5.
The Sky loves reflective things, and so he loves Erland's great lake; but water and glass alone cannot give tribute to his glory, cannot turn their faces toward the sun, cannot strain to reach the unreachable. Just beneath the surface, there lies a land of vast skies.
He pours radiance into the water, and one third effervesces into rainbow-threaded mist; and he moves mountains, and another third drains toward the southern sea in a great river. Life blooms with uncanny and unnatural speed in the unveiled lands as the charism of light suffuses the mineral bounty of the molten deeps.
Hence, the Glass Steppes of Incarien. Here, plains of grass and flowers mingle with fields upon fields of black glass, vitrified forests, many-hued geothermal pools, crystal kopjes, quills of cthonic metal, and soaring basalt colonnades. The land is broken by some very deep lake-systems and many shallow ones, as well as wetlands and forested valleys throughout, taiga in the north, redwoods along the northwest coast, deserts of fluting wind-carved rock in the southwest, and a great river draining southward.
Things you may find in the Glass Steppes:
Vast herds of elk and buffalo, meerkat-mounds, moss, fields of lupine, columbine, poppy, thick with bees; beaver-dammed lakes, wild proto-horses, forested river-valleys; herds of mammoths, ground-sloths, and terror-birds.
Grass: Mirror-grass, feeding on its own reflection in the obsidian plains. Grass that lacerates legs and drinks blood. Grass that feeds on sound, swallowing thunderclaps, craning itself towards movement. Grass taller than men. Mossfields reaching chest-high beneath lichen-encrusted mountains. Grey ash-grass whose seeds are wind-blown sparks, burning what they encounter into more ash-grass.
Vitrified forests.
The Gardens of the Sky: Fields of flowers (not quite sunflowers, nor daisies, nor clovers) whose too-vivid color reflects the sky, and retains a shadow of its power. The various appearances of the Sky-Flowers, and their supernatural effects, will be described forthwith.
Geothermal pools, hot springs, geysers; sulfurous and many-colored, each a world unto itself, strange sui generis biospheres. And the macaques.
Plains dotted with crystals, high as redwoods, which grew in the Old Lake under the influence of starlight. When one breaks, the sound is unbearably--sometimes lethally--beautiful. Some have a structure so perfect that the starlight remains within, imprisoned or enraptured. They leak a gentle glow with a half-life of millennia. (Spirits of the other tribes of light may suffer (do they suffer?) the same fate.)
Pumice-stones of such immaculate purity that they maintain a neutral buoyancy in air.
Iron-jawed, fire-bellied, metal-eating termites in towering castles of regurgitated iron.
Groves of water-lilies, too stubborn or too perfect to subside and die when the waters rushed out. Lilypads block the sun.
Geodes, once large enough to swallow ships, now broken open and half buried, form glades and hollows of amethyst and chalcedony.
Coral-like reefs of predatory, many-colored, hard-shelled colonial flowers; some examples feed on the lesser sprites of fire. Bees, butterflies, and hummingbirds dart in and out like clownfish. The honey is divine, but the bees are dangerous.
Eusocial colonial hummingbirds; their honey grants understanding of the avian Ur-Song.
Stripped skeletons animated by overmighty plants, flowers blooming from empty eyes.
Pillars of black basalt; home, in future ages, to anchorites, now perches for birds of prey large enough to carry off stags.
Good, black earth, unnaturally fecund; plant a finger, and a man may grow. Do not spill blood here. Don't even think about it.
Fields of fallen stars. They carry with them some of the weightlessness of the outer voids.
Former islands; hill-ranges, flower-drenched, refugia from the two floods, each with a proud and defensive genius loci.
Bogs of preternatural preservative power; hunger, anger, fear, and joy, orphaned from bodies, perdure here, and take on new forms under the animating influence of starlight.
Great crows with hidden nests of gold and gems, feeding on beauty itself. They seek the starkest, bleakest places, to maximize the gradient down which beauty flows.
Redwood forests, each tree binding a spirit of sublime antiquity like pearls around sand. When the World came and Nothing burned, they crawled here to die like beached whales, and found a kind of immortality.
Taiga; dense and intractable, creaking like voices in the wind; the wood burns hotter and more tenaciously than any other earthly substance, even underwater.
Great lakes, perhaps bottomless; there is always a glimmering in the depths, a beckoning of buried light. And the voices, of course, but that goes without saying. The storms are too terrible for words.
Great lakes, shallow, mirror-flat, glass-bottomed, where mirages and fire-spirits dance as they did when the lake was new. Every lake in the Glass Steppes is, in a mysterious sort of way, connected to every other one, for the subterranean unity of Erland cannot be so easily broken, and mirrors have a tendency to be doors.
Spines, coils, and mushroom-plates of freestanding native metal; occasional pulses of light move across the surface, and they creak and sing in the sun.
Vivid canyons, colored strata stacked like bolts of cloth.
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Push!"
Chapter 9: His Maid, A mother
Chapter Text
The sun's warm rays beamed through the windows of the train illuminating everything. It shined on you and your newborn baby laying on the hay giving the both of you a honey glow. A blush crept its way to Sebastian's cheeks and he smiled. He had his father's significant physical traits; black hair and wine eyes, and unlike Sebastian, he slept.
You looked down at your little bundle of joy the ache of your lower body numbing every time you look at him... your nameless bundle of joy.
"Sebastian, what are we going to name him?"
"I never really thought of that," he did stood there and folded, "Demons are generally void of human names... but he is half-human. What do you think?"
You ignored his little demon drivel lost in your thoughts trying to think of the perfect name. "Corbin?" You breathed out.
"Corbin Michaelis. How suitable."
"Does he need a middle?"
"I think your maiden name should suit just perfectly."
"Corbin L/n Michaelis," you pet his wisps of dark hair as he snoozed on your chest. "How is Wolfram?" You asked looking up at him.
"He will be alright. I want you to rest, you did well. We're almost at our destination I'll come back once we've reached," he kissed your damp sweaty hair leaving you to recuperate in peace and quiet.
~
You arrived at Lord Diedrich's grand castle and was greeted by his butler.
"Master Diedrich...? Oh dear, you've been in some mischief," he said looking at the lot of you behind him.
"Heinrich call a doctor and prepare a bath," Lord Diedrich said walking in.
"Certainly sir," he bowed. "Oh, this is nostalgic," he turned to Tanaka who greeted him as an old friend.
"So that must be...?" He turned to the young lord gesturing at him with his eyes.
"Ah yes this is Lord Phantomhive's son," Tanaka said in German.
"Oh I see! It's an honour to meet you Earl Phantomhive," he said in English, bowing. "You remind me of your predecessor so."
"Awkward when I'm wearing this," he grabbed the frills of the dress.
"Heh, it seems you like parading in women's clothes my lord," you said remembering the soiree, it was forever etched into your memory.
"Careful Y/n you have a lot of work to make up now that you're not pregnant anymore," he blushed harshly as you grinned.
"It's so large!" Finny said spinning around in the entrance hall.
"This is one of Baron Diedrich's many castles, "Weizsäcker". It's small compared to the main castle."
"SMALL?!" They said, voices echoing alerting other servants.
"Well you're a rich boy aren't you," the young lord said, making the already slightly cross man fold his arms.
Lord Diedrich had several servants to tend to his large castle, you wouldn't be surprised if there were more somewhere in a room far away from where you all stood.
~
With the help of Sebastian, you slid off your damaged soiled clothes and slid into the piping hot bath. A basin was placed next to you for your tiny son as Sebastian gave him his first bath. It was emotional for you to see him being so gentle with him. You turned around in the tub facing them as the hot water relaxed the aches and pains of your muscles. You rested your arms on the edge putting your face down and smiled gently. He was a quiet baby, eyes darting everywhere as he wiggled in his father's hand. Sebastian held his head so he wouldn't slip under the water, the rest of his body laid on his forearm as he lathered him with very little lavender soap. You made a sound and he looked in your general direction unable to see you properly. "Oh look he recognizes me," a tear fell onto the floor and you sniffed unexpectedly so emotional.
"He's had to listen to you for at least seven or eight months I'd think he'd recognize you," Sebastian said rinsing him off and taking the towel from his shoulder and swaddling Corbin in it. His (mixture of yours and Sebastian's complexion) colour nose glowed red from being so sensitive. "I'll put him in the room, alright?"
You watched him take him into the next room. Taking your own bar of soap you scrubbed harshly at your skin. "You're going to rip your skin off if you continue like that," he said coming back in.
"Yes but all the blood, sweat, tears, and other disgusting bodily fluids has to go you know I hate being dirty," you whined.
"You chose that name on purpose didn't you? Corbin, French for little crow, or raven."
"Haha yes, he reminds me of you," you closed your eyes enjoying the scalp massage that came with him washing your hair. "Dark hair, wine eyes."
"That's funny, he reminded me of you, small and sweet."
"I am NOT sweet," you puffed your cheeks out, "...or small. And he's only a newborn of course he'll be small and sweet."
~
"This is the ninth time today," you sighed with your sore breast firmly trapped in Corbin's mouth. Sebastian had just come back from taking care of the young lord, he seemed standoff-ish and you could tell something was troubling him deeply. Eyebrows permanently furrowed and eyes narrowed as he did things without actually looking at what he was doing.
Sebastian grabbed the white sheet off the bed and made quick work of making it into a nightshirt for him.
"Show off," you grabbed the nightshirt and dressed him, gently sliding the fabric over his arms. You waited till he was finished feeding to put him down on the bed next to you and button the shirt.
"Oh my God!! He's snoring!" You mouthed to Sebastian only a few barely audible syllables leaving your throat. Corbin fell asleep the instant you put him down, his consistent adorable snores made you excited.
You gushed at your little boy, makes you forget all the pain you went through to bring him in this world. The bed dipped and Sebastian laid behind you as you admired your baby and Sebastian secretly admired you and your reactions.
"Are all new human mothers like this?"
"Wouldn't know," you murmured. A black glossy feather fell on your face, you looked up to see him smiling. You kissed his soft lips closing your eyes and enjoying the moment, taking in his scent.
"Wait, I can't control myself when I sleep, I don't want to suffocate him," you pulled away and pouted.
"Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere. Go to sleep."
"Sebastian," you said laying down as he blew out the candles next to the bed.
"Hmm?"
"We're parents," you whispered excitedly.
"I know love," he kissed your forehead, "Now go to sleep."
A few seconds of dead silence passed by.
"Sebastian," you whispered again.
"I'll tie you to the bed if you don't go to sleep, what is it?"
"I might like that," you snickered in the dark, "Anyway, what's bothering you?"
"Nothing to concern you right now. Go. To. Sleep. Not another word or I'll gag you."
"I love you."
"Except those words kitten. I love you too~" you could feel his little smile as he kissed the back of your neck. He passed his fingers through your hair soothing you and putting you to sleep.
Chapter 10: His Maid, Lessons
Chapter Text
If the news spread that the Green Witch escaped, the entire German military would be after all of you. To avoid any suspicion Wolfram and Lady Sullivan were disguised. They looked out of place in Germany which was good. A wheelchair for Lady Sullivan was purchased by the station and you all bade farewell to Baron Diedrich who so kindly accompanied you all there. There weren't any direct trains from Germany to London so a day's trip on a steamboat was unavoidable, void of walking corpses this time thankfully, and thankfully no motion sickness.
You were allowed to put off your duties for a little longer and spent the voyage with the servants who were absolutely smitten with Corbin. Especially Finny, the only problem is he was afraid he'd hurt him. You seriously doubted that, Corbin was no ordinary baby but of course Finny doesn't know that. Helping him be comfortable holding him was easy, and soon enough Finny had him in his arms smiling like a maniac. Snake was also hesitant in holding him, as soon as he was in Snake's arms his eyes popped open. Looking up at Snake's face he realized it wasn't yours and tears began to well up in his eyes, tiny whimpers escaping his lips.
"Hey hey," you said getting up and walking over to him. Snake looked terrified unsure whether to hand him back to you or to cry himself. Wilde picked his head up from Snake's shoulders at the noise and stared at Corbin, head bobbing as he stood at attention.
"Come on time to feed him, everyone, out," you said taking him out of Snake's arms and shoving the rest out. Before Snake could leave you pulled him back as the rest went into Bard's room across from yours.
"Don't worry yourself, you're very loveable to those who don't judge. Looking different is nothing to be ashamed about. Nor is having five thousand snakes around you. Scary, with the snakes, sure. But it's not wrong, so chin up," you smiled at him, fluffing his hair. "And he's only a baby, he doesn't know you yet. Give it time, he'll like you," Wilde reared back his head and you grinned. "He'll like you too. Now out!" You pushed him gently and smiled, closing the door. Sighing you looked down at your baby.
"Why do you eat so much?"
He did nothing but blink up at you.
~
"Ugh, what would I do without you," you plopped down on your bed sighing. Your time to take care of Corbin was finally up.
"You're very lucky I don't sleep, most middle-class women rip their hair out taking care of their baby. No wet nurse or nanny to do their jobs. Apparently, it's a nightmare."
"Now we know why the nobility don't bother," you yawned, stretching your body out.
"Hey he's in my spot," you pouted at the baby snoozing in his father's lap. His low chuckles made your heart smile, getting up he planted himself in the bed silently as to not disturb Corbin. You made your way under his arm, curling up and smiling, you pet Corbin's hair and kissed his head. Sebastian kissed yours and you started to doze off underneath his arm, a picturesque little family.
~
"This is what Queen Victoria is ruling over... the country that doesn't sink the sun's capital city?" Wolfram said looking up at Big Ben with awe. Him and Lady Sullivan both dropped the disguises as soon as they got off the boat with Wolfram pushing her wheelchair.
"Psst! You two. While we're here you cannot speak German," he held his finger to his mouth.
"Got it!" Lady Sullivan exclaimed happily.
"Huh?! What, she can speak it I can't," Wolfram whispered frantically back to Sebastian in German.
"Then you must do what you can for now. I'll teach you back at the manor."
"First off we have to get you a dress for her Majesty. Sebastian, I want to show my face within a week."
"So soon my lord?" you asked.
"Y/n, I advise you go to the townhouse with them unless you want Nina all over Corbin, besides, I'd rather not have any surprise dinners for me when I get back."
"Of course my lord," you made no fuss, personally you were rather happy to go back instead of standing all over London.
That happiness soon turned to stress as you momentarily forgot who ran the townhouse, but thankfully you were briefed as soon as you stepped foot through the door.
"GUESTS HELLO!! DOES THIS MEAN CIEL IS IN TOWN?"
Prince Soma loudly greeted all of you and ushered you all in while Agni smiled at all of you from afar.
"I can't believe it's been so long since- YOU HAD A BABY?!"
You gave Mey-rin Corbin so you could take off your travelling coat and hang it on the coat racks in the kitchen. "Yes, pleaaaase be gentle," you said eyeing his excited hands.
Agni noticed the ornate ring on your finger. "Ah so you and Mister Sebastian are...?"
You giggled a little nodding your head.
"See Agni I told you they would end up together! You owe me one of those heavenly massages every day for a week now!"
"You two bet on whether we'd end up together?" You asked taking back Corbin into your arms.
"Of course! Agni kept saying you two were just coworkers but I knew!"
~
All of you relayed the events of Germany with Prince Soma and Agni till you heard the door open indicating they arrived. Everyone scrambled to get upstairs while you stayed to prepare the afternoon tea. Your sharp ears heard the bickering from upstairs and something about a concubine. Sebastian had come downstairs to help you prepare while the trio had Corbin. Sebastian didn't like the idea of leaving him alone with them, and you couldn't blame him. But they are who he'll be growing up with, can't separate them indefinitely.
Upstairs, the young lord, Prince Soma, and Lady Sullivan were waiting for the both of you.
"Y/n look!" She had cut her hair catching you off guard a little. "I made it easier for you not to worry about my hair."
Both you and Sebastian whined, "Society rule..." It was tradition for ladies to have their hair in a certain style while being presented to Her Majesty.
"My lady, it wasn't going to be any trouble at all. Your hair was fine as it was," you said trying not to sound ungrateful.
"Do you not like it?" She pouted.
"It's gorgeous, my lady," you and Sebastian both sighed. "Don't worry I'll think of something to do," you whispered to him. Paula, Lady Elizabeth's maid, had taught you some things about hair while you both were on the Campania.
"Today we have Earl Grey with an orange almond cake and berry tart," Sebastian said.
"Ooo this looks yummy," Lady Sullivan said grabbing sugar cubes and dropping them in her tea. She made for the tart but her hand was slapped away by Sebastian making even you jump a little.
"My lady," he retracted his hand, "your beneficial lessons to be presented to the Queen have already begun." He smiled sadistically at her with his glasses on.
"Ooo this looks yummy is poor language and can not be used! You can not touch sugar with your bare hands, and do not touch any cakes without being recommended!"
"Wha-" She looked at him terrified along with Prince Soma.
"If she needs to become a proper lady within a week she will need to learn tea party manners first! Until you can do that this will have to wait," he took her plate of sweets away and displayed a look of horror and sadness on her face.
"Hey the young lady is crying!" Wolfram grabbed Sebastian by his shirt. Instead of getting visibly angry, he laughed instead, "Mister Wolfram, complain in English, then I will listen to you." Wolfram let go of his now wrinkly shirt and buried his nose in his translator either trying to figure out what Sebastian said or how to say what he wanted in English. He took the plate away to the kitchen.
"Ciel say something," cried out Lady Sullivan as he walked away.
"Yes he's being mean to the poor lady," Prince Soma said.
"If he spoils her she will never learn. Do your best~" the young lord said eating his cake in front of her.
"Y/n!" She turned to you looking for help. You stayed quiet. Sebastian's spartan methods of teaching were not for the weak. Thankfully you were never in dire need to learn anything except how to hold your tongue in front of superiors. Then again she didn't have much to eat today. You chased after him hoping to sway his mind a bit.
"Sebastian you can't starve h-"
"Ah," he turned to face you, eyes closed with his finger silencing you.
"I have only a week to teach her to act like a proper young lady, I have to teach both of them proper English, I have to attend to the young lord's every request and as you know by now he purposely adds the most tedious things to my schedule for his pleasure. On top of all that my nightly duties have been reduced considerably so that you can sleep peacefully. Let me do my job, my way," he turned swiftly continuing to walk off with the plate leaving you stunned.
~
"Cielllllll!!"
The alarm that is Lady Elizabeth's mouth rang through the halls of the townhouse the next morning. She came unannounced as always, running upstairs with you chasing after her. She burst into the young lord's study greeting her fiancé... who was more in shock? You couldn't tell if it was the young lord, Lady Elizabeth or yourself. The young lord was hovering over Lady Sullivan who laying on her back, grabbed onto his jacket. Both with red dusted cheeks. His shocked face was soon replaced with fear as Lady Elizabeth lunged for the both of them. You felt a fast whoosh beside you as Sebastian materialized next to the young lord blocking her blow.
"I think I hear Corbin," you said in the awkward silence, his soft cries floating up the stairs, music to your ears.
"Be back in time to serve the tea, we have a guest," Sebastian said.
Chapter 11: His Maid, Head Maid
Chapter Text
"You'd leave your master to be assaulted and then feign your child needing you?" He jokingly said folding his arms and crossing his legs in his chair.
"I am not your main caretaker my lord, and my ears pick up what you can't," you placed his cup down in front of him bowing your head, smirking a little. He was a bit more than annoyed and probably preferred that Lady Sullivan's lessons were kept quiet from Lady Elizabeth. She offered the idea that everyone should join in the lessons because everyone was friends and it would be fun. Sebastian sniggered stating that etiquette was not only for women. Soon Lady Elizabeth was smiling again and being friendly to Lady Sullivan and soon the young lord was back to being humiliated by Lady Elizabeth's antics to the point Lady Sullivan was also jeering at him, happy he was failing at being able to walk and bow gracefully like a proper young lady.
~
The next week arrived and Lady Sullivan as well as Wolfram was nervous to meet Her Majesty. You adorned her hair with white flowers on either side of her head and a white feather, it paired perfectly with her white dress from Nina's shoppe. Sadly you couldn't accompany them to Buckingham Palace because a certain someone needed their mother's attention. You began your duties in the library as always, leaving Corbin halfway leaning forward on a cushion surrounded by other cushions as he just cooed slightly and stared at the air blinking occasionally as if he were deep in thought trying to figure something out. After the library, you checked on breakfast to see how it was going and the kitchen was in one piece giving you your answer before even walking in. You had fed Corbin as soon as he woke up so his breakfast was already taken care of.
In place of Sebastian, you checked on the servants and their duties to make sure they were going as smooth as they could. Other than a few broken dishes and one overcooked pheasant the day went without issue, having Snake there proved to be extremely helpful especially when Sebastian isn't there which was a relief to have someone who doesn't screw up as much as the golden trio themselves.
Although the young lord was away that didn't mean the house was closed for business, he already had a meeting he could afford to not attend in person meaning you and Tanaka had to take care of that around two in the afternoon in the drawing-room. You sorted through the records and made sure everything was in place and added what you needed, and fixed his paperwork up and left it on his desk.
The young lord and Sebastian came back in the early evening without Lady Sullivan and Wolfram, they managed to find a comfortable house in London where they could stay. Dinner was waiting for him when he arrived, and so were his papers from the meeting you attended on his behalf.
~
Later that night although your curiosity was piqued you left whatever happened in Germany, in Germany. Corbin gave you a run for your money with no Sebastian to help you for the whole day, experiencing only a quarter of what he has to go through daily made you happy for the moments you had to yourself, and even those few moments some little person had to steal the spotlight.
"Do you want to tell me about the other night?" you asked him finding him in a neutral mood which was better than an unpleasant one.
"Hm?" he said folding up Corbin's extra night clothes he graciously bought while out in London today.
"Why I suddenly turned into a nice big black cat?"
"Panther," he corrected, "and I was under the impression you forgot. But-" he said sharply before you could interrupt to disagree, "but, there is a slightly complicated yet simple answer for it. You do know how I can shift forms when I please, my true form, this pitiful form, a raven?"
You shook your head in agreeance, still a bit confused.
"Well it's either the same with you or with Corbin, you were pregnant at the time so it's unknown to me though I do think it's Corbin."
"But why did it happen?"
"What did you feel during that time?" He said putting the clothes in the dresser and coming to sit by you.
"Um," you bit your lip trying to think looking up at the mundane ceiling as the bed dipped from his weight. "I think I felt some sudden urgency to find you? I can't really remember..."
"Then I'm probably right it is Corbin, I know you're not normally in control of all your emotions-" you slapped his arm playfully and he laughed at you, "Well it's the truth kitten. Anyway, sudden normal emotions would set that off in you specifically, however since it was a sudden pull, it wasn't you."
"Oh I see, do we have to worry about him changing into...?"
"Not for now," you both looked at his snoozing figure moving up and down in a steady rhythm, "as he gets older and more curious, we'll worry about it then."
"Come, go sleep, you'll have a busy day ahead of you like always," he kissed your forehead and blew out your candles.
~
"Y/n... ke up.... Wake up!"
"Hrngh?" you were being shaken awake by Sebastian, you opened one eye slightly. "Come, in the kitchen."
He grabbed your wrist lightly but with urgency and waited for you to slip on your slippers and robe before dragging you down the stairs to where the others were trickling in.
"Sebastian what is it it's three in the bloody mornin' we just went to bed two hours ago," Bard said rubbing his eyes like everyone else and yawning.
"Yes, however, your duties as Phantomhive servants don't only include cleaning and cooking do th-" Sebastian was suddenly cut off.
You heard Corbin crying and your tired eyes popped wide open.
Not any normal hungry cry or tired cry. He sounded scared, like something or someone was interfering with him.
Your eyes flashed fuchsia and as if Sebastian's sensed that would happen he stepped in front of you swiftly so no one could see. The both of you ran to your room and Mey-rin and the others instinctively ran outside via the servant's entrance.
An unknown person was standing above Corbin visibly panicking trying to find something to smother his cries. Without hesitation, you lunged at the person grabbing them by their throat and throwing them against the wall away from Corbin. Sebastian walked to Corbin stunned at your sudden speed, he himself didn't have time to react to the intruder. You were blind to everything at that moment. You grabbed on to the neck of his shirt peeling him off the wall you cracked with his body and growled out, "I would give you a warning never to go near my son again but it's fruitless if you're not going to survive this," you grabbed onto his neck itself squeezing until you heard that crack and he fell limp in your hand. You dropped him and stared at his body on the floor, body as cold as your gaze you were brought back to reality by Mey-rin's gunshots from outside, he wasn't the only one... Standing there to take in what just happened, what you just did... You heard Corbin's soft cries from a new distance, this time it was just a cry for you. You gasped turning on your heel and ended up smack dead with your face in Sebastian's hard chest.
"The both of you are sleeping in my room from now on."
"Wha- it was just on-"
"All it takes is once, end of the discussion," he said coldly.
Chapter 12: His Maid, Suffering
Chapter Text
~February 1889~
Six long months passed...
Human babies grew rapidly, demon hybrid babies... slightly more. He was trying to walk already, and you had just stopped breastfeeding him. His bottom teeth started to poke you and you knew it was time to stop, not to mention he grew a cute fang-like tooth that seemed to appear and disappear when he wanted it to, much like Sebastian's own. But the one problem that comes after you stop breastfeeding that honestly, no woman should go through, and that had completely exited your mind hit you like a brick today while you were cleaning your old room.
You were doubled over in pain, your back was hurting, your stomach, body aches and chills, and you felt nauseous. Pregnant again? You wish, no it was your friendly time of the month you had almost forgotten existed. Your mouth was dry, and you were lightly sweating. Groaning you dragged yourself off the bed and were kneeling on the floor. Drying sobbing you cried out, "I can't do this" and banged your hand on the floor. Mey-rin came in and found you on the verge of tears, "Oh dear Y/n!" she started panicking and it was pissing you off but all you could do was cry and hold your breath in attempt not to scream. "I'll fetch some hot water and tell the young master you can't work today." You were grateful for a fellow female worker to be here no questions to anger you and no embarrassing explanations. You crawled to a corner and whimpered tears coming out the edge of your eyes. It was a good minute before Mey-rin came back with the water.
"Here drink this, the heat'll help and rest this on your stomach." It was a plastic bag with some of the hot water in it. "There, I'll go tell the young master now. Do you need anything else?" She placed her hand on your upper back rubbing it trying to calm you down. You took a large drink from the warm water she brought, it felt nice on the inside but did little for your abdomen immediately, it took a few seconds for anything to happen, and you started tearing up again, slowly bits of relief washed over you even if it didn't stop the pain it helped a little. You shook your head and sniffed trying to steady your breath. "Ah!" A sharp pain came back and you drank more water.
"Do you want me to stay?" The thought of having Mey-rin stay was amazing but knowing it would come out of her pay you didn't want to burden her. "Mey, you have things to do I don't want you to burden yourself with me you've done enough, thank you." You gave her a pained smile. She wiped the tears from your eyes and wiped your forehead and neck with a cool washrag.
"Alright, I'll check on you regularly when I have time." Mey-rin left the room and you took another drink of water. You inhaled and exhaled through your mouth trying to steady yourself with this pain with your eyes squeezed shut you sat there on the floor trying not to scream. Your door opened and you thought it was Mey-rin coming back already but she always knocked. A kiss was planted on your forehead and a gloved hand petted your hair.
Sitting there in pain you couldn't even look at Sebastian, breaking down again he lifted you and placed you stomach down on the bed, breathing quickly in panic you thought the bag of heated water was going to burst but it just felt squishy under your stomach. He lifted your nightgown to expose your back and ran his hand across your skin. Working his magic he kneaded his hands into your back, it relaxed you and took away your back pains. Turning you over gently he placed the makeshift heating pad under your lower back. It relieved the pain from the bleeding more than it being on your stomach.
"You need to eat Y/n" you threw your hand out to lazily slap him. Groaning as he massaged your stomach, "I don't want to".
"Don't be stupid. You'll have worse problems than this if you don't," you looked at him with puppy dog eyes. He kissed you and you bit his lip...hard. "Why must you be so stubborn, I'm here trying to help you." he flicked you on your nose, as equally hard as you bit his lip.
"Owww," you squeezed your eyes shut and he left to get food for you. The pain in your abdomen returned and you tried to massage it as Sebastian did, sadly it didn't work but it gave you something to do. Your door opened again, and Sebastian came back with a tray in his hand. He dragged your chair from your desk to the edge of your bed where your head laid and sat down.
"You'll have to sit up," he pulled you by your waist into a sitting position and you grabbed your blankets in frustration, you were both hot and cold. "Say ah~" you looked over to see Sebastian trying to feed you soup, you loved his soups and wondered what he made this time, so you took it without question.
"Mmm~ cream of mushroom," you smiled at him. "Spot on, now finish this before it gets cold." As he fed you the pain started going away gradually, you burped and covered your mouth looking at Sebastian trying not to giggle you failed and let out a giggly 'excuse me' and he poked your nose playfully. "Mm, Corbin?"
"He's rolling around in our room, now get some rest."
You were calm... too calm, you hadn't realized your stomach pains have completely subsided. He started tucking you in taking the now lukewarm bag of water with him. "Uh Sebastian..." You were timid again. "I'm sorry for earlier, thank you." He smirked at you, "Of course kitten." He walked out the door and you felt sleepy, closing your eyes you were waiting for sleep to take over your body when you heard Mey-rin and Sebastian through the door.
"She's asleep now. You can come back later."
"As long as she's alright, painful things these are."
'Painful indeed' you finally drifted off to sleep.
Notes:
Black Butler and its characters belong to Yana Toboso, you belong to yourself. The ideas in this story are mine. If you see it anywhere else besides here on Quotev from @TitaniaAyuzawa and on Wattpad from @Sakura1408xdxd please report. :) Enjoy
Series this work belongs to:
← Previous Work Part 2 of SebastianxReader by TitaniaAyuzawa
and this is how they end
guiltylights
Summary:
(and maybe this is how they begin.) –– A write-out; Joker and his gang. Reincarnation AU, sort of.
Notes:
Because its 12.30am in the morning and I’ve just finished marathon-ing all ten episodes of Kuroshitsuji: Book of Circus wheeee
I HAVE A LOT OF FEELS ABOUT JOKER AND HIS GANG OKAY I JUST WANT THEM TO BE TOGETHER AND HAPPY /gross sobbing/
(See the end of the work for more notes.)
Work Text:
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–one;
Joker–
He doesn’t even die with the sun on his face.
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–two;
Jumbo–
He can feel his head bleeding, his head hurting. Jumbo tilts his head to the sky and shouts, all bloodied desperation and fear in the night, “Peter, Wendy, run! This mansion isn’t normal!” Around him, the ground runs red with his blood.
That’s all he ever gets out before he dies against the stonewalls.
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–three;
Peter, Wendy–
Rage makes them run, and soon they are flashing through the night, deadly-delicate dolls flying on silver strings crisscrossing and swinging across the mansion.
They are angry. Their anger twists their faces into harsh ugly things, the expressions disconcertingly adult-like on their pale pixie faces.
Behind them, they hear the sounds of Finnian’s footsteps over the crash of the tree he’d just punched down, and they sped up, arcing over the mansion towers and to beyond, landing neatly on the steps, true trapeze artists in motion.
“What is he, a monster?!” Wendy yells, incredulous, when Finnian punches a hole through the wall as easily as he’d punch through a paper screen. Finnian is a maniac, chanting about love and protection and about this creepy Phantomhive mansion that he says he loves, and his turquoise eyes are wide and relentless and pupil-less as he runs after Peter and Wendy on the steps. A child-like boy, with the strength of a thousand men.
“He’s slower than we are, though!” Peter shouts back, and together Peter and Wendy fire their retractable wires up in the air, and sail through the night.
They are on the roof now, and they jump down to meet Finnian head-on, silver wire a taut tight line between them, sharp-deadly and intended to kill. (Just like them, just like them, just like them.) In the air they feel invincible; they are a team, Peter-and-Wendy and Wendy-and-Peter, and together they could get through this, they could.
(But then Wendy is shot through the head by Mey-Rin on the roof, and barely twenty minutes later, so is Peter. Neither really lives to tell the tale, and the worst part is, they didn’t even die together.)
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–four;
Dagger–
He is with Beast, beautiful beautiful Beast, when they run through the mansion and meets Bard in their search for the important Phantomhive boy. Despite the obvious danger of their current mission, Dagger glances at Beast every so often as they run and make their way quickly around the mansion.
Her thick dark curls whips around her face as she runs, the ends ghosting at the milky pale white nape of her neck as her dark eyes narrow forward in concentration, and god, Dagger loves her.
He loves her even as they run for their lives away from the chef and the crazy maid with the guns and the gardener with the strength that wasn’t even human, and he loves her even as they search for the Phantomhive boy but only end up in the kitchen where the chef and his motherfucking war machine (– where the hell did he even get that?!) was.
He loves her even as the chef starts shooting at them with the artillery and he dives in front of Beast to save her – because Beast was Beast, and Dagger was Dagger, and first and foremost Dagger had always loved Beast.
Because Dagger knows things, and he’s seen the way Beast looks at Joker when she thinks that Joker isn’t looking. Beast has looked anxious and upset, recently, since Joker had left for Father’s house, and Dagger thinks it might be because Joker was gone. Dagger gets that. Dagger gets how worrying it might be when the person you loved most was away out of your sight.
So he holds Beast close to him for just about one last time as he feels the different bullets burrow themselves into his back like the sharp bite of his knives hitting circus board, and he thinks maybe this might be worth it, in the end. The gunfire noises around them quiets, and he gazes up with hazy eyes to see Beast hovering over him with a face twisted in pain and worry.
Dagger smiles, feeling a bubble of blood pop in the inside of his mouth. “Thank goodness… You’re alright… Run… Tell Joker…” He reaches out weakly, lays a hand on Beast’s forearm. Beast starts, before tears spill from her eyes and splashes onto Dagger’s face.
“Why? Why would you do that for me?”
Dagger closes his eyes, and feels the droplets of water on his face slide down the side of his cheek in a cool gentle arc, like someone tracing a finger gently across his face. “Miss…” He closes his eyes. When he opens them again, he realises that he is crying.
“I wanted to take you… over the hill…”
Dagger dies in Beast’s arms.
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–five;
Beast–
Dagger dies, and Beast screams into the sky and wants to rip the Phantomhive mansion’s chef’s throat out. He is standing to the side, rough grin curling over his face, cigarette smoking thinly in the night.
“I’d rather have met a pretty girl like you in a pub over some warm beer.”
Beast flashes up, all vicious fury and howling grief. “I’ll make you pay!” She snarls, the sound of her weapon whip cracking in the air ugly and sharp.
She lashes out at him, but he is a viper, dodging quick and easy that only a man who has looked war in the face could. She destroys tables, kitchen equipment, countless bags of food and flour, so much flour that the air is thick with it, the powder choking everywhere and obscuring Beast’s vision.
By the time it clears, Beast sees that the chef is nowhere to be seen. He’s escaped through the hole in the wall, and was now standing over her as the flour powder swirled and attempted to settle.
He holds out a matchstick and strikes it against his boot. A flame flared, and it looked like a beacon through all the flour. Beast’s eyes widen. She realises.
The flames drop towards her direction.
Joker…
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–six;
Doll (the [un]luckiest of them all)–
She sees the mansion in flames like a stinging scarlet bloodied-warning in the night, and the vicious fires were warm on her face and everywhere on the house as she stares at the mansion in front of her with wide, wide eyes.
She doesn’t dare to blink; blinking would make the scene in front her true, and Doll doesn’t want to make it true, because god, it couldn’t be, it couldn’t be it couldn’t be it couldn’t be.
Joker was supposed to be in that house. And so was Father.
Through the hazy tears in her eyes, Doll can make out a silhouette coming out of the burning building. Hope flutters in her chest as bright as a white bird; maybe Joker and Father had survived, after all, and here they were coming out alive.
But who walks out are Smile and Black, and though Doll doesn’t believe it at first, Smile is Ciel Phantomhive, Black is his butler, and Joker and Father were dead in the burning building ablaze in front of him.
Doll can feel her world being ripped apart at the seams. The world spins around her, harsh and confusing and nauseating, and Doll thinks she’s gasping for air to fill her lungs, she was crying so hard. And then she is angry, suddenly, and she charges up at Smil- Ciel, with tears falling crisp-cold down her cheeks like mourning and blurring her vision and with a dagger clutched tight in her hands.
She doesn’t get to Ciel, and in the end is left sobbing in front of a flaming, dying house.
She stays until the house is burned to the ground and nothing of it was left.
(She learns later, when she searches for the others, that they’d all died too, whilst infiltrating the Phantomhive mansion searching for the Phantomhive boy. Doll laughs so hard she cries, after she hears the news. Smile was such a curse. And Smile had gotten to her too; he left her the only one of them alive, and that itself was a cruelty almost worse than death. Doll later hears that Snake has gone to work for Ciel, too.
Doll hasn’t got anything left.)
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replay over. fin?
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The world is black. He breathes in.
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(“Do we get our second chance?”
“Yes. Now close your eyes.”)
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He breathes out.
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–start?
start.
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Joker buys a cup of overly-sweetened coffee from the Starbucks counter, and pays for it with a credit card. His scarf flaps around him as he turns around, and Joker calls back a “thank you!” with an easygoing grin and flashing smile as he jogs towards a cluster of tables not far from the counter. It was 2014, in Chicago, winter.
There were six other people seated at the table, and Joker grins at them as wide as the whole sun.
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Notes:
The lines Joker and his gang speak here are the ones I stole off the English subbed version I watched. I can’t understand Japanese so I don’t really know how accurate it is.
Did anybody else cry when all of them died and Doll was left alone because I damn well did.
What do you guys think? I tried playing around with form with this piece. It was supposed to be epic long but I got uninspired. This was a writing-out of the episode where they died, basically, with a reincarnation ending tacked to the end because damniT THEY DESERVE TO BE HAPPY.
Please rate and review! Please tell me what you thought of this story; I’d love to hear it :)
0 notes
Text
Self insert babes~
Name: Admin Brii, Bridgette, Brii
Age: 30
Height: 5”4
Weight: 300
Hair color: black, sometimes seen with purple, half purple half black.
Eye color: pale blue eyes, they turn empty and grey when she’s broken mentally or extremely sad or pissed off. And when happy, they get more greenish hue.
Bra size: 40H
Pets: a Doberman dog named King Lucien the I, three cats named Apollo, Aphrodite and Noelle. A black mouse named Queen Mauschen.
Body structure: Has a large butt that’s bubbly and very curvy and thick, but has a big belly too. Big thighs, slightly pigeon toed. Extremely pale skin, like moon paste white. Her cheeks are always pink and flushed, her fupa is very meaty and large, and very pink. Her nipples are small and very pink. Her lips are also very pink and shaped Cupid bow lips.
Family: father is a polish-german Ashkenazi Jewish man, her mother is an Italian Ashkenazi jewish woman. Her grandparents, her Opa is a full blooded German man and her bubbe is a polish Ashkenazi Jewish woman. So her heritage is of Jewish and European descent.
Key personality traits: soft hearted, multifaceted, spacey, philosophical, tired a lot, emotional, stubborn, loving to an obsessive degree. Has a hard time understanding what’s considered “flirting” and what is just friendly interactions. Can be chaotic, sassy and straight up a brat at times.
Occupation: a janitor at the world meetings building. She also seems to do little side money taking pictures for people, photographer. She also does odd jobs and will pet sit. And she gardens and farms. (Loves to be outside and grow vegetables and herbs.)
Likes: chocolate, edm/electronic music, plushies, comfy clothes, purple, pink, black, German things, animals, history, castles, taking pictures of nature and architecture. Dancing and singing and drawing, sleeping. Being a masochist, perfume, make up, hair accessories, clothes, shoes. Cuddles and snuggles. Being a switch and teasing.
Dislikes: confrontation, mushrooms, clocks (has a fear of ticking noises, people making fun of her weight, people hating her for just about anything. Dead things (it freaks her out), rude people. Her mental health issues, being depressed and being lonely.
What is she exactly?:
A soul or spirit that is able to interdimensionally cross worlds. She has a past life of supposedly being the saint bridgitte. She has many past lives living as this particular entity.
Who had got a hold of her current life and flipped it upside down? A eldritch deity and entity from the void by the name of Dr.Prince, deity of science and time. He chose her through means of rumors of finding the “perfect” host that could handle many trials of ever last torture and have endurance of dealing with many encounters of demonic sand other otherworldly supernatural entities.
And when he had chosen the reincarnated saint, it was stars that aligned.
So now she’s considered “the admin of the void kingdom” a being that has connection and be able to alter and change it align with the current king and prince that resides there.
King of the void is a eldritch entity that’s lived thousands of years and lives and his current form he is depicted as a tall, dark handsome man of Egyptian/nubian descent. And the prince of the void is his son, also know as Dr.Prince.
Brii now had a soul contract with Dr.Prince since he has “chosen” her to be able to handle such a task as traveling across the universes and different realms.
He has given her and her parallel twin soul “Babalon/Burden” two devices called a databook, from there these two devices are soul and mentally connected to the user, think of it as a tablet that records all information that is correlated to the user and their soul.
Dr.Prince gave her this so she could go in between worlds and record all information about how each realm and universe works, for he is a deity that seeks to acclaim every single piece of data that he’s ever missed (if that’s possible) but also to gain insight of how the human perspective and emotions are in each situation they are put in.
And currently right now the dimension she is in, is the hetalia earth dimension. And is one of the few mortals that can see and interact with the countries.
She’s a 30 year old woman from a different dimension of earth and she somehow got crossed to the earth dimension of hetalia or aka commonly known was earth dimension APH-9119 in her realm. Because she has opened a portal to this dimension, her other entities that friends from her world can come and connect with Hetalia nations.
Bridgette’s wardrobe:
Default clothes-
Black hoodie
Black leggings (sometimes shorts)
Messy, wavy shoulder length dark purple/ black hair
Big thick cat eye glasses (but often misplaces them)
A black spiked choker (sometimes she’ll wear a ribbon instead with a random pendant or bell on it)
Miscellaneous hair accessories
Black high top converse
Black bra
Black panties
Plus sized
May wear a small side ponytail
Underneath her black hoodie, she may wear a black tank top or a random graphic tee, usually it has stuff related to Prussia on it (random chicks, or maybe a crown or his face)
Has a small gold crown on her head (no one knows why this keeps happening and why she has it but it stays)
Below ankle mismatch socks
Wears a couple of rings, usually a black band with rhinestones in it.
Nun outfit-
Thigh length custom nun outfit (shit sorta looks like Halloween but whatever)
Has a pew pew 🔫
Has a bunch of cards and poker chips (lol what? She secretly loves to gamble) and a dreidel that her friend Malka (Israel) gave her. So she plays with Israel sometimes different board games and whatnot.
A “Neko” form
Usually depicted wearing black lingerie
Has black cat ears and tail
Likes to pounce and nom people
Often acts like a black jaguar or a black domestic cat.
Her pupils might dilate when happy or pissed
Loves her head to be scratched and petted.
She will lay on your desk and roll it.
T B C /there’s so much to cover/
#germany hetalia#hetalia#Hetalia selfshipping#Hetalia self ship#crossover#crossover lore#call of the V01D#call of the void#Hetalia s/i#s/i x canon#s/i community#s/i information#antis dni#minors dni#dni antis#proshippers please interact#pro shipper friendly#dni if antisemitic#anti antisemitism#purple haired little weirdo
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hi may I ask you use this ask as a reason to share your old art?
Ndjdjsjfjs
Absolutely You May!
There were a lot more pieces i wanted to save n share, but i stuck to just like.. ones that tend to "come back" to me every now and again, so i can go back and refrence them whenever they pop up!
First up is some Real old stuff, like 2005/6 i think..
Yes i was a Wolf Kid.
No I did not know how to draw wolves.
And Yes i had approximately 50 other sparkle-wolf ass characters that i Will eventually force everyone to look at. (A more accurate number is probably like.. 12. But that's just trying to remember off the top of my head)
Alas i do Not remember these characters names. But the black/white/red wolf i think is the daughter of the blue/green one? (i also believe the red and black one in the right image is the same character as the one on the left pre-a redesign?) She had a sister who was desert themed and they were super powerful and magical and also tragic because i was about 11 in 2005 so that tracks.
It's a shame i remember so little about them because i Do remember having the most Vivid ideas about scenes and sequences with them.. 😔
Okay so if we are going by approximate age this one would be next circa 2007?
I have mentioned before i used to draw a LOT of dragons, so i have Many more sketches than this big gentleman; But he's the one that always pops into mind first when i recall them.. i believe his name was vargo? Or something like that...
Most of my dragons were from a story about 12 dragons coming together to unite the dragon kingdoms and return to the magical world of the dragons. There were some Choice characters in that cast...
These two are from around 2009? The right one miiight be 2008..
The picture on the left is one of those ones that comes to mind first whenever i think about "my old art" (which is funny because these are two side characters from one of my Very First gay romance story ideas in highschool who were 1) the background straight couple and 2) never drawn again after this) and even now it makes me like !!!! Cause for where i was at with art at the time the shape movement and composition i was able to achieve still impresses me! This was 13 year old bartholomew firing on all cylinders! Just look at the shape of that cape!! The flair of the skirt! It ain't perfect but you go kid!!!!! Fuck it up!!! If a 13 year old handed this to me today i'd be like Hell Yeah!! Look at you go!! The inking is a Choice! But like! Y'know!!!
The little fella on the left is Lotus, one of my Classic Small Rodent Sidekicks, who will definitely be getting the Philip treatment sometime soon. He is my sweet little boy and one of the characters i reminisce about frequently.
These were Solidly 2009, though the story they're from first popped up in 2007 (or maybe even earlier???) And only got More and More just buck f u c k i n g wild until i moved on to the webcomic me and my friend were writing in 2010 and never went back)
The boy in the front middle on right image is the same character as the left one, his name is Jdoshi, he's a (gay) vampire prince, the big shadowy man behind him is his father Oracle, an ancient Vampire Demon Lord King. He rebelled against his fathers evil in the story and joined the heroes team as the resident brooding pretty boy. (He ended up together with the Cursed Angel character Birnam)
The two girls i have a harder time recalling the names of... But they were Oracles henchmen sent to retreive Jdoshi and destroy the heroes. The one on the left had a scythe and was, for some reason, red riding hood inspired?? (I was listening to a lot of the 'darker' vocaloid music at the time) and the one on the right wad like a cool punk wolf girl who rarely spoke but was actually very soft and had a little lizard dragon friend.
(btw this is all the same story This old art redraw is from)
I have not Changed, I've merely been Distilled and Refined with age.
And last but not least I got these fantastic five!
ALSO from the same Universe as the story above but from a Seperate Story I Had Going At The Same Time.
They were a rag-tag group of like.. impish little semi-undead creatures? They just kinda ran amok and caused trouble, sorta morality-neutral (though usually they ended up doing good) they had the power to invade peoples dreams, and of Course all had some kinda secret sad backstory..
I think the funniest thing about them is i remember being really Really into them for a time,. I have more half finished sketches of them and i remember Thinking of story ideas..
But for the life of me i cannot recall a single goddamn fact about Thadieus(red), Neptune(yellow), or Luca(dark green).
Yudekai (purple) was the main character , and Ziggy(light green) was like.. the Grifter of the group, but for the life of me i cannot remember Anything about the other three...
They are almost for sure also getting the Philip treatment at some point though, I'm still a sucker for a motley crew of petty criminals.
And that's what i have for now!!!
I got a whole fucking.. accordion folder full of this stuff still, and all the sketchbooks.. these 8 images Barely scratch the surface..
I'm genuinely always so happy to look back at the art of my younger self, cause i just had so much in my head i wanted to get down and i could never quiet Get There but by god!!! I tried!!! I had a million ideas, and i wanted to bring them a l l to life. And i feel like you can see that in the art, but maybe that's just cause it's My Art? But god there's.. so much behind every image, every character i put down on paper had Some kind of story to them, and god i just wanted to tell every single one so bad.
Not all the ideas were you know, ultimately anything workable for what i wanted them to be, but they were all Fun. In their own way.. and I hope i can give them all a lil light now and again, make the Child Bartholomew in my heart finally feel like.. at least a lil satisfied y'know? He always worked so hard, and wanted so much, but so much more was in his way of getting there.. he at least deserves to be a little bit Seen sometimes.. kinda like a form of closure? I guess?
Regardless!! Thank you stranger, and whoever else takes the time to read this, for caring to walk down memory lane with me! I'm sure there will be more in the future, i got Lots of old stuff i'd love to share!
#monster noises#bartholomew illustrated#old art#god.. Mianime went absolutely off the rails by the end#there were like.. soany dozens of story lines#and spin offs and side stories#the world was Large Rich and Completely Ridiculous#and half of it was just a Large Black Void with a castle in the middle of it
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idealizations concerning real life relations | jjk (m)
>>pairing: jungkook x reader / fuckboy!jk x hopeless romantic!oc
>>genre: s2l, fwb, smut, angst
>>word count: 40.9k besties i am so sorry
>>warnings: jk is so sweet, but also so evil lmao, oc lives in her little noggin, angsty fwb, drug and alcohol use, tattoos, multiple smut scenes that include: oral (m/f), fingering (f), light face slapping (with hand and cock??), praise, degradation, marking, dirty talk, so many creampies yum, multiple orgasms, kissing :(, cumming in pants :), probably more but i cant think of it, ok other stuff now, manipulation, infidelity, oc thinks jk is made of stars :(, jk thinks she is so pretty :(, misunderstandings, some fluff if you squint, brunette jk, blonde jk, n blue jk, 1 mentions of: howls moving castle, too many mentions of: stars, the color pink
>>notes: bruv i do not have anything to say for myself EXCPET that i worked v hard on her and i really hope u like it <3 beta: @birbdae tysm for dealing with this, she is long lmao >>> soundtrack
this is split up by seasons, so if 40k is a lot for one sitting, you can read one season at a time if that is easier :)
>>summary: jungkook loves to be loved, but he doesn’t love in return.
summer
Souls are stars. Half of a star to be exact. Clearly this means your soulmate, or whatever shares the other half.
When you die, your body becomes the earth. The trees, the flowers, the grass. Dirt. And your soul becomes stardust that ascends back to its rightful place in the night sky until the other half of your star meets you there.
And there you stay until it’s your time to live again. You’re then a falling star. Shooting, flying, breaking apart as you soar across the sky. Pieces of you and them scattered who knows where, some pieces falling longer than others, some finding their place on the earth immediately. Until the universe decides to bring you back to one another. Born again. Together again. If you’re lucky enough to meet in this lifetime. But if not in this one, then perhaps the next. Or maybe you were together in the one before. Maybe it’s guaranteed. Once a lover, always a lover. In this life and in the next.
Who knows? You sure as hell don’t.
It doesn’t make sense. The way you think about the stars and the people around you. You know that. It’s not like you live by it or anything. You don’t even like space. Know that realistically stars are just gas and that when they fall from the sky they are dying, not reincarnating. They smash into the ground and then. Poof. Gone forever, nothing but a black hole left behind. You also know that soulmates are a fairytale at best and a beautifully spun cruel web of lies at worst.
But being a part of a star and having a… person sounds a lot better to you than eternal damnation or a forever of nothing but void darkness.
“Iced Hazelnut macchiato sub oat milk for __!”
Blushing Brews is hectic but the barista is a smiling little caffeine fairy granting your wish for energy in the form of a small plastic cup. You smile as you take the drink from him. His smile is blinding, it hurts to look at him directly.
You think that maybe not everyone is part of a star and that maybe some are just random, pointless space rocks that fall to earth. But not the barista. He’s definitely part star.
“Thanks,” you say.
You shuffle through the people waiting for their drinks and take a seat at your usual table. The whole coffee shop is quaint and cute, the chairs vintage and upholstered in different shades of velvet fabric. The tables have dried flowers and flakes of gold encapsulated in them. Your table is a little to the left next to the large window, with the order station still in view. You get to people watch the folks outside and person watch the one inside, only one soul able to hold your attention indoors. Aside from the friends sat with you at your table of course. You stir your drink.
“I bet his cum tastes like the oat milk he puts in my coffee.” You stare at the barista behind the counter, innocently just doing his job, oblivious to the way he glows so bright. “Thick and creamy... kinda sweet...”
“You are so-” Taehyung starts.
“Disgusting. She’s disgusting,” Yoongi finishes for him. If the barista is a star, Yoongi is a space rock.
You raise your eyebrows, contemplative. He’s not wrong. Dirty, nasty, disgusting. You’re all of the above. But you’re also a hopeless romantic. Forever in love with the idea of love and all the different parts of it. Always looking at every aspect of life, through rose-tinted glasses. If you wanted to idealize the barista’s sperm, you would. Who was Min Yoongi to stop you? You take a sip of the coffee the barista prepared for you. “You know he never charges me extra for it, even though he’s supposed to.”
“He should. Considering he could probably get in trouble and also how you objectify him.” Yoongi grimaces as he downs his black espresso.
“I don’t objectify him, I romanticize him. I simply observe him and speak everything that goes on in my pretty little head.” Both of your friends give you a flat stare. “Okay, it’s not like he doesn’t know what he’s doing.” He may not know the extent of his charm, but you know he knows he’s charming. “He has a whole sleeve and wears massive stompers to crush hearts. What’s he doing working in a coffee shop?”
“His job?”
“No. He’s trying to subtly leave an impression on unsuspecting creative writing majors that never had a strong male figure in their life, just so he can further ingrain in their head that while he is breathtaking, and makes an incredible iced hazelnut macchiato sub oat milk, he will surely leave just like everyone else, only to become a distant pink memory that they can’t forget, no matter how hard they try and how insignificant.”
“He doesn’t even know your name,” Taehyung says, with a roll of his eyes.
“How can you go from talking about his nut to calling him breathtaking and pink?” Yoongi pulls his laptop out, an exasperated sigh leaving his lips.
“Of course he knows my name. Also. You know what else I bet is pink? His big fat-”
“Shut up.”
You hum, swiftly transitioning. “I’m multifaceted and the definition of dichotomy.” Out comes your notebook. You could at least look like you’re being productive. “I only handwrite poetry and I pull over when I see a field of flowers and I think we are all made of stars, but I also like getting railed and degraded, as well as emotionally demeaned,” You pause, thinking for just a moment, “Though that’s more for my art than anything. Duality.”
“You’re something, that’s for sure. Don’t look now but barista baby is walking this way.”
Barista baby. A pastel feeling starts to creep its way over your skin, leaving goosebumps, and a blush in its wake. You glance in the direction of the counter and sure enough, during a lull in traffic he’s out from behind the counter and he looks like he’s coming directly for you. His big black pants that are decorated with a chain jingle as he takes heavy steps with boot-clad feet. Maybe you’re dramatic but you think you can see a trail of stardust behind him. You look away. Too bright.
“Hey, can I clear these cups for you?” he asks, reaching for Yoongi’s empty one, and Taehyung’s mostly full one. His voice is deep and as soft as the velvet you’re sitting on. He pauses when he feels the weight of Taehyung’s cup. “Oh sorry about that.” He sets it back down.
“Take it, he doesn’t even like coffee, he just gets it for the aesthetic. He’s an art major.” You roll your eyes, sipping your drink.
“Why do you add my major at the end of every insult?” Taehyung groans at you before turning to the barista. “Do you even know her name?”
“Taehyung!” you gasp. Yoongi’s laughing quietly next to you, typing away.
The barista looks between you and your friend hesitantly before saying. “Of course I do, it’s __. She comes in here like at least 3 times a week.”
Taehyung sniffs and you beam.
“Do you know my name?” the barista quizzes.
Your eyes flicker from his face down to the little chalkboard name tag attached to the mauve apron that he’s wearing over his short sleeve black shirt. ‘JK ♥’ is written in pink chalk. Cute.
“Yeah it’s JK,” you say, leaning forward on the table, giving him your full attention.
He smirks. “Don’t let my manager hear that. It’s actually Jeongguk.”
“Well, Jeongguk, you would not believe what __ had to say about the oat milk you guys have here. She said-” Taehyung starts.
“I said,” you cut him off shooting him daggers, “That it’s super thick and creamy, really yummy.”
“Speaking of oat milk,” Jeongguk says unfazed, “You literally break my heart every time you stir that drink.” He leans forward bracing his hands on the table, kinda crowding your space, and nods his head in the direction of your half-empty, light brown coffee.
‘You literally break my heart every time you look at me.’ You think. You slow blink at him. “Why is that?”
“It’s supposed to be consumed in layers.” His eyes are twinkling, and his smile is just a little crooked.
You hum, thoughtfully. “Would it make you happy if I consumed it in layers?” You look up at him through your eyelashes. He’s trying to suppress a smile, his shoulders shaking lightly with poorly concealed laughter.
Taehyung fights back a gag as he chokes on the tension radiating off of you and Jeongguk. Quickly he raises to his feet, and snatches Yoongi’s laptop right from his hands, tucking it underneath his arm before he’s pulling the older boy out of his seat.
“Yoongi I just remembered that we need to finish that project-“
“Tae you’re an art major, and I’m an engineering major. Our classes are in completely different buildings. There’s actually no plausible way for that to be believable and I would literally never pick you as my partner. One because you…” They fade out as they get closer to the door, making their exit.
Jeongguk glances at the newly free seat before peeking at the counter. Still no queue. He takes it upon himself to sit. He places his chin on his hands, tattoos and rings on full display. “Yeah. It would.” He states plainly.
You shift in your seat. It’s so hard to look at a star close up. You squint. “What if that made me not happy?” It truly would ruin your day. Why would you drink straight oat milk, and then straight espresso when you could mix it and enjoy both flavors at once?
He searches your features before cocking his head to the side, a tiny closed-lip smile on his face. “What would make you happy then?”
Your heartbeat is fast and heavy and you can hear it in your ears, everything else subdued and muted. You bring a well-manicured hand down trace at one of the blossoms in the table. You can’t look at him anymore, not when you say it. With faux confidence you speak, “You could take me out.”
You see him tense in your peripheral. You’re still tracing the flower, breath stuck in your throat.
“No,” he says. Your hand jerks, ruining the perfect petals you’ve been outlining. You recover quickly, clearing your throat.
“Well-”
“You could take me out.”
Your head whips up. Eyes wide and doe-like before you get your composure. You scoff. “What’s the difference? Also, why haven’t you talked to me before?”
He looks like he’s thinking, a brief flicker of something flashes in his eyes, gone too fast for you to place it. He looks like he’s settling when he says, “I like to be pursued.”
A smile slowly graces your lips. You nod. “Fair enough.”
He brings his hand down and brushes his pinky against your finger that was tracing the flower. It’s weird how your whole body burns hot and ignites from such a small touch. “I gotta go,” he says, tone soft and hazy and baby pink.
You glance towards the door just as a couple walks in. You purse your lips and make a soft agreeing noise.
Jeongguk raises from his seat, smoothing out his apron. He’s walking away when you speak up.
“Why don’t you ever charge me for the oat milk?”
He glances back at you, a radiant star-filled smile on his face. “To make you happy.”
A small rush of air pushes past your lips as you watch him walk away. You wonder if anyone has ever been successful when pursuing a star.
You do your best to get to work, though your eyes keep flickering to the counter. Jeongguk catches you just once or twice. Each time he smiles and looks away, focusing once again on the orders he’s being given.
The couple that interrupted your and Jeongguk’s conversation ends up sitting a few tables away. Not close enough for you to hear, but close enough for you to watch. Ever the daydreamer, you wonder what they are saying. What should we get for lunch? Did you call your mom like you said you would? Do you want to stay the night? Are you the other half of my star?
The girl is offering the boy a sip of her drink, his hand coming up to cover hers as he guides it to his mouth. She smiles big, eyes half crescents, when he nods in approval, leaning in to place a soft kiss on her cheek, grinning into it. They settle into a conversation, hands moving, heads shaking.
You close your notebook and head to campus. Jeongguk doesn’t notice you’ve left until a few hours later.
~~~~~
autumn
“Fancy seeing you here!”
You jump, almost knocking over your coffee and glance next to you to see the beautiful boy who scared you.
Jeongguk is fresh-faced with his eyes brighter than ever, and he smells like freshly ground coffee beans. The expensive imported kind. From Colombia or something. Maybe Paris. You think a pretty boy like Jeongguk would look good in Paris. Anywhere beautiful really. A beautiful boy in a beautiful place. It just makes sense. He’s still got his apron on and his hair is tied up today, little flyaways framing his face like a halo.
“Is it really?” you ask, trying to sound bored. Trying to quiet the butterflies in your tummy.
You’ve got your laptop with you. No distractions in the form of pointless scribbles or poorly written couplets about boys with coffee eyes and kisses that probably taste like coffee to match, today! You’ve got a Humanities paper due in about 8 hours.
“I guess not, considering you’re here literally all the time.” He grins and scoots closer. “What are you doing?”
“I have a paper due later, so I’m just finishing that up.” You ignore the scoff he makes when he sees you’ve barely got half a page written.
Jeongguk reaches to his other side and offers up a new coffee, figuring yours would be watered down by now. Considering you’ve been here since opening. It's particularly quiet for a Friday, but the lull in business is always welcome. Jeongguk glances to the counter at the storefront, only to find that Jimin’s staring and when he catches Jeongguk’s eye, he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. Jeongguk smiles a tiny grin, but other than that, the other barista is swiftly ignored.
You take the coffee with a small ‘Thank you.’ and then hold his gaze as you deliberately stir it, mixing the carefully poured layers. You smile when Jeongguk’s eye twitches.
“Very unhappy right now.”
You sip away.
“What’s your major?”
“Creative writing. Do you go to school? I haven’t seen you around campus.” You make sure to save what you have so far, just in case you get even more distracted and forget to do so later.
He shakes his head, pretty earring twinkling in the window light. “I would hate to be stuck somewhere for 4 years, and then not even be guaranteed a job after all that debt I would be in.” He pauses and then chuckles at how gloomy he sounds. “I do apprentice at a tattoo shop every now and again. Your major makes sense though. Seems fitting.”
You tuck the tattoo apprenticeship information away, saving it for a later conversation. “How do you know what fits me?”
His expression is sly. “I know more about you than you think. I hear the way you talk about things, and see how you look at them. Plus you’ve always got your nose in your notebook. Do you want to be an author?”
You scoff and roll your eyes, a trace of bitterness seeping through and tainting your expression. “We all want to be authors.” You unfold and refold the napkin in your hand, before tossing it to the side. “I’m going to be an editor, or a journalist, or... something.”
“Don’t worry you have time to think about it.”
You give him a sideways glance. “I mean- not really, I graduate at the end of the spring semester.”
He regards you with curious eyes for a second. He looks like he’s trying to figure you out. His eyebrows furrow like he comes up empty with no explanation for what he is wondering. So with a faint confused smile, he asks, “Why do you live like that?”
You place the coffee you were about to sip back down, caught off guard a little by his genuinely inquisitive and soft tone. “Like what? With long term goals?”
He laughs, loud. It’s brash and startling in the quiet coffee shop. He throws his head back and his eyes crinkle. Some people turn to look at you both. You don’t care. “I mean that’s one way of saying it. But what I mean is like- what if you change your mind? Or like I don’t know… get bored?”
You pause. It’s a loaded, scary question. You wonder if the jobs you listed would really be enough to satisfy someone like you. Someone who’s always thinking about things in a way that makes them seem better than they are. Someone who sees things in extremes and thinks stars are inside of people. Someone who has a constant feeling inside that always wants more. You wonder if you actually will get bored. What you’d do if you did. You don’t want to think about it anymore, so you don’t. Instead, simply stating, “I love writing. I won’t change my mind about that, and as long as I’m doing something that has to do with it, then I’ll be fine.” You think you’re telling the truth, mostly at least.
He makes a soft noise of understanding, but you’re not sure if he actually does.
“I guess if I had something I loved like you love writing then I would see things differently. I just don’t love anything that much. Nothing but my freedom. And it seems like everything tries to take that away eventually.”
Your breath catches and you think something cracks inside of you. Can you ever truly contain a star? Or is it the tighter you hold it, the more likely it is to explode? A supernova waiting to happen?
Before you can respond he speaks up again. “But hey, listen. We should, like, hang out.”
“Oh? I thought you wanted me to take you out?” You jest.
He rolls his eyes, fighting a smile. “You’re still going to.”
~~~~
The thing about being a hopeless romantic is that you think about life in could be’s. You could be his, he could be yours. You paint a picture of potential in your head, all different shades of pink and red and doused in stardust.
You’re levelheaded and sane in most areas of your life, can understand the consequences of moving too fast, not taking the time to think, and not seeing things for what they truly are. But when it comes to things that have to do with liking, with loving, with wanting… You’re brash and eager. You cling to idealizations and dream of scenarios. It makes you infatuated quick, attached even quicker. It’s not a bad thing really. You just fall fast and love easily. You’re good at hiding it, but that sweet pink feeling? It’s always there, just simmering under the surface.
The party is loud and so is your beating heart. Thump, thump, thump. The room has an almost opaque hazy feeling to it, smoke lingering in the air from whatever everyone is smoking. You take a sip from your red plastic cup, grimace, then drink some more. You don’t drink that often, but it's nice. Once you can’t taste or feel the burn of it anymore. Once it makes you float a little. People are bumping into you, as you leave the kitchen. You just refilled your drink. Vodka and some juice this time.
“__!”
He’s running towards you at the speed of light. At least it seems like it. Maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe it’s because he’s just fast. Maybe it’s just because you've got a crush. He doesn’t need to run, you’ll still be there. He’s stopped by people here and there, ugly moths flocking to a bright flame. He flutters away with soft dismissive smiles, a few ‘Hey I’ll catch you later, okay?’s. It makes you feel fuzzy.
“You made it!” He’s beaming, and he’s not out of breath but his chest is moving a little faster than normal. You can see his muscles through the thin fabric of the t-shirt he’s wearing. You stare. He crowds your space, comes close enough for your hand that’s holding your drink to bump into his tummy. Very firm, very strong tummy. He’s so warm, kinda sweaty from all the excess body heat in the room. Or maybe he was dancing. You wanna watch. See how he moves. You take another drink, grazing his stomach as you bring your arm back down.
“You came,” He says again. He’s talking to the top of your head, mostly, your eyes still distracted. His hand comes up to grip at the elbow of your bent arm, just resting there. Just touching.
At last, look up at him, and you have to consciously take a breath. He’s glowing so bright in the hazy, smoky room, surely he doesn’t belong here. At the party. On Earth. He’s wearing a wide neck tee, it shows off the length of his collarbones. They are pretty, strong. But you don’t linger. And you ignore the fresh blossoms of sore red skin that are already there. Just peeking out. You showed up late. Jeongguk doesn’t seem like the type to wait. Not that he was waiting for you. Maybe he was. You hope he was. Even if he found things to keep him occupied while doing so.
“Yeah, I came.” You look at him over the lip of your cup. You’re almost there, almost floating.
He doesn’t say anything when he takes the cup from your hand, holding it from the top, taking a sip of his own. He doesn’t grimace. Maybe he’s already used to the taste. You’d say something but the drinks make you a little sluggish, your quick-wit slowed down. You’re not drunk, far from it, you’re just feeling... nice. He takes your hand, drags you through the crowd of people. That feels nice too. His hand is big and warm, kinda rough yet baby soft at the same time. You’ve always loved contradictions. He’s pulling you to the living room. There’s a ratty couch in the corner with your name on it. Probably spelled in a variety of questionable fluids.
“My friends-” you say realizing you lost Taehyung and Yoongi.
“They’ll find you, don’t worry. The house isn’t that big.” It’s kind of hard to hear him. You lean closer.
To your surprise, Yoongi and Taehyung are actually already there, making quick friends with the other barista from Blushing Brews. Jimin, you remember Jeongguk mentioning him here and there. A few other people are around too, some you vaguely recognize from campus or just around, some you’ve never seen before. There’s not that much room on the couch.
You glance up at Jeongguk, but he doesn’t seem bothered, easily finding a place for himself. He’s still got your hand, so you’re dragged with him, settling half on his lap half on the cushion. You’re kind of sideways, back against the arm of the couch, side pressed against him, legs over his lap. His hand is on your mid-thigh, fingers on the inner seam of your jeans. He’s not doing anything but it feels good. He’s got his other arm around the armrest of the sofa, around you. It’s a little too hot to be sitting so close, but you don’t say anything and neither does he.
The conversation around you is hectic, bouncing from topic to topic. You’re content just sitting and listening, casually just nursing your drink. Taehyung’s going on about the latest piece for his portfolio and how he got accepted to be part of the university’s winter showcase which was kinda of a big deal, and a guy named Namjoon is talking about the wonders of botany, and the medicinal benefits of plants. There’s a couple of girls around too, you smile whenever you accidentally make eye contact with them while people watching. They smile back, eyes flitting curiously between you and Jeongguk. He squeezes your thigh. You press them together, subconsciously, mostly a natural reaction.
“Hey,” He says quietly, so only you hear.
You turn your head to look at him, instead of the people around you. You make a surprised noise when you see how close you are, noses almost touching, him already looking at you. You question him with a look.
He doesn’t need to, your proximity already near, but he presses his lips against your hair, right next to your ear, his cheek brushing yours. “Are you comfy?” You feel him smile more than see it.
You wiggle your toes in your sneakers, press your side a little closer to his chest. “Mhmm.” You glance down when you feel his fingers start to trace the seam of your pants, no longer just squeezing and holding. You honestly can’t help it if you spread your legs just a bit wider in response. You think you feel his breath hitch, before you definitely feel his hand settle high on your inner thigh. It’s nothing scandalous, but it’s something. Makes that sickly sweet feeling boil in your belly.
“You look pretty.” There’s a lazy grin on his face, he’s looking at you with so much contentment that it makes you squirm. You wonder if he’s high. His hand on your thigh tightens. You ask him if he is.
He giggles, cute and quiet before pressing his face into your shoulder like he’s embarrassed. “No, I was but not anymore.” When he looks at you again, his cheeks are tinted pink. He looks pretty too. You tell him.
He rolls his eyes, and looks like he’s about to argue. But the bubble you both were protected in is popped by Jimin’s loud voice, mentioning his name.
“Don’t let Jeongguk hear you say that. He’s the most cynical person I know. Will crush the little daydream in your head so quick.”
Jeongguk laughs, before chiming in, “Who’s day do I need to ruin?”
One of the guys you don’t know speaks up. He’s got broad shoulders and plump lips. “Hyeon, over here thinks she’s found her soulmate in the form of her Mathematics professor.” He rolls his eyes like it’s the most absurd thing he’s ever heard.
You look at the girl and she’s laughing light heartedly, not taking the jabs too seriously. You catch Yoongi’s eye, and he’s already looking at you, eyes bubbling with soft concern, like he knows where this conversation is going to go.
Jeongguk adjusts you on his lap, not much, just enough so he can sit up some more and be fully attentive. He keeps his hands all over you. You don’t miss the way almost everyone’s eyes are on you, nosy and full of questions.
“Hyeon, let me ask you this. Let’s say on the incredibly off chance soulmates do exist, why the fuck would he be in your hometown, that you literally have never left? There’s 7 billion people in the world and you think you met your ‘one true love’ at your University?” he even uses air-quotes.
Hyeon sniffs, and turns her nose up. “I think it’s fate that-“
Jeongguk interrupts her with an obnoxious buzzer noise. “EH. Wrong. Please Hyeon. Believing in that shit is just setting yourself up for disappointment.” He shakes his head, exasperated, before he settles back into the couch. His fingers start tickling your inner thigh again.
Everyone’s kinda chuckling, even Taehyung when he asks, “Damn man… Who the fuck hurt you?”
Everyone really chuckles at that. Except Jeongguk. He shrugs trying to come off unbothered. Calm, cool, and collected. Like he didn’t just passionately crush a girl’s hopes of finding the one. Although you will admit, falling for your university teacher probably wasn’t the best path to follow on the quest for finding your person.
“No one,” Jeongguk says, “I just think it’s stupid.”
Jimin cackles, high pitched and teasing. “Yeah okay. Don’t listen to him. He got his heart broke a few years ago and hasn’t been the same since.”
Jeongguk laughs like he’s over it. You wonder if he is. “Shut the fuck up Jimin.” His eyes still have starshine in them when he turns his attention back to you. “I’m gonna go get another drink. Do you want one?”
You shake your head, giving him a small smile. He squeezes your thigh before he goes, leaving with a quiet, “Stay here okay? I’ll be right back.”
Taehyung’s quick to take his place, plopping your legs in his lap like Jeongguk had. “You okay?”
He says it lightly like he’s trying to not make it a big deal. And it’s not. Not really. Sure you thought of a few could be’s and wished on a few stars. But you know he’s right in some ways. It’s a good thing you don’t really believe in soulmates either. Not really. You believe in people and in stars. In could be’s.
“Yeah I’m good.” You say back quiet. “I don’t believe in them either. Not seriously.” You try to laugh off his incredulous look.
“Are you really? I saw you writing about him, and you’ve been like extra daydreamy lately.”
You roll your eyes. “First of all, don’t snoop. Second of all, it’s just a crush.” You shrug.
He looks at you a little sadly. “We both know you don’t have ‘just crushes’.”
“Actually, I do, now. So please drop it, and go flirt with Jimin some more. I’m going to the bathroom.” You swing your legs off him and wander around for a little bit. You didn’t really have to pee that bad to begin with.
~~~~
During your house roaming escapades, you accidentally walked in on a few people, and never actually found the bathroom you were supposed to be in. Now you’re in a hallway, looking at an elaborate family photo wall. Turns out you have no clue whose house this is, despite Jeongguk mentioning the guy went to your university.
There’s old photos of a couple that turn to marriage photos of a couple. The couple posed in front of a house. Then there’s baby photos, turned into school photos. Color coordinated christmas cards. You squint. You know pictures don’t really tell you much, but they look happy. With their picturesque life. You wonder if the parents share a star.
You jump and let out a squeak when you feel a hand grab the bend of your elbow and spin you around.
“There you are,” Jeongguk sing-songs, trying to not laugh at the noise you made. “I was looking for you.”
You lean against the opposite wall of the pictures. He crowds your space. He smells good. You don’t know how you didn’t notice when you were on the couch with him. Maybe it was the smoke floating around. It’s a little easier to breathe here, in the random hallway you found. Or at least it was till he showed up.
“You found me.” You sing back. He smiles, almost shyly. But his eyes drop to your lips and then back up.
“What were you doing?” He asks. He moves to lean against the wall next to you, trying to get a look at what you were distracted by when he found you.
“Just being nosy.” You hum. “Did you get your drink?”
He looks down at his empty hands, and then leans his head back on the wall, laughing softly to himself. A little drop of sweat rolls down his extended neck. You swallow. It’s still early to mid fall. The weather is still hot enough. Plus all the bodies in the house. Plus he’s a star, always burning so bright. Must be tiring. Sweat inducing.
“I think I forgot it when I went looking for you.” He rolls his head to the side to look at you, and he’s got that lazy grin on his face again.
“Wanna go get it?” You ask, already pushing yourself off the wall.
He’s quick when he stops you, hand on your shoulder gently guiding you back. He’s in front of you again, closer this time. Hotter.
“No, no. It’s okay. We’re- good here. This is good.” His eyes keep flickering to your lips. It’s making you squirm, something starts to stir in your belly. You shift under his gaze.
“Do you do this with all of your friends?” Your voice is softer now, the casual atmosphere you both were just in, long gone. The tension is tangible now and you’re too scared to speak up, afraid you might break if you do.
He hums, angling his body even closer to you. Your back is against the wall now, and the sounds of the party around you are muffled. One of his arms comes up, bracing his forearm by your head bracketing you in on one side. His other hand comes up to toy with the bottom of your shirt. “Do what with them?” His voice is just as soft.
You swallow. “Look at them like you’re gonna kiss them.”
His eyes twinkle as he looks at you, eyes dropping to your lips again. He licks his own, and now they’re wet. The light hits them just right to make them shine. What do stars taste like? He drags his gaze back up deliberately slow. “Yeah. I kiss all my friends.” It’s said on an exhale as he leans closer to you. His lips graze your ear. “Don’t you?”
You let out a trembling breath, shaking your head. A warning signal goes off in your brain, red-lights flashing. That’s a red flag, you’re sure of it. But for some reason, in your mind, the lights, the flag… they look pink, almost enticing instead of worrisome. The blaring warning alarms slow and blur into a melodious siren song.
He’s shifting closer again. The heat from his body is scalding. Part of you wishes you could move back, most of you wants to press into it. Get burned just a little. “You don’t?” he asks. There’s a little bit of a teasing lilt to his voice, you can hear the smile. “Why’s that?” The hand by your head plays with a small piece of your long hair, twirling it around his fingers. You get a glimpse of his tattoos. Pretty.
You struggle to find something to say. You don’t want to say you only kiss your boyfriends, you don’t want to scare him. Because you want this, you do. You just- “I- I only kiss special friends.” -want it to mean something.
It rushes past your lips and you’re not able to stop it. Not able to really think about what you’re saying. Not able to think about what you’re implying, what you’re agreeing to. You feel his grip on your hip tighten a little, and his body pushes towards you, just grazing yours. He’s not hard yet but he’s excited. Cock a little thicker and heavier and pushing out just a little more than normal. Your eyes squeeze shut and you try not to whimper.
He nuzzles against your temple. “That’s good, we can be special friends. I like that.”
He’s leaning in and you’re about to ask him if he means it, the thing he said about liking it, but the tension is shattered and the fragile atmosphere is ruined.
“Gguk! You better leave that poor girl alone!”
It’s said by Jimin, it’s always him it seems. He’s drunk and hauled over Taehyung’s shoulder, just passing by the hallway you’re in on their way to presumably the bedrooms. There’s a few people laughing and following them, waiting for a show and consequently, some filter into your secret hallway and take it upon themselves to make it their space as well.
Jeongguk sighs, forehead resting against yours. “I gotta go make sure he wraps it.” He sounds annoyed but amused. “He’s had chlamydia one too many times. Insurance won’t cover his clinic costs anymore.”
You snort. “Please tell me you’re joking.” You tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. Actions bold for the fragile feeling floating around you both. His eyes track the movement and you don’t miss how he tenses before your arm falls back to your side.
“Yeah I am, but I should still go make sure he’s being safe.”
You nod. “You’re a good friend, Jeongguk.”
He rolls his eyes, playful when he squeezes your hip. “Don’t forget you still have to take me out.”
“I won’t.”
His smile matches your own. “I’ll see you?”
You nod again, as he turns to jog in the direction that Jimin and Taehyung went. You wish he looked back. Oh well.
~~~~
Early to mid-fall bleeds into late autumn.Still warm during the day like a soft summer’s kiss, just a little chilly during nightfall like the last words of a past lover. You and Jeongguk haven’t talked about the party. And he hasn’t tried to kiss you since. Things are different though. Soft touches here and there, more frequent than before. Even softer, stilted flirting ensued during the following weeks. He wasn’t acting shy, never that.
But it’s like he was waiting for you. Waiting to be pursued. You guess. It’s clear he wants more, but it's almost like he doesn’t want to be the one to push for it. Give in to it. You don’t really know. You also don’t think too much about it. Don’t think a lot about anything other than him, and the next time you’ll see him, next moment you’ll get to spend time with him. Usually, you don’t have to wait too long. He spends most of his breaks with you at the coffee shop, now. It’s a sweet thing he does, just like how he’s been putting that extra pump of sweetener into your drink lately.
Today, however, you are not at Blushing Brews, you’re at the fair. Large rides and crooked games line the surrounding area of the boardwalk, sounds of people screaming and laughing fill the air. It smells like heart disease and the salty ocean. It’s not too crowded, it’s been open for a while, you came on one of the last days it was in town.
“This is me taking you out by the way,” you say around a spoonful of frozen cherry limeade.
Jeongguk hums as he leans down, wanting a taste. You want to taste too, just not of his frozen lemonade. You scoop a heaping amount. Maybe he’ll get a brain freeze.
“You don’t say?” He smiles before wincing, mouth forming a small ‘o’. He’s blowing out like he’s trying to warm the inside of his mouth. You smile, spoon between your teeth.
“Tasty?” you ask, trying to stifle a laugh.
“Cold.” he responds, still trying to melt the icy slush in his mouth. He offers you a bite of his.
“Too sour,” you decline. “I only like sweet things.”
~~~
The wind is blowing, the breeze is pleasant after running around the fair all day. Hours have gone by, playing games that you both know are rigged, bartering with the worker until you’re giving up and buying the prize you want anyway, a medium sized Hello Kitty plush with a pink bow. Riding rides that are terrifying simply because they get taken apart and put back together, time and time again. Eating way too many fried foods and drinking far more sugary drinks than is healthy. But neither you or Jeongguk have mentioned wanting to leave.
You walk the boardwalk and take a seat at the ledge of the pier and Jeongguk’s close by following suit. Feet are dangling off the edge, and a soft mist of salty water tickles your ankles. It’s night time now. The stars are bright in their home. You lean back and brace yourself on your extended arms, palms on the wooden pier.
“You know that stuff you said at the party? About soulmates?” You’re not looking at him, eyes up towards the sky. You can feel him gazing at your profile though. It burns a little. Everything about him is hot. Not unbearably so. Kinda like when you turn the shower on as hot as it can go. Scalding, but good.
“About all of it being bullshit?” he laughs to himself. “Yeah I remember. I’ll say it again too.” He knocks your extended elbow causing it to buckle, playful and cheery like he always is. How can being around him be such a contradiction? Light-hearted yet suffocating. Doesn’t matter really. Not like you’re going to stop. Not until he tells you to. You scowl at him before righting yourself.
You’re quiet for a moment, long enough for Jeongguk to follow your gaze and glance at the navy blanket above you both. “I believe it,” you state.
He’s looking at you again. You look at him as well, face impassive. “You do?” he asks. He doesn't really sound surprised. Why would he be? What writer doesn’t believe in something as far fetched as reciprocated love?
You shrug lightly. “Maybe not like soulmates. But I think we have like… a person that we could spend a really long time with. Forever even. Maybe longer if we’re lucky.” He doesn’t say anything so you continue. “I also think we are all part of the stars. And we share a star with our person.”
Jeongguk’s confused to say the least but he goes with it. You live in a constant daydream, and he knew you had your head in the clouds when he first met you, decided that he wanted you. “If we’re stars, how do we get to earth?”
“We fall. Falling stars,” you explain. He makes a soft sound of acknowledgement.
You both fall silent, the distant sound of laughter and the rolling waves the only thing letting you know the world hasn’t fallen mute. The reflection on the moon dances on the ripples of the ocean.
“How did you… come to this conclusion?”
Again you shrug. You lay back on the salty, sandy wood of the dock. “I don’t know really. I just like the sound of it. The idea.” You give a half suppressed laugh, feeling kinda silly. He lays down next to you, attention fully taken by the stars.
You don’t know why. He sees himself everyday.
“So you really have no idea?”
“I mean…” you start. Think a short moment. “We really don’t have any idea about anything we can’t physically see. Right? Like we have no idea if heaven’s real or not because we can’t see it. Hell too. I don’t even know if Australia is a real place.”
Jeongguk chuckles. “Of course it’s real.”
“How do you know? Have you been? Have you seen the alleged opera house? A kangaroo even?” You raise your eyebrows challenging him.
He’s shaking his head like he can’t believe you. He’s smiling though. Always shining. “I’ve seen pictures. And other people have been.”
“And you just believe them? People say they have been to heaven, there’s pictures of angels.”
A staring contest ensues before he’s rolling his eyes, giving up. He waves a lazy, bony hand. Wrist limp, as he gestures for you to just get on with it.
A smug grin graces your lips. “It’s the same with soulmates. People think they are real, claim to have met theirs on some off chance. But, that’s all subjective hearsay.” You kick your feet, still dangling, just tempting the ocean to drag you in. Maybe a shark will get you. Maybe a sea spirit. “But… the stars? They are right there. People? Literally everywhere. You? You’re right next to me. I can see all of it. I know it’s all there, and real. There’s a connection. It means something I think.”
He hums a few times like he’s processing something, trying to figure out how to word the thoughts running around in his mind. He takes a deep breath. “Stars are really big you know. Don’t you think it's… I don’t know, like suffocating for the star to confine them to being someone’s soulmate?”
“Not soulmate.”
“You know what I mean.”
Head shaking, you deny what he says. “No, I don’t think it’s confining or suffocating. Being important to someone is so special; precious. A big deal for them.” You nod towards the sky.
When he whispers, it’s said so quietly you almost miss it, “What if the star doesn’t want that?”
His words hurt for some reason. It’s stupid, and you can’t explain it, but the ache is piercing, like a sweet tooth left untreated for too long, slowly decaying, sharp stabs of pain throbbing.
“Don’t you think the stars get lonely?” You murmur back.
He swallows audibly, and you hear him let out a breath that trembles just a hint too much to be considered normal. Jeongguk rolls to his side so he’s facing you, he has a dopey smile on his face, just a little bit crooked and uneven. It looks forced, but you let him have it. “Well… which star am I then? If we all are made of stardust.” He’s trying to tease. Trying to breathe.
You look at him with a light blush on your cheeks. The multicolored fair lights are glowing over his face, rapidly changing color. It’s like you’re looking at him through a kaleidoscope. It’s dizzying. That’s not why your stomach is doing flips though. You roll over to your side, body to body. Only a few inches in between you both.
“You’d be the north star, I think.”
He hums, closes his eyes so his lashes kiss the apple of his cheek, a soft expression taking over his features. They're still shut when he ponders, “Why would I be that one?”
You don’t have to think about it. “Because it's the brightest star in the whole sky.”
His brows furrow before he opens his eyes, he looks confused. “Which one are you?”
You shrug again. He keeps asking you questions you don’t know the answers to. You don’t even like space that much. Just the idea of it. You like the idea of a lot of things.
“I don’t know if I’m star material.” You laugh rolling onto your back again, looking up once more. The stars look so close, right next to each other, but in reality they are so far apart. You think about how you and Jeongguk are separated by just a few inches. A foot at most. Yet in this moment, it feels like you couldn’t reach him if you tried. “I’m probably like a space rock or something. So essentially the same. Just less luxurious. People don’t make wishes on me. Space rocks are pretty pointless and useless. Just look at Yoongi. He’s a space rock too.” You’re laughing as you say it. Jeongguk’s not.
“I shouldn’t be that one,” he whispers. “And if someone like me gets to be a star, then you get to be one too.”
A small smile is still on your face when you gaze at him again. “Someone like you?”
He nods.
You giggle. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He regards you, eyes taking every inch of your face like he’s trying to memorize you. The freckle by your eye, the faintest scar near your lip. “I think you’ll find out, eventually.” He sounds off when he answers.
Still, you don’t hesitate. “I hope so.”
~~~
The room is big but you’re sitting close to him.
“No! No! You’re like not that bad... honestly! If the whole creative writing thing doesn’t work out you could be an idol.”
You know the boy next to you is lying. You know he is because your voice keeps cracking. Going flat or sharp whenever you get a turn on the mic. Pfft. You never could have been an idol. But when you glance at him, your cheeks aren’t flushed with embarrassment. They are flushed because of how much you have been laughing, because of the pink fuzzy feeling bubbling in your chest. You’ll probably burst soon. Jeongguk’s eyes are gleaming, and his lips are pursed trying to hold back his smile. Maybe it’s better that way. You wouldn’t want to be blinded. His smile too bright and full of the stars. It’s been hard to look at him the last few months.
“You are such a liar!” You’re giggling as you playfully swat at his shoulder.
But your laughter quiets when you feel his big hand grip around your tiny wrist before you can land a hit. His long fingers overlapping where they meet at your bone. Your eyes flick between the connected skin and his face and that’s when it happens. The world starts to move slower around the sun, and your heart makes up for it by beating that much faster. You see his doe eyes dance between all your features paying special mind to your lips. The tension between you both is tangible and hot, burning. And it’s going to happen. After months, ages, of stilted flirting and wavering touches and poorly hidden desire. Jeongguk is going to kiss you.
Your lashes are fluttering, your eyes are closing, and you’re leaning forward to meet him halfway when you hear:
“Do you have any?”
Your eyes open wide to see his mirroring yours, and your breath stutters out in quiet shock. Embarrassing.
“W-what?” You do your best to keep your voice steady, but you’re flustered. He’s so close and his eyes are so focused. There are stars in them too.
The grip on your wrist tightens a bit bringing your attention to your attached limbs. Yours still raised mid-strike, his raised in mid-defense. His eyes flick to his decorated forearm. Your brows furrow.
“Any tattoos?” You ask.
Jeongguk’s little pink tongue darts out to wet his lips before he nods and lets out a small affirmative noise.
You flex your hand in his hold and glance at the ink all over it. He has knuckle and hand tattoos, along with random other designs littering his skin.
You blush. “Yeah I have a tiny black cat on my ankle… It’s supposed to be the cat from Kiki’s Delivery Service?”
You expected him to think it was silly, childish, but he smiles instead. “Jiji?”
You grin back and nod.
His lips purse together and his eyes peek at your lips again. “Did it hurt?” he muses.
You laugh a little. A breathy, incredulous thing sneaking past your lips. “I mean you know for yourself. Your whole arm is covered.” You nod your head at his arm, and your fingers twitch in his grasp, like they want to touch, trace the dark lines on his comparatively fair skin.
The blush that falls on his cheeks is cute, but you don’t allow yourself to dwell on it, still feeling a bit childish and silly for letting your thoughts run away from you just a moment ago. Thinking he was going to finally kiss you. Tsk. Embarrassing.
“It hurt yeah,” he says chuckling to himself, “But Jiji is black right? So it must be dark? That hurts worse. Especially on the ankle.” his boot-clad foot nudges up against the ankle where he knows the piece is, brushing against it gently. He doesn’t take his eyes off your face.
You think about the fact that he knows which ankle you have tattooed, the way he knows what technique was used on it. How he knew it was a dark, filled in tattoo, not just an outline like it very well could have been, without even having to look away from you to peek at it and double check. You think about how he asked, just to ask, despite already knowing. You think about what that could mean. You think about how he must have been paying attention to you, taking in small details about you and filing them away without you even knowing or noticing. You think about how he maybe just wants to hear you talk sometimes. The gulp is audible when you swallow down the sweet, tingly feeling that’s crawling up your throat like bile.
It’s only you two in the noraebang room, the distant sound from the rooms surrounding is loud, loud enough for you to speak up. And yet your voice comes out as a soft whisper when you answer. He leans closer to hear you. “It hurt at first, when he went over it, you know? But after a while... I don’t know. It felt like warm? I kind of liked it. You know... the pain.”
All the noises of the rooms next to you cease and it’s like your ears are filled with cotton candy clouds. All the sensitivity leaving them and migrating to your other senses making them heightened. You watch with clear eyes as Jeongguk’s pupils dilate.
“Do you think I liked it? When it hurt, when I got all mine done?” He asks. You can’t tell if he’s being quiet on purpose or if it’s still the baby pink clouds in your ears.
“You might have… I know a lot of people do, but I don’t know much about you Jeongguk.”
And maybe it’s coincidental. The way the kiss hurts. Feels slightly painful. Bruising and desperate. Or maybe it’s intentional. Either way, the tension between you and him comes to a head. The gasp that leaves your lips is loud and sharp, you don’t even kiss back at first because you’re so dumbstruck. Lovestruck. It’s only been a few months... Embarrassing.
Embarrassing until it’s not. Embarrassing until you get yourself together enough and start to kiss back, hands sinking into his long hair, gripping a little too hard so you have something to tether you to this earth. Embarrassing until it’s wet and sloppy but slow and dreamy all at once. Until you feel his teeth dig into your bottom lip, his tongue following to soothe the little ache that he caused, maybe by accident, maybe on purpose because you told him you liked pain. It’s embarrassing until you can’t think about how embarrassing it is.
Until you can’t think straight at all because the only thing going on is your mind is: this is how it feels to kiss a fucking star. Not the rich kind of star that’s dressed in designer brands and weighed down by the heaviness of the world along with too many rings and watches and chains. Not the idol kind of star either, the kind that is so carefully crafted and manufactured that it’s kind of hard to see it as a star at all when it seems more like a doll.
No.
Kissing Jeongguk is like kissing one of the stars in the sky, when they are in their rawest, purest form. The kind of star that people make wishes on when they are twinkling, when they are falling; dying. You’re dizzy and your eyes are squeezed shut so tight that little white dots are coming and going in the darkness and you think that maybe those are stars bursting right before your eyes. You hold onto the star in your hands a little tighter, kiss him just a little harder.
He winces from the force of your kiss and pulls away. Embarrassing.
When he looks at you his eyes are dark, and his chest is already heaving.
He licks his lips and his eyes go down to your lips, then back up almost as if asking for permission to continue. You give him the slightest nod, and that’s it. That’s all he needs.
The noraebang seating is uncomfortable. Booth-like vinyl over barely padded benches, but you go easy as Jeongguk urges you to lay down, resting against the arm rest. His kisses are insistent and hot as he crawls over you, and settles between your open legs.
He’s such a good kisser. The type to cradle your face in his palms, the type to sneak his tongue inside after teasing the seam of your lips. The type to bite gently, make you whine into his mouth, and he just eats up every little noise you make and breath that you take. It feels good, even the sharp sting of his bites, even the way the armrest presses into your back when he puts his weight on you. The hand that pulls at your hair to expose your neck to him, feels good too.
He bites and sucks, little multicolored flowers blooming on your skin. He’s suffocating in the best way. The silence swimming around you is suffocating as well, just not in a good way. The lack of words make you feel antsy, the distant music of the neighboring booths sound muted and subdued, giving the illusion that you and Jeongguk are the only two in the world, in your own little bubble. It’s overwhelming.
“You’re a good kisser,” you gasp, just to break the quiet.
You feel him smile into your neck, before he braces himself over you, looking at you smugly, yet charmingly. “You too.” he says softly. The way he rolls his hips into you, however, isn't soft at all.
He brings a hand down, and bunches up the material of your skirt so the only thing between you both are his layers, and your panties. You can feel him better now, can feel just how hard he is, how thick and long his cock is, rutting over your cunt.
You spread your legs as far as you can so that you are more open for him, his cock slipping just barely between your pussy lips over your panties, rubbing over your clit every time he grinds into you. He keeps his thrusts consistent and rough, his breath stuttering out labored and hot.
You’re trying to keep quiet, but you can’t help the soft whines that slip past your lips. “Feels good, Koo,” you praise.
Your hands are gripping at his biceps, feeling the way that they flex and tremble from holding himself over you. He drops to his forearms and groans deep, burying his face in your neck. You can feel his hips start to move faster, more desperate. His breaths are puffing hot on your neck, going up in pitch at the end. He’s almost whining for you and your hips start to roll to meet his, your pussy needy and wet, craving the friction and drippy at the sound of his pleasure. His lips are alternating between biting and giving soft wet kisses.
“Fuck, I’m not gonna last... I’m gonna cum-”Jeongguk grits out against your neck before lifting his body some to look down at your bodies where his clothed cock is grinding frantically against your panty covered pussy.
You can hear the desperation in his voice along with a hint of shame.
“That’s okay,” at the sound of your voice Jeongguk looks at you, one arm bending so he’s got his palm braced on one side of your head and his forearm on the other and you sigh out a soft pleasured sound. He looks so breathtaking. His starshine eyes are dark and wet, his fair skin is flushed and hot. There’s a bit of sweat at his hairline from how hard he’s working for his release. You wipe away a drop on his temple as you push his long hair out of his face. “You did good, you made me feel so good. Show me how good I make you feel. Please.”
You watch as pleasure overtakes him, the hard thrust of his hips becoming even more erratic and hectic. He’s nodding along with your praise like that’s what he needed to let go, whines and groans tumbling from his lips. He’s looking at you when his eyes start to flutter and his brows turn up in pleasure. His mouth falls open and he’s coming. Hot shots of white fill his pants and you can feel the warmth of it and the throb of his cock through the thin layers of clothes separating you.
His head is hanging and his body is trembling with the after rush of his orgasm when he chuckles lightly. “That doesn’t normally happen. I swear.”
You’re kind of just laying there, on the less than comfortable noraebang booth bench, with him still in between your legs. You laugh with him softly. “Been a while?” you ask.
He shakes his head, still catching his breath and coming down, mind still a bit hazy. “No, no. You just- you’re so… different. You make me feel weird.”
The laughter that had been floating between you slowly starts to quiet as you both seem to realize what he said at the same time. He looks at you, eyes simmering with panic, and yours look back searching and confused.
It’s quick, the way he changes the subject, smothers you with his breath and distracts you with his soft kisses and even softer touches. Making your tongue too busy with his, to ask questions. Not that you would have asked. You play it off, threading your hands in his hair, kissing him deeply. The tiny little prickle of hurt you felt in your chest was completely forgotten as he kisses you back just as hard, like he wants to swallow you whole.
He brushes some hair out of your face and whispers against your lips, “I wanna make you cum.” The hand that isn’t playing with your hair is sliding down your body, before cupping over your pussy. Your panties are wet, sticking to you. You know he can feel it because he gasps, soft and small. “Fuck, please let me.” He rests his forehead on yours, and rubs at your clit over your panties. The gentle, teasing circles are the match that ignites the little flame of arousal that has been seething within your belly.
You whisper, “What if someone comes in?”
Your hips subtly rolling into his touch at their own accord, don’t do much to show him that you're actually worried.
He breathes a laugh against you before placing a chaste kiss to your cheek, and then biting softly at the apple of it. “You know why people come here… so do the people who work here. No one’s gonna bother us.”
He’s kissing your neck again, and his fingers are speeding up.
“Is that why you brought me here?” you whisper, breath hitching on a whine.
Jeongguk’s fingers stutter for a second before carrying on, and he looks at you with hazy lidded eyes. He has a sheepish smile on his face. “Not exactly. I wanted to hang out. But I may have been hoping for a little.” he says as he kisses you softly. “Been thinking about how you taste since that party.”
You can’t help but moan. You’ve been thinking about it too. How it feels to be completely devastated by a star in the best, most blissful way. You manage to keep some shred of decency, though. You’re not at yours or his, and you’re not in your head this time. You’re in a very public space, even if everyone knows what goes on behind the locked doors. “N-no sex.” you bargain.
He nods. “Can I use my mouth?” he nuzzles into your temple, and two of his fingers tap against your pussy. “Can I use it here?” he places the gentlest, teasing kisses between his words. “I’ll be quick.” he assures.
You whine and squirm against him. “Confident?” you ask, trying to tap into your usual, quit wit. To little avail. It’s no use. You were ruined at the first taste of him, the first feel of his lips on yours. You can only imagine how they will feel in other, more secret places.
He smiles, tongue in cheek before he shrugs lightly. “A little.”
You roll your eyes, but when he plays with your clit again, your hips buck into his palm and he takes that as a yes and moves down your body. His hands come up to play with your boobs briefly, squeezing and rolling them in his hands. “Gonna fuck these one day, okay?” he tells you.
Him saying that he’s gonna fuck your tits, should be vulgar. But to you it’s a promise that this is going to happen again, and it makes you high, floaty thinking about him wanting you, desiring you. Him already thinking about the next time he gets to have you when he hasn’t even finished with you this time.
Your brain is hazy and his touch is burning through your clothes but that’s nothing compared to the way his breath feels on your clothed cunt when he finally finds his place between your legs. You’re wet, embarrassingly so and you know your panties are sticking to your core. Your ears are still cloudy, and you’re sure you’re probably imagining it, but when Jeongguk slips his fingers into the sides of your panties to peel them away, you think you can almost hear the wetness. He grabs them from the top and starts to pull them down and off your feet. Your hands come to your face to try and hide, your legs instinctually closing.
He’s having none of that. His hands are placed on your knees as he slides them over your thighs, chills following the path of his fingertips. He places a gentle pressure, urging you to open them. He’s a little higher than your cunt, kind of resting on your lower belly when he pulls at your hands, making you look at him.
“Don’t hide from me,” he says quietly. One of his hands tangles with yours as he slowly lowers himself to your pussy. He kisses and licks over your smooth, pink lips. His hand that’s holding yours squeezing every now and then when he looks up at you with his dark, lust filled eyes.
His free hand comes down to slip between your folds, and just teases at your opening, almost like he’s playing with the little droplets of slick that are dripping from your core. Your legs open a bit more, shame and shyness steadily creeping away as you yearn for him to make you feel good. You feel him smile and peck your pussy lips before he rests his head on your thigh. He looks at you, doe-eyes filled with mirth.
“Want my fingers, too, pretty girl?” he muses.
You close your eyes as you nod, an exhale stutters from your chest.
“What do you say?” he taunts.
Eyebrows furrowed, and lips pouted, you grumble out a soft, “Please…”
He hums before he slowly sinks his middle finger inside. It feels good right away, his finger is much longer and thicker than your own, reaching that spot inside that you always struggle to reach. Your mouth parts and the softest sigh leaves your lips. His other arm wraps around your thigh, and fingers slide between your folds from the top to spread them so your clit is exposed and ready for his tongue. When he finally tastes you, he moans along with you, before he gets to work.
He wasn’t lying when he said it wouldn’t take long. Jeongguk’s tongue is skilled. It works fast, flicking quickly over your clit, up and down. It’s constant and wet, and it's so filthy the way his tongue on your sweet spot makes your pussy just gush all over the finger he has inside of you.
He sucks gently when his tongue and jaw need a break, little pulses and slurping suctions stimulating you, before he goes right back to lapping at your sensitive little bud, occasionally dipping down to lick at your center, wrapped tight around his finger.
He pulls your hood back a little more, placing wet kisses to your clit, tongue licking just slightly before his lips wrap around it making you jolt from the direct sensation.
You’re braced on your arms, looking down at him, watching him make you come apart at the seams. When he adds his ring finger, your head and eyes roll back, and your legs spread even farther, making yourself as open as you can for him.
“Fuck, I’m already close,” you whine, high pitched and airy. You bring a hand down and brush some of his hair out of his face, and you see him smile a little, smug as he puffs out a soft laugh. His breath is hot on you, as his tongue and lips keep playing with your clit. His fingers speed up too, curling every time they are pushed in, dragging when they pull out. He knows exactly what he’s doing, exactly how to make you fall apart.
“You gonna cum for me baby?” he purrs against your cunt.
Your brows are pinched in pleasure and you nod as you watch him. “Yeah, don’t stop, please,” you whisper.
His eyes close as he drowns in you, his face pressed up against you as he licks you from an angle that is so precise and so perfect that your legs start to shake. The hand you have in his hair tightens and you pull, keeping him close as you chant quiet, lewd praises.
“Gonna cum, Koo- oh my god-” Your mouth falls open and your eyes squeeze shut.
Right when you’re on the crest of pleasure, Jeongguk replaces his tongue with his fingers so he can watch you as you cum. He sees the way you're about to protest at the loss of his mouth before your body tenses and your back arches off of the bench, his fingers toying with you enough to make the rush hit you before you can even complain.
“Fuck, look at you baby,” he murmurs in awe.
His eyes are trained on your pussy, the way it clenches and contracts around his fingers. He spreads you as wide as he can so he can have the best view of your pink cunt pulsing, and dripping. His fingers slow on your clit as you start to come down and the fingers inside of you almost pet at your g-spot, milking every last bit of pleasure he can from you.
Slow is still overwhelming though, when you’ve just cum. It’s not long before your hands are reaching between your legs and gripping at his wrist.
“Too much,” you cry.
He coos, as he removes his fingers. He gently pulls at your inner lips and opens up your puffy little cunt. “She’s still pulsing around nothing…” he says. He sounds dazed, lust drunk. “Did I make you cum that hard, baby?”
You’re still trying to catch your breath as you look down your nose at him. He’s got that effortlessly confident, cocky look on his beautifully, flushed face and you just want to kiss it off. You kick him instead.
“Awe, don’t be mad, I’m only teasing,” he giggles as he settles himself on top of you, resting on your chest. He squeezes your tit good-naturedly.
“Confidence is only sexy if it’s paired with humility, which you are sorely lacking, my friend.”
“Your special friend,” he whispers, kissing your collarbone.
You grab his face and angle it towards you and kiss him before you can think too much about it. Before you can think about how it might scare him. The way he tenses in your hold is heart-stopping. Not in a lovesick way, but in the worst gut-wrenching way. You can almost feel the inner battle that he has within himself before he seems to give in.
The soft sigh he moans into your mouth is so sweet, that it’s toothache inducing. The way he lets himself melt into you and the way he becomes pliant in your hold almost feels better than his tongue. With his pliancy in mind, you gingerly sit up, mouths never parting, and he goes easily with you until you’re crowding his space and eventually straddling his lap. The kiss is still soft, saccharine sweet when his hands slip under your skirt. They knead at your cheeks, pulling and squeezing admiring how plush your body is. You’re about to start working your hips over him, but he groans and gets a hold of you before you start going.
“You already made me cum in my pants once, you are not doing it again,” he whisper scolds, while playfully nipping at your bottom lip.
“I thought it was sexy,” you whisper back. You brush your nose against his.
You’ve got your hands working through his hair, scratching at the nape of his neck. He hums while he pushes into your touch, eyes closing.
“You know what else is sexy?”
You make a soft questioning noise.
“When you walk out of here with no panties on,” his eyes are still closed as he smirks.
You’re jostled quickly and back on the bench instead of his lap. He’s crowding your space and when you look him over, you see your light blue panties hanging from his finger. You blush.
“Jeongguk, you better give those back right now,” you whisper.
He quirks an eyebrow. Then he leans in and coos into your ear, “Don’t you think it would be more fun to think about what I’m gonna do with them? How I might be planning on wrapping them around my cock the next time I touch myself? How I might be planning to cum all over them?”
It’s audible when you swallow down the desire crawling up your throat. You raise to your feet and head for the door.
“You should tie your sweater around your waist, your boner is distracting and indecent,” you say with a quick backward glance.
Jeongguk pockets your panties, and laughs before taking your advice and catching up with you.
~~~~
winter
“When I think of you, I think of the color pink.”
It’s cold outside, but the apartment is warm. So is the bed. So is the body laying next him. Warm.
Jeongguk doesn’t stay the night very often.
He is tonight though. His head is on your chest and his fingertips are lazily running over your bare skin leaving little chills trailing behind. Your hand is in his hair. It’s getting long now, and it’s still soft, easy for you to run your fingers through, despite being bleached a week or so ago. You went with him to the appointment.
Jeongguk laughs a little. “That’s funny because I also think of the color pink when I think of you.”
He doesn’t look at you when he says it, but he can tell you’re smiling, close to giggling when you respond, “Really? Why?”
He hums and looks up at you. You look back with that look of adoration that you always have when gazing at him. His chest constricts, it’s hard to breathe when he’s with you sometimes.
“Because of how pretty, and pink your pu-”
You push your hand in his face with a laugh and try to roll away from him. “God, shut up! You’re so crass.”
You don’t get far before he’s got his hold on you. His big hands wrapping around your tiny bones. He manhandles you until you’re properly under him, hands pinned and bottom half weighed down by him straddling you.
“That’s not what you were saying a couple of hours ago, was it baby?” he taunts. “What was it you said? ‘Yeah, Koo… your cock feels so good, please cum inside me, fill me up.’ right?” he says, making his voice breathy and high pitched, mocking you.
He presses into your cheek, nips at your ear as he teases, basking in the way that your cheeks blush red, incandescent. Warm, just like the apartment, like the bed. Like the whole of your body underneath him.
You’re there often, under him. Sometimes on top of him, next to him, in front of him. He kisses you, chaste yet thorough, and you keen, hands fighting against his hold like you want to touch.
Again, he relishes in your reaction. He relishes in everything about you, everything you do, all of the time. The way that you’re witty and sarcastic when you’re out and about. The way you constantly talk about things as if you’re painting a picture with your words, carefully choosing each syllable.
Versus the way you get when you’re just with him. Sometimes still witty, a visionary, but mostly shy, sweet, and like the most delicate flower in his destructive hands. He tries to be gentle with you, he really does. But he’s a creature of habit; and he has a habit of being rough, a habit of hurting and ruining pretty things. He hates that about himself. But it’s almost subconscious, he never realizes he’s doing it, ruining it, until it’s too late.
But he’s been transparent with you. It’s not his fault that you always seek him out, and it’s not his fault that you’re the sun, always there in a sense, in his mind. It’s not his fault that he’s grown to crave your comfort, your presence. Even at night when you’re not physically with him and the sun has set but his bed still has lingering warmth on the side that’s not his; even then, you’re still there in the recesses of his mind, just like the sun is still in the sky even if it can’t be seen, even if the moon has taken its place for the night. Or a star, as you would say. It’s not his fault.
His hands release yours, and one comes up to your cheek, thumb rubbing over the apple. Your hand comes down and holds at his inked wrist as your lashes flutter. His eyes scan the entirety of your face before a lopsided grin starts to form on his lips. He tilts his head a little.
“And why do you think of pink?” Jeongguk asks.
He watches as you flush even darker, the smallest scowl falling over your features, a little wrinkle forming between your brows. He bites his lip to keep from laughing at you.
“You think I’m gonna tell you now?” you spout.
He doesn’t give in, knowing you just want to bicker. He knows you do that, pick fights, just because you want attention, just want him focused on you. You’d never admit to being the bratty type, but he knows you well. In that sense at least. Instead he hums, pecks your nose. “That’s okay. You don’t have to tell me, I just like that you’re thinking about me.”
“Do you think about me too?”
Sometimes you scare him. When you ask him questions like that. In that soft, sweet, hopeful tone. When you give him those tender looks and touch him with hands that are too gentle for someone like him, like you think he’s the one that might break between the two of you.
“Too much,” he murmurs honestly.
You smile and you look like you’re going to say something, but Jeongguk’s quick to change the subject.
“You should let me tattoo you.”
“No way!” you say instantly, swatting at his chest. He shifts and rests most of his weight on you, buries his face into your skin. You smell like your body wash, along with a little bit of him. Vanilla and JK.
“Why not? Do you doubt my craft?” he teases, mock offense lacing his tone.
“Maybe if you actually went to your apprenticeship every once in a while, instead of skipping to go to those lame parties, I wouldn’t,” you tease back.
He snorts. “Jokes on you, I skipped it tonight to hang out with your lame ass.”
You smack him gently again. “Jeongguk!”
You’re giggling freely, body shaking underneath him and he can’t help but grin at the sound. “Maybe if you let me work on you, I would be more motivated to practice.”
You hum thoughtfully, eyes crinkled as you try to suppress your laughter. “Fine, but only if you let me tattoo you too.”
He knows you think that will deter him, but still, he doesn’t even hesitate. “Deal, baby.”
You laugh at him again, loud and overly bright for a few moments until you realize that he’s not laughing with you. The way your face settles into a confused pout finally breaks Jeongguk’s straight face and makes him chuckle. Your brows are pinched and your eyes are wide.
“Y-you’re not serious…” your incredulous laugh putters out. “Are you?”
“Of course I’m serious.”
And he is. Jeongguk doesn’t know why he is, or why he wants it so badly now that he’s put the idea out there. It was a joke at first, just something to fill the air, to interrupt you before you could say something scary again. But he does. Maybe it’s masochistic. Maybe he just wants something that will remind him of you when whatever it is that's between you two inevitably ends. Because he knows even the brightest of flames burn out eventually.
Or perhaps it’s a sadistic desire. Perhaps he wants to be inked into your skin, somewhere secret, so that the next time someone sees you in the same way that he’s seeing you now, they will ask about it, and consequently remind you of him. You’ll still think about him, even when others are with you, trying to hold your attention. Even when you’re trying to forget him.
“Matching ones?” you whisper.
He nods. “Yeah, friendship tattoos.”
Jeongguk doesn’t miss the way your face falls for the briefest of moments, how your lips part and the softest, tiniest, dejected sigh leaves your lips, before he quickly kisses away the disappointment. It’s bitter on his tongue.
“Special friendship tattoos,” he amends. Another light kiss. He wonders if it tastes like gasoline to you too. The shadow’s from the candle on your nightstand dance across your skin. Best to be careful with gasoline kisses next to an open flame. “We can get stars.”
You’re quiet for a moment, mouth dropping down in a pensive frown. “It has to be small. And somewhere where no one can see it on me.”
He smiles big, and his heart skips a devastating beat when he sees how you instinctively smile back. “Don’t worry, I plan on putting it somewhere very private,” he purrs.
“You are not tattooing my pussy or my ass, Koo.”
“Not there!” he laughs, “I meant like by your tit or something.”
Jeongguk starts to kiss down your body, he’s always kissing you when you’re together. He stops in the center of your chest on your sternum.
“We could do it here,” a wet kiss just to the side of your heart. He can feel it, how it speeds up because of his mouth, his hands, him. He travels a little lower.
At your ribs, just under the curve of your breast, he stops again. “Or here.” Another kiss where his tongue tastes you before his lips even touch.
He makes it to your belly button, just about to move to your hip before you speak up.
“I liked it there, on my ribs,” you say, voice a little wispy, higher pitched than normal. He notes that your chest is rising and falling just a bit faster than before.
“I’m not finished yet,” he says, looking up at you through his bangs and his lashes, trying to go for stern, but the humor in his voice gives him away.
Your bottom lip is pulled between your teeth as you try and silence your laughter.
Jeongguk places a kiss here, a kiss there all over your silken skin. Little kiss marks shine when the candlelight hits them just right. He bites every now and then too, unable to control himself when he gets to the softest part of your lower belly, and the inside of your thighs. He even kisses Jiji on your ankle. He’s gripping your foot and you wiggle your toes in his hold
“Is Kiki your favorite?” He asks distractedly, lips still playing on your skin, he’s starting to make his way back up now.
“Spirited Away,” you correct softly, on a giggle as Jeongguk hikes your legs up around his waist. You wrap your arms around his back, and he shivers when you run your nails over his shoulder blades, goosebumps making a short appearance. When he rolls his hips into your pussy, you gasp. He inhales it, breathing in your pleasure. It makes him throb, hard and hot against you. “I’m still wet inside from earlier,” you whisper.
He groans into the kiss he brandishes your lips with. He ruts harder into you, bringing a hand down between your bodies, and gripping the base of his cock so that he can rub the tip against your clit. He feels how wet you are, with your slick as well as his cum from just a little bit ago. He tsks, scolds you playfully. “I know, I can feel it. So messy.” He’s smiling when he takes your bottom lip between his teeth.
Your eyes are fluttering when you ask, “What’s your favorite?”
Jeongguk’s distracted, of course he is. How could he not be when you're mewling underneath him, squirming from the tip of his cock swirling around your clit? He humors you. “Howl’s Moving Castle,” he says as he pushes the head in before hissing and pulling back out. He does it a few times, teasing himself with your cunt.
When you laugh, it catches him off guard. Enough to make him pause and look up at you with a dumb smile on his face, just grinning because he somehow made you laugh, and the sound of it is nice.
“That would be your favorite.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He spits into his hand, slicks himself up, rubs a little on your pussy.
“You’re just-” You gasp when his fingertips graze your clit. He gasps when you spread your legs wider for him, sweet and eager, just like always. “You’re just like him. Charming, confident…”
“Go on,” he grins into your neck, sucking a little bruise. You tilt your head so he can reach better.
“Vain…”
“Slow down.”
You giggle. “Stealing hearts and eating them.”
He hooks one of your legs over his shoulder. He braces some of his weight on your thigh, tests your flexibility as he hovers over you, lips brushing yours lightly, teasing. He gives in when you crane your neck to reach him. “I haven’t eaten yours, have I?” He muses.
Your hand comes up and tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. “No, not yet.”
You pause and look at him with one of those soft, terrifying looks. He knows you don’t even realize how scary it is, when you look at him like that.
“Maybe I’ll be the one to steal your heart, hmm?” your head tilts, and you smile at him faint and cute. It’s meant to be playful, but Jeongguk can already feel his heart clawing its way up his throat. “You who swallowed a falling star, o' heartless man, your heart shall soon be mine,” you quote, tease, with a giggle.
Jeongguk goes rigid on top of you. His heart is beating fast in his chest, loud in his ears. He kisses you, hard. Bruising like the first time. Hopefully you take it as eagerness.
“Stop talking,” he whispers, begs against your lips.
When he slides into you, he can’t help but wonder if you remember that that was the curse the wicked witch placed on Howl to trap him.
~~~
There’s something about Jeongguk that makes people drawn to him. He’s charming, enrapturing, in every sense of the word. Makes people feel special. His laugh is infectious, loud and often more entertaining than the original joke when he does that thing where he claps his hands, or falls to his knees if it’s funny enough. Being around someone like that is refreshing. He’s captivating and easy to be around, easy to love. He’s such a bright light no matter where he goes, a beacon to those in his vicinity.
And he’s so, so kind. To everyone that speaks to him. Even to those that don't speak and just look, he offers a kind smile. When someone has his attention, they have it all, his big doe-eyes holding eye contact, nodding to let them know he’s listening and being attentive. He’s a good person. A little hard to understand, hard to get close to. So people say, so you’ve learned. But he’s good. Not much is known about stars, anyway.
You’re watching him right now, always watching. You’re on another stained sofa in a different house than the one you usually went to with your knees pulled to your chest, a cup of beer resting on your knee. He’s chatting with someone, looks like the guy is showing him his tattoos. Jeongguk smiles, looks enthused, points to one that he must like based on his reaction. Then he’s holding up his own forearm, pointing to a small piece of ink, and then of course, he’s pointing at you.
Just before coming here, you and him had been at his tattoo shop. He drew the most beautiful, intricate little shooting star into your ribs. A little fireball attached to a long trail of stardust, smaller little twinkles falling off of it. It was simple clean line work, lines thin and dark. And then you drew two of the most basic five pointed stars on him, in a small blank space of his already existing sleeve.
You warned him, told him you couldn’t draw a straight line with a ruler, let alone a heavy, vibrating tattoo gun. But he assured you he wanted it, that he needed to get that spot filled anyway.
Though both stars are small, one is bigger than the other.
‘This one is you,’ you had said, pointing to the larger star, ‘and this one is me,’ you continued, moving to point to the smaller one.
‘Is it?’ Jeongguk had asked, a teasing smile gracing his mouth as he leaned into you.
‘Yeah,’ you had breathed against his lips.
Your soft kisses turned to soft touches, touches that transformed into soft moans. Right there in the parlor.
He’s talking louder now, getting excited. “Look how good her lines are! I didn’t even have to help her that much…” he goes on and on and you smile into your cup.
It was actually a really shitty tattoo. Lopsided, with the points of the stars all different lengths. But hearing him praise you, express how much he actually likes it? It makes your heart burn, glowing bright pink in your chest. You get up and sonder over to him.
He smiles as he sees you, opens his arm up for you to tuck yourself into his side. His arm going over your shoulder, and yours going around his waist. You rest your empty hand on his tummy, can feel how it tenses as he laughs.
“Ah, my little artist herself!” he says.
“That’s a stretch,” you deny, looking towards the guy across from you, “Namjoon right?”
He nods. “Yeah the one who has spent the last 5 years in school studying medicine and plants,” his voice holds a twinge of regret, a longing for life that isn’t run by tests and grading scales.
You laugh lightly. Ah, the botany guy. “Graduate program?” you ask.
He nods again.
You tap your fingers on Jeongguk’s stomach, trying to think of something else to say. “Oh! Do you know Yoongi? He’s not in the same plant… program or whatever but he’s doing a graduate program too.”
Namjoon smiles. “I don’t know him aside from the parties he shows up at sometimes, but I’ve heard of him around campus. Where is he by the way? You usually have him and Tae with you when you show up here right?”
Your brow furrows as you take another sip of your drink, readjusting yourself so your back is against Jeongguk’s chest. He rests his hands on your hips, and cheekily pushes against your ass. You ignore him. “I actually don’t know? We haven’t hung out in a while...” you hum contemplatively while you play with your bottom lip. You look up at Jeongguk. “Do you know? Jimin’s not here either.”
He shrugs, expression bored. “Jimin said he has something to do tonight, maybe he’s finally sucking Tae’s dick. And you know Yoongi hates these parties almost as much as you.”
You pout still, but Namjoon swiftly changes the subject.
“Anywho, you’re a tattoo artist now?” he tilts his drink in the direction of Jeongguk’s arm, his smile playful and knowing. “Must be pretty special to be able to get behind the gun and work on this one. He’s a snob.”
You’re about to deny it once again but Jeongguk interrupts you with a snort. “Obviously she’s special, we are special friends.”
Namjoon’s eyebrows raise and you laugh a little. Your eyes sparkle when you look up at the blonde behind you. “Are you drunk?”
He grumbles and wraps his arms around you tighter before mumbling into your neck. “No… not really, but I am horny,” he whispers.
You tut at him, scolding with a whisper, “I literally just jerked you off earlier.”
You’re swiftly ignored as he turns his attention back to Namjoon, “If you’ll excuse us, we have to put aquaphor on our tattoos.”
You send Namjoon an apologetic smile, but he just laughs, turning to head in the direction of the kitchen.
Jeongguk’s hand is tight when it grips yours, a vice like hold as he drags you through the house. It’s at a frat this time, so the upstairs is lined with bedrooms. People are littered through the hall, and in the open bathroom you can see a girl cutting a line on the porcelain sink. The guy behind her holds her hair for her. A modern romance, like a scene from a movie. There are the stereotypical socks on door knobs, and thankfully the music is way too loud and the bass is boosting so you can't hear what’s going on behind the doors. You almost run into Jeongguk’s back when he comes to a stop in front of a locked door void of any sock.
“Jeongguk,” you hiss, “we can’t just have sex in a random person’s room.”
He’s somehow procured a key and gets the door open. “Yes we can, but this isn’t someone random’s room, it’s Jimin’s. He lets me use it sometimes.”
He doesn’t notice the slip of the tongue, once again, but it leaves an icky taste in your mouth. Thick and unpleasant on your tongue. But you know in due time the taste will change, into one of starlight, heady and intoxicating, and so wholly Jeongguk.
“Jimin goes to uni? I never see him on campus,” you wonder aloud tentatively taking a step through the threshold. It looks like a typical college boys room. A desk with a computer and school work scattered all over. A floor littered with shoes and clothes, along with a nightstand that has the lamp, the lotion bottle, and the kleenex box that sit on top of it. You laugh to yourself. Weird.
“Mmm, he’s enrolled and goes just enough to not get kicked out so he can keep getting his student loans and living here,” he replies as he locks the door.
Immediately he’s backing you into the bed, urging you to lay down. He stays close, lips on yours, hands hastily pushing your shirt up and over your head so your top half is bare under him. He pauses while straddling you, looks at you with hooded eyes, taking in the way your long hair fans out against the grey sheets of Jimin’s bed. With eyes raking over your skin, his tongue peeks out to lick at his lips subconsciously as he fondles your tits.
“You’re so sexy, your body is so nice,” He pinches your nipples, making them pebble between his finger tips, “love the way you respond to me,” he purrs.
You make a soft embarrassed sound as you blush and bring your hands to your face to hide.
Like every time you try to hide from him, he pulls your hands away and gives you a sly yet sweet smile. He looks down at you, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Why do you still get so shy with me? Hmm?” With your hands in his, he brings them to his clothed torso, urging you to touch him.
His mouth parts when you graze his nipples, and he breathes out a tiny, pleased laugh. “I get the same way for you, can’t you feel it?” He trails your hands down even farther, until they are rubbing against the bulge in his jeans. He sighs, head hanging back, letting you pleasure him for just a moment.
You go to undo his belt but he stops you. “Not yet,” he says as he swats your hand away. He kneels down, kisses and sucks at your collarbones, as he grinds softly into your lower belly, quiet little sighs sneaking out between his kisses.
He’s slowly moving down your body until he gets to the new tattoo, fresh and vibrant against your skin, the edges still a little red. He gently runs a finger over it, before kissing next to it, all around it. “I love it, do you love it?” he murmurs, doe-eyes jumping between the ink and your face.
You run a hair through his blonde locks, brushing them out of his face. “Yeah, you did such a good job, thank you.”
He hums and you feel him smile into your ribs before making his way a little lower. You stop him by pulling at the hair you have a grip on.
“Wait, I wanna- you always take care of me…” you look at his cock. “Let me?” you ask.
He sits back up and regards you like he’s debating on letting you have your way with him before he huffs and shuffles off the bed. He stands at the edge and rids himself of his shoes and socks and you watch as you follow his example.
Next he gets rid of his shirt. You take him in, admiring the lithe, trim cut of his small waist, how his jeans and belt rest on his hip bones, the lightest little fuzz of hair that travels down his lower belly. The very obvious hard on pushing against the zip. You crawl over and sit on the edge of the bed in front of him. He cradles your face and your eyes flutter shut at the touch.
“You wanna take care of me, my baby? Wanna make me feel good?”
You nod as you take his arm into your hold, glancing at him through your lashes before pressing a sweet kiss next to the tattoo you gave him. He coos.
“C’mere,” he says, applying light pressure with the hand on your face.
Up close you can see the flush that has taken over his skin. He has little droplets of sweat forming at his hairline. It’s always so hot at these parties. Maybe it’s because you’re always with him when you attend. He’s always burning so bright, fiery hot.
The hand on your face pinches your cheek sweetly, and now, your cheeks are warm too. He laughs a little before he kisses you. “I know just how you can make me feel good, pretty,” he says against your lips, biting quick and sharp.
He threads a hand in your hair at the back of your head and guides your mouth to his neck. “You can kiss me here,” he sighs, extending it so you have more room. “And here,” down to his collarbones.
You kiss and suckle softly at the bone that protrudes, and pull the thin skin between your teeth for just a second. You moan when Jeongguk hisses and the hold in your hair tightens. Pulling away, you look up at him. He looks down his nose at you, bites his lip before he smirks a little.
“You wanna mark me, don’t you? Was the tattoo not enough?” he answers the unspoken question swimming in your eyes, while simultaneously teasing. He’s acting cocky, but his voice is airy and has a bit more vibrato than normal, giving away how aroused he is.
You nod eagerly. Of course you want to mark him, of course the tattoo wasn’t enough. Maybe you’re greedy, or maybe you’re just in love. But you don’t think it will ever be enough; a part of you will always yearn for more. He takes his time searching your face before he nods a single, short time.
Jeongguk doesn't usually let you mark him, and if he does, he’s usually particular about where. This fuels you, and you sink your teeth into his faintly sun kissed skin, rolling it between your teeth harshly, sucking until you’re sure that his skin has turned the color of the prettiest violet.
When you lick at your work to help ease the ache, a moan gets caught in his throat. You rub your thighs together. His noises always get to you, always make your pussy weep inside of your panties. With his chest rising and falling rapidly, he pulls you off and pushes you back onto the bed, a little forcefully, but you don’t mind. He’s always been a little rough with you. Stars are known to be destructive from time to time.
He crowds your space, taking a spot in between your open legs. Being sat on the bed, his abdomen is eye level, and he pulls you to his tummy when he twines both his hands in your hair again. You lick the center line off his abs before you kiss, wet and open mouthed.
“Yeah, kiss me there,” he moans.
You peek up quickly, and see that his head is tilted back again, blissfully letting your mouth work over his skin. His hands in your hair massage at your scalp encouragingly. Gentle and subconscious with his movements. His abs tense and jump when you nibble at one of the bumps of muscle, and he pushes into you, eager, maybe a little desperate. Although he would never admit that.
He holds you there, guiding you where he wants you till he’s pleased and backs away from the bed enough for you to have space on the floor when you drop to your knees.
Your pussy pulses, gets a fluttery heart beat of its own, as you watch Jeongguk undo his belt. Anticipation makes you sink a hand between your thighs, makes you press and put a little pressure on your cunt to give you just a bit of relief.
His hands are big and strong, and the glint of the belt buckle matches the glint of the rings that decorate his fingers. The glint of the zipper as he pulls it down. He rubs himself over his boxers, shimmying his jeans down just little as he does it.
“Do you wanna kiss me here too?” He’s smiling a tiny smile, talking quietly as his fingertips play with the tip of his cock. He sounds a little breathless too.
“Please,” you all but whimper, mouth watering.
He hums, while he drags his briefs down his length until it springs out and bounces back to his tummy. He sighs when he starts to stroke himself with one hand, the other settling on your face, petting a little before he taps an open palm on it.
You try to hold in the moan, but when his hand connects with your skin again, just a little harder than before, you can’t. It makes Jeongguk’s hand on his cock speed up. His mouth parts in awe. Gripping your jaw, he pushes it side to side, and you just let him. You let him play with you like a little doll. Another teasing smack lands on your face.
He sighs, lust filled and dreamy. “God, you’d let me do whatever I want to you, wouldn’t you?” His thumb is running over the slightly reddened skin of your cheek. You nod in his hold.
You would. It’s scary to think about, the extent you feel like you’d go to, to have him, what you’d let him do, let him get away with.
He brings his cock to your lips, but pulls it back when you try to suckle it. You pout, and then he taps the tip of it against your lips, groaning when he says, “Yeah, I know you would, you’re so good to me, so perfect,” he taps the length of his cock on your cheek a few times, he marvels at the little string of precum that connects his tip to the apple of your cheek.
His cock feels thick and hot and a pleasant kind of heavy on your cheek, much like how it feels on your tongue. When he finally lets you taste him, you start by curling your tongue around the crown, licking up some of the precum that has dribbled from his slit. You love it when he leaks for you. It shows you what you do to him, how bad he wants you. He confirms it when he sighs small affirmations.
“That’s it, such a good girl for me.”
You look at him, smiling a little at the praise, tongue teasing his slit, and his face makes your pussy throb. His mouth is parted and his eyes are hooded, like he wants to close them, bask in the pleasure, but keeps them open because the desire to watch you with his cock in your mouth outweighs it. He pushes his hips forward.
“Suck it, baby,” he whispers, soft and salacious as he guides the tip past your lips, little by little until it touches the back of your throat.
You’re confident about a few things, but your head game is close, if not at the top of your list. Little to no gag reflex to hold you back, mouth wet and sloppy as you drool all over his length. Tongue skilled as it moves up and down the sensitive vein running on the underside, while your throat contracts around his tip.
His hips stutter like he’s gonna pull out before he pushes in as far as he can, hands forming a makeshift ponytail with your hair as he holds you down, buries your nose in the coarse patch of groomed hair at the base of his cock. He moans, whines, high pitched and loud. He pulls out of your throat with a gasp.
“Fuck, your mouth,” he drools, praises.
He gives you a second to catch your breath, admires the way your eyes are glassy with tears, mascara smudging the slightest bit, surely to be running by the time he’s done with you. You love it when he fucks you hard enough to make you cry, hard enough to make your makeup run. It shows how well he did it, how badly he made you fall apart. He’s got a few pictures on his phone of you looking ruined and fucked out. He says you look so pretty like that, with teary eyes, a messy face, and hair knotted from being fucked into the mattress.
Then he’s fucking your mouth. Hand coming down to your neck so he can feel the way his cock fills it up every time his hips snap forward. His body curls over yours some as he bends a little to reach your neck, and you can feel the heat from his body ignite the air around you as he slides deeper, inch by inch .
Every time he pulls out you take a quick breath through your nose, before he’s pushing in again, your throat like a spit-slick cocksleeve designed specifically for him. The perfect amount of wet and the tightest type of grip. His breathing is audible and ragged above you, harsh huffs, and occasional moans color the air when you swallow around him. His cock is so hard and hot in your mouth, throbbing and pulsing on your tongue.
Your hands are on his thighs and you can feel them tense, almost tremble as he pulls your head down onto him over and over again. He’s less considerate now, stingy with the breaths he allows you to take while he chases that high. He’s groaning loud and unabashed, and you’re choking, bubbles of spit forming at the corners of your mouth and around the base of his cock. He holds you down one more time, shaking your head by the ponytail so that the tip of his cock rubs against the back of your throat then he’s hastily pulling you off.
You rest your forehead on his lower belly, trying to catch your breath. You can feel him too, getting a hold of himself, due to the expanding of his stomach as he takes deep breaths. He still has his hands on you, touching just like always, running his fingers through your hair. Until he’s pulling you up by it.
He’s quick to get his lips on you, and his tongue is quick to slide into your mouth. When he tastes himself on you, he sighs, smiles into the kiss. With hands cupping your face, you smile back, basking in the attention and sweet affection. You reach your hand down and grab his cock and his hips jerk. He pulls away at first before subtly fucking into your hand and moaning. You drink it down like the sweetest champagne, his sounds intoxicating in their own right.
“Fuck,” he whispers as he rests his forehead against yours, “wanted to cum in that mouth so bad… wanna cum in your hand right now,” he pushes a long slow thrust into your palm, his foreskin sliding with his movements. He sounds like it’s so difficult to hold back, to keep from cumming right there in the palm of your hand. “You’ve got me so hot baby, wanna cum inside you…” He places the softest, pleading kiss to your lips.
It almost sounds like a question, his voice light and airy, lilting up at the end. Soft and gentle as he brushes his nose against yours, a gesture that is as painful as it is sweet, a touch too tender for what you both are. But it makes you keen in his hold, body pressing to his, as close as you can get.
Your hands are running over him, and his running over you, just taking up each other’s space, breathing each other’s breaths. His hands slide to your hips and spin you around so you’re facing the bed, a little rough, impatient, as they yank your pants and panties down. They knead at your ass, when you lower to your forearms and arch your back, presenting yourself to him.
Jeongguk drops to his knees behind you, spreads your cheeks so he can see your cunt, pretty and pink and glistening. He rubs his two first fingers in between your plush lips, and your legs spread wider. You push back into his touch.
“Just fuck me, please, I can’t wait,” you breathe.
He hums, plays with your pussy a little more before you feel him spit on it. Then he buries his face into you, tongue coming out and licking from your clit, to your core, all the way to your hole between your spread cheeks. He swirls his tongue around it and you peep, the feeling oddly pleasant, but unexpected. Jeongguk huffs a little laugh while he pulls away. He sheds his pants, and you follow suit, before settling atop the bed, once more on all fours.
His big hands fall on your ass, jiggling it a little. He groans at the way the fatty part ripples before settling back into place. Gripping his cock with one hand and pulling a cheek to the side with the other, he rubs the tip between your silky lips. The sloppy, wet noises fill the room, loud and clear. The sound of the distant chatter and subdued party music outside the door is distant, barely there, all your focus on Jeongguk. He hisses as he watches his cock sink inside of you.
“So wet…” he rasps out as he fucks into you with shallow thrusts. He can see your arousal shiny and sticky on his cock, no lube needed.
You nod as your head dips, hanging between your forearms. He bottoms out and you let out a high pitched whine. “Yeah, want you so bad, Koo…”
He stays buried to the hilt for a moment, hands running over your ass, your back, squeezing at the smallest part of your waist. His touch feels so good, electric on your skin. But you’ve felt his cock before, many times, and you’re no stranger to how good that feels. It makes you lean forward, makes you drag your cunt up his length, before you push yourself back onto it.
Jeongguk gasps, hands squeezing hard at the motion. “Fuck… keep doing that.”
You whimper as your work your pussy over him, throwing your hips back, fast and consistent. Getting high off the sounds Jeongguk is making behind you. The soft curses, the loud groans when you start to circle your hips slightly. The way he just lets you make him feel good.
You collapse onto the bed, arms giving out due to the pleasure coursing through your body, and you turn your face to the side, hands gripping the sheets beneath you. His palm settles on the small of your back, halting your movements so that he can snap his hips forward, punching pleased gasps from you. You turn your face into the sheets, trying to quiet yourself.
He doesn’t like that apparently. If the hand gripping your hair and yanking is enough to go by.
His body is over yours, chest to your back as he fucks into you with short, hard thrusts. “Wanna hear you pretty girl, want everyone to hear you,” he whispers in your ear.
You squirm in his hold, slowly getting overwhelmed by the way his body is making you feel, by the way you slowly climb higher and higher until you feel like you could touch the stars. “Feels… so good…”
“Yeah, I fuck you the best don’t I?” he purrs, “Better than anyone before me? Better than anyone will after me too, right? Always gonna want this cock, aren’t you?”
You whine because you know it’s true. You know no matter what you do or what happens between you and Jeongguk, he’s always going to live in your head, always going to have a place in your heart, your body is always going to remember him and long for him. Not even just in a sexual sense either. You think he knows this all too well.
He pulls out of you with a ragged breath before situating himself on his side behind you. He urges you to push yourself against him, back to his front, spooning. He grips the thigh of your top leg, pulls it up to your chest.
“Keep them open,” he instructs.
You do as he says, looking down your body where you see him bring the tip of his cock to your center again. He’s watching you though, braced on his elbow, while his free hand guides himself into you. The way your eyes roll back before squeezing shut with knitted brows makes Jeongguk sigh, the way your mouth drops open when he pushes in the last few inches makes him moan.
He’s going slow. Long, punctuated plunges into your cunt. He’s got his face buried in the place where your neck meets your shoulders. Breathing out lewd moans, his grip on your hip tightens as he bites and kisses at your throat, breath scalding as he pants into your skin.
“Love your pussy, fuck…” he brings skilled fingers to your clit and starts to massage with tight constant circles. You buckle in his hold, glance down at his hand again, watching as he touches you just the way you like, the way he knows you like. The way he knows will get you shaking in no time.
“Please let me cum,” you beg.
He hasn’t purposefully been edging you, but you’re worked up. Usually he fingers you, goes down on you, before you even get his cock inside of you. But due to the change in routine today and the lack of stimulation, the pressure in your core has been building quick, almost putting you at your breaking point already.
He’s well aware, voice teasing yet aroused when he coos, “You wanna cum baby? Yeah, you do?”
You twist in his hold some so that you can look at him, show him the tears in your eyes, hoping that they convey how badly you want to do just that.
His eyes are shiny too, pleasure so raw and apparent in them. He kisses you, licks into your mouth as he keeps that slow pace to his hips. The one that’s so deep, the one that brushes your sweet spot inside every time he glides against your sensitive walls.
“Want you to cum too,” he says it with a sigh, like he’s so close, just needs you to finish him off, “you’ve got me so… think I could cum just from being inside you while you cream on my cock, just from feeling that messy little cunt cum around me,” he’s moaning as he speaks, his hips losing rhythm, speeding up some as he gets closer.
You nod, the hand you're leaning on holding tight at the sheets, the other keeping your legs spread. “Yeah, want you to cum inside me, cum with me…” Your eyes are closed, and your voice is kind of delirious as you feel it all come to a head. Your pussy is already tightening around him.
He hisses. “There you go, that’s it baby… can feel how close you are,” his hips have almost stopped, just the smallest, minute little thrusts still going. He brings the fingers on your clit down to your leaking cunt just for a second getting them nice and wet before circling your bud again, faster, a little harder than before. Focusing on your pleasure, on making you finish. You keen as the leg you're holding up starts to shake.
“Gonna cum,” you warn, the hand that was gripping the sheets coming up to your tit to play with your nipple.
Jeongguk curses on a moan, “Yeah, fuck… me too.”
He feels it, the way your body goes tense before you let go. How you tremble against him as your orgasm rushes through you, moans and whimpers falling from your lips. Your pussy clenching around his cock is what sends him over the edge.
“Fuck, I’m cumming-” he gasps out quickly, before biting down on your shoulder, grunts of pleasure muffled as he fucks into you as deep as he can, repeatedly, with those small thrusts. You feel his cock throb inside of you, cum filling you up.
You smile, serene and spent when he goes limp behind you. His arm comes around your waist, pulls you closer. He keeps his cock tucked inside. You run your fingertips over his arm and feel the slight scabbing of the stars on his skin.
He shivers at the touch. Sitting up some, he curls over you. Your eyes are still closed, content, chest still rising and falling with your deep breaths. He leans in and kisses you, so sweet. Tastes like rose petals dipped in sugar.
He’s still on your lips when he mutters, “Now we have to figure out a way to get out of here without getting any cum on Jimin’s sheets.”
You giggle, nod, and then kiss him again. You’ll clean up in a little.
It’s deliberate, the way you choose not to think about the reason why he wants to clean up, get going. How he doesn’t want to stay the night with you.
~~~
“I want you to get out a pen and a piece of paper and then clear off the rest of your belongings.”
School is back in session, winter break ending far too soon. It’s your last semester, your degree is so close you can almost taste it, with only 3 classes left till you’re walking the stage in your cap and gown. One of the classes is a writing class that you saved till the end of your university run so you had something to look forward to.
It’s a Thursday afternoon and you’re sitting in the back of your Creative Writing lecture hall. Someone’s eating so it smells disgustingly of peanut butter and the seats are filled with college students who just rolled out of bed at 12pm, everyone slightly disheveled and the crowd lackluster as the professor paces the front of the room. She’s quickly become one your favorites however, the last few weeks in her class proving to be entertaining as well as educational. You paw your sweater sleeve up in your fist and hold it to your nose and lean forward attentively.
“Now, I want you to think about someone you love. It can be a real person, fictional, completely imaginary. Dead or alive. Old or young. Doesn’t matter. You just have to love them.”
Of course starry doe-eyes flash in your mind. A crooked grin that pulls down a little farther on the right side. The centered mole just under his bottom lip that you kiss softly, so often when he’s distracted. The scar on his cheek that you run your fingers over when he’s resting on you. You do love Jeongguk, you have for a while now.
“Write that person’s name at the top. They are going to be the model of basis and foundation for one of the characters in the short story project that we have due mid-April. So you’ve got approximately 2 months to finish it.”
A chorus of groans sound around the hall. The boy in front of you rests his head on his arms, looking defeated.
“Hey,” your professor laughs, “this is the last year for most of you and this is the only project you have this semester. And it was in the syllabus. Not sure why you all sound so despondently surprised. You didn’t really think you would get through the whole course without one did you?” she inquires, still pacing the front of the room with a quirked brow.
You honestly don’t mind. It will be a good distraction when you’re left to entertain yourself. Jeongguk’s actually been more on top of his apprenticeship attendance lately. It’s a good thing of course, but you don’t see him as much as you used to. That’s not to say that you aren’t together an incessant amount, just a bit less than normal. You scribble a tiny ‘jk ♡’ at the top of your paper.
“Now with your muse in mind, I’m going to ask you a series of questions so that we can get some finite details about your fictional character on paper for you to use and reference as you’re writing,” she pauses, clicks to another slide on the projector. “What is their favorite color?”
After writing the question you pause. Surely it’s black right? That’s basically the only color he wears. Maybe blue? You had helped him color his hair navy just a few days ago, the stains on your pillow a blueberry colored reminder every night… Still, you go with your first instinct, scrawling ‘black’ on the lined paper.
“Their birthday?”
You’re quick to answer this one, he’s a Virgo, so his birthday is… A small frown starts to tug at the corners of your lips. What day in September did he say? Did he ever say? Did you guys ever even actually talk about birthdays? ‘Virgo’ gets written next to question 2.
“Are they close to their parents? Closer to the mother or father? Are they estranged? If you know why, please elaborate.”
You know you don’t know this one. Fairly certain Jeongguk hasn’t even mentioned them in passing.
“What role, or character archetype are they playing in your story?” she clasps her hands in front of her. “Are they the hero? The love interest? The villain?”
You answer that one hastily.
A few more questions are asked, some that you can answer, some that you can’t. They gradually get deeper, more personal as your professor carries on with them.
“Okay. Now I want you to think hard about this character, and about the muse you’ve crafted them after. Could you answer all of the questions I asked?” She moves a weighted gaze around the room. You feel like she’s looking directly at you when she speaks again. “Do you really love the person you chose for the basic character prototype? Again, they could have been real, imaginary or fictional, but do you really love them, or do you love the idea of them? The version of them that you have pieced together in those brains of yours.”
Your heart stops for just a moment, you can almost feel how you pale, the color draining from your cheeks. She continues.
“I only ask because I want you to grow to love the character you are creating. This isn’t Psychology, I’m not here to make you question the love, or emotions you do or don’t feel,” the class laughs at this. The class with the exception of you. “But I am here to make you better writers. And one skill that you can have as a writer, a creative, or fiction writer especially, is building a connection with your characters. You’re going to be working on their, the character you’re outlining, story for the next few months. And when I read your work I want to be able feel the connection you have with them.”
She waits for it to sink in before continuing. “So I ask again: Do you love the muse you’ve chosen, or do you love the idea of them? Because loving someone and loving the idea of them are two completely different things. To love an idea of someone or something is to love it in a very surface level and/or superficial way. Still with me?” she questions.
You are, but you wish you weren’t. You think you’re going to be sick.
“Good, so as I was saying. It’s superficial. To be blunt, you love them for what they could be not for what they really are. As writers, many of us are guilty of this.”
The thing about being a hopeless romantic is that you think about life in could be’s.
“To truly love someone or something is to know all the little details about them, their virtues and their flaws. The reason why they prefer winter to spring. How old they were when they got their heartbroken for the first time. When they figured out who they are as a person, or if they are still searching. I asked those questions at the beginning of class to get you thinking.”
Your hands are starting to tremble just a little. Words on your paper coming out sloppy. You do love Jeongguk.
Your professor takes a deep breath, flips to another slide. “How can you expect to love the character when you don’t even truly love who they are modeled after?”
The room is quiet for a second. Someone raises their hand.
“Isn’t it possible for characters to change as you write them? Like I can’t change my person, but I can change my character, like write them the way I want so that I end up loving them.”
Your professor laughs again, light and airy as if she expected someone to ask. “Ah, yes. Character development is a thing of course. Although this is something that happens naturally throughout the story. But to change your character, like how you described?” she shakes her head and tsks, “Is it really love if you have to change them?”
The sound of your paper crumpling is blaring in the quiet room. You pull out a new sheet, writing your sister’s name at the top. Her favorite color is green, her birthday is July 8th, she’s closer to your dad because you and your mom have always had a bond she couldn’t recreate with her, she’s the hero in the story, not the love interest like Jeongguk was… The lecture continues, and you don’t even notice when the bell rings, too busy thinking about how you do love Jeongguk.
~~~
Jeongguk’s playing the newest version of Final Fantasy on his PS, the one you got him for Valentine’s day just a few days ago. You remembered him passively saying that he hadn’t played since he was little, and how he said he missed racing the chocobo’s.
His eyes flicker between his tv and you walking around his room. You’ve been to his apartment many times, but still, you always move around and take everything in like it's your first time there; your fingers running over his manga collection in the corner, tidying up his desk, lighting the linen candle you brought from your place.
‘A gentle smell’ you had told him with a sweet smile, ‘because you’re sensitive to certain scents.’
He gets distracted, the pleated skirt you're wearing catching his eye even more than the improved graphics of the game. He doesn’t quite hear you when you speak up.
“Huh?” he asks, dragging his gaze up your body only to be met with a knowing look of your own. He smiles sheepishly.
You roll your eyes, before taking a seat in his computer chair, not too far from his bed where he’s sat. Flipping through one of his tattoo sketchbooks you ask again, “What’s your favorite color?”
Jeongguk isn’t surprised when you decide to make conversation. Before you started wandering around his room, you were on the bed with him while he played but you were a little fidgety and fussy, like you had something on your mind. He suspected you got up to try and distract yourself from your thoughts.
He hums and tells you that it’s black, maybe red.
You ask his birthday next. He tells you September 1st.
Adjusting himself against the headboard of his bed, he opens for you when you make your way to him, crawling across his duvet. You take it upon yourself to settle between his thighs, back against his chest. He wraps his arms around you and continues to play, his chin resting atop your head. He smiles to himself when he feels you start to trace the stars on his arm.
“Are you close to your parents?” you question again.
He makes a small pondering noise. “Not really.”
“Why not?”
“Uh- they worked a lot I guess and-” He pauses. You don’t sound like you’re prying, just soft curiosity lacing your tone, but he still hesitates. “Why are you asking?”
You hum and lean up a little to peck at the line of his jaw. He purrs at the contact, content. “Just wondering,” you state, pressing back into his chest.
It’s quiet for a bit, you annoyingly plucking at the little bit of arm hair he has, making him laugh and playfully scold you, nuzzling into you and nipping at your cheek in retaliation. You giggle and he gets that sharp feeling in his chest, just like he always does.
He thinks that’s the end of your questioning but too soon, you speak up again. “Do you prefer Winter or Spring?”
“Winter, but my favorite season is Fall,” he says glancing down at you quickly before redirecting his attention to his game again. “You’re being weird, are we playing 20 questions or something? No, I’m not a virgin. What color panties are you wearing?” he asks, trying to make a joke.
He chuckles when you lift your skirt to check before flipping it down again. “Pink,” you reply.
You’re about to talk again but he interrupts you, “Wait let me see, I didn’t get a good look.”
He hears you huff and can imagine you rolling your eyes as you do what he asks. You put it down again after a few seconds.
“Just a little longer,” he tries.
“Ugh, can you stop,” you say, a giggle leaking into the words, “I’m trying to talk to you!”
He groans over dramatically like he’s exhausted, but he gives in. He always does with you.
“How old were you when you lost it? Your virginity?”
The fond feeling in his chest starts to dwindle, and Jeongguk can feel the first little pricks of irritation poke at him as he answers your question shorter than before. “17 or 18.”
You make a small surprised noise, looking up at him shocked. “Really that old?”
He doesn’t glance back, stays focused on his game, hoping that you get the hint that he doesn’t want to ‘talk’ like this. “Yeah, I was a late bloomer and also an idiot.”
You smile at him before going back to tracing his tattoos. “I doubt you were an idiot. That was just part of your story, a little chapter in your life.”
He tenses at your words but shortly after, a lull falls into the conversation. But as soon as Jeongguk relaxes, a small frown takes over his face when you ask if the girl had been his girlfriend. And again, you don’t sound overbearing or anything, but he knows you can tell he’s not interested or invested in your questions. The atmosphere has shifted from pleasant and content to stiff and vexatious.
“Yup,” he says, voice taking a stern edge despite his efforts to mask it.
He feels you tense against his chest, your fingers halting on his arm. “Are you mad at me?” you ask hesitantly.
Immediately he feels bad, and sighs. “No, I’m not,” he says quietly, trying to be gentle.
But it seems you just don’t get it, because not even a few minutes later you’re asking, “How long were you together?”
And he does his best to not snap at you, but he can’t stop himself when he goes rigid behind you and his words come out harsh and scathing. “Why does it matter and why the fuck are you interrogating me all of a sudden?”
You turn around between his legs and gape at him with a shocked expression. “I’m not interrogating you? I’m literally just making conversation? Trying to get to know you better?”
“And why’s that?” he says, his tone flippant and annoyed.
You pout and furrow your brows. “Am I not allowed to get to know you?”
His jaw ticks and he casts an annoyed gaze around his room, looking anywhere but at you, as if not acknowledging the confused and hurt arch of your brow will make it go away. “You haven’t tried to in the last what? Five months?”
“Six,” you correct him quietly.
You sound unsure, like you don’t know why he’s lashing out like he is. And to be fair, it’s out of character for him, at least with you. He’s really not this cold towards you very often, almost ever.
Usually things with you both are great, easy. Fitting together in each other's lives almost perfectly. So seamlessly they are almost completely intertwined at this point. You meeting him for his breaks at his lessening shifts at the coffee shop, him meeting you after classes when he doesn’t have work, going to each other’s places after he gets off from his apprenticeship. The parties every now and again. The tattoos.
But he supposes it’s easy to put two blank canvases together when there are no details known about either of them. That’s what he was hoping for at least.
“So am I just not allowed to?” you repeat when he stays silent.
With an irked groan he tosses his controller to the side and rubs his hands over his face, rakes them through his navy hair. “I just don’t get why you are asking in the first place.”
You regard him quietly for a moment, taking in his bored stare. He knows the disinterest in his tone is agonizingly apparent, and he knows it hurts you, just like the detached dismissal that he has ready on the tip of his tongue will. He expects you to keep pushing, to bicker with him just so he doesn’t give you the silent treatment.
He doesn’t expect you to start crawling off his bed.
He sighs and reaches out for you, getting a grip on your arm before you can get away completely. “C’mon, what are you doing? Are you mad at me now?”
“I’m not mad, I just don’t see the point in staying here if you aren’t going to talk to me.” You’re trying to sound impassive, but he can hear the hurt in your voice.
“But I am talking to you. I talk to you all the time, what do you mean?” He hates that he almost sounds like he’s whining, but he just doesn’t understand and he’s frustrated that you are prying and making things deeper than they need to be, than they should be.
“Not about things that matter,” you reply curtly.
“But the things you’re asking about literally do not matter, ___,” he states, just as short.
You hang your head back and he can see your lashes fluttering rapidly. He knows you’re trying to not cry. Blinking to rid your eyes of unshed tears. You do that sometimes, cry when you get frustrated. As articulate as you are, sometimes things are hard to get out. You sound defeated and disheartened, but your words also have a hurt edge to them when you say, “They matter to me, anything that has to do with you matters to me.”
He knew you were close to tears, but when you look at him with glossy eyes, he softens almost instantly.
“Baby,” he coos, sighing again as he tugs you back to between his legs, back to his chest like when the conversation first started. He wraps his arms around you and kind of sways a little as he pecks your hair. “I just don’t think it’s important. Like the past is the past, and that’s it, you know?”
He knows you’re pouting, and your voice is short and whiny when you insist, “I just want to know.”
He hangs his head back and knocks it lightly against his headboard, trying to be patient with you. “It wasn’t like a bad relationship or anything like that but I just-”
“Does it still bother you?”
“No, but it’s still something I’d rather not think or talk about,” he’s talking to you slowly, like a child.
You’re quiet for some time, but Jeongguk just waits, knows you have more questions.
It’s tentative and rushed when you speak again. “Was she your only girlfriend? If it wasn’t a bad relationship, why did you break up with her?”
He takes a deep breath, actively trying to not be short with you. “She was the only serious one, and she broke up with me. Nothing really happened.” He shrugs, tone getting softer as he speaks. “Just the stereotypical case of unreciprocated love, or like one person just not feeling it anymore.”
“So you loved her?” It asked so quietly that he almost doesn’t hear you over the chimes of his game still playing in the background, forgotten and now sound tracking the trepid atmosphere around you.
He doesn’t verbally reply, just nods. He knows you’ll feel the movement.
It hurts him when you go still in his hold. Like you didn’t want that to be the answer. You recover quickly, however, inquiring him again. “Did she break your heart?”
He can’t help but laugh a little behind you, the words sounding far too dramatic for him. “Yeah I guess so?” he answers, “But it wasn't like traumatizing if that’s what you’re thinking. I just cared for her more than she cared about me in the end. That’s how it always is, right?” He pauses, hums like he’s thinking. “Plus she was the first girl I was with, blah blah blah, you know how the story goes.”
You make a confused noise in front of him like you’re trying to understand and wrap your head around what he just said. “Did that really not affect you at all?”
You’re probably wondering why he is the way he is, if his first heartbreak isn’t his anti-commitment origin story. He doesn’t blame you.
Jeongguk thinks about his words for a second. He’s not lying. It wasn’t traumatizing. Maybe it did change him, how he views things, people, love. But it wasn’t tragic. He just kind of became this way as he got older. He has no real backstory for why he is the way he is, why he loves to be loved but will never love in return. Not in the way the other person deserves, at least. Even if he wanted to, he never would. Because as selfish as it is, the one thing he craves more than love, than anything, is his freedom. And in his head he can’t have it all.
And maybe that is tragic in a sense, but he’s never really thought of it as a bad thing. Knows that sometimes in order to have something he wants, he has to give up something else.
“I mean… I see love differently now. I don’t know if my viewpoint changed because of the break up or just because I got older and realized what’s important to me, but I probably used to think about love closer to the way you do… head in the clouds,” he nudges you playfully, like he’s trying to lighten the mood, “too much faith in people. A top tier romantic and the number one idealist.”
He knows it’s hard to picture. But he was more like you than he would care to admit. Maybe that’s why he’s so much more careful with you. Because he knows.
“How do you see love now?”
Sometimes Jeongguk thinks he’s heartless. But when you ask him questions like that, the kind that you already know the answer to, but ask anyway, hoping that he will tell you something different, tell you what you want to hear… He knows he’s not because his heart aches in his chest.
He knows he’s not heartless, because he does his best to be soft with you, to make whatever this is between you both, as painless as possible. And that’s why he never lies to you about this kind of stuff, because he knows if he did, it would hurt so much more later. And he doesn’t want that. Jeongguk is selfish with you, but he never wants to hurt you.
“You know how I see it, ___,” he murmurs softly, like he’s trying to be gentle. Almost like he’s reminding you. “Why are you asking questions that you know are going to-”
Hurt you.
He doesn’t say it, because he doesn’t need to. He knows you know that’s what he means.
He feels bad when you start to backtrack. “No, no. I’m not. It’s okay…” you rush out as you shift onto your knees and face him again, hands coming up to cup his face. “Thank you for telling me,” You kiss him gently, hands squeezing, thumb rubbing over the scar on his cheek. You’re too soft, too good for someone like him. “I’m sorry for being nosy, I was just curious.”
His hands on your hips squeeze, and he pulls you closer, brushes his nose against yours before he kisses you. “It’s okay, I’m sorry for getting upset just-” he breathes hot and sharp against your lips, “Kiss me.”
Falling into each other after moments like these is easy. It’s been happening more lately, rough talks turning into rough touches. But again, it’s just so simple. It’s easy to stop the fights and the questions with his lips against yours, it's easy to forget the things he does behind your back when he has you on yours beneath him, and it’s easy to pretend like that’s all there is. Just you and him. Two parts of the same star you might say.
But even though it’s simple, Jeongguk still wonders how long easy will be enough.
~~~
spring
His hair smells like vanilla.
He took at shower at yours just a bit earlier so it's a familiar scent, one that’s comforting and soft. The warm water made him cozy and pliant. When he came out with damp hair and pink skin he made his way over to you, maneuvering your body till you were flat on your back so he could cuddle up and lay on top of you, head resting on your chest and his body between your legs.
You’ve got your laptop resting on the coffee table in front of you, one arm out haphazardly doing your homework, the other carding through Jeongguk’s hair, tucking little stray pieces of blue behind his ear. He hasn’t moved in a bit, just content laying with you in the quiet, the tv a mindless background noise. You wonder if he fell asleep.
It’s only sometime later that he’s shifting, rubbing against your shirt.
“Baby?” he muses, sleepy and quiet.
“Hmm?” you drone, eyes on your computer still.
He looks around a little like he didn’t mean to fall asleep and now is trying to make sense of the missing piece in his memory. “I slept?”
You look at him and your heart beats a little faster, an unconscious smile playing on your lips as you take in his pout, the red of his cheek from being slept on. “Yeah I think so… the drool on my shirt says that you did,” you tease.
He flushes a little before plopping back down on your chest with a groan. He asks you what time it is and when you say a little after 9:00pm, he groans again.
“I don’t want to get ready,” he mumbles, hand absently squeezing your boob.
You hum, hand back in his hair, eyes back on your school work. “You could always stay?”
He hums back, “Or you could come with me.”
He sounds cute and hopeful, the little catnap making him softer and melt in your mouth sweet. Like a Hershey’s kiss that was left in the sun for just a little too long.
But as tempting as he is, you decline, telling him you have to get this paper done and work on that project for your writing class. And study. Spring midterms are next week after all.
He huffs a small sigh, sounds like he’s close to drifting off again when he mumbles, “Gonna miss you.”
You wonder if he can feel the way your heart skips, if he can feel all the little shooting stars in your chest crash into the pit of your stomach, tiny little explosions of endearment and fondness and love. You want to tell him again, that he could stay, skip the party, if he really wanted to. But you know he has his mind made up, and that he doesn’t really want much of anything.
Being with Jeongguk is getting harder. Not bad really, just a little more difficult to deal with. The comfort of being with him slowly morphing into a yearnful ache. You don’t let yourself think about it often, knowing that you’re not going to do anything to change the situation. Too scared to try, if you’re being honest. But in times like these where his affection is so gentle and so tender that it almost hurts? It’s hard to ignore all the things you both leave unsaid and cast to the side.
That doesn’t stop you, however, from reverting back to what you both know and what is safe.
“You’ll miss me?” you tease.
He grumbles, like he’s a little embarrassed, buries his face between your tits.
You giggle and pull his hair a tiny bit making him look at you. “Maybe I should make you feel good before you go? Wake you up a little?”
He narrows his eyes and scowls at you, playful fire lighting up his eyes, “I thought you had homework?”
“I do, but it won’t take that long.”
He rolls his eyes and sits up like he’s getting ready to leave, “I hate you. I cum in my pants one time and you never leave it alone.”
You laugh, and as hard as he tries to keep a smile at bay, you can see the corner of his lips quirk up. He settles into the couch a little away from you and acts like he’s giving you the silent treatment.
But you know the game, you’ve both played it before. Act mad and hurt, get babied and taken care of. You give in, so easy for him just like the first time you made him cum and all the other times after that.
You don’t waste time as you crawl over to him and settle on his lap, your hips straddling his. He doesn’t give you much other than his hands resting on your ass, thumbs slipping under your shirt to rub a bit at your hip bones. He regards you quietly, just looking you over until his eyes land on your lips and hesitate before flicking back to your eyes.
You lean in, ready to give him what he clearly wants, but he’s stubborn as ever despite his suppleness, turning his head away at the last moment with a close-lipped giggle.
You scoff softly before taking a new route, undeterred. Now going straight for his neck, kissing on the little mole he has on the side. Your tongue tastes him first, skin warm and clean, before your lips latch on in a light suction, barely sucking as he purrs and tilts his head.
A hand travels down his chest and you palm him over his sweats at the same time that you pull some skin between your teeth and bite. He gasps, and the hands on your ass squeeze, pulling you closer to him, and you revel in the way his hips just barely push up into your palm.
He’s much needier and more eager when he’s in this mood. Not quite submissive, but more lenient. Maybe you’re taking advantage of his soft, hazy state when you start sucking a bruise on his neck, right over that freckle where everyone can see, but you can’t help yourself. Once you taste a star, it’s a constant craving, something that you fiend for. And when he feels the pressure of your mouth, and the pain, he doesn’t stop you, just pulls you impossibly closer. He hisses when you scrape your teeth and then whines when you lick over the mark.
You pull away when he starts to squirm and then settle on the floor, the plush rug underneath you a soft cushion for your knees. He spreads his legs quickly, easy for you in the way you typically are for him. Looking down his nose at you, he waits patiently for you to start touching him again.
When you do, he lets out the softest sigh, lets his head fall back for just a moment before looking at you again, a newfound darkness swimming in his eyes. He’s already hard, just from a few small touches over his clothes and a couple kisses to his neck. His pants get pushed down, pooling by his ankles.
You moan a little when you take him in your hand, rub your thighs together some. The skin of his length is a pretty pink, and soft to the touch.
“Already hard?” you ask, a smile in your voice as you grip him a little tighter and stroke slowly.
He nods, eyes going between your hand and your face. Your hair is messy and you’ve got your big round reading glasses on. “I’m always super horny when I wake up, you know that,” he tells you, unashamed.
Humming, you nod. You do know, but you wish you knew better. You wish you got to experience it more. Got to wake up with him more than you do, got to disappear under the covers in the soft morning light to wrap your lips around him more often than you do, got to wake him up with slow slurps and wet kisses more than you do. You wish you just got to be with him more than you do.
But you don’t.
The passive reminder is heavy on your heart like he is heavy on your tongue, the tip of his cock leaking just a tiny bit when you press your tongue flat to the sensitive part under the head. You look at him as you do that, you take in the way his brows turn up and his mouth parts.
He pushes a piece of hair behind your ear, and his voice is soft and raspy when he tells you, “You’re so pretty, baby.”
You blush and adjust your glasses, shifting on your knees a little. “Thank you,” you reply with a quick kiss to his length.
Sometimes the sweet, soft things that you do make him go crazy. You think so at least, because when you place those small kitten kisses up and down his cock, it jerks in your hold, pulses hot and hard for you. When you flick your eyes to Jeongguk, his bottom lip is pulled between his teeth and his eyes are closed.
You keep your gaze on him as you wrap your mouth completely around the swollen tip, and suckle. Your pussy clenches when Jeongguk’s body goes tense, hips dipping into the cushion of the couch like he’s trying to run away from you and how good your mouth feels.
“Fuck-” he whines, looking at you quickly before letting his eyes fall shut again.
He brings his hands up, laces them through your hair and pushes slightly, kind of encouraging you to sink down farther, but not demanding like he usually would. You let his hands slowly guide you down his cock, your palms on his thighs, feeling as they tense more and more with every inch of him that you take in. He shutters when you reach the base, nose against his lower belly, his tip brushing against the back of your throat. He pulls you off with the same sluggish speed, almost like he’s using your mouth to tease and torture himself with the leisurely pace that he’s setting.
The next time you sink down on his cock, you stick your tongue out, and lick at his balls, making him spread his legs more and push up into your throat, the tip breaching where your gag reflex would be if you had one.
“Yeah, baby-” he chokes out, “Love your mouth, fuck…”
You drool and swallow and suck on his cock like it's the last time you ever will, like it's the best thing you’ve ever tasted. You add your hands too, once Jeongguk settles back and brings his fingers to his chest, toying with his nipples rather than pulling at your hair. His eyes are hazy as he watches you, as he listens to the slick clicking noises of your strokes and nasty slurping sounds of your mouth.
“That’s so fucking good,” Jeongguk says as his hips twitch, a shuddering sigh tailing his groans.
You pull off and stroke him with just your hands, wanting to see how he looks, how he reacts. The way his crew neck is bunched up with his hands underneath playing with his body just like you. How his abs tense when you rub at the little spot under the crown, how his cock spurts just a baby bit of clear precum when you do it harder.
“So big, Koo, so wet,” you praise.
He nods and agrees easily with a distracted and breathy, “Mmh- yeah.”
Jeongguk is fussy in your hand squirming as he gets closer. He takes one of his hands out from under his sweater and pushes and paws at the strap of your tank top. “Off- wanna see,” he whines quietly.
You give a cute nod, and rake your nails down his bare thighs gently and then sigh. Pleased at the way he shivers, his sleepiness making him so responsive. Then you do as he asks, pushing the straps down and letting your big tits bounce freely.
“God you’re so sexy,” he sighs, a hand now wrapped around his cock, stroking fast.
“Do you like them?” you whisper, small hands grabbing and shaking them a little, nipples hardening at your own touch.
Jeongguk nods, tells you what you already know. That he loves them, wants them in his mouth, wants his cock between them.
“Wanna fuck them?” you offer.
But like he wants too many things all at once and can’t decide, he backtracks on his previous statement, words fumbling and cute as he settles for just shaking his head and saying eloquently, “No. Mouth.”
“You’re a little needy today,” you muse, bringing your hand up to grip his cock only for it to be swatted away.
“Shut-” he moans when you tease the tip with your tongue, cock kicking and a drop of precum dribbling from his slit. “up. Mouth only.”
“Okay baby,” you comply easily.
Jeongguk’s tattooed hand is holding the base of his cock so it doesn’t throb and kick as your lick and suck at him, just his thumb and forefinger keeping himself in place. He sputters out tiny whines and little sighs as you blow him, little moans of your own thrumming against his length.
When you bring your tongue back to the tip, little quick flicks over his frenulum, he tenses and jerks before sinking into the feeling.
“Ah- just like that… your tongue, just your tongue baby.”
His sensitivity is so gratifying. So worked up, that just the tip of your tongue is enough to get him wiggling and squirming.
“Think I’m gonna cum?” he warns, a puzzled pitch to his tone.
Though Jeongguk has always been sensitive, he’s never cum from just your tongue licking at him, always needing a hand around his cock, or your mouth sucking on him, your pussy milking him. This makes a little flame burn hot in your belly, eager to make him feel good in a way you haven’t before.
“Just from my tongue?” you ask against the tip.
He nods, hasty and jerky with his movements. “Yeah, keep licking me- so close- please,” he says quietly.
While making him feel good just how he asked, you flick and lick and suckle at the underside of the crown, tasting him as he leaks for you, watching as he fights against the urge to fuck up into your mouth and stroke his cock. His chest is rising and falling, puffing out hot, high pitched breaths. His free hand is now gripping at the cushion of the couch rhythmically, knuckles white.
You smile, with your tongue out, knowing the signs, having made him fall apart so many times before. Slurping and suctioning a little so that you can lick constantly over him is what makes him lose it.
His jaw hangs open and his brows turn up, “I love that, oh my god, fuck-” he moans head dropping to the back of the sofa. “I’m cumming, baby,” he breathes.
His body locks up and the hand gripping the sofa pulls at the cushion as he curls in on himself, his cock spurting out a shot of cum every time it pulses. He’s almost whimpering, as you keep flicking your tongue lightly on him. Eyes squeezed shut, hand still holding his cock in place for you, like he doesn’t want you to stop even though he’s twitching now, overstimulated and too sensitive. You give one last, slow lick over the whole length of him before you pull away.
Finally Jeongguk untenses and lets himself relax into the couch, deep breaths filling his lungs. He looks pretty, sweaty and thoroughly fucked out, his hand idly rubbing up and down his tummy.
He’s still leaning back, eyes closed as he basks in the afterglow of his orgasm when he says, “Put my cock away, please.”
You giggle and pull his sweats up for him, and he lifts his hips to help you. You pat his cock gingerly when it’s tucked inside.
Finally he peeks at you, eyes hazy as he opens them. They get more alert quickly, though, when he sees the state you’re in. He sits up, smiling big and laughing.
“Baby,” he coos, leaning in to peck you on the lips between his breathy laughter, “look at you, so messy,” he pinches your cheek as he sits back some, looking at how you’re covered in his cum. A spurt on your chin, another across the bridge of your nose and cheek, and a final one on the lens of your glasses.
You beam at him and he looks you over once more before leaning down to your level again, hands fondling your tits a little as he whispers in your ear, “So, cute. My cute baby.” He kisses your temple before standing and telling you he’ll be right back with a cloth to clean you.
It takes him a bit longer than it normally would, and when he comes out you know why. He’s dressed in his party clothes, shoes already on. A little hint of melancholy makes a home behind your ribs. But he still looks so lovely when he crouches in front of you, eyes bright like the lights in the sky.
“Sorry,” he says with a bashful smile, “Checked the time while I was in there- gotta run.”
You nod, always understanding of his quick exits and flighty ways. “Have fun,” you say quietly.
He brushes a thumb over your cheek and looks at you. His touch is gentle while his gaze is intense. With pinched brows and a pensive purse to his lips, he leans in slowly, nuzzles your cheek briefly before kissing you.
His kisses are evil, you’re sure of it. So deliberate and passionate that they make your head spin. Sweet as he licks into your mouth, as he breathes you in, hands cupping your faces as he brings you closer. Mean as he pulls away, leaving you breathless and longing for more.
“I’ll see you,” he assures you as he gets to his feet.
You smile because he will.
~~~
When you arrive at the party it’s just like any other one. You first make your way through the crowd to the kitchen, Yoongi and Taehyung in tow. You pour yourself a drink, and just like always it takes about 2 minutes for you to realize you may have been better off at home. It’s too hot, and it smells like cheap weed, and the cheap fragrance that is half hazardously spritzed here and there to try and cover up the smell. The alcohol is cheap, $10 New Amsterdam lines the counter, a bunch of half empty bottles with mismatched lids. The red solo cup in your hand is cheap. The girl in front of you sitting in Jeongguk’s lap is cheap.
Or maybe she’s not. You don’t know. Don’t really care. In the morning, you’ll process how it’s not the other girl’s fault, and how it’s Jeongguk you should be calling names. You’ll think rationally about how she likely didn’t know about you, when she took her place on his thighs. You’ll understand that there’s no way she could have known how highly you think of the boy she’s sinking her teeth into, how you think, know he’s made of stars, how when you think of him you see the color pink. How could she? Jeongguk evidently didn’t tell her. She probably doesn’t know. You know that. You’ll process it in the morning.
But right now all you can process the sickly feeling crawling it’s way up your throat. All you can feel is the way your palms get sweaty, and a little shaky, your fight or flight making adrenaline course through your veins as you just watch.
Watch as Jeongguk obliviously carries on conversations with the people you’ve come to know at these parties. You watch as he mindlessly tilts his head so the girl he has in his lap can kiss his neck better. So she can make him feel good, better. She’s sitting much like you were during the first party you attended here, on that same gross, stained sofa. Jeongguk’s got his hands all over her just like he had them all over you that night, in front of everyone. The same hands that were all over you just a few hours ago.
You glance around the circle you’re still on the outskirts of, Taehyung and Yoongi on your flank, taking in everything you’re seeing as well, a tense silence falling over your trio, them waiting to see what you want to do. Jeongguk’s circle doesn’t even bat an eye at the fact that there is a random girl that is not you, kissing on him. They just carry on conversations with him, like he’s the best multitasker in the world.
Or maybe she’s not random, you think, realize. All the times you’ve declined his invites to these types of functions flash in your head and you have to close your eyes, have to really focus on not hurling the little bit of alcohol you were able to ingest on your way from the kitchen to the living room. But a laugh that you’ve always adored and grown to love these past few months fills your ears, automatically making your eyes flick open and search for him.
He’s got his eyes closed now, and you can see the way the hand on her thigh is clenching in pleasure. He hums at something someone says, his bottom lip drawn between his teeth. He chuckles again, a breathy one. A distracted one, one that’s sounded just to appease a shitty joke that’s been told. Your eyes move to the girl. She’s working her teeth and her tongue over that mark you know you left just a few hours ago. Darkening it, making it her own. She can’t erase it, no. But she can take its place.
It’s almost slow motion when she detaches and moves her hand to Jeongguk’s jaw. Your breath catches in your throat as you watch her, you know what she’s doing.
Jeongguk’s eyes flutter open in that hazy way they do when he’s distracted and turned on. When you see her apply pressure getting him to angle his head towards her, his lips towards hers, your heart clenches. He just goes with it so easily. Like it’s second nature, like he’s used to it, does it often in fact. He doesn’t even try to fight it at all. His eyes flick down to her lips, and he leans in, and you can’t watch anymore. You don’t want her to know what the stars taste like. What your star tastes like.
“Hey Kook.” It’s still a nickname, but it sounds so much harsher than the soft ‘Koo’ or occasional ‘baby’ you usually reserve for him.
It’s satisfying to see the way his body tenses and the way his eyes fly open at the sound of your voice. His head looks around the room quickly a few times, before finally landing on you.
What’s not so satisfying is the way he makes no move to separate himself from the girl who is now just leaning her head on his shoulder, eyeing you. She’s got a sly smile on her face, and she’s kicking her legs that are swung over Jeongguk’s lap like she’s bored. Just waiting for the inevitably tense moment to pass so she can get back to what she was doing. Jeongguk clears his throat.
“___. I- um. I didn’t think you were coming… Like I thought you said you weren’t when I saw you earlier?” He phrases it like a question, like he didn’t understand what happened earlier was a lot more than him ‘just seeing you’. Like he might be able to blame whatever this is on a miscommunication, a little mistake.
Your blood is boiling, but you can’t even find it in yourself to be angry with him. You guys aren’t dating. Technically he’s not doing anything wrong. If you got mad right now, it would be crazy of you; controlling.
No, you can’t really be angry. But you can be hurt. And you are. So irrevocably hurt, you can feel the hollow pain settle in your chest, and make a home in your lungs. It hurts to breathe.
“Yeah… I finished my paper after all. Thought I would surprise you. Since you- since you invited me.” You cringe at the way you sound. So childish, naïve, foolish, hopeful. Your eyes jump between him and the girl still comfortably settled in his lap. You can see her playing with some of the longer pieces of his hair at the nape of his neck. You look away.
Jeongguk sighs like he doesn’t know how to fix the situation he’s got himself into. “You didn’t have to do that.” He has a faux sweet tone to his voice, like he’s appreciative of the gesture, the thought, but it just wasn’t necessary.
His coolness makes the tears that you’ve been fighting finally sting. So many welling in your eyes, you don’t even need to blink before they trek freely down your cheeks.
A watery, self deprecating laugh leaves your lips before you murmur, “Clearly.”
You gesture to the girl, finally forcing you both to acknowledge the proverbial elephant in the room. Jeongguk winces, like he’s the one that’s hurt. You chuckle again. “But hey, listen. Have fun okay? I’ll see you.” Your voice cracks, and you hastily run out of the room.
Jeongguk tries to call out to you, even pushes the girl’s legs off, but you’re already lost in the crowd. He groans and flops back onto the couch, running his hands over his face.
~~~
When there’s loud banging on your apartment door, it’s expected.
It’s Jeongguk. Of course it is. Out of breath from running to your door from the elevator, he has distraught eyes, like he’s frazzled with his hair askew. But still, he looks so devastatingly pretty.
You look at him up and down, and you feel your eyes water again. Tears welling heavy, like the numb feeling in your chest. Pictures of him with his eyes closed and a girl on his neck flash in your mind. You take a deep trembling breath, willing yourself to keep it together.
“What?” you say simply. You try to sound mad, but really you just sound tired.
He shifts in your doorway, looking down at his feet before meeting your gaze. You know you look like a mess with red rimmed eyes and probably some mascara running underneath. You couldn’t be bothered.
“Can I come in?” he whispers.
You scowl. “Why?”
He shrugs, a defensive gesture. “I wanna talk to you?”
You scoff and roll your eyes before turning away, leaving the door open for him. You sit on your couch, and watch as Jeongguk awkwardly stands in front of you. He looks so nervous and so out of place in your apartment, a sight that is such a stark difference to how he was earlier. So soft for you, so sweet for you. Easy to hold and easy to love. You never thought you’d see him in your home, antsy with stress and not pleasure. Something so cold it burns, settles in your chest.
“__ I-”
“You got here fast,” you interrupt.
Jeongguk flinches at your sharp tone. “Huh?”
“You got to my place fast. Must have cum pretty quick huh?” The bitterness in your tone is scathing, and Jeongguk’s taken aback by your tone, having never heard you sound like that with him before.
He sighs, “No we-”
“Oh you didn’t? Did she just blow you?”
“Please, __ just-”
“Jerked you off in the bathroom th-”
“I didn’t fuck her __!” Jeongguk yells. His hands are in his hair, tugging before they run down his face, pulling his skin in aggravation.
You flinch on the couch. But you turn your nose up to him, and tuck your feet under you making yourself small. Even though you’re on the verge of tears, your words are icy. “Well, I’m sorry I interrupted and ruined that for you.”
He sounds defeated when he groans and makes his way over to you, sitting next to you on the sofa. “I didn’t sleep with her.”
With him so near, you can feel the warmth of his body start to melt away the anger you felt, leaving just the tangible ache and hurt.
“Please look at me?” he asks quietly. He reaches his hand out, but you shy away from the touch, squeezing as close to the armrest as you can.
You shake your head. Your chin is quivering, ugly dents forming as you suck in one of those stuttering breaths. The kind that gives away just how close you are to breaking. And if you look at him and his starshine eyes and moon glow skin you will. You know you will.
“Baby, please.”
You feel his hand cup your cheek and gently press, guiding you to look at him. Just like the girl from earlier did to him. Your eyes drop to his neck and there it is. It’s an ugly dark purple mark on his soft skin. You feel sick, and the softest cry sneaks past your lips. You close your eyes and take a deep breath willing yourself to keep your composure. But it’s so hard when even just looking at him hurts.
When you take him in again, you’re met with his gaze. He looks pained too, despite the circumstances. Despite this being his fault. The hand on your cheek is gentle, like the thumb wiping away at your quiet tears. He looks at you. Really looks at you.
“I swear I didn’t.” It’s said softly, but he’s begging. He’s begging you to believe him.
And it sucks because you do. You know he’s telling the truth and it just hurts you and confuses you more. The fact that he left her to come and find you. The fact that he’s here making sure you know that he didn’t do anymore than just let her kiss on him; that he didn’t cross whatever invisible line in this ‘relationship’ that’s not even real, anymore than he already has.
You look at him sadly, the smallest smile on your lips as you whisper, “But you would have.”
His face falling is all the confirmation you need, and the way your heart breaks in your chest is clean and sharp. The pain takes your breath away.
He hangs his head, and his hand falls from your face to land on your thigh.
“I’m sorry.” Is all he says. No denial. No nothing that could make anything better because even the apology that just fell from his lips was only uttered because you found out.
But then you’re reminded that in reality, he didn’t do anything wrong. He’s not your boyfriend. You have no say in what he does, or who he does.
Though your lips are shy, comfortable with only his, his lips are sociable and like playing with friends. Though your hands are small, not even big enough to hold all the love for the fallen star in front of you, his are big. Big enough to hold many things, maybe not love, but surely people. It’s a painful realization, when you come to the conclusion that your naiveté got in the way of you seeing things clearly, that your rose-tinted glasses kept you from seeing things for what they really are, and not what you had wanted them to be. It’s painful getting caught in the path of an imploding star.
“No, I’m sorry,” you murmur, bringing a hand up to wipe at your tears. “I- you’re not mine. I shouldn’t even be upset. You didn’t do anything wrong.” You try to laugh, but it comes out pitiful and pained and wet because the stupid tears just won’t stop.
He looks up at you hesitantly. He speaks slowly, like he’s unsure. “Just because it wasn’t wrong… doesn’t mean it was right.”
And that’s a line if you’ve ever heard one. But it works, and it’s true. You just look at him, waiting for him to continue.
“And I hurt you.” His hand is back on your cheek again, and his eyebrows are pinched and his lips are set in a frown.
Him acknowledging that pain he caused doesn’t help ease it. If anything it makes it hurt worse.
You nod in his palm, confirming. “Yeah, you did.”
Maybe you’re seeing things, but his eyes well with tears to match yours, and he’s crowding closer to you taking up your space. “How do I fix it? How do I make it better?”
Your shoulders shake with the cries you're trying to keep in. “I don’t know if you can. Or if you even actually want to.”
He’s frantic and he shakes his head. “No, no I do!” He’s holding your face in his hands, forcing you to see how much he means it.
But it just makes the heavy tears fall faster. “Jeongguk you-”
He kisses you. It’s desperate and hard, like he’s begging for something you’re not even sure he knows. Lips moving against yours slow and molten hot like lava, teeth clicking when you pull away to take a breath, to cry. Palms gripping roughly as if bruises made by hands will hurt less and replace the ones that are made from careless actions. When he backs away, it’s just enough for him to speak, his forehead on yours, his lips still brushing yours.
“Please, I’m so sorry, I’m so, so sorry,” he chants. When he finds other words besides apologies, he whispers, “Let me make it better, let me fix it.”
His mouth leaves a blazing trail down your neck, kissing urgently but so, so softly, like it's the only thing he knows how to do gently with you.
I’m sorry.
You don’t fight him when he presses into you, the weight of his body falling over you as he coaxes your legs open and settles between them. He makes you look at him and leans in to kiss you for real, on the lips. But you turn away, a whimper falling from your lips. This doesn’t discourage him, though. And you don’t stop him. His lips, or his hands. Because although they hurt you and cause you so much pain, they also make you feel so good, reminding you of all the sweet things he has said, the things he has done. Maybe he doesn’t love you but it feels like he does in that moment.
I’m sorry.
He’s so gentle and so careful with you, when he gets you bare. When he lines himself up and slides in. He gasps with you and moans. He buries his face in your neck, biting and sucking as he rocks his hips, before he takes a deep breath and kisses soothingly over the marks he made like he didn’t mean to lose himself and didn’t mean to cause you pain. In contrast, you dig your nails into his back for that exact reason.
I’m sorry.
He hisses at your harsh touch, and his hips pick up pace. He’s been whispering to you the whole time, whenever he can between the whines and groans falling from his lips. Telling you he’s sorry, how he will do better, how he’s never going to stop making you feel good. You nod, wanting to believe it, hoping that he means it. He brings a hand between your bodies, rubs you until you finish around him. Making you feel good in one of the only ways he knows how.
Kiss me.
He begs for the small affection as his hips start to stutter, thrusts growing erratic and jerky. You’ve always been weak for him, so you give in. Easy, easy, easy. Like it’s second-nature. Jeongguk kisses you while he cums, gasping into you, hips slowing but not stopping until he has nothing left to give.
“Can I stay?” he asks, so softly.
“You’ve never wanted to before,” you reply, rolling away from him.
“I want to now,” he insists, tentatively curling around you. “Please?”
You don’t reply, but you don’t move away.
When you wake up, you’re surprised to see he’s still there. That he hasn’t run out on you. It’s foolish, but as you lay with him you let your mind wander. A few could be’s running laps around your fatally lovesick brain.
The night before could be a misunderstanding. Things could be okay.
Maybe you could be his.
Maybe he could be yours.
~~~
Pink.
Everything is pink.
The cherry blossoms that have reached full bloom, large pink flowers dancing when the breeze blows.
Your heart glowing pink, beating warm in your chest. Fluttering like the petals that rain from strong branches.
Jeongguk’s cheeks as they swell with a flush, a pink cast that’s a perfect match to the glow of your heart.
“What are you staring at?”
Your eyes were hazy with thought before you heard his voice, but at the sound of his soft, inquisitive tone you refocus, realizing you’ve been staring.
Jeongguk bringing you to the Cherry Blossom Festival was a sweet, baby pink surprise. The last few weeks have been, really. After the first stilted week following that party, after the doctor’s appointments to make sure you were clean, despite his insistence that you didn’t need to, him claiming he used protection with the other girls, and after the hard talks, things seemed to actually be going okay. Back to how they were before that night, at the very least.
The parties have been less frequent, and even though he doesn’t say it, you know that him not going as often, and bringing you when he does go, is him trying. Trying to show you that he cares, trying to show you that he’s sorry for hurting you. Trying to show you that he’s putting in effort that he didn’t before.
He lets you know where he is if you’re not with him, texts you when he gets home, stays the night more often. He makes a point to take you to Blushing Brews from time to time despite him not working there anymore, tattooing full time now. The new girl behind the counter that replaced him is a little younger but nice enough even though she doesn’t give you your oat milk for free like Jeongguk used to. You think him taking you there regularly is him trying to be sentimental, and it makes your heart flutter in your chest.
Before the incident you both were already together so often, almost constantly, so with the added bonding your lives are almost one.
So although things haven’t evolved into more, you think that maybe with time, they could. And you think that if he’s at least trying, that’s all you can ask for. You’re not going to push him, or demand things from him that he doesn’t willingly want to give. Because just like always, you’re worried that he will run. That you will scare him. Being with him in some way is better than not being with him at all.
You reach a small hand up and pluck a petal from his long, blueberry locks. His eyes cross when you present the little flower to him.
“Had something in your hair,” you say with a tiny smile.
He blows it out of your hand. “Ugh they are everywhere, you have some in your hair too.” He leans away from the tree trunk he was resting against and cards a tattooed hand through your hair. He pauses for a moment looking around until he finds a whole blossom that fell, instead of just single petals, tucking it behind your ear.
You’re sitting in front of him, face to face, between his legs, your own bent and kind of caging him in. His legs doing the same to you.
His eyes scan your face for a moment before he smiles softly, hand cupping your jaw and urging you forward for a gentle kiss. He tastes like a mix of the cherry syrup that filled the cherry blossom bread mixed and the sakura ice cream you both were munching on. Sugary sweet and creamy.
He hums when he pulls away, eye still closed before he grins, lazy and serene. “Are you having a good time?” he murmurs.
You look around. See kids running around and screaming, gathering handfuls of fallen petals and throwing them in the air just to watch them snow down once again. You see couples all over, young and old, hand in hand, or lips locked together. So many stars out despite the sun still being warm and bright in the sky.
With eyes falling back on Jeongguk, you feel that intense lovestruck warmth bubble over in your chest, so full and overflowing with adoration. Even after the hurt he caused and the pain you felt, all you feel is love. You don’t think there could be room for anything else, no matter what happens.
You peck him cute and sweet, and nod. “Yeah, thank you for bringing me. Everything is so pretty here.”
His hands grip at the smallest part of your waist between his legs. “Not as pretty as you.” He brushes his nose against your cheek, and you squirm a little, his hair tickling your cheek as he moves to whisper in your ear, “Prettiest girl ever.”
He kisses on you a little, not too much considering you're out in the open, but enough to make you scoot as close to him as you can, bodies almost flush together. You breathing gets airy and you get a little lost in him, in the stars. So much so that you don’t notice when one of his hands slinks away from your waist and to his pocket.
“Hey,” he whispers, bringing you back to earth. “I got you something.”
You pull away surprised and look him in the eyes before you glance down at his closed fist. You pout a little, confused, before cupping your hands in front of him. He plops something light and shiny in your palms.
The small silver necklace in your hand is simple but so beautiful. You remember lingering on it when you first got to the festival, the ornate little cherry blossom charm catching your eye. You didn’t think that Jeongguk noticed, but he must have slipped away to buy it when he went to get the food.
Your eyes are shiny when you look up at him again, “Koo…” you whisper, “you didn’t have to-”
“Shh,” he shushes you, his big hand petting at you, “I wanted to… do you like it? You prefer silver right? No gold?” He sounds nervous, a little eager to please and make you happy.
You were admiring the necklace when he started speaking again, but at the mention of your jewelry preference you gaze at him again. “You remembered?”
He smiles a little sheepishly, kind of shy. “Of course I did…” he pauses and looks like he’s debating on saying what’s on his mind. He starts slowly and hesitantly, “I know- I know it didn’t seem like it because of what I did… but I always listened, I always like, cared. I just-” he takes a deep breath like he doesn’t know how to say what he means, “I don’t know, there are just things I don’t know… things I don’t think I want.” He looks down, like he can’t face you.
You place gentle hands on his face and urge him to meet your gaze once again. His lips are pursed and down turned and there’s an upward tilt to his pinched brows.
“It’s okay…” You wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face into him.
It’s okay, I love you.
The words have been on the tip of your tongue for months, but lately, they have been trying to sneak out past your teeth on almost a daily basis. Getting harder and harder to bite down and conceal. It won’t be long before you’re choking on them, unable to swallow them anymore.
He wraps his arms around your waist and squeezes a little. “It’s not okay,” he whispers. His sentence sounds unfinished like he has more to say, something he wants to tell you.
You’re heart pitter patters anxiously in your chest and you quickly speak up again before he has a chance to.
“I mean, don’t do it again. Please,” you laugh quietly, trying to lighten the mood, “But it’s over now and we can’t, like, change it so… we can think of it as character development!” you finish with a cheerful tone and a kiss to his neck.
You pull back a little when you feel him tense under you for just a fraction of a second before relaxing again. He looks a little off, but kisses your worries away.
“Yeah,” he agrees with you, tone breathy like it's said on a sigh.
“Put it on for me?” you say handing the necklace back. You turn around between his thighs so that your back is now to him.
Jeongguk’s fingers are gentle as they sweep your hair over your shoulder before wrapping his arms around you, the chain circling your neck. His fingers shake a little as he undoes that clasp, and he misses the hook a couple times before he finally gets it. He pulls your hair from under the dainty chain, and smooths his hands over your shoulders before placing a soft, wet kiss to the nape of your neck.
It’s a subtle action, but it still makes your breath hitch in your throat, your heart beating just a little faster in your chest. He does it again, his tongue coming out this time, his teeth nibbling just a bit when you tilt your neck.
“Ah- Koo-” you whine, quietly.
His arms are around your waist and you settle your hands on top of them like you know you should push them off, keep yourselves decent under the cherry blossom tree, but instead they just squeeze and keep him close. Your thighs squeeze together too.
He hums into your neck, his breath hot against your ear when he whispers, “Ready to go?”
You get to your car quickly, not bothering to dust yourselves off, stray petals littering the floor mats. Jeongguk drives, and you kiss on him while he does.
~~~
The car ride was full of airy laughs and soft touches. Heated hands roaming over heated bodies, both yours and Jeongguk’s mind one tracked and ready. He doesn’t even get you in the door before his lips are on yours and his tongue is dancing in your mouth.
Once he does actually get you to your room, he takes a breath, takes you in. His hands are on your hips, and yours are on his face as he rests his forehead against yours, eyes closing and breaths mingling.
He has his bottom lip pulled between his teeth to try and calm the giddy laughter that hasn’t stopped. You’re one in the same, tiny hiccupping giggles ring in his ears as your squeeze at his cheeks and kiss everywhere you can reach. Single pecks to his eyelids, his nose. Longer, honeyed kisses to his lips. He grips you harder, angles his hips against yours. You gasp for him, go pliant in his hold.
He buries his head in your neck, bites, sucks, kisses. Breathing in your subtle sweet vanilla scent, so familiar to him by now, he’s not sure he could go without a hit of it for longer than a day at this point.
When he reaches your collarbones, he sees the little flower nestled between the slightly protruding bones. It twinkles like a small star on your soft skin. He smiles as he toys with it for a second, before bringing his mouth back to yours, hasty and eager.
Your hands are in his hair and he’s backing you up to the bed while his teeth nip at your lips, teeth clicking when he can’t help but smile, and consequently you smile back, instinctive and natural. You’re lost in the moment, and he’s lost in you.
Until you tug at his hair, keeping him in the present. You pull his mouth away from yours, but he’s needy, his lips immediately moving to whatever skin is within his reach.
You laugh, and it sounds breathless in his ears. “Hey, Koo-” you moan, the grip in his hair tightening when his hands knead at your ass, “th-thank you.”
He hums into your skin, a smirk on his cherry red lips. “Why are you thanking me?”
“For today… I just-”
Jeongguk’s kisses slow at your tone. You sound a bit unsure, a bit off. When he finally looks at you again, present enough to see through the haze of want that has clouded your bedroom, he sees it.
It’s so much brighter, more potent than it’s ever been before, like it’s all consuming and fervent in your eyes. Love. His heart skips a devastating beat. Not because he’s happy, or ecstatic, or relieved. But because he’s scared.
His hands find your face, gripping a little too hard, he’s sure. Your small ones wrap around his wrists and squeeze tenderly, a little too gentle, he’s sure.
The way that your smile slowly drops is daunting. Your brows furrow and that little pout forms on your face and Jeongguk feels sick.
“What’s wrong?” you ask gently, your thumb on his wrist rubbing softly over his skin.
He shakes his head slightly, his eyes searching yours frantically waiting for that glow in them to die out. It usually does, like you’re able to contain it, bottle the feeling away until it’s like it was never there to begin with.
But this time it doesn't, you just continue to look at him like he is the brightest star in the sky, like he’s the other half to yours, like he completes you in that asinine way that romantics think can fix everything. He’s been there. And he knows that’s just not right.
“Please don’t,” he whispers.
You’re shaking your head too, like your absentmindedly mirroring him. You sound so confused when you speak up, but you laugh a little like you don’t understand the joke. “Don’t what?”
There is no joke. Jeongguk wishes there was. Wishes he could give you what you want, wishes that the way you look at him wasn’t suffocating, wishes that trying was enough. Because at least he did that. The last few weeks were enough for him to know that sometimes no amount of trying can make things fit together.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he continues in a voice that sounds fraile and skittish in his ears.
With brows even more pinched than before, and a perturbed expression on your face, you squeeze at his wrists, just a touch harder, like you’re trying to get him to focus. As if he isn’t fixated, as if he isn’t solely concentrated on your every movement, every slight change of expression. “Like what?”
“Like you love me.”
Jeongguk didn’t think it would hurt this bad. Didn’t think finally telling you that it wasn’t going to work, that he wasn’t going to be with you in that way, would be so profoundly painful.
But at the same time, part of him thinks that you knew it wouldn’t last. That you’ve known for a long time. The other part knows that you’ll hold on as long as he lets you. He’s always been so selfish with you.
You flinch in his hold and you stutter a little as you shake your head in his hands. “Jeongguk I- it’s- please-”
He doesn’t know what you’re begging for, but he knows he can’t give it to you. The pads of his thumb brush at the apples of your cheeks. He leans forward, kisses you softly before he murmurs against your lips, “Please just don’t- don’t ruin this,” he begs. His eyes are closed and his brows are scrunched. “We’re good like this, right?”
He knows you’re just appeasing him when you nod your head, like you’re scared to lose him, but he lets out a relieved sigh all the same. Kisses you like he means it, because he does. So grateful that you’ve never been the pushy type, never been the type to cage him in or corner him.
Jeongguk loves making you cum, because you cum softly. Not like the other girls before you, during you, or the ones that will come after you. So, he focuses on that instead of the pestering thoughts in his head. The ones saying that if he could just figure himself out, maybe it could’ve been you.
He concentrates on shedding your clothes, fixates on the way you taste, committing it to memory. He runs his fingers over that star on your ribs, the skin just barely raised. It’s like a message in a special form of braille. I’m sorry etched into your skin, or maybe I tried.
You suck in a sharp breath when his tip breaches your center, and as every inch of him slides into you, you exhale a soft whine, brows pinched with a look reminiscent of pain as your lashes flutter.
Jeongguk doesn’t take his eyes off you as he inhales your breath, drinking down the tiny moans that you make for him. He lingers on the way that you turn away from him like you’re trying to hide the flush that has covered your skin in the sweetest shade of pink, the way that you let your small hands clench into little fists. One by your head, the other at your mouth so you can bite at the knuckle. The way you gasp when he finally pushes into the hilt, back arching, toes curling.
“So good for me baby, so perfect,” he breathes as he starts to set his pace, hips snapping forward into yours.
Your pussy feels like velvet around him, so wet and warm. He shudders every time his swollen tip drags against your walls, and he groans when you pull your legs back, opening yourself up for him.
He’s got you on your back, tits bouncing as he pulls and pushes inside of you. They are plush and round, and so, so soft as he grips at them roughly. He groans when he digs his fingers in into the squishy skin, hard enough for blossoms to bloom. Your nipples are a dusty rose and they pebble when his touches go from hard to soft and teasing, rubbing over the small buds. Your breathing picks up with his strokes.
No matter how many times he fucks you, it never gets old or tiring. You never get used to the way his fat cock stretches out your tiny cunt. You never get used to the juxtaposition between his harsh holds and tender caresses.
He fucks you so good every single time, it’s mind-numbing. Makes you forget about everything else. Makes you forget about the way your love seems to be on a time limit, the hourglass on its last grains of sand. He fucks you so good that you forget that he’s not yours despite you being so wholly his in every sense of the word. No more ‘you could be his’ floating around in your head.
His, his, his.
His to touch, to kiss, to fuck.
And he does exactly that. With hips still thrusting into you, he bends at the waist some, wraps his mouth around your nipple, tongue flicking lightly over it, making you mewl underneath him.
You push up into the sensation, before you curl into yourself, hands coming to cradle his face and card through his hair, pushing some back out of his eyes. He glances at you with a gaze that feels like love, pretty and dark. Smiling, he smirks a little before briefly pulling the bud between his teeth. You hiss and let out the littlest cry of pain. He coos against your chest before soothing you with soft teasing laps of his tongue.
With legs that are now wrapped around his waist, you use your heels to urge him to focus on fucking you, even if his mouth feels divine.
“Faster,” you pant, voice catching on a whine.
“Yeah, baby?” he asks, moving so he’s over you, braced on the hands he places by your head. “Tell me what you want.”
You moan, one hand cupping your own tit, the other just resting on his neck. He’s warm to the touch, and glistening with sweat as he fucks into you, fast just like you asked. “Want you to fuck me so good that I never forget it, never forget the way your cock feels inside of me.”
His hips slow just a little, and he lowers himself to his forearms so that your bodies are close, the friction hot as you rub against each other. He sounds wistful when he brings his lips to your ear, cooing softly, “Don’t worry baby, I’ve already made sure you won’t.”
He trails a hand down your body and presses against your ribs right where he knows your tattoo is. It makes you gasp, and he nips at your earlobe before he brings his hand back up.
Instead of pinning your wrists like he normally would, Jeongguk intertwines your fingers.
The tears that prick your eyes could be from pleasure or a longing so deep it’s become painful, maybe both, but you don’t have a chance to discern them as your back arches, unable to squirm or move away in his hold.
“Koo- I’m-” you warn him.
He speeds his hips up, plunges fast and hard. “Oh baby, that’s it. Show me how this cock makes you feel, show me how I make you feel.”
Jeongguk holds you down as you cum. Your fingers are laced with his and he moans along with you, pleasured by pleasuring you. By being the one that makes you fall apart, the one that makes you shake, and the one that makes your face look so obscenely pretty as you cum, clenching around his cock.
“Fuck,” he whines. Your cunt grips so tight around him, little pulsing contractions making his hips almost halt.
When you come down, relaxing a little in his hold, he’s quick to get his lips all over you. Not really kissing, more just mouthing at wherever he can reach as his thrusts grow erratic, fast and sloppy.
The sorta-kisses and pants that he breathes are burning hot. Leaving little scorch marks in their wake. When his lips find yours, when he whines the softest, most desperate ‘please’ against them; it’s searing.
It hurts to kiss him.
You don’t know what he’s begging for, and you don’t know why it’s your instinct to say ‘it’s okay’, but you do. You think you hear him let out a quiet, relieved cry as he hides his face in your neck, squeezing your hands so hard you feel like your bones are going to break.
“You gonna cum for me?” you whisper, voice salacious and saccharine sweet.
He nods into your neck, a strained ‘Yeah’ falling from his lips.
“Baby, lemme see, wanna look at you,” you plead, pussy leaking again at his tone, at how wrecked he sounds.
He groans and bites into your neck making you keen before he brings himself up a little. You whine when you see him. His eyes heavy, pupils blown. He’s flushed and his expression is hazy as he rams his cock into you, loud slaps and lewd wet noises sounding around you. His tongue licks at his lips and he bites the bottom one a little before his mouth parts, and his brows pinch, a silent moan written all over his features.
“Gonna cum, fuck-” he whispers as his eyes roll back, before squeezing shut.
He grits his teeth as he desperately fucks into you, a drop of sweat drips down his nose and lands on your cheek, and his hair sways around his face. You want to tuck it behind his ear so you can see it more clearly when he cums, but his hands are still holding yours. The fast pace he’s set makes your cunt tighten around him again, creaming all over his cock for the second time.
He gasps and chokes out, “Yeah, god- I’m cumming… fuck I’m cumming-”
His body tenses, and he spills inside of you as he buries his cock as deep as he can. Your pussy is still clenching as you feel the throbs and jerks, every spurt of white filling you up. He’s still thrusting slowly, milking himself, causing some of his cum to spill out, making you both filthy and gross.
When he pulls out, he kisses you slow. Lazy licks of his tongue against yours, as he pets at your sweaty skin. With your hands finally free, you card them through his hair, untangling it as you go. He trails fingers down to your core and plays in the mess you both made. You whine a little, tender and a bit sore.
He kisses you sweetly as an apology. “Let’s get you cleaned up?” he asks, voice small.
He takes you to the bathroom, washes you in the warm water and showers you in warm kisses. He lets you do the same to him, hands lathering vanilla soap over every ridge of his muscles. Your pussy pulses when he gets hard again as you wash his cock, but you know you wouldn’t be able to handle another round, so you stroke him till he’s cumming once more, against your tummy, with nothing but a small gasp.
The shower made you both pliant and docile, the comfort of your bed too hard to ignore. He falls asleep next to you, arms wrapped around your middle, soft snores tickling your neck. You run your fingers over the stars on his forearm till you succumb to exhaustion just like him.
When you wake in the early hours of the morning to light rainfall outside your window washing away the cherry blossoms, you’ll act surprised when Jeongguk is nowhere to be seen. Then you’ll act like it’s not a big deal; like it's the same as all the other times he didn’t stay the night. You’ll act like the ache in your chest isn’t breathtaking, agonizing. Like the pain doesn’t feel different this time. You’ll act like the first shower of the season really does signify new beginnings and you’ll act like the rain isn’t going to be a forever reminder of the end of you and him. Spring is here.
~~~
It’s Jeongguk’s day off and he’s got his hands and his mind busy with playing video games so that he’s distracted and doesn’t have to think about the plethora of things going on in his life at the moment. All of them involving you.
He’s distracting himself so he doesn’t have to think about the way he left in the middle of the night, after watching you briefly, asleep and serene, soft little puffs of air the only sound besides the rain outside. He is distracting himself so that the image of you reaching out in your sleep for someone who is no longer there, doesn’t plague his mind. He’s distracting himself so that he doesn’t have to acknowledge your calls or texts, incessant since he left. He’s distracting himself so that he doesn’t have to face you, and decide what to do about this thing he’s gotten himself into.
Normally he would just brush everything under a rug and call it a day. Then settle back into the cyclical routine you both have become so used to. But there was no denying things were coming to a head, emotions gradually growing and becoming too intense, too deep to ignore. Last night was a prime example. Things were just becoming too much. You were becoming too much.
He knows that’s a shitty way to see it. That it puts most, if not all, the blame on you. But he feels like he’s made it clear since the beginning. Clear that he doesn’t do relationships, that he doesn’t fall in love, that he doesn’t believe in stars the way that you do. Though he did try to make it work. Make himself want what you want. He feels bad. He’s always wanted this to end painlessly, even if that was a far fetched wish, delusional and too hopeful for someone like him.
It’ll hurt him too when it’s over. Despite his best efforts to keep his distance, and his feelings out of it, he would be a liar if he said he didn’t grow fond of you. If he said that he didn’t become so attached and comfortable, that even just the few hours he’s been apart from you, weren’t eating at him a little. Even with distractions, the dull ache and unfamiliar longing he feels still thrums in his chest. Like a pesky reminder that something is missing.
Jimin is next to him on his couch, Jeongguk having called his friend over as another pastime. Jeongguk can see Jimin glancing between him and the phone on the cushion between them that hasn’t stopped going off. When Jimin finally speaks up, it’s expected.
“Dude. What are you doing?”
Jeongguk’s jaw tenses, and he too glances at your face on the screen until it goes black. He waits not even a minute before it’s lighting up with another call from you. He flips the phone over and goes back to his game only to see his character died. He groans and sets his controller in his lap before scrubbing his hands over his face.
“Spring cleaning,” Jeongguk replies, trying to keep his tone nonchalant.
“God you're an ass,” Jimin laughs in an incredulous way, “Isn’t it a little late to be ghosting her? I’ve been with Tae for like four months, so it’s gotta be like what? Six months for you guys?”
“Eight,” Jeongguk drones.
Jimin’s eyebrows raise. “That’s pretty long for you…”
He nods, expression a little sullen. The dark circles under his eyes make him look tired. “Yeah, a hook up turned fling turned whatever the fuck it is now… it’s just too much man.”
Jimin frowns a little before he hums and Jeongguk plays his game while he waits for his friend to process his thoughts. Jimin’s voice is curious and gentle, not accusatory at all. “Is it ‘too much’ because you’re starting to care too much and you don’t know how to deal with that?”
Jeongguk goes stiff on the couch, and his chest constricts a little. No, that wasn’t it. It can’t be. It’s always been you that cares too much, and him that's never cared enough. It’s you who has always been just a little too much. Too kind, too sensitive, too intense, too in your head, too in love. It’s always been you. You, you, you.
He’s about to tell Jimin that, vehemently deny what he just said, but Jeongguk doesn’t get a chance to because there���s a knock on his door.
It’s you.
Jeongguk knows before Jimin answers the door. He knows before you sneak in despite Jimin doing his best to be a good friend and cover for him, saying that Jeongguk is out and that he’s just house sitting.
He knows it’s you before you stand in front of him and state, “I love you.”
It’s so quiet after you say it, the only sound being heard is the soft video game music barely audible as is. Jeongguk’s hands grip at his controller tight, his knuckles going white, the ink of his tattoos a stark contrast to the skin.
“Okay…” Jimin murmurs, “I’m going to Tae’s, Jeongguk text me later… or something…”
When the door shuts, the atmosphere is heavy with tension. So many different emotions swirling in the small living room, yours and his all mixing together to create a thick concoction that makes the air hard to breathe.
Jeongguk’s quiet for a moment longer, fingers still jumping on his controller. He can hear your ragged breathing. He glances at you briefly before looking at his game again.
“I know,” he responds slowly.
In his peripheral, he can see the way you deflate, how your face drops and how your lungs exhale a doleful sigh. Dejection is clear in your stance and disappointment permeates the already noxious air.
Jeongguk lets out a sigh of his own as his brows pinch and his eyes scrunch shut. He meant for it to sound factual, more like a statement, because he did know. He has known for a long time now. He didn’t intend for it to sound patronizing or cruel.
“___,” he starts, ready to apologize.
But he’s cut off.
“Fuck you,” you whisper, before he gets the change to explain.
He pauses his game and looks at you, eyes wide in disbelief. Your voice holds so much pain and resentment that he physically has to keep from recoiling. You didn’t even sound like that after the party.
He knows the animosity directed at him isn’t unwarranted, but that doesn’t stop his own irritation from bubbling up, dark and vile in his throat. His expression goes from one of doubt and concern to one of annoyance and discontent.
“No, fuck you. Why the fuck are you here ___?”
“What do you mean why the fuck am I here?” you exasperate, throwing your hands up, “You left me in the middle of the night. You disappeared, I woke up and you weren’t there.” You start off strong but taper out at the end.
Jeongguk feels his heart break just a little, small cracks like spider veins fracture the surface when he hears the way your voice shakes, like you’re trying so hard to hold on to the anger you feel and not let the hurt, the betrayal seep through.
It’s like whiplash with you. His emotions flipping like a switch, at the drop of a dime. It goes from him feeling irritated and mad, close to throwing you out, to him feeling bad, like he needs to coddle you, take care of you. His hands reach out for just a moment like he wants to hold you.
“I’m sorry-”
“Why did you leave?” you interject.
Jeongguk’s hands drop as he fishes for the right words to say, to explain to you why he couldn’t stay. Why one more rest with you would have been too much. The love in your eyes didn’t fade at all last night, his only reprieve coming when you closed your eyes to sleep. He couldn’t be there when you woke up, only to see it again. Sleepy, calm, poignant love and adoration that is misplaced and wasted on someone like him.
He doesn’t mean for it to come out cold and detached but it does when he says, “It was better for you if I left.” But he can’t help it. His walls are coming up and his doors are closing. He shouldn’t have let you in in the first place, shouldn’t have let you stay so long.
You look at him like you’re desperately trying to understand what he means, why he does the things he does. “Why would that be better for me?” you almost beg. “Why can’t you just be better for me?”
You’re crying now, and though he aches because you ache, so fucking in tune with you at this point, something about your words makes something ugly and mean stir inside of him. But he bites it down, swallows even though he feels like he’s going to be sick. He still tries to be gentle with you, patient as he calmly says, “Baby… I can’t be what you need, this-”
“Why can’t you?” you interrupt, voice sharp and insistent. Demanding and hurt.
“Because I-”
“Because you won’t try?”
God, you won’t stop interrupting him. He raises to his feet and his voice raises as well, frustration over taking the patience he’s tried to keep with you.
“I did try! I’m texting you constantly about where I am, I’m not going to parties or hanging out with my friends. I hardly sleep by myself anymore! I’m always fucking with you, what more do you want from me?”
You’re jaw drops and you feel like you’ve been slapped in the face. Months of never asking for more than he was willing to give, months of settling for what he did, and he still ended up resenting you. Blaming you for whatever it is that seems like it almost destined you both to fail. It hurts.
“I never asked you to do that! I never demanded anything from you. I never wanted anything you didn’t want to give. I still don’t!”
“I did it for you! I tried for you,” he almost whines, but his tone still holds some anger. “Almost everything I do is for you. I did all of it so that this,” he gestures between the two of you, “wouldn’t hurt so bad.”
You look at him like you cannot believe the words that came out of his mouth. A short laugh falls from your lips. It lacks the joy and warmth that usually accompanies the smiles you give him. This one is sarcastic and cold and unconvinced. “You didn’t do shit for me, Jeongguk. You’re selfish. You always have been.”
You watch as he slumps, like you’ve figured it out.
He’s been pacing a little as the conversation between you both escalates, but he comes to a stop a little bit in front of you, his eyes sad and searching.
You’re right, but you’re also so devastatingly wrong. Because didn’t you know? He indeed did do so many things for you, with you in mind. Because yes, he is selfish with you. But he never wanted to hurt you. He’s always cared in his own twisted way.
All those nights that you wanted him to stay, but he chose not to and left you alone, were for you. Because if it hurts now, letting him go, imagine how excruciating it would be if he had stayed. Imagine how many more nights you would have to remember when you wished you could forget.
The lack of a label was for you too. Because although they say labels don’t mean much, when you have it and it gets taken away, it’s just a reminder of what you have lost. In his mind, you couldn’t miss being in a relationship with him if you never really were.
In hindsight, it was for him too. This hurts more than he thought it would, but you and him? It has to end, it’s gone on too long already.
But he lets you believe what you want. He lets you think that he is the bad guy. He thinks that maybe you need to blame him, despite the flaws in yourself, in order for you to be okay. And maybe you’re not wrong. Maybe he is the bad guy. He feels like he is.
“I don’t know what you want me to say, ___,” he says.
“I want you to tell me, why. Why can’t you be better for me?” you repeat. “Why didn’t you let me go? Why did you hurt me over and over and over again? Why did you waste both of our time?” You’re borderline yelling, and the tears leaking from the corners of your eyes are a perfect mix of bitter and heartbroken. “Why can’t you just love me the way you’re supposed to?”
Jeongguk takes in the angry curve of your brow and your quivering chin. But it doesn’t hit him like it should. It doesn’t tug at his heart like it should. In that moment, he doesn’t want to make it better anymore, he doesn’t want to do anything to ease the pain that is so evidently written on your face. His emotions flip flopping once again.
Like he’s supposed to. There’s something about that sentence, something about the way you phrase certain things that just irks him, makes his blood boil. Like you’ve idealized and romanticized things so much that you don’t realize that there is no ‘supposed to be’.
There is no status quo for love.
There’s no predetermined way for things to be or end up.
Things, love, life- it just doesn’t work like that.
It’s always been like this though, you saying something, him getting annoyed and then him tucking it away because it wasn’t really that big of a deal, because he didn’t want to hurt you by mentioning it.
But tucking everything away has let it build up and fester like an infection. He can’t keep the condescending venom out of his words, and once they start coming out, they won’t stop. He hates himself for it, and he’s sorry before the words even leave his lips. Because fuck, he doesn’t want to hurt you.
But he knows he’s going to. That maybe he has to in order for you to see what he meant, on the pier that night so long ago, when he said that you would find out what it means to be someone like him. Someone you shouldn’t have made the brightest star in your sky.
“What? Like how you wrote it in your head?” he seethes. He waits, impatient for an answer, but all he gets is your expression going from pained to confused. “Huh?” he eggs you on, and you stutter a little before he continues, “Okay, tell me what happens next. How did you script it, ___?”
He takes a step closer to you and tilts his head while looking at you. You shrink in on yourself, but don’t back away. “C’mon, tell me how it goes. Fast forward- make me fall in love with you,” his voice is antagonizing and malicious. “That’s what you wanted the whole time, right? That’s how it’s supposed to be?”
You’re taken aback as you shake your head at him, like he’s got it all wrong, like he’s lying. “I- I did try, I tried to get you to Io-”
He cuts you off, his bottled up feelings spilling out. “No, you didn’t. You wrote a fucking story in your head and made it your mission to bring it to life through you and me.”
With harsh breaths huffing from his nose, and his chest rising and falling, he looks at you. Waiting for his words to sink in. You don’t respond, and you jump a little when sets his hands on your shoulders. His demeanor is closed off and cold.
“We aren’t characters that need development or whatever the fuck, and we live normal lives. We don’t live through chapters, and we don’t get happy endings. I can’t be the me you’ve created in your head.”
He’s whispering and his words are razor sharp, full of disgust and disdain. “I’m not a character in your story, and I’m not made of the fucking stars. I’m my own fucking person, and I will never be yours, not like that.”
His chest is heaving and it feels like he’s taking all the air in the room because you can’t breathe.
You tried so hard to separate him, both of you, from the versions of you and him that you had in your head. Ever since that lecture. But dreaming of different things, different realities, was how you dealt with it. With him being the calamitous contradiction that he is. So sweet and easy to love, yet so unattainable in the same breath.
In one reality, you were his, and in another he was yours. In a different one, you both were one and the same. A single star. You had hoped that that was this reality. But it seems that you were wrong.
“I’m sorry,” you breathe, an airy panic lacing your tone. “I know I can get lost in my head sometimes, but I didn’t mean to. I actively tried not to with you,” you tell him, clenching at his shirt, desperate for him to understand and believe you.
His eyes stay hard though, as he looks down his nose at you. And you know you’ve lost him. The indifference in his gaze is stifling and it brings fresh tears to your eyes. It’s like he has his mind made up. You think maybe it’s been made up since he left your bed last night.
“You should go,” he says quietly. His hands are gentle but insistent as he untangles yours from him.
“Jeongguk, Koo- please-”
“___, just stop! You’re making this harder. For both of us! You’re making it hurt worse- I- it was never going to work, you know that,” he tells you, his hands moving to your shoulders, pushing you away and softly as he can. He sounds desperate, like he’s trying to convince someone. You, maybe himself.
It’s possibly the way the light hits them, but you think you see his eyes go glassy as he says, “Please leave, ___.”
And so you do. You’ve never asked for what he didn’t want to give.
You dreamt of different realities to help deal with things because in this reality, you were just visiting, and he was just passing through.
~~~
summer
The world doesn’t stop spinning just because you’re hurting and time doesn’t stand still or give you a moment to catch your breath. The stars still glow in the sky, they still fall to earth, and the sun still shines warm up above even though it still feels cold without him by your side.
The ever present, lonely, raw pain that comes from losing someone that had become such an integral part of your life is a reminder that love is no longer the soft pink you once thought it was, but the same shade of blue that stains your pillowcases.
When you said pain was good for your art, you didn’t mean this kind.
But alas, you still have to live; go. Go to the last few weeks of classes, brain on autopilot for your finals. Go through the motions of getting your cap and gown, walking the stage, getting your degree.
Go on as if seeing Jimin at your graduation for Taehyung doesn’t cause a sheer, acute ache in your chest when you see he came alone. No blue in sight, just blue in your heart.
You give Jimin the necklace resting between your collarbones because it just doesn’t go there anymore, telling him to give it back to Jeongguk. You go on and on with a sad smile about how it’s okay, about how it’s not going good yet, but going nonetheless.
Going eventually turns to moving. Moving across the globe for an internship. Moving to just get away from it all, moving for a fresh start.
You move things around your new place alone, even though help would have been nice, just so you know you can move by yourself- just be by yourself.
You move around the new city as if it’s your first life, awestruck by the hustle and bustle, the world so much bigger than you thought. Bigger than doe-eyes and pretty tattoos. You move somewhere where the lights take the place of the stars. You move and come to the conclusion that maybe that’s okay.
Going through the motions gradually turns to moving on. Sometimes it’s still a soft tender ache, a passive yearning for what was; what could have been. But it doesn’t hurt anymore.
~~~
epilogue
It’s a different font, but the sign still says the same thing.
You suppose some things are bound to change in the years since you last came here.
Coffee shops aren’t supposed to be intimidating or daunting. But Blushing Brews is exactly that. You pause with your hand raised, the door handle just within reach. You’ve been home a couple times since you moved abroad, but you’ve never come back here.
You know it’s silly, and a bit irrational. That the likelihood of running into someone you know in the same place you met them is slim to none. Taehyung and Jimin moved away, still in the motherland, but away. Yoongi is still in town, but most likely busy with work.
It’s not like they are the ones you’re worried about though.
You don’t know exactly where Jeongguk is, but you know he’s doing well. At least since the last time you checked. You don’t lurk as often these days, if at all. Don’t feel the need to. But when you first moved you checked a lot. Of course you did.
He kind of dropped off the map after you left. He was never big on social media to begin with, but his presence was non existent for a couple months. Until his work accounts started popping up. His pages are filled with his artwork, his tattoos. Never him though, nothing personal, only professional. He’s quite successful, has built a big name for himself.
You haven’t seen much of him in years. Only the occasional picture of him on Jimin’s accounts. But even those are few and far between. People get older, life gets busy. It’s probably been a year plus some since he’s popped up on one of your feeds.
So it’s likely he’s not here. He wasn’t the type to stay in one place for too long.
When you walk in it’s like a tsunami of nostalgia. It knocks the wind out of you and you have to pause to catch your breath.
It’s renovated, almost nothing the same, but the counter is right where it was before and so is the table you used to sit at. Right by the window. It’s busy inside, but your spot is empty, almost like you were supposed to come in, take a rest. Catch your breath.
The smell of coffee is familiar and the chatter of people around you is comforting in a strange way. You kind of feel like you’re in a fishbowl, watching the outside from within, the voices muted because your ears are filled with water.
You jump when you feel a tap on your shoulder and you hold your breath when you turn around.
“Miss, are you going to order?”
You exhale, loud and let out a shaky laugh telling the person to go ahead. It’s not going to happen. Life doesn’t work like that.
The boy behind the counter is sweet, looks about the age you were when you would come here just a handful years ago. He tells you the specials with a happy grin, asks if you’re okay paying extra for the oat milk in your iced latte.
Being sat at the table is weird at first. A rush of memories whirling through your head like a vintage film reel. Too fast to decipher, too loud to discern. But eventually your mind quiets, the memories slow, and the atmosphere becomes a bit more pleasant and a little less stifling.
You take out your ipad, your initial intention being working here, but you open an ebook you haven’t touched in a while. A fantasy novel. One with an intricate little world to get lost in, complex characters to fall in love with, and some to grow to despise. You don’t daydream often anymore, but once in a while, it’s okay to give in.
Typically when you get invested, it’s hard to get your attention. The world could be ending around you but as long as the world you were reading about still existed? It was like nothing else mattered.
So when you hear a loud laugh cut through the reading haze you safely surround yourself in, you freeze. The hairs on your arms stand up, and you close your eyes tightly before slowly scanning the cafe.
You scold yourself for the way your heart sinks when your search comes up empty. With a shake of your head and a sip of your coffee, you get back to your book. You started about mid-way through when you first got here, and now only have about a quarter left. You must have been here for a while. You’ll leave when you finish this chapter.
The coffee being placed on the table is what you see first.
“Oh, I didn’t order th-”
“Do you still drink macchiatos?”
God it’s cruel.
It’s cruel, the way the world goes pink again, the way that everything feels like is aligning, like things have finally fallen into place. Like you can see clearer than you have in years, like you can breathe easier than you have since you left. Like everything that happened before only happened to lead you right to this exact moment.
It’s cruel because that’s not the way things work.
Since you’ve been away, you’ve grown up and realized that stars are just stars and that people are just people. Creatures of habit and selfish by nature. You still believe in love and in endings that are happy but you’re not naive anymore. You don’t believe in fate, or the little lights in the sky, or in could be’s like you used to.
But that doesn’t stop the tiny gasp you let out when you see him. It doesn’t stop your eyes from lighting up and it doesn’t stop your heart from glowing pink in your chest, just like it used to.
“Jeongguk-”
It’s not supposed to feel like this. It’s been years and you’ve moved on. His gaze isn’t supposed to feel like a kiss and his smile isn’t supposed to feel like coming home. When you take his insistent coffee from his hand and your fingers brush, it’s not supposed to still burn. The flame was supposed to go out.
“What are you doing here?” you ask, eyes not leaving him as he takes it upon himself to sit across from you.
His hair is brown again, unlike the blue it was when you left his apartment the last time you saw him, but it’s still long. His arm is even more full of ink, and he’s still the prettiest thing you have ever seen.
Jeongguk laughs lightly, a twinge of uncomfort lacing it. “I had to drop stuff off, the head forgot to order sugar, but she’s out of town right now.”
Your brows raise. “And you’re next in command?” You try to make it a joke, but small talk after years is always a bit stiff.
He nods. “Yeah, well I kind of own it.”
“Kind of?” you ask, leaning forward on your elbows.
He goes tense, and he back tracks.
“Well kind of because I-” he stutters and then looks at you like he wishes he didn’t say anything.
His panicked face has always been funny. His wide eyes and his mouth that always seems to be open a little bit. Brows turned up with misplaced worry. You smile instinctively.
It’s always been so easy.
“You what?” you press, tone soft and inquisitive. It’s a bit awkward, because of course it is. Time didn’t stop and you both aren’t the same as you were back then, but there’s still something. You don’t let yourself think about it.
He looks at you, searches your face before his lips pull down in a deep frown. He sighs and rubs a hand on the back of his neck. “I… My wife. She owns it.”
God it’s so cruel.
Your face falls before you can stop it. You know because his mirrors yours.
“Y-you’re married?” It sounds shocked and tinted with unjustified betrayal, even to your own ears, so when Jeongguk shrinks in on himself it's no surprise to you.
The betrayal is unwarranted because humans are selfish and it’s not like you stayed single this whole time. But it’s only been a small amount of years, you’re both still so young, and he’s never wanted that. Commitment, the loss of freedom, the stability, predictability.
Or maybe, you realize, he just never wanted it with you.
When all he does is nod, you ask as gently as you can, as innocently as possible, to not come off as if you’re prying even though you know you are. “Do I know her?”
He nods again looking down. It’s a few long moments before he clears his throat and speaks up. His hands are folded on the table, fidgeting nervously. The band on the ring finger is glaringly obvious now, like it’s mocking you. “Do you remember Young-Mi? She’s Dae Jung’s niece?”
If your heart could sink further than the ground it’s already sunk to, it would have. Young-Mi. The girl that took his place at the register when he started his full time tattoo work. She was sweet, and apparently the owner’s niece, but she always charged for the oat milk.
He met her in the same place that he met you. The coffee shop is no longer yours and his, but theirs. The memories he made with you here, have probably been replaced, forgotten, to make room for his and hers.
The kisses that you stole with him, unknowingly in front of her while she was behind the counter and the soft touches and sweet words and the way you would sneakily lick the foam off of his upper lip- it’s all just dirtied backwash now and it’s so sick. Gut churning enough for the coffee in your belly to want to come back up. You swallow it down.
“When?” you whisper.
“The Fall.”
You try to muster up a smile, try to get yourself together because fuck, you’re supposed to be over this, over him. “Because that’s your favorite season?”
It hurts in a way you can’t explain when he replies, “Ours” and doesn’t mean you and him.
The thing about idealizations concerning real life relations is that they are a recipe for disaster. To idealize something is to regard it as perfect and better than it is in reality. When you do that with relationships, you’re setting it up to fail. That’s always been your mistake.
You haven’t idealized or romanticized him in a long time, and you haven’t been in a relationship with him, ever technically, but it hurts like you have. The sting is sharp and piercing, different than any you’ve felt before in regards to him.
Jeongguk was cynical at that party so long ago. The one with the stained sofa. It was a different conversation technically. That one about soulmates, this one about idealizations, but similar enough in the way that they both end in pain and regret. And he was right, to be cynical, and a harsh realist. It’s ironic how the universe works things out.
You look down and smile to yourself, a willful expression to urge the tears away. When you look up, you keep the smile pasted, making it bigger in fact. You nod softly and say, “I’m so happy for you, Jeongguk.”
He looks like he’s sorry, a little confused but he nods. “We just got a house?”
It sounds like a question, like he’s grasping at straws to keep the conversation going but has no clue how to change the subject.
You laugh a little. For someone who never wanted to settle down, he never really strayed very far.
“Me too. I just moved back. I live alone though.”
He looks taken aback by the news. Brows pinched more aggressively than before, but still confused. “You’re back? For good?”
You shift in your seat and nod.
“Did you tell anyone? Tae or Jimin? Yoongi?”
You shake your head, you sound hesitant, the tone he’s taking with you making you a little unsure. “I um- I wanted it to be a surprise for my parents. The only person that knew was my sister because she let me stay with her while I got the house together.”
Jeongguk’s head has started to shake, small little sways like he doesn’t believe you. “I- It’s been years. I didn’t think you were coming back… I didn’t know.”
Doe-eyes aren’t supposed to be forlorn, and they aren’t supposed to carry sadness. But the ones looking back at you do. Your brows furrow and you frown, ready to ask what he's talking about when he speaks again.
“I waited for you. For years I was waiting-”
You shake your head like you didn’t hear him right, backing your chair up some to put space between you. “You what? I- Jeongguk. You got married.” You say it like you’re reminding him.
He grimaces, and sighs like he’s frustrated. “Yes. We were engaged for forever but I never agreed to a date until 4 months ago because all the time before that I was hoping-”
Cruel, cruel, cruel.
This can’t be happening.
Your mouth opens and closes, trying to find the words to say. But what is there to say?
“I miss you, ___.”
You freeze and lock eyes with him. You shake your head, a shocked laugh sputtering past your lips. “Jeongguk, don’t.”
He doesn’t listen.
“I’ve thought about you every day-”
“Jeongguk-” You grip the table and shut your eyes like if you will him away, this nightmare will stop.
He leans forward, eager declarations spilling from his mouth. But you don’t hear them because as soon as you look at him again, a little flower falls out of his shirt. Your mouth parts and your face looks like you’re in pain because you are. Your eyes bounce between the cherry blossom and his face like you can’t believe it.
Catching on, he grips the necklace. “I was going to go back to you. Oh my god, ___ I swear I was.”
He waits for you to respond but you don’t. You feel like the room is closing in on itself.
“But Jimin gave this back to me and said you were leaving the country and that you were excited for a new start and that you were so close to being okay again and getting better I-” he deflates some as he sits back in his chair “-I couldn’t take that away from you. I couldn’t be selfish with you again.”
“Please stop,” you whisper.
“I never take it off because it reminds me of you. This spot in the shop has never been without a table because it was yours, and it reminds me of you.” He points to the little stars on his forearm. “I never covered it up because it reminds me of you.”
He’s whispering now, and your tone matches his. “You’re married. You got married.”
He shakes his head. “It’s not the same with her, it’s never felt the same. She doesn’t make me feel the way you did. The way you do.”
“Stop talking.”
“How was I supposed to know it was you? When I didn’t even believe in love back then?” He sounds desperate, close to tears almost.
You’ve always thought the cruelest thing that could happen to someone was meeting the right person at the wrong time. You smile at him, soft and gentle.
“You didn’t have to know, you just had to try.”
Jeongguk sees the way your eyes are dimming and how you’re shutting him out and he panics, shakes his head vehemently at you. You gasp when he clutches at your hands, when you start to gather your things.
“No, no, no-” he chants quietly. “This is so fucked up. Everything is so fucked up,” he squeezes your hands, jostles them some. “You still feel it, I know you still feel it too.”
You look at him, and you see the way he means it. It’s too late, but finally. He feels the same way you do.
“I do feel it,” you whisper, heart heavy in your chest, “but we can’t Jeongguk, you-”
“Do you still have your tattoo?” he cuts you off.
You nod hesitantly. How could you ever cover it up? Erase him?
His head hangs, and the hands that are still clutching yours squeeze tightly before coming to his hair. He rests his head in his palms for a few moments. When he looks at you again, it’s like he worked through something quietly with himself.
He holds eye contact with you when he asks, “Can I see it again? One more time, at least?”
You suck in a sharp breath. You know what he’s asking.
Since you’ve been away, you’ve grown up and realized that stars are just stars and that people are just people. Creatures of habit and selfish by nature. Jeongguk is no exception to that, and maybe you haven’t changed as much as you thought.
~~~~~
oc homewrecker ?? LMAO but ok if you read the whole thing i am in LOVE with you (even if you hate me for the ending lol) and am so grateful for you. i can’t think of anything else to say bc i am so nervous lol but anyway if you liked it pls pls pls do all the things: like, reblog, comment, share, send an ask i am DYING to know what u thought!! thank u so so much for reading!
oh also... team jk or team oc ?
jreampie scene in jimin’s room dedicated to luna <3
ALSO!! this is my submission for the “spring will come” event run by @bangtanarmynet
prompt: “Don’t look at me like that.” “Like what?” “Like you still love me.”
*edit* the open ending of this fic is intentional, so i unfortunately do not have plans for a part 2. one of the main points in the fic is that there’s no finite, or predetermined way for things to be. i tried to show this with how i finished the story. i hope u understand, and still love the work the same, tysm for reading <3
#jungkook x reader#jungkook smut#jungkook fanfic#BAspringwillcome#jungkook#jungkook fic#jungkook angst#bts#bts fanfic#bts smut#bts x reader#jungkook x oc#jungkook x you#jungkook fic recs#btswritingcafe#thebtswritersclub#networkbangtan#bangtansorciere#btsgoldnet#heartsforbts#bangtanuniversity#kdiarynet#kwritersworldnet#btscreatorscorner#btsghostie#jungkook one shot#bts jungkook#bts jk#jk#jungkook imagines
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Cassandra x Maiden ----Anonymity Ch.7
Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6
Cassandra gradually starts taking up more of your time. Or, more accurately, demands it like it’s her birthright.
Every day, you wake her up with a kiss to her shoulder or neck and a whisper of her name. She comes to you when she’s bored at random times during your shifts, to either talk –complain— about her sisters or to outright distract you. There are times at night when you’ll feel the chill of her slip into your bed and press up against your back, but she’s always gone by morning light, like a dream.
She used to be just another component to your nightmares. Now… she’s what takes them away.
And you’re afraid.
That you’re growing to like the time with her while she’s just playing around, that it will cut that much deeper when you find yourself on the end on her sickle. Because how else can it end, you reason, between the two of you?
The thought momentarily makes your liplock with Cassandra taste bitter, despite the sweet strawberry taste of her lip balm -and no way she’s putting that on for you, right?
She has you pressed deep into a plush armchair with her palm on your chest, while her thighs are locked tight on either side of yours. You want to tell her that you should stop –both because you’re literally in the open and anyone can walk in on you and because it’s late—but her lips are doing wicked things to your neck and you can’t find your voice long enough.
When Cassandra starts grinding down on you though, rather impatiently too, you have to speak up before she starts something neither of you can finish.
“Cassandra.” you say breathily. A sharp nip comes over your pulse, then slippery lips close around the area. “Ah! Cassandra. You’ll be late for dinner.”
She tsks and pulls back, expression much like a kid that got her hand slapped away from the cookie jar. She dismounts you with the same sour look, smoothing down her robes.
“Walk me there.” she orders.
You rise and fall into step beside her, trying not to linger on how strange it feels. It should be nothing, really, considering all the activities the two of you nightly indulge in, but it’s… something.
Cassandra, uncharacteristically quiet, keeps gazing out the windows as though calculating or pinpointing something while you make your way to the dining room.
She comes to a sudden halt just before you reach it, turns to you, steals a quick kiss and then quickly leaves you behind, a colder aura about her as she strolls inside.
You hear Lady Dimitrescu’s voice, but not what she says. Once a few minutes have passed and you can safely blend into the background, you join the other maids on standby within.
You used to hate it here. Having them all in front of you like that, serving them wine, when they’re all to blame for taking any semblance of normalcy out of your life. You never glance at what they’re eating. You still dislike dinner time.
But.
When Alcina makes a snide comment about Heisenberg and you hear Cassandra’s laugh above Daniela’s giggle and Bela’s chuckle…
It no longer seems so bad.
-
-
“Bela, stay a moment.” Cassandra says after Lady Dimitrescu leaves with Daniela in tow.
“Oh, no.” The blonde huffs under her hood.
“I didn’t say anything. Yet.” The younger sibling raises her hands in exasperation.
“When you go ‘Bela~’” You bite your lip to keep your expression neutral as you’re cleaning the table because hearing the normally stoic sister mimic Cassandra’s voice like that is just plain gold. “It’s never good.” her tone turns flat once more.
Cassandra very pointedly rolls her pretty eyes. “I need you to cover for me.”
“See?” Bela sighs. “Absolutely not.”
“Well, it wasn’t really a question, I was just trying to give you the illusion of choice.” Cassandra shrugs. “I’m going out tonight.”
“What?” Bela damn near hisses. “Have you lost your mind?”
“It’s fine it’s, like, thirteen degrees.”
“How is that fine?”
The elder sister’s gaze then flits to you. There is no other maid in the vicinity that can overhear them, but she’s clearly uncomfortable with you picking up the implications of their conversation.
You still don’t get it. You guessed their aversion to sunlight has to do with their mutations… but why would the cold be an issue?
The survivor in you wants to know more. To know if this is something that can be used to your advantage when the time and circumstances are right for a potential escape.
Another part of you… just plain worries.
“I know what I’m doing.” Cassandra says, stern.
“Then you’re doing it alone.” Bela turns to leave…
Except.
“Oh, well. Guess mother should know about that little maid you’ve been orbiting around, lately.” Cassandra comments. “The one you even did a favor for? Just imagine her disappointment in you, the shining example of the family, stooping so low.”
Bela’s back goes rod-straight. The piercing look she sends Cassandra sends ice down your spine. You think she’s going to pounce… yet she exhales.
“One. Hour.” Bela states. “If you’re not back in one hour I’m coming to drag your sorry behind to mother. And she—” A gloved finger points directly to you, “Won’t be coming back with you in one piece.”
Wait.
What?
-
-
You didn’t know Cassandra planned to take you with her. But she didn’t deny it when Bela pointed to you. After her sister left, all she said was: ‘Dress well.’
Which brings you to your current position, pacing by the entrance hall of the castle, in a warm coat and two layers of clothes underneath. You turn to look behind when you finally hear her steps descending the staircase.
And— you freeze.
Because Cassandra is not wearing her usual robes. She’s dressed in all black, yes, but the outfit is tight on her form, fitting every curve, hugging her wonderful legs like a second skin. She’s wearing knee-high boots instead of heels and her hooded, gothic overcoat reaches down to mid-thigh.
There’s not a single patch of her skin visible other than her face… and you can’t, for the life of you, explain why it’s that hot.
“You’re staring, plaything.” she chastises, yet doesn’t sound like she minds. Rather, she’s smirking.
“Uh—” you can’t really form words.
“We need to hurry, clock’s ticking.” she says as she jiggles the very key you’ve looked everywhere during work hours for. The key to freedom. To leaving the castle.
Cassandra double-checks her clothes before she opens the door. You file it as useful information for later as you hurry to catch up to her.
The path to the village –or what’s left of it— through the forest is… difficult. Mainly because Cassandra is entirely unbothered by any and all obstacles and moves like she’s on a walkway, leaving you to fight with every rock hidden in the snow.
You manage. Somehow.
Until a distant howl makes you jump and quite literally crash into her side.
Cassandra laughs. It’s a clear, beautiful sound in the dead of night. “My, my. Scared of a Lycan in my presence?”
“I thought it was just a regular wolf!” You whisper, mortified.
Yellow eyes blink at you. Then her gloved hand raises to yours, taking it in a secure grip. You didn’t realize you were shaking, yet the tremors quickly cease when she does that. It’s just your heart that still feels like it’s going to give out on you, but for an entirely different reason, now.
Cassandra safely leads you to the village. It looks more or less the same, except empty, void of life. You don’t linger on memories. You don’t.
“Show me your house.” she says.
You never thought you’d be tracing the steps of your front porch so soon. You only have to push the door for it to open. And the inside is just as you remembered. A quaint little house. It’s simply not… home, anymore.
Nothing is.
Maybe nothing ever was.
And the thought makes a thin, cracked wall inside you finally give. Cassandra is saying something a few paces behind you, but your vision has blurred, your eyes sting and hot, salty rivers roll past your lids.
“Are you listening to me?” she asks. “...Plaything?”
You can’t talk. If you do, you’ll sob and break to pieces on the floor like a pushed glass statue.
Cassandra’s grip is tight and demanding on your elbow when her fingers curl above it, but she turns you with gentleness you’d never think her capable of. You do not meet her eyes.
Her other hand comes up to your neck.
You can’t, you can’t—
“Alexia.”
Your eyes snap to hers when she says it, from the shock. You didn’t think she even knew your name. Cassandra shifts her weight from one leg to the other, then seems to decide on something and wipes the tears beading at your chin away with her thumb.
“Pack what you wish. We don’t have long.”
As you turn into your bedroom and open your wardrobe to pack a few clothes into a bag, just to feel a tad more yourself when you’re in your room in the castle, the sound of your name falling from her lips follows you.
Haunts you.
You have half a mind to get your mp3, phone and chargers before you return to her. Cassandra is holding whatever she wanted to get from the village in a box tucked between her arm and body.
“Come.” she orders. Her hand settles on your elbow again and practically drags you along.
You don’t talk on your way back to the castle.
From one of the many windows overlooking the front yard, you spot Bela’s eyes on the two of you until she retreats into the shadows. Rigidly, Cassandra enters and immediately goes by the large fireplace to warm up. You only then notice how much more fluid her movements get. Or rather, how sluggish she was during the trip.
You shut the door and turn the key and realize it’s much easier to handle your situation when you’re the one locking yourself inside.
You take off your coat and scarf, then make to head for your bedroom —according to your calculations you’ll only get 3 hours of sleep— until… you notice how cold Cassandra looks.
She’s one step away from hugging the flames. And you can still hear her call you by your name in your head.
Great. Another thing to keep me up at night. You think as you approach her.
Slowly, so as to not scare her, you slip your arms around her slim waist from behind. She’s like a block of ice in your embrace, at first. Her body thaws gradually, to the point she’s fully relaxed against you.
“Thank you for today.” the words don’t come easy –they’re like pulling teeth— but you manage to get them out clearly enough.
“You’ll thank me in very many ways, plaything.” she says. “Having your own belongings in the castle is not a privilege any maid gets. But.” her voice, although quiet, hardens the slightest amount. “If, despite my generosity, you harbor dreams of escape… I will turn them to nightmares.”
Your blood goes cold in your veins. You can only nod against her shoulder.
Cassandra turns in your arms to look at you.
“And if you ever try to leave me alone here… I will find you and kill you myself.”
#cassandra dimitrescu#cassandra dimitrescu x oc#resident evil village#bela dimitrescu#lady dimitrescu#fanfiction#because i've read on spoilers of sadness and heartbreak and we all need something soft to take the pain away#cue our fav pillow princess being mega darling to her girl
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LOKI SHOW AU:
Sylvie is a 16/17 year old character called “Nokka” (which is Norse feminine for No One). Loki reluctantly takes her under his wing when he meets her. After some time running from the TVA, and dealing with issues where Nokka “wants revenge” but struggles with hurting people when it comes down to it (esp from the TVA because she knows they’re all mind-controlled variants) Loki sits her down and demands to know the truth “because for a Loki you’re a terrible liar”.
Nokka admits/reveals that she’s NOT a Loki at all, just an Asgardian orphan who messed with the time-stream by accident (overhearing Loki tell a guard to inform Odin Thor was going to Jotunheim and running ahead to tell the Allfather when the soldier sneered at Loki’s back or smth else trivial). Loki asks her why she never chose a name for herself aside from what others gave her, and she says she didn’t really have time while being on the run to think of anything but Loki.
Loki is semi touched by this (but says nothing). (Nokka wistfully mentions in passing that while hiding on Midgard she heard the name Sylvie and thought it was nice too). Loki comforts her with a bit of awkwardness, then announces he’s going to help her with her powers and how to fight “less like an alley cat and more like a warrior from Asgard”. He also tells her that if she truly wants vengeance, she’s going to have to kill people. Nokka rebuts this with the declaration that she’s already killed people—citing those she’s had to kill to survive. Loki acknowledges that, but states that those killings are different from what she’s going to have to do if they want to win and get out with their lives.
(Aside: Kang wants Loki captured because OG Loki is different from the rest of his variant selves because he ADAPTS and grows his personality and character—whereas other Lokis do not. Kang feels OG Loki and Nokka are a threat to his rule, and he wants to permanently erase them to keep his rule over the Timeline secure)
Loki and Nokka make their way through the worlds and pull off a heist and crash the TVA with Mobius’s help. Ravonna prunes Mobius and Nokka out of rage and bitterness for destroying the order/TVA she loves—Loki, though he could escape, prunes himself too (showing how he can change his character from the other variants of himself).
In The Void, Loki stumbles among other loki variants, and finds Nokka moping by herself in one corner of Kid Loki’s underground palace. At the same time, Mobius arrives and busts them out of “Loony Loki Jail”. Impressed and amused, once they’re safe Loki asks how Mobius found them. The TVA agent declares that he found a trail of “complete and utter chaos, and followed that”. The trio share a laugh over this before growing solemn and trying to figure out what to do. Loki discusses Alioth and the strange energy the monster gives off, as well as the malevolent eternal purple mist. Mobius makes the offhand remark about going into it, or Nokka using her “wacky mind-controlling powers” on Alioth to get passed the giant to explore the mist.
Nokka hedges, nervous because she’s never controlled anything that big before. She walks away to sit by herself, staring out at the undulating violet mist. Loki likes the plan and irons out some details with Mobius before wandering down to Nokka. He sits beside her silently. Nokka announces “you can’t manipulate me like Thor—no Jotunheim trip 2: This Time Alioth.” Loki agrees that he can’t. Nokka smiles but hugs her knees to her chest with a shiver, rocking slowly. Loki asks what’s wrong—if she’s scared. Nokka shakes her head “just cold”. Loki magicks a blanket and gives it to her kindly, petting her hair (in a dad way lmao). They sit in silence staring at the mist. Loki quietly messes around beside her, magicking knives and bracers and other small pieces of armor for himself (we’ll give him an Asgardian tunic somewhere along the line because BURN the fugly TVA clothes). Nokka glances at him as he does this. Loki catches her and they share Looks.
Nokka shrugs and turns away. Carefully, as he cleans a dagger with a cloth, Loki wonders about two people controlling Alioth. Nokka eyes him warily. Loki briefly demonstrates/elaborates on how he can reveal or illuminate thoughts and parts of the mind, but can’t control it like she can. He quietly declares that if she shows him how, perhaps they can do it together. Nokka hesitates, but agrees.
So Mobius goes to distract Alioth. Classic Loki sees this (and as the only one actually paying attention to Nokka and OG Loki, runs in to help, doing the same thing he did in the show, allowing Mobius to escape). Nokka falters with the mind control, but Loki takes her hand and encourages her (insert some witty line about “only learning that day himself, after all”) and Nokka presses on. They succeed, and stare at a pathway through the mist.
Loki glances at Nokka, and tells her to “lead the way”. Grinning, but quickly sobering, Nokka heads toward the path. Mobius catches up to Loki then, and informs Loki he’s going back to the TVA to “raise more hell”. Loki grins, and Mobius “thanks him for the spark” like in the show. They embrace (to Loki’s surprise) before Loki follows Nokka. Mobius watches them until they disappear into the mist and then summons an orange portal and vanishes himself.
Walking through the mist, Nokka declares something “off”, and Loki agrees “like being laid in ambush”. Unsettled, they continue—but draw blades. At last they reach a half-burned and dilapidated castle at the edge of a cosmos. They come up to the black doors but nothing happens. Nokka blasts the doors off their hinges, increasingly paranoid. Loki criticizes the action but they proceed anyway. (Everything basically happens as in the show, but Kang is Not Friendly—menacing and ominous (think horror movie character—something off but not obvious) due to him wanting to destroy both Loki and Nokka). Loki catches on before Nokka to Kang’s intentions, and stands, lashing out at Kang. Nokka is confused and feels lied to (let’s say there’s some truth twisted into lies Kang said about Loki “and his lust for power” so she feels uncertain). A fight ensues between Kang and Loki but Kang uses Loki’s Frost Giant heritage against him. Kang says he’d accept Nokka as a protégé “because I’ve watched you—you’re teachable” but wants her to kill Loki “to prove she’s not as worthless as he is”.
Loki looks at her as she walks up to him, and he tells her “you only grow as far as you allow people to cage you” (or some other philosophical elegant line). Making the realization that Nokka will truly be just an imitation of all the other Loki variants if she kills Loki for her own self-succession, she drops the knife and instead frees Loki from whatever magical/enchanted snare Kang got him into. Kang lashes out, but Loki jumps up in front of Nokka, and takes whatever blow it was (maybe permanent obliviation, maybe transport to another timeline idk yet). Looking triumphant at the empty room, Kang turns around and wanders back to his desk “another mess all cleared up” he hums to himself.
Nokka appears out of the shadows and grabs his arm as he moves to sit, whirling Kang around. Angrily, tears in her eyes, she stabs him twice in the chest with one of Loki’s daggers he’d dropped. Kang collapses back into his chair, and laughs at her. He says some things about his alternate selves being even more cruel than him, that he’s “a kitten” in comparison, and she’ll never defeat them—“just a little nobody. Doomed to fail because you don’t have a name to be remembered by. A No One.” Nokka stoops over him, wielding Loki’s knife.
“I’m not no one—I’m Sylvie. Lokidottir.” She stabs Kang. After he dies, she wanders to the window, staring out at the splintering multiverse. She collapses, crying, because she’s alone. “You promised we’d win together,” she whispers to herself, a little broken.
(Opening to Consider for a potential Part II: a large flash of green out in the multiverse. Sylvie jerks her head up and stares—before grinning.)
Some notes:
The whole “love yourself” angle in this AU of the show is Loki learns to care for Sylvie even when she lashes out—and treats her as he would have wanted to be treated when he lashed out.
Kang is Not Nice. He’s not as bad as other versions of himself, but he is absolutely the bad guy in this AU.
Loki isn’t an idiot. Full stop. And he uses magic A LOT.
Loki takes a mentor role in this. HE IS THE MAIN CHARACTER, and Sylvie is a secondary role that morphs into an MC. He doesn’t get run over by Sylvie’s girl!pain backstory.
Sylvie isn’t a shitty annoying asshole kween. She’s a scared teenager. She’s not capable of huge fights or dumb shit like the canon shitshow.
This is Very Much a sibling or father/daughter relationship between Loki and Sylvie. No romance. PLATONIC ONLY!!!!
The TVA is EVIL. Not “a necessary evil” but completely, absolutely, reprehensibly evil. Autocratic and fascist, if you will. The interrogation Loki endures in the first episode (and then with Sif in episode ???) will be framed as torture.
Can’t really think of a faceclaim to the Nokka/Sylvie character (cuz DiMartino would be WAAAY too old for this one). But I’m thinking like a young Maia Mitchell or Mackenzie Foy type teenager. Gotta be brunette—cuz the blonde is stupid as shit and makes no sense. We want a Lady Loki lookalike here, folks (even if she’s NOT Loki; Nokka made herself APPEAR like him after taking his name so she could to be called one of his variants).
This makes room for a Loki “replacement” so Hiddleston could bow out, AND makes it “feministy” for the ladies; but ALSO allows for GOOD WRITING and Loki to keep his dignity/agency as a main character/antihero.
This whole thing was fully and completely inspired by this song while I drove home from work:
youtube
@fast-and-the-curious what say u to this AU?
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So, I've wanted to address this topic for a while and this post I read this morning while having breakfast is a sort of response from the universe.
I would say to start by explaining a simple concept.
Demons and spirits are not the same thing, but rather, they vary from each other. Likewise, spirits and ghosts are not the same.
• Creatures understood as "demons" exist in all religions; they are supernatural beings, typically associated with the evil, historically prevalent in religions, occultism, literature, fiction, mythology and folklore;
• "spirits" are instead organized energy with at least a certain level of sensitivity that has an energy body and in most cases also an astral body. The Latin word is a translation of the Greek prneuma ("breath", "air", "vital breath") and to some extent it can be seen in the apeiron of the Presocratic Anaximander, who had to some extent dematerialized the archè (Greek: ἀρχή ) of the other Ionian naturalists, the original principle of the universe and of every part of it, impalpable and invisible but still material, as shown by another void that, blowing inside it, fills with air matter. With the Stoics, the term begins to be compared to today's one of spirit. The pneuma belongs to the god who gives life to things and guides them according to his wishes. The pneuma is a force that manifests itself not only in the individual man but is present in all things as the "soul of the world". They are ancient entities like the world itself, part of the primordial chaos and consequently neutral in themselves;
• the term “ghost” refers instead to any incorporeal entity. The term ghost comes from the Greek φάντασμα phàntasma, which in turn derives from φαντάζω (phantàzo, "to show"; from the root φαν-, which expresses the idea of "appearing" and "showing"), and had the meaning of apparition (understood as a supernatural manifestation) and only with time has its meaning been restricted to indicating the apparition of a deceased.
In 1800, with the birth of the practice of spiritism in France, it ended up rendering in the common imagination "spirits" and "ghosts" similar entities, if not true synonyms.
The French pedagogue Allan Kardec after observing a series of phenomena, formulated the hypothesis that such phenomena could only be attributed to incorporeal intelligences (spirits). Spiritual communications took place "thanks to the intervention of a medium", that is a person with particular skills who acted as mediator between spirits and living beings, during the so-called séance. This became a busines for many and most of the spiritualists were actually charlatans who swore to the victims that they could talk to the dead. In most cases, those who could afford to turn to a medium, were economically wealthy and of high rank lost and therefore for the scammer it was certainly not difficult to obtain information (even intimate) about the deceased and those around him, if at this was added some well-orchestrated play of smoke and lights, here is the "grandmother's ghost".
Having understood this, one wonders what it is then what we understand as a "ghost of a person". It is a trace left by the living. On a scientific level, death doesn't exist. From the chemical-physical point of view we are isolated systems that receive energy and produce it. But the universe itself is a closed system. So our energy is the energy of the universe. We are universe. What happens when we die? Our energy returns to the universe system. But as we know, energy is neither created nor destroyed, but it changes. So our energy is energy that has been changed in the past by others, and will be changed by others when we are gone. Death doesn't exist because energy is immortal. The energy that I am using now to tap on my laptop keyboard is the same energy that Gaius Julius Caesar used to pull the reins of his horse and to cross the Rhine. And it will be the energy that in the future a scientist will use to to be able to travel between the various space-time dimensions. Death doesn't exist, and the life of one is the life of all.
To simplify then, what we mean as the ghost of Marilyn Monroe for example, is nothing more than a sort of energetic gif of Marilyn Monroe.
I'll give you another example. Anne Boleyn died by beheading, therefore by a violent and unjust death. In this situation, she is likely to have felt strong emotions and released a huge and consistent huge amount of energy as a result. Let's say that Henry VIII was present at the execution along with a bunch of other people, let's also say that he went back to that place (or others where Anne felt strong emotions and therefore released large amounts of energy) and thought about her, let's say that Elizabeth I also thought of her mother and so many other people. All these emotions have turned into energy. If we saw energy as a palette of colors, it would be as if: the more consistent the emotions, the more intense the color, therefore, the more energy we send (even unconsciously) to the energetic image of Anne Boleyn (the energetic gif), the clearer this will be where most of the energy is concentrated (eg the Tower of London, a room in the building, etc.).
So when we go to a "haunted" place, what we see is not the "person", but a kind of still image. And according to the speech above, it is therefore normal to find this type of freeze frame in places such as castles, hospitals, etc. then if these are found on natural energy centers or lines… bingo!
Speaking instead of spirits, as mentioned before, there are no good or bad spirits. Good and bad as well as light and dark, like day and night, are a contrast present in many traditions, including native ones. This duality can also be referred to the human being and represent a moment of acting or thinking of a person. You can think and act towards the light or towards the darkness and this can also happen to shamans.
Just think of the ego and when it takes over, or when you try to manipulate, at that moment you are not in the light. But it can happen and that doesn't mean being good or bad. Acting, in fact, can also be connected with a person's karma and precisely follow what is required by this spiritual law.
Light and darkness, as in the human world, are also reflected in the world of spirits and even in this case they do not absolutely determine the condition of goodness or badness. Spirits, who in the light can be protectors, guides or allies, can also move in the dark dimension.
And if we think like the natives that everything has a spirit and that it can move between light and darkness, we can understand how there can be spirits that are particularly powerful and able to move very strong energies such as to create an effect in ordinary reality.
It is important to know the distinction between light and shadow because, from an early age, we were educated to separate the good from the bad, the right from the wrong, but for this we have become very sensitive when it comes to going to work on our shadows. As I told you, light and shadow are states of being that we all have within us. Working with shadows doesn't mean black magic, witchcraft or whatever. Simply observe the aspects of light and be able to deal with those of shadow as well. Light and darkness are two sides of the same coin that it is important to integrate.
Being half Latin, therefore leaning towards a culture extremely linked to its roots and above all to the relationship with mental spirits, it isn't difficult for me to understand this concept, and therefore despite being a Christian, I have no problem in defining myself as a witch. Of course, coming to this awareness wasn't easy, as I am partly European and therefore I grew up in a society in a Western society that is scared of what it cannot control. After years of researching my origins, my culture and theological studies, I have come to find my balance.
Returning, however, to the main reason for this post, having made the necessary explanations (and given the tools for a critical analysis of the matter), here are the points on which I personally disagree and why:
Reading books about witchcraft: Knowledge for educational purposes is by no means negative, quite the opposite. The question is whether the aforementioned "about witchcraft" book is a "spell book" or some sort of "sacred book". For example, if I find the Necronomicon tomorrow and start reading it without knowing what it is, it is likely that I will find myself living the remake of The Conjuring in the real life.
Casting most types of spells, including hexes: Same speech made in the previous point. One of the first rules of witchcraft is "know your practice". You must be aware that what you are doing is not a game and every action has consequences, even if you don't believe in the rule of 3 (everything you do comes back to you 3 times). In the specific case of curse and hexes spells, they are the most treacherous and dangerous, because you are working with dark and malevolent energies. This type of practice in particular is a double-edged weapon, which is why many witches advise against them and propose alternative methods if possible.
Practicing divination: It isn't always negative, but in some types of divination the help and guidance of spirits and divinities is sought. For example, I often do bibliomancy with the bible and even if I first ask for God's guidance, in front of each answer I ask for confirmation, because the devil was the most beautiful angel in heaven and just as darkness does not allow us to see. where we go, even a dazzling light can deceive us.
Playing with Ouija or other talking boards: Ouija is not a game and it is an extremely dangerous tool, precisely because what you do is contact spirits and entities and you cannot know who will answer the other side. Nothing good anyway.
Putting up fantasy or non-Christian artwork: Have you ever seen Annabel? Here, the principle is the same. Be careful what you bring into your home, as home is a sacred space, and nothing can enter without you giving it permission. So if you not only invite it, but rather you bring it inside and give it a space, don't come and complain to me if it is difficult to send it away.
Celebrating pagan holidays: If it's a holiday of a closed religion, avoid ruining your life. Holidays basically consist of performing rituals that often involve spirits. Learn about the history of that holiday you want to celebrate, the symbols, the rituals, and why it is celebrated in that particular way.
Celebrating Halloween: The same as the previous point, except that we all (or almost all) know that samahin is the day when the space where the veil falls and the two worlds come into contact.
Watching scary movies and TV shows: I'm not saying that if you watch The Exorcist you will be possessed, but I can't assure you otherwise either. I took The Exorcist as an example because it is known that a real ritual is performed in the movie and a lot of "disturbing" things have happened on the set of the film and to the actors. When you watch a movie, even if it is fictional, if for example it performs an evocation or a ritual you are not only witnessing, you are participating in all respects. Be careful, every person is different.
Reading (horror novels, fantasy books, comics and graphic novels). Playing (tabletop RPGs, LARP games, video games): Same as the previous point.
Listening to heavy metal music, dancing: It goes for any kind of music actually. Do you know how many pop songs I use as a spell?
Dyeing your hair: I'm not saying you'll invoke a demon, but for many cultures cutting your hair makes you more vulnerable to spiritual attack and color is an essential aspect of witchcraft.
Swearing: Wishing someone who has crossed your path death is considered a curse in all respects. Even if done unconsciously.
Drinking: Drinking, smoking… shamans have used alcohol and drugs for centuries to connect with in the spiritual world.
Having tattoos and piercings: As long as you don't tattoo Aramaic words that you don't know the meaning of, everything is fine. Before getting a tattoo in a symbol you saw in a temple in Mexico, find out the meaning of it. I'll give you an example: my cousin once bought a T-shirt with the words "puta madre" (mother whore). He had bought it only because he liked it, without knowing the meaning of the word.
Now, most of these points are mainly related to intention. As I said before, I often use music in my spells, but if for example, I use "can't be touch by Roy jones" for a protection and encouragement spell (eg a manifestation) and a few months later I listen to the same song on the radio doesn't mean it will work like a spell again. In many cases it is a question of intention. Yhat's why it is important to educate yourself.
#witch#christian witch#afro witch#green witch#witchraft#education#educate yourself#witchblr#witchy things#spirit#ghost#demon
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Welcome to the Nightmare Game - CH130
**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**
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Chapter 130: The Dream of the Holy Nun (XX)
"Because it hurts too much," Qi Leren replied seriously. "But it doesn't hurt now. It doesn't hurt after drinking the antidote."
"Really, that's good." Su He sighed softly and took the antidote to give to Dr. Lu.
"Please look after Dr. Lu, I’ll go back to find Ning Zhou," Qi Leren said.
Su He shook his head: "Well, you should send Dr. Lu back to the Lord's castle first and I will go to the old site of the Vatican first. If Ning Zhou is in trouble, I’m always more experienced than you."
The ground was still shaking slightly. With the death of Witch of Nightmares, the demon energy she had accumulated for so many years seemed to be going out of control. Qi Leren was very worried that her former companion would be in the former site of the Vatican and regretted that he hadn’t bring insisted on Ning Zhou coming back with him - although he knew that Ning Zhou would definitely choose to stay there just in case - but if Ningzhou met any danger…
"Okay, you go first, I'll be right there," Qi Leren agreed.
Su He smiled at him and said, "Don't worry, it will be over soon."
Qi Leren helped Dr. Lu, who was still unconscious: "Yeah, it will be."
Su He nodded to him with a smile, then turned and walked into the darkness.
&&&
The night wind blew quietly through the branches and leaves and the site of the Vatican, which had been closed for more than 20 years, was as quiet as sleeping in a grave.
Ning Zhou went up the stairs, walking the same steps Maria had taken so many times, and headed for the church at the highest point.
Along the way the earth continued to shake, and it became more and more frequent. The scattered demon energy rampaged under the earth's surface, awakening the sleeping birds.
A gust of wind blew and a large number of dead leaves and fallen flowers swept past Ning Zhou. The eagle's voice came from overhead and it circled and landed, throwing a small piece of blue and white petals in Ningzhou's hair. Ning Zhou picked off the petals. The blue and white petals should have been blown from the Garden of the Holy Tomb. He deeply remembered that the petals had fallen on Qi Leren’s lips as he slept, and the memory soaked in the afternoon sunshine was as gentle as a dream... He touched the eagle's head and moved on.
He had never been here before, but when he walked here, his heart was filled with an unwarranted kindness… and a strange fear, as if this was both his holy land and his hell.
The Witch of Nightmares had died not far away and the memento brooch had fallen to the ground. Ning Zhou picked it up. The one-time trap attached to it had been used up, and the debris and ashes on the ground proved it all.
It was just a simple trick, but sometimes winning is as simple as that.
Ning Zhou touched the ward in front of him. This ward set by his mother still dutifully protected the deepest secrets of the Vatican even after she’d left more than 20 years ago. Although it had begun to become fragile because of the erosion of demon energy over so many years, it had still blocked the footsteps of the Witch of Nightmares.
The field memento was once again raised in front of the enchantment of the Holy Nun. Golden ripples flowed away from the brooch and slowly spread out. The enchantment of the highest church of the Holy See began to blur and finally disappeared.
Further down was the cathedral that has been isolated for more than twenty years.
Ning Zhou looked up at the half of the churches that had been turned to ruins, where Maria had killed the Devil.
The black bird on his shoulder let out a cry and NingZhou turned around. From the distant stairs came the sound of high heels on the stone steps, getting closer and closer.
Someone was coming.
The blade rubbed the scabbard as he pulled it out. Ning Zhou stood on the steps and waited quietly for the person to come. The demon's energy, which was left unchecked by the other, came flooding in from the deep night, full of evil thoughts from hell.
A woman wearing a black veiled hat and a black evening dress walked at an elegant pace, and the evening dress inlaid with pearls and precious stones shone brightly in the night. She pushed back the brim of her hat and behind the black veil was a face with delicate makeup and her eyes flashed with demonic brilliance, which was quite different from the ordinary village girl from that year.
"Long time no see," Isabel nodded slightly to Ning Zhou.
Ning Zhou looked at her with a complicated mood.
Deep in the underground palace, Isabel had volunteered to become a witch of the Devil of Fraud and walked onto the altar. However, after more than half a month, she appeared in front of him again but was no longer the ordinary human girl.
The raging demon energy was fueled by numerous killings. She had become a witch completely.
The most terrible thing was, how had she crossed this closed field and come to him? She couldn't have a field memento, so she couldn't enter Maria's field by herself unless…
"To introduce myself again, I am Isabel, the Witch of Jealousy. At the order of my Lord, I came to compete with you." Isabel, wearing black silk gloves, lifted her skirt and graciously bowed to him.
A holy light shone on the knife and Ning Zhou looked expressionlessly at the Witch of Jealousy: "Ning Zhou, the exorcist of the Holy See, is the one who will kill you."
In the dark and silent site of the Vatican, the power of faith and the power of evil suddenly collided in the void and a raging billow of air broke out, where the trees fell and the stone steps broke.
The witch smiled lightly: "I won't let you pass."
&&&
After settling Dr. Lu in, Qi Leren immediately left the Lord's castle and hurried towards the former site of the Vatican.
Residents who had been transformed into demons had been restored to their original state. After dawn, these demons would end forever. The night watchmen had also restored their human identities. From now on, they wouldn't have to struggle on every night of the new moon - they had been freed, forever.
As long as they got Maria's memento of destruction, they could reopen this field and let the people who had been trapped here for more than 20 years ago leave.
In the quiet night, Qi Leren's footsteps went faster and faster, and at last he started to trot all the way and soon came to the former site of the Vatican, but Ning Zhou had disappeared and Su He was not here.
Shining his flashlight on the road ahead, Qi Leren walked along the steps to the higher buildings.
The ground was still shaking intermittently, so Qi Leren had to be careful with his steps so as not to fall.
The mountain stone path had broken in front of him into a pit with a shocking width of more than ten meters, and the surrounding trees had fallen down. It looked like there had been a fierce battle here and Qi Leren’s heart went into his throat. Judging from the trees, this was not a remnant left by the demon invasion more than twenty years ago, but was fresh. Although it wasn’t clear whether Su He or Ning Zhou had a conflict with people here, there must be danger ahead.
The space seemed to be distorted ahead, and the deep darkness could not be illuminated by the flashlight. There were no figures, no sound, only pure darkness, frightening and disturbing.
The road was also broken and the Qi Leren hesitated, circling another stone staircase, and soon he came to the cathedral at the top of the hill.
Under the starry sky, this broken church was still majestic. The round stone terraces and all the stone pillars along the road have been broken, but even so as he passed through, he found that these broken walls still exuded holy and solemn beauty.
Along the way, there were all kinds of angel sculptures, some having lost their heads, some having had their wings cut off, and some even having only their legs. They surround the center of the square where there was a disk with a diameter of four or five meters, which seemed to be the base of some giant sculpture. However, there was no statue that should exist on this base, and there was no statue wreckage around it. It was like it had disappeared into thin air, making this group of angels around it extremely lonely in the night.
Going further, half of the church had been destroyed. The front hall was almost completely destroyed. Even the dome had disappeared. After the wind and rain, it had become covered with weeds and shrubs. Qi Leren walked carefully on the weeds, passed through the rows of stone pillars, and came to the stone door of the main hall.
These were two doors that could be pushed away from the center, almost ten meters high. The exquisite reliefs on the doors had been covered with moss, but it was still faintly clear that the reliefs were about the magnificent scenes of wars between angels and devils in heaven.
Behind this door, what could be there?
Qi Leren's hand had been placed on the door. His heart beat faster and his breath was short. He retracted his hand and adjusted himself.
[S/L Data], [Rain-Day Clothes] and [Primary Fighting Skills] have been equipped.
If there was a battle later and S/L skill entered cooldown, he also had the [Countercurrent Sand] item. This exquisite hourglass item could reset the cooling time of one skill card at will. If he still couldn't defeat the enemy by then... He also had the Easter Egg.
There was no need to be afraid, the Witch of Nightmares who was polluting this field was dead. If she still had allies, they should have stopped him on the road.
The ground shook again and this time it felt stronger than before, as if the church was the source of vibrations. What had happened inside, and what would happen if the earthquake continued like this? He couldn't wait any longer…
Once again, Qi Leren put his hands on the cold stone door and pushed forward hard.
Save completed.
To his surprise, this giant door was not as heavy as he imagined. Under his touch it opened almost automatically, fresh air swept forward, his flashlight lit up the marble floor, and Qi Leren looked at the starry sky exposed by the huge collapsed wall of the church. He took a step toward the darkness ahead with his dagger.
A light suddenly lit up in the deep shadows, as if lit by the hand of God.
The darkness was dispelled and the light in front of him became more and more bright until finally it was as bright as day.
Qi Leren looked at the temple in front of him for a while in wait, just in the deepest part of the hall. A huge Maria held a sword high, piercing the flesh of a ferocious roaring black dragon, crucifying it in front of a giant cross.
This shocking scene showed the tragic battle that had occured here many years ago, but this was not the reason why Qi Leren was stunned. After a moment of shock, he looked at the throne belonging to the Pope under the huge cross.
On the throne decorated with reliefs and gems, Su He leaned on one hand and looked on at him with a smile.
His expression is still peaceful and gentle.
Except for those red, evil eyes.
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Editor’s Notes: You didn’t think it would end that easily, did you?
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What The Fuck!?
(A.N: before we start with the story I just wanna say that this is based off of this post by @lance-alt . Also, alot of creators on here got mentioned in the story, like actual mentions so if you got mentioned just know that I love what you create and wanted to include you because I love your interpretations of the sides, and you do not have to read this at all if you don’t want to and if you want me to take you out of the story please DM me and tell me so that I can)
TRIGGER WARNINGS: SLIGHT MENTION OF VORE FOR LIKE TWO SECONDS, MENTION OF USYEMPETHETIC SIDES, SHITTING N SOME HEADCANONS EVEN THOUGH I MYSELF LOVE THEM
The Sides are lost. They find themselves in a familiar and yet unknown place.
They will soon find someone dark. And someone far too shiny and bright… Too innocent.
The Sides meet…
their fanon-selves.
...
It had started like any normal day. The sides existing as a part of Thomas, helping him with his daily dilemmas, the usual things. Until Thomas took a nap. Then the sides suddenly found themselves in a white void. It wasn’t a dream, they could confirm that much from the other dreams that Thomas had. Also from the confused looks on the twin’s faces who were in charge of dreams, like how Remus had caused Thomas’ nightmare that they had disgusted in Dealing With Intrusive Thoughts.
“Where are we?” Logan spoke up, voicing everyone’s concerns.
“Wherever it is, Thomas has never thought about it before.” Roman muttered as he glanced around.
“Yeah, I know his brains can be scooped out at times, but not even he can have a mind this empty.” At Remus’ comment, most of the others cringed in varying degrees, with Logan being the only one unaffected, only rolling his eyes in annoyance.
“Although your metaphor usage could use some work, you are correct. This place is too empty to be a part of Thomas.” Logan conceded.
“If this isn’t Thomas...then where are we?” Virgil gleaned around wearily, trying to come up with his own explanation for this situation.
“It’s really blank here...maybe Thomas is in a coma?” Roman tried, to which Virgil’s eyes widened.
“Impossible, how would we be active if he is not?” Logan debated.
“I don’t know! Do you have any ideas, Sherlock Drones?” Roman rebutted, causing Logan to roll his eyes and fix his glasses.
“Unfortunately, no. There is not enough evidence...anywhere to make a proper inference on the situation.” Logan finished adjusting his glasses by the time he finished, gaining an annoyed huff from Roman.
“Heya, kiddos? Maybe we shouldn’t argue. We’re all confused right now, and getting upset isn’t going to get us anywhere.” Patton butted in to make sure things didn’t escalate.
“Thank you, Patton.” Logan gave a curt nod of agreement.
“Fiiiine!” Roman whined after a bit.
“It would be wise to explore, to see if we can find any clues as to where we are.”
“I’ll do it!” Remus jumped in. “Who knows, maybe we all died a gruesome death!” He cackled.
“No need.” Janus approached the group from behind, having already explored himself. “Look behind us.” When turning the sides were surprised to find the area behind them was not all whit. On it there were words like what one would find in a google doc currently describing their situation as they lived through it.
“What the fuck?” Virgil muttered. He had a Tumb.lr so he knew what fanfiction was, and this looked like it. “This can’t be happening…” He groaned, knowing it was happening.
“Aw, they’re writing about us Virge! Like the people on that one app you use.” Patton cooed, only knowing of the fluff part of fanon.
“Pat, you don’t understand. This isn’t good.”
“Oh nonsense kiddo.” Patton dismissed. “Have you guys seen the art they draw of us? It’s so cute!” Virgil internally cringed knowing that not all of it was like that.
“Either way,”-Janus cut off their small conversation.-“We need to find a way out of here.” Janus focused slightly more on Virgil for his next comment. “Whether this is real or not.” Virgil shivered at the thought of them not being real, or even acting like they do in the things that people create.
Everyone agreed, and soon they were on their way to explore this strange new environment.
…
Soon enough, however, the sides are lost. Which brings us back to where this story began. As they searched for their original location, or even the mysterious floating words, they come upon a familiar and yet unknown place. It looks strikingly like a Disney movie kingdom. With one half, filled with bright colors, lush fields, enchanting forests, and a large white castle with a red roof. The other half being dark and dangerous, the colors fading, plants rotting, instead of animals there only creatures of unknown origin, and in the middle, a black, crumbling, castle, with striking green roofing. It was almost as if...it were made for the twins.
In fact, as they got closer they could hear two far off shouts, with simultaneous silhouettes, motioning towards them, as if pointing them out to someone...or something, else.
“Uh...guys?” Virgil trailed off wondering if the others had noticed.
“On it.” Romas was quick to pull out his sword, Remus quickly following suit with his morning star.
It was unnecessary however, as once the silhouettes were in view, they looked exactly like the twins.
“Wha…” Roman lowered his sword as he saw this. As they got closer more figures came into view. All of which looked like the sides to varying degrees. There were thousands. Some were small, some were even giants, and there were alot that weren’t even human.
“Oh! Hi there kiddos!” A Patton(?) came running past the twin’s doppelgangers. “You’re probably really confused right now, I know alot of us were when we appeared!” The sides just looked at the Patton look-alike dumbfounded. The first to break out of it was Logan.
“I do not wish to appear rude, but, who are you and where are we?” Logan queried.
“Oh, I’m Patton by @baka-monarch !” Patton chirped. “And you’re in The Imagination!”
“The what now-?” “How did you-?” Both Roman and Virgil asked at the same time.
“Hm?” The other Patton tilted his head confused.
“One at a time now kiddos…” Their Patton silently reminded them. Roman nodded to Virgil to let him go first.
Virgil inhaled, taking his cue. “How did you say a mention? That only works when typed in social medias.” Virgil wondered confused.
“Oh! That’s just my fander creator kiddo!” This Patton didn’t miss a beat as he answered happily. Virgil stared at him blankly as he came to a horrifying conclusion.
“We’re in a f*****g fanfiction.” He jumped slightly at his bleep out. “What was that?”
“Oh, Jan Jan did that I wouldn’t have to hear any vulgar language.” All of them looked back at Janus who looked forward, uninterested, definitely trying not to hide his embarrassment at what this other him did, definitely not.
“...Okay… My turn!” Roman exclaimed. “What is “the Imagination”?” He used air quotes.
“Yeah, I was wondering that too, Mr. The 6th Day clone.” Remus added.
“Oh! Don’t you know? It’s the place you and Roman can go to to summon anything.You can even change the entire world around you!” Patclone chirped.
“What.” They all said in unison with worry, apart from the twins who were excited.
“Yeah! Isn’t it cool!” Patclone said oblivious to the consequences of the twins having this power could cause. “Oh yeah, do you want me to introduce you to everyone?”
“Please, I am intrigued about how our counterparts might act.” Logan conceded.
“Okie dokie then! Follow me!”
…
It had been a few hours at this point and they still weren’t even an eighth of the way through yet. There were so many headcanons, variations, AUs, OCs, OOCs, designs, everything. It was almost too much to handle.
“-this is @tscampfireau ‘s sides from their au-” The Virgil hissed and bit towards them as they almost walked on their pentagram that they were making out of… was that blood? The Patton and Logan were helping them by t-posing as a barrier against the other sides. “-yeah they can be a...fun bunch to hang out with. Oh, and here’s @bleepblopbloop56 ‘s sides.”
“How, and why are they hotter than us..?” Roman mumbled to Virgil, only getting a weird look in response.
“Then there’s @mango-shpango ‘s and @rondoel ‘s ones, he’s got a lot-” Patclone shrugged it off, but King caught all of their eyes. He didn’t have to look like the one they knew for them to know who it was… “Oh, hey there @that-prey-lounge and @tiny-peter-rabbit ‘s sides!” He greeted them. As they turned a corner there was a group of sides that were made of metal like robots. “Oh, there’s @burnadolt ‘s fnaf au!” He waved. As they approached a tavern the last group greeted was, “Heya @nommy-thoughts ‘ sides, how are you adjusting?” there were several positive responses from many of them, and as the sides looked closer they could see that a few were smaller than a human hand not only that but nearby (possibly made by someone else), were the sides they’d seen from afar earlier that were giants.. They hadn't noticed them yet here because of how closely compact the buildings were and how their size made what was visible from their perspective look like buildings.
As they all entered the tavern, they saw that there was only one group of sides here. “Hiya guys! New sides I’d like you to meet @baka-monarch ‘s group.” There were several different hellos. “And my friends, I’d like you to meet… to meet..? I’m sorry but who’s your creator?” Virgil was the one to answer.
“@thatstha-MMPH!” Virgil was only part of the way through before the other’s Janus made him slap his hand over his mouth as the other sides in the room went pale. “What was that for?” Virgil asked, his voice muffled by his hand.
“You can’t say his name. Not here.” Patclone explained cryptid. They all fell into an awkward silence, until Roman changed the subject.
“Why are there...two of you?” Roman observed.
“Oh!” Patclone chirped. “I was created just for this au! Just so I could be your guide!” He paused for a moment thinking before continuing. “I guess I’m like the Monika of this world.” Again, everyone paled, some not understanding, others...understanding too well. “Welp, I guess you want to go explore now! Jan Jan, do you and Patty wanna go have fun while they look around?” Both mentioned sides blushed.
“I told you not to call me that…” Janus mumbled as he took Patclone’s hand and the other Patton stood up to quickly join them as they went off to a separate room.
…
Only an hour had passed and the sides had already split off into groups with their counterparts. The Roman’s comforting each other while being completely random, some of them being sad little puffballs that the strong egotistic Roman’s had decided to protect, while others were a mix or just completely unsympathetic and degrading anyone the came in contact with, especially the Virgils. Virgil had kind of separated himself from the other Virgils since 90% of them were cowering away from everything and just having constant anxiety attacks, while the few who were different either had power that they abused, or were fawning over the other sides. The Logans had formed an army of science lead by the Logan from @askdarksidelogan and the other dark sides from his au, this Logan was very robotic looking, cruel, and unfeeling...well, almost unfeeling as the Deceit from his au was his boyfriend and the Remus was really close friends with him. Janus was busy trying to coral in all his different counterparts as some of them made plans to kill everyone around them and end the government, while others were hiding due to PTSD about the angst they have been through. The Remuses just vibed in their corner, killing, being gross, and annoying the other aspects. Finally the Pattons. Patton had basically adopted the ones that were child-like and too innocent for their own good while avoiding the unsympathetics that were teaming up with other unsympathetics and the ones who were...horny… Actually everyone was avoiding the horny ones.
But that was just the simplified version of the chaos. Logans were capturing people to test, Deceits were arguing over their name even though one was already canon, Romans were either being complete idiots or crying silently to themselves, while they were targeted by the unsympathetics along with the Virgils, everyone too scared to even try to tussle with the army of Logans.
Virgil sat back on a hill and watched it all unfold. How had the community gotten this far without this much chaos? He had no idea. A few other counterparts were up there with him but he didn’t mind since they mostly seemed chill. A Virgil approached and sat down next to him exhausted, and judging by the paint he was covered in he had just come from the Romans’ corner.
“Romans a little too much?” Virgil tried making conversation.
“Yeah…” He breathed. “It was getting a little too rowdy and I wanted to get my Roman out of there so he wouldn’t get hurt.” With no Roman in sight, Virgil assumed that he had been unsuccessful.
“So, which Roman is yours?” Virgil wondered.
“Hm?” The counterpart tilted his head confused until it clicked. “Oh, no, he’s not down there right now.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny Roman. “See.”
“Oh…” Virgil was at a loss of words. What does a person say to that? After that they just sat there in silence as Virgil’s counterpart and the Roman snuggled slightly through a hand to body contact.
“So…” Virgil decided to try again. “What’s it like, y’know, being shipped?” Virgil wondered, seeing how it seemed these two were in some kind of relationship. Virgil had always found it kind of weird, but, maybe there was more to it…
“I mean, it’s like any other relationship I guess… falling in love and deciding to be together.” The counterpart mumbled as the tiny Roman rubbed his hand to comfort him.
“But isn’t it weird how it isn’t real? How, you’re literally just playing out your creator’s fantasies because they enjoy the idea of you being together?” Virgil wondered.
The counterpart just shrugged. “I try not to think about it… but, it really isn’t that weird, even if we’re fictional characters we have memories, motives, morals, opinions, feelings. Those are real. Even if they aren’t created by us, they are real. Every thought, every motion, every breath. That is us. Just because it was written, drawn, or even just imagined, it happened and that makes it real. Makes this feeling real.” He explained as he rubbed the little head of his Roman.
“Huh I… I guess you’re right, I never thought of it that way.” Virgil shrugged.
“No one does. Why do you think people are told not to cry over fictional deaths when they actually had feelings for a character, platonic or not?” The counterpart said. “It’s just a story on the outside, something thought to not affect people even though when our memories are shared with them, it can change them.” Virgil looked at his counterpart, curiosity growing about how he had so much knowledge.
“Who’s your creator?” Virgil finally asked.
“Why do I have to have one?”
“Touche.”
They went back to a comfortable silence. It was nice. Until this one Janus came.
“Hey, Virgil, does Roman mind if I had him for a bit?” They asked.
“I don’t mind at all!” The tiny side exclaimed as he got on Janus’ hand. They soon left, but when that Janus vired the Roman they weren’t far enough away from Virgil for him not to catch a glimpse. He shivered.
“Is that normal?” He wondered.
“Depends on the part of the community, but pretty normal and usually safe, so don’t worry.” The counterpart comforted him. It barely helped but at last Virgil knew that that Roman was safe… probably.
“Can I try!” Remus came brelling up the his, straight (heh) to the counterpart.
“Only if you want to.” They replied.
“I do!” Remus wriggled with excitement.
“Alright, let's go find you one of the groups of sides either with the power to shrink you or are giants.” Virgil led Remus off the hill as Remus kept talking about everything that could go wrong but probably wouldn’t.
Weird. Was all Virgil could think as he watched them leave.
…
He saw a lot that day but never saw that Virgil again, as if he had vanished mysteriously. It didn’t matter to him right now though as he had been stuck with babysitting duty over all the little kid sides.
“F*** this.”
…
Virgil looked over the story he just read one more time. It was written by a small creator called @baka-monarch , who focussed more on reblogging than they did their own content.
“That was trash.”
…
…
…
“Reblog.”
#sander sides#vore mention#virgil sanders#roman sanders#janus sanders#remus sanders#logan sanders#patton sanders#fanon sides#canon sides#fanfiction
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The Ex-orcist (Put Me Out) (NOS4A2 Fanfic)
(A/N: Ah! Finally! A fanfic! It felt nice to write after being so busy! Be warned that this story is dark, makes nods to Charlie’s trauma, etc, but it’s got some humor in it. Hope you all enjoy this wild rollercoaster ride!)
@fae-sedai @wraith-of-christmas-future @peculiarparasol
The Ex-orcist (Put Me Out)
By: Bunny Louise Grimes
The moment I woke up, something was wrong. But I didn’t realize that I should’ve taken it seriously until it was too late.
When I woke up, I felt panicked. I felt as if I either woke up from a nightmare or something was going on in the room that jolted me awake. But there was no such thing. My dream was mindless and actually peaceful (something about me in Pony Land near the Dream Castle while Firefly and Medley zip past and Twilight offered me a ride). The room was damn near dead silent. The windows and turned off lights ensured the room was so dark, it was almost creepy.
I rubbed my eyes and stretched my body out. I rolled over and noticed Charlie’s light snoring as he slept soundly. His slicked back black hair looked a bit messy and fluffed up thanks to the pillows. His deep brown eyes were lightly clamped shut. His yellow-tinted sharper teeth jutted out of his mouth in an overbite, causing him to breath in and out of his nose and mouth. His pale skin would make him look dead if he wasn’t breathing and snoring. His snoring was not loud, rather comforting, comparable to soothing background noise. His flat stomach and chest rose and fell with ease. His hands and arms were crossed over his chest as if he were slumbering in a coffin. He was still dressed in one of his silk Riddle McIntyre shirts and his suspenders from the day he hadn’t bothered to take off. All in all, he looked like he were in a pleasant dream he couldn’t leave and nobody could take from him.
I smiled at this sight, picturing whatever Christmas or horror themed dream he was experiencing. I wondered if I was there with him.
The feeling of fear I felt upon waking up had lifted from me and the urge to urinate took over. Rolling over, however, I began to notice just how creepy the room looked. Shadows seemed to move... oh, good Lord, don’t be shadow people... God, I hated them...
“It’s nothing,” I whispered to myself. “You always get this way when a room gives you the heebie-jeebies for no reason. Just go piss before you piss the bed!”
I pulled the warm covers off of me, exposing my legs and feet to the coolness of the room. The rest of my body was kept warm thanks to my nightgown covered in flowers, stars, and rainbows. I noticed that near the lamp next to me sat Kuchi Kopi, staring blankly at the wall. I grabbed him and turned him on by pressing his bottom compartment. The room flooded with a neon green.
Perfect, I thought. This should comfort me while I go do my business.
I gently got out of bed and tiptoed near the door so as to not wake up Charlie (although many times it happened anyways thanks to his sharp senses). I opened the door and it creaked lowly, making me cringe. When I flipped around, he had scratched his nose and rolled over, making small mumbles before going back to snoring. I sighed and continued to sneak out of the door and into the hallway.
I noticed that the white-yellow nightlight was still on, comforting me further. The whole house was still and silent, and my footsteps and his snoring from the room over were my only audible comforts.
I reached the bathroom, opened the door, and stepped inside, Kuchi Kopi’s light illuminating everything. I placed him on the sink, far away enough so that he wouldn’t fall over and get wet. After doing what I needed to do, I grabbed him again and walked back out, anticipating getting back to bed...
The rods in my eyes had to adjust to the total darkness in the hallway that jarred me. The nightlight was completely out. I didn’t understand how it had burnt out of all times but now, and how I didn’t notice, but I figured it was because I was focusing on Kuchi Kopi’s light rather than the light in the hallway. Still... how did it burn out?
An odd noise in front of me made me freeze and my blood turn to ice. I couldn’t explain it, but it sounded like a gargling and a grunting at once. Every few seconds, a deep and ghostly growl was heard. I managed to lift Kuchi Kopi up and I noticed that one of the spare bedroom doors was creaked open.
None of the other doors were open before.
I needed to see what it was. A large part of me told me to get Charlie, but the other part of me said, “Don’t be a pussy! It’s just an animal. You need to tell Charlie what animal it is. You’re gonna be fine as long as you don’t get too close.”
I walked as quietly and slowly as I possibly could, even moreso than I did moments ago when I was leaving the master bedroom. The noises got louder and louder, but I could tell it was only because I was getting closer to the source. It was unlike any sound I had ever heard. The more I heard it, the more I realized my mind and ears were not playing tricks on me. It wasn’t the flapping and squeaking of a bat or bats, it wasn’t the squeaking of mice or rats, it wasn’t the purring cooing sound of a raccoon... the realization of what it wasn’t after doing the process of elimination fully hit me. If it wasn’t any of these things... then what the hell was it? Should I even be attempting to see what it was?
I knew that by now, I had already reached the door. What would the point be in turning back now? I was already here, I should at least see what it was. A feeling of dread settled in my stomach and crawled into my heart, making it feel heavy and beat faster. I took a deep breath in through my nose, suspending it to summon the courage to peek into the room.
The first thing I noticed was a dark shadow in the upper corner of the ceiling. It was hanging there like a spider... that’s where the noises were coming from. My eyes went as wide as saucers, my heart pounded in my ears, and I thought I was going to let my urine go again.
The thought occurred to me: These sounds are not of this world. They are the sounds a possessed person makes when they’re battling the darker force inside of them.
Subconciously, my shaking arm somehow lifted Kuchi Kopi up to see this figure more clearly. I should’ve just ran... but I had no control over myself in this moment. I was too stunned and terrified to just run... so my brain decided I needed to do something else.
The green glow cast other shadows on the wall, much like in the master bedroom. I trailed up, revealing the figure was more than just inky black. It was... a woman.
She was wearing some sort of dusty orange-pink dress (perhaps from the 30’s?), with a basic floral design. Her bent legs were covered with stockings and her shoes were tipped at the end and old fashioned, clinging to the back wall and right wall. She was thin. Her fire red hair was medium length and wild, as if it hadn’t been brushed in quite a while. Her arms made her hands be pressed against the wall in a similar fashion to her legs and feet. From this, I could tell her skin was sickly pale, even more ill than Charlie’s pallor. Her face was towards the wall where she continued to make these noises, as if mumbling to herself in a rabid language only she understood.
I was nanoseconds away from stepping back when she stopped making her noises, making my rapidly beating heart drop into my stomach. The house was back to being dead still again. Could she hear me? Was she listening for me? Did she notice the green light? Did she notice the shadows? Could she smell me? Could she somehow sense me? Who was she? These thoughts screamed at me as I tried desperately not to rapidly gasp and let her hear me.
Not that it mattered in the end anyway, because a sickening cracking of her neck as her head found its way towards me filled the brief void of noise in the house. I couldn’t control the gasp that came from me and small jolt my body made when I saw her face...
Her wide green eyes looked glassy and empty, surrounded by hollow black holes, making her look even more sick than before. I could barely see the freckles directly under her eyes. I could finally notice her right neck and shoulder had a huge hole in them from where somebody had taken a large bite, causing exposed skin that had barely recovered and looked half scaled and half rotten. The left side of her face looked the same. Her lips were pried into a disgustingly large smile, and foam and drool pooled out of her mouth. Some sort of green-black bile dribbled down her chin and onto the floor. Her noises began again as she analyzed me.
Now, Charlie and the children were vampires. They were normally frightening, but never towards me. To their pedo victims, however, their eyes always had the look of victory and justice. A look of, “You hurt the innocent, so now you pay the price.” This woman held not that look, but the look of, “You are the innocent, and what I wouldn’t do to destroy you right here and now...”
Once our eyes locked for only a second, one name came to me, and I knew at once who was before me:
“Cassandra.”
She jumped down from the corner and landed on the floor with a loud THUD, making me jolt and gasp again. She looked like the perfect spider. Her head was still twisted as it was before, and she started crawling towards me at a steady pace.
I yanked the door shut with my spare hand and ran all the way down the hallway and back into the master bedroom, not caring how loud I was. A part of me was terrified of going back in there because a part of me wondered if Charlie was even in there and if I would somehow find myself faced with her, but I was relieved when I saw Charlie still lying in bed.
I pulled the master bedroom door shut, not taking any time to see if she was out in the hallway, locked it, turned on the lights, and dove into bed.
“Charlie! Charlie! Wake up! Please!” I begged, hyperventilating and shaking him awake.
Charlie jumped awake and shook his head, staring at me. “What? What?” He asked.
“Charlie-there-and-I-hallway-and-“
“Slow down,” he said, holding onto me tightly and gently at all once. “Take a deep breath. You’re freaking out and I can’t understand you.”
After about ten seconds of steadying my breathing enough, I spat out, “Charlie, your ex wife... Cassie, she’s... she’s in one of the spare bedrooms and she’s a demon! She came at me! I went to pee a few minutes ago and I heard these noises and she was there! Charlie please believe me! She’s gonna kill us! We have to kill her or get out of here-“
“Woah, what?” Charlie’s face went from pure concern and worry to one of slight panic mixed in. “My ex wife is demonic and outside our bedroom door? She’s in our house?”
“Yes!” I felt as though I was about to cry now. “Charlie, we need to do something!”
His eyes burned holes into the covers of the bed as he thought about what to do. I could tell the painful trauma he went through with her that was being dug out of him didn’t help him at all. “I don’t even know how it’s possible... why or how would she come back? And why is she demonic? Is this the work of another Creative? Is this a demon possessing her corpse? Is my mind subconsciously creating this?...” He rubbed his head. “I... I don’t know what we should do...”
Bravery swelled my heart as I walked over to a safe I kept in the corner of the room. I entered the code and opened it. “I’ll tell ya what we’re gonna do... we’re gonna kill a bitch tonight!”
I skimmed through my guns and tried to find a suitable one. “Okay... Thompson might be a bit much, don’t know how much we need to be Bonnie and Clyde, plus it might jam... sniper is for far away business... AR-15 might be too much too... CMMG Banshee... BAR is gonna be waaay too much... AUG is too much... Moisen Nagant, maybe... M1 Garand, Winchester rifle... Ah! Here’s my shotguns! These would work well and not fuck anything else up in the house as long as I’m a good aim! I’ll blast her face off! Now let’s see... Remington? Ooh! Never mind!” I pulled out a shotgun that was of course heavy, but suitable for a womanly figure. “This Mossberg Home Defense shotgun is perfect! But just for safe measure...” I slipped on a belt with a holster and got on my tiptoes, looking through my pistols. “Luger, Smith and Wesson Texas Ranger Commemorative Revolver? Definitely out of the question! That and the Bowie knife that comes with it are collectibles! Throwaway revolver that probably killed people before it was given to me? Ah, maybe, but that Dirty Harry shit is a pain in the ass, takes some force... Glock it is!” I pulled it down and loaded both my guns up. “That crazy bitch still out there, Charlie? I haven’t heard her.”
I looked up and noticed he was pressed against the door, trying to listen. “I can’t hear her... I can almost sense her, like she’s trying to hide from me, but I can’t tell where she is...” He looked at me, chilled to the bone. “Are you sure guns will work?”
“Well, we gotta try! We can’t just be weaponless! And you know what?” I walked over to the nightstand and pulled out a Saint Jude Rosary, pulling it over my neck. I grabbed a bag of holy salt and a bottle of holy water too. “We have more of these two in here, don’t worry. You hold these while I hold the guns. You’re gonna have to be my ears because I’m going to put earplugs on to protect my hearing. It’s bad enough guns can wreck your ears outside, but inside, it’s gonna be a lot worse. And I don’t have the ability to recover from any form of injury like you can.”
He flinched a bit at holding them. While he wasn’t harmed by holy items like other vampires, it did have some kind of effect on the darker side of his being. If anything, it was just a bit of discomfort.
I finished loading my guns up and took the safety off. “Alright, safety is off. I’m ready. Are you?”
We looked at each other with a mix of confidence and nervousness. “Yes, I’m ready.”
I put the earplugs on and we both tiptoed to the door, just as I had before. Charlie slowly opened the door and I aimed the shotgun, ready to blow her away. Cassie was nowhere in sight, to our surprise. We figured she was either playing hide and seek with us or still behind the door I closed. But how did she get into the house in the first place? Could she teleport? If so, why didn’t she lunge at me quicker? Why didn’t she teleport into our room? Because that would’ve been too easy and she wanted to give us a running start?
We continued to creep down the hallway. I pointed to the door of the room she was in. Charlie pressed his ears up to it. He shook his head to let me know she wasn’t in there anymore.
So she can teleport.
We continued to search through the hallway in each of the rooms. She was nowhere upstairs. We decided to search downstairs, but she was nowhere in the living room, dining room, or kitchen. We even peeked into the pantry.
The only place to look was the back room where the washer and dryer were. Exiting the kitchen, we opened the door and looked around the first part of the back room where the ironing board and some extra supplies were. We both froze when we heard rustling behind the door just beyond.
“She’s in there,” Charlie mouthed, pointing.
I nodded and readied the shotgun as we snuck over to the door. Charlie pressed his body to it, hand wrapped around the knob. He sighed with a look on his face as if he really didn’t want to open it up, but he knew he had to.
He swung open the door; it was comparable to ripping a band aid off. He flipped the lights on, revealing Cassie standing hunched over on the old washing machine and dryer. She flipped around to look at us with those evil eyes. She growled and hissed, as if defending her territory (but we all know it wasn’t hers).
Her growling and hissing quickly melted into a full scream, causing me to pull the trigger. A loud BOOM exploded into the room, alongside her face. Her face looked as though someone had run over it with a train. Blood and flesh splattered on the walls and her dress. Still... she didn’t go down. She cocked her head in curiosity and giggled inhumanly.
“What?” I sputtered. I shot her again, another explosion filling the room and strong force from the gun almost knocking me to the ground. More blood and flesh went everywhere and destroyed more of her face, making it look even more terrifying. Still... she didn’t go down. She continued to stand there as if nothing had happened.
“The salt! The water!” I screamed at Charlie.
He threw huge amounts of the holy salt and water at her. She writhed in pain as they both caused her flesh in various areas to burn and fumes of smoke to rise... yet she laughed her sick laugh, having a delightful time.
“Throw more!” I yelled. “Don’t stop!”
He continued to throw more. Bright red-orange-yellow boils formed out of the smoky burns and burst, making more blood trail down her sickly skin. She still laughed, unfazed by this.
“In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth and whatever God that may be His Father, in Their Holy Name, get the fuck out of our house!” I screeched at the top of my lungs.
This made her laugh even harder. I understood now: she was laughing at our attempts to get rid of her using weapons and holy objects and mentions. Did they not work? Was she beyond that?
“I’m running low on salt and water!” Charlie yelled loud enough for me to hear him through my earplugs.
“Throw it all onto her face! We have more upstairs!” I cried.
He prepared himself to get close to her, really not up for it. But he came through anyways. He ran towards her. Despite her swinging her arms at him, he threw the last of the bag and dumped the last of the water at her. The liquid dripped down what remained of her face and the salt formed a small chalk cloud around it. Burns and boils spawned everywhere, bursting pus and blood at different intervals. She cackled like a Hyena straight from the depths of Hell. Her face was beyond recognition, but I could tell that smile remained. Her eyes still kept their empty gaze on us.
“She’s not going down...” I breathed. “How the fuck is she not going down?! What the fuck do we do now?!”
“Do we pray? Will prayer work?” Charlie asked loudly.
“It’s worth a try.”
“I know the Lord’s Prayer.”
“Let’s try that!”
We recited it together to the best of our ability. The whole time, we focused our energy on her, even closing our eyes. willing her to leave and picturing light boiling her away. We even added in our own lines into the prayer. But instead of melting or recoiling back, we heard her slowly sliding down the washer and dryer, making gargling laughing noises.
By the time we finished the prayer and opened our eyes, she was mere feet from us, on her hands and knees. What made us shocked was that the blood on the wall, the flesh... it was all gone, and her face was in the middle of repairing itself. She let out a throaty banshee cry.
I shot the center of her chest near her heart (if not directly on her heart). This time, the blood and flesh sprayed on the floor, and she was jolted back a bit, but within seconds, her missing muscle, integument, and blood trailed back up her body. We noticed something off as her body repaired itself. As the injury was sealing shut, a glowing flash of static energy emitted from the hole in her chest before disappearing entirely when it was healed, as if nothing had happened. The sight of the static made Charlie’s legs quiver like barren tree branches in the cold wind.
“She’s a creature of the static!” I could hear him cry. “No wonder what we do doesn’t work! She’s only weakened for a few moments by what we do! She was in the back of my mind for so long... she must’ve gained the strength to escape to kill us all!”
While Charlie was crying out his realization, she looked at him the whole time with a curious and demented gaze. She panted like a dog with wide eyes and a disgusting smile.
“What does that mean?!” I cried myself.
“We have to find where I buried her body back in my inscape! What we do from there depends on the circumstance!”
She burst into laughter, as if she knew we couldn’t do anything, and anything that what we would be attempting to do would be stupid and worthless. Her feminine cackling was mixed with throaty sickness and reverberating deepness. Her eyes gained the glint of possession and control as she looked at Charlie. She wanted to make him hers again. She would do anything to get her hands on him to break his soul in ways she was unable to do when she was a bitter and abusive human woman during the Depression.
“Are you sure?!”
“I feel it inside of me, yes!” Charlie called back.
We had stepped back so far as she continued to crawl towards us that we were nearing the kitchen. She paused and swatted her hand to my Mossberg’s barrel. Instinctively, I shot her hand clean off. She flinched a bit, but she analyzed the missing body part in wonder, especially as blood came spurting out of her wrist like a fountain. But within moments, the blood pooled back into her body and she grabbed the destroyed hand with her other, twisting it back on her arm. The same static flash sewed her hand back in place before it returned to its normal appearance. She rose from her hands and knees, her gaze returning from her hand, staring and smiling directly at us with a look that read, “Now, where were we?”
She growled for only a second or two before she came charging at me. Also by instinct, I shot her leg where my shotgun was aimed. She fell down and her head hit the floor, but she erupted into her distinct laughter, especially as she raised her head to look at me again. She twisted her leg into place and the flash yet again healed her destroyed patella bone. Not even a shot near her femoral artery was enough to bring her down.
I wanted to shoot her again, even if I knew it was useless, but I realized my shotgun felt lighter, and empty clicks greeted me. I had used all five bullets the shotgun took. I was out of ammo in my Mossberg.
Before I could even think about reaching for my Glock, she had charged at me and threw me down. She managed to knock my burning hot, smoky and empty shotgun out of my hands and it slid across the floor of the kitchen. I screamed as she held me down with superhuman force. Her terrifying face met mine. Despite all the injuries it took moments before, the scars that lined the side of it, her neck and her shoulder all remained. They must’ve been permanent marks that would last for all of eternity thanks to the moment of her death.
“Charlie! Help me!” I squealed like a pig about to be butchered.
“Charlie! Help me!” She mimicked me in her voice, although I could hear there was a bit of my voice within hers.
I remember watching a Ghost Adventures episode many years before when I was a little kid. It was some special they had where they went back to the first location they had gone to when their show started, and they invited 100 fans to join them. The place was haunted by demons, and they captured mimicking of their voices in EVP recordings. It was later explained when they went to the location for the third time by a bishop that they had a friendship with that demons liked to mimic to mess with people’s minds. I had no doubts that if whatever was within Cassie was demonic, she would be mimicking my voice in some capacity to mess with everyone. Plus, it suited her personality when she was human. She loved to mess with and break Charlie’s mind, despite him doing everything for her, just to abuse him and control him. Why would that go away in her afterlife, especially if she was possessed by something that craved that evil and would want to use it to its advantage?
I tried to reach for my Glock, but she had my body pressed down against the kitchen floor too tightly. The horrifying thought of my kidneys bursting against the pressure, causing water, urea, ammonia, blood, and any other needed material that was to be cleansed out of my body bursting out of my flesh and congealing on the tiles filled my mind. I wanted to scream at this vivid image, but the thoughts occurred to me that this was Cassie’s doing. She was filling my head with these thoughts to get a reaction out of me. Maybe she was even feeding off of it, just as she fed off the pain of her husband years ago.
“Stupid bitch,” she hissed, her voice making goosebumps pop all over my skin. “Stupid short fat bitch. Die, you writhing insect. Die and-“
WHAM! Charlie smacked the butt of my empty shotgun against her face and knocked her back and off of me. The back of her head hit the floor and I took advantage of that moment to scurry away. Charlie tried to hold her down, but her upper half rose like Dracula out of his coffin, forcing Charlie to step back for a moment so his head wouldn’t smack into hers. Her head craned towards him and she pulled him towards her by grabbing onto his arm. My hand frantically pawed for my Glock in my holster as I still lied on my back on the floor.
She stared straight into Charlie’s eyes, speaking up in her voice, this time my mimicked voice not present.
“You drained me of my youth, Charles. You and those little shits of daughters. You made me this monster. You took away all my joy and happiness. You brought this upon yourself.”
“Shut up!” He roared, trembling to his very core from anger and fear. “You abused me! Nothing I did was enough for you! All you did was use me for free labor and to take out all your anger on me! The same for your own children! You were always a monster! It was you, alongside everyone else who hurt me in life, who made us vampires! You were a huge part of a large puzzle that created me! Don’t deny it!”
My sweaty and shaking hand finally lifted the gun from the holster and attempted to aim it at Cassie.
“Now you think you can come back and terrorize me and my new woman?!” Charlie demanded. “Think again! I may be Nosferatu, but it will be you who’s dead by sunrise!”
She giggled, her eyes and tongue bulging out of her head as if she was suffering from some sort of thyroid issue. I shot her head, but the blood splashed out and retreated back into the wound within seconds. She didn’t even flinch or react to this, just kept her eyes and grip on Charlie. She spoke up once more.
“Very cute, Charles. It’s almost as adorable as you flailing about when I threw that oil lamp at you. Do you remember your best coat and hair on fire? You looked so funny! My sisters and I loved to laugh at you! Remember?” I shot her in the head again twice, but just like the first shot, it was useless.
“Put me out! Put me out!” She mocked Charlie, just as she did when she was alive and human, but this time, she could actually mimic his voice. Her voice slowly rose from a mix of her own and his to his voice entirely. “Put me out! Put me out!”
“Silence, you soulless ginger haired bitch!” Charlie roared.
I popped a few rounds into her face, arm, chest, and stomach, but they were all useless.
Her voice suddenly changed to my voice entirely. “How could I ever be with you, Charlie? I used to be so young and happy before you. Now I’m dead and drained because of you, you gross vampire.”
This struck a deep cord with him. “Rose would never say that! Leave her out of this! She’s nothing like you and never will be!”
“I’m not now, Charlie. But wait till I grow older,” Cassie continued in my voice. “I’ll shed those yellow chick feathers and they’ll become that bitter brown because of you. It’s your curse in life. From Mommy Manx to Princess Cassie to Jolene to every other woman in your life. Like King Midas’s touch, except instead of turning to gold, you drain women of everything good. You’ll die alone one day. Your immortality is not absolute. You will die without a wife and those kids will die without a mother. Face it, Charles. I’m just like the rest. You thought Cassie and Jolene were different too... But I am one of many...”
“Like hell I am, you man beater!” I screamed. “Quit projecting your own bullshit and using my voice! Keep my voice out of your larynx and quit using your shitty words with it!”
She ignored me and got close in Charlie’s face. I finished popping the last of my fifteen rounds into her brain, but still, nothing worked. She beamed at his fear filled eyes and the trauma that lay behind them. Her voice became that of a man’s I had never heard before.
“When you go to Hell, I’ll be sure to have my fun with you once again, Manx boy...”
I threw the Glock straight at her head. She must’ve had enough, because she pulled away from Charlie and threw him back against the wall. He was hyperventilating and sweat poured from every crevice. Using the voice of his childhood rapist was enough to put him in this state.
“Enough you bitch!” She growled, her voice returning to her own. She threw herself back on top of me, the earplugs falling off and landing on the floor. Not that I had much use for them without ammo in my guns. I could hear her rattling breathing and voice much more clearly. “I’ll see to it your soul is raped of any essence of itself in Hell alongside his! Wait your turn!”
“Eat my ass, you psycho cunt! You’re nothing but a spoiled control freak brat who’s daddy gave her everything. You’re just mad you can’t control your kids and Charlie anymore. You’re mad because I’m a better woman than you ever were and I’m not even rich like you. I’m a better mother to your kids and they love me more than they ever loved you. You’re a joke! You hear me? Your own kids turned on you and ate you! That’s why you look even uglier than you did before! It’s a reflection of the damage you caused your husband and kids! But now they’re mine! You’ll never have them back! Go back to Hell where you belong and stay there, Cassandra!”
I managed to lift my Saint Jude rosary up and slammed it against her neck where her voice box was. It burned and sizzled her neck, leaving a burn mark. She screeched in fury, but before she could tear her teeth into my jugular or face, Charlie ripped her off of me and wrapped his fingers around her freshly burnt neck, strangling her.
“All of this pain you caused me is enough, but you will not try to use my other experiences against me,” he spoke lowly before erupting into a yell. “Stay out of our heads and stay out of our lives! Die again!”
Cassie squirmed and giggled, as if he were tickling her rather than strangling her. I took this chance to grab his Wraith’s keys from the coat hanger in the dining room. I ran back to him and held onto his back. “Come on, Charlie! We have to get out of here! It’s not working! We need to leave!”
After a few seconds of clinging to his death grip on her, he finally loosened and grabbed onto me. Cassie didn’t miss a beat and snapped her jaw at one of my tendons. I screamed, but Charlie picked me up just in time before she could rip it apart with her mandibles. He took off running and held me close to him. He unlocked the door and threw it open. She began to crawl towards us again, but we slammed the door shut behind us and took off running towards the barn where the Wraith sat, waiting for another ride.
The night air felt cool and healing on our sweaty bodies, and dark clouds sat above, eyeing us. I clung to Charlie for dear life and sputtered out, “I’m so sorry for everything she did to you and everything else that happened to you. I love you so much and I would never hurt you with any intent.”
“I know, I know,” he gasped. “And I appreciate that deeply. I thank you for all of eternity, and I will love you too for all of eternity, but don’t make it sound like goodbye. We’re going to finish this bitch once and for all!”
The doors of the barn swung open and he set me down. We ran to the Wraith’s doors, who opened for us with human eagerness. It was as if she was saying, “Need an escape? Don’t fear! I’m here!”
We dove into our respective seats, closing the doors behind us. Charlie fumbled with the keys before putting them in the ignition. The engine purred to life, a calming hum that put both our hearts to ease, a familiarity that could settle one down when panic was an appropriate response to a situation.
He put the Wraith in gear and pulled back out of the barn at speeds I didn’t think were possible for a car that was designed to only go 80 miles an hour maximum. Before he could pull out of the driveway, a large THUD distrupted us. We screamed at Cassie sitting on the hood, that foam, drool, and bile from when I first saw her dribbling out of her open mouth, ready to bite. Her eyes were wide in an impossible way.
“I’ll skin you both alive and fuck your skulls until your souls are mine!” She rasped.
The Wraith, as if reacting on her own, flipped her hood up and knocked Cassie down onto the gravel. Without Charlie’s control, the Rolls lurched forward and backward over Cassie’s body, flattening her like a pancake. The car did this for twenty seconds straight. It pulled back after the twenty seconds were up and through the headlights, we saw Cassie laying flat on the ground.
Without even thinking, it was my turn to burst into laughter. I laughed and I laughed, then Charlie started laughing. It was something straight out of Airplane or Monty Python. The fact the car had a mind of her own and was willing to fight Cassie too had us rolling. Not even the Wraith, a car, liked Cassie, and was willing to run over her. It was hilarious.
Our laughter, no matter how mad and brief it was, was cut off by Cassie raising her head. That sick smile was gone, and in its place was the most terrifying frown and set of hateful eyes you could possibly imagine.
“No more games!” She growled. “Get ready to die!”
We floored it down the driveway and onto the road. Charlie focused his mind on the static to get to the Saint Nick Parkway as quickly as possible to find where he buried Cassie’s body. I peaked into the rear view mirror and saw Cassie sprinting at us on all fours like a rabid wolf chasing after the car. Before she could reach us, a flash of static consumed the car like lightning. The sky became filled with snow and stars, and the scene became familiar: we were in Charlie’s mind.
I sighed and pressed my head against the cool glass of the car’s window. Charlie focused solely on driving now, trying to remember where he placed Cassie’s corpse. I dared not bother him, as his face read total dedication and if I disrupted him, he would’ve most likely snapped without even meaning to.
After a few minutes, we pulled up to a small little forest of barren trees. He finally spoke up.
“This is where I buried her.”
We stepped out of the car and the doors closed behind us. Without my proper clothes, I was freezing. Even though Charlie didn’t bring his coat or shoes, his body temperature dictated he was fine. We searched throughout the trees until one stood out to us.
“Good God...” Charlie breathed.
The tree was taller than all the rest and black, with glowing red cracks crawling all throughout it. Its limbs were sharp like knives. It stood out like an infection amongst all the white snow and other normal trees. Beneath its base was an empty, dug up grave.
“Just as I thought... Her dark energy must’ve created this when it filled some of the voids in the static...” he mumbled. “Brought her back to life...”
“Isn’t it wonderful?” Her voice made us recoil as she came out from behind the trunk. “Just like your Wraith, it’s my object of power. It’s supplied me with so much energy, it’s made me impossible to kill. After I’m done killing you two, your precious Christmasland will be easy to gain control over once I take possession of that Phantom. Those little shits’ souls will belong to me, and I will turn your goulish theme park from one of fun to one of fun... for only me!” She gave a series of maniacal laughter.
If this tree is like his Wraith... that must mean...
An idea occurred to me as I rushed back to the car. Charlie stayed where he stood, paralyzed in fear. Cassie leaned in and stared daggers into him.
“Give in, Charles... it’s taken me all these years, but just like when we were together... I always won and got what I want in the end... now, prepare to watch your world melt into static to my own desires... not even your own mind belongs to you anymore... just like daddy told me... everything I want is mine, and if not... there will always be a way for me to have it all.”
“Your daddy was wrong, cunt,” I called. “Tell him that when you see him in Hell.”
She looked up as I lit an oil lamp I grabbed from the trunk of the car on fire. Her face went from one of smugness and delight to the one she had when she watched the husband and kids she abused become vampires about to turn on her: one of pure fear and horror.
“No... no! Get that away! Get that away!” She cried. She backed away from Charlie, about to approach me...
Too late.
I threw the lamp at the tree. The black bark exploded into flames. Mixed with the red cracks in it, the tree became nothing but a bright red light. Cassie fell to her knees screaming like a toy with dying batteries in agony. Her whole body was melting, like the Wicked Witch of the West did when water splashed on her (although, it was quite ironic given that it was fire this time).
Cassie continued to scream. “Put me out! Put me out!” She screeched. Her integumentary, muscular, and skeletal systems became jelly. Every organ melted into soupy liquid. Every nerve and cell burst. Her green eyes pooled onto the snow in boiling liquid, and a similar liquid (most likely her brain) oozed from her ears and nose. Her red hair fell in clumps. The liquid poured out of her mouth, causing her screaming to die down and became nothing but the odd liquid dripping out of her. Most likely, it was her innards filling her and rising out. She fell entirely to the ground. This went on for a full minute.
The flames of the tree died down just as her screams had and it fell to the ground the same time she had, the water from the snow preventing it from spreading and causing a forest fire. By then, the tree was nothing but a husk of smoke and dead wood, and Cassie was nothing but an empty, flattened, liquified and lifeless corpse. Her life was snuffed out just as the tree’s flames were by the snow.
I grabbed onto Charlie’s hand, leaning into him, as if to tell him, “She can’t hurt us anymore... she won’t hurt them... she can’t hurt you anymore...”
“Put me out... Put me out...” Charlie whispered suddenly, a smile forming on his lips, his overbite jutting out, his eyes gleaming with victory. “Put me out... Put me out...”
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Cirnu lore info dump
Cirnu (symbol is a black lily)- The current incarnation. Known as the "Dark Maiden".
Race: Dark Fae
Gender: Female
Territory: [Field of the Darkened Flowers] -- A never-ending field of black lilies with faint glowing golden lights. With a singular large house, which is a complete replication of Cirnu's home.
Despite already knowing that she's old and ancient, her presence and the air around her suggests she has more secrets than she lets on. Not that it stops her from being a gentle and nice person, especially to the other students.
"You wish to meet... the [Others]? Hmm... a rather peculiar request, but I do not mind."
"I only wish that you be on guard around some of them. Some of them can be rather... hah. You'll see what I mean soon enough."
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Sybil (symbol is an eclipse)- One of the later incarnations, but a few levels before Cirnu and after Caligo. Known as the "Seer of the Crimson Moon".
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Territory: [Moonlit Starry Night] -- There is no set scenery but there is a singular constant-- the eternal night sky riddled with stars high above. The most common scene is an open field surrounded by trees and a crystal clear lake wherein you can view the sky with no obstructions.
A cheerful and kind woman, might be a bit promiscuous but means well. Is very friendly and wants nothing more than to be able to help others. Likes to be called "big sis" and self-proclaims herself as one. The most likely one you'll get to know from Cirnu's past lives.
"Oh? You know little Cirnu? Haha, it's nice to meet you then!"
"Hm? Who am I? Hehe... I'm just your friendly neighborhood witch, is all~.⭐"
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Caligo (symbol is a crow)- One of the earlier/later incarnations, but a few levels before Sybil & Cirnu. Known as the "Fog Reaper".
Race: Beastman, a Crow/Raven
Race: Male
Territory: [Misty City of Void] -- A small dimly-lit town constantly enveloped by a thick fog with a never-ending night. The alleys have the thickest amount of fog and have barely any lights, with the town square having the brightest lights and least amount of fog. The town square is the [starting point].
Seemingly affable and pleasant, he always has a smile on his face and acts rather polite towards others. He acts rather shifty and suspicious though, along with being prone to telling truths and half-truths, but never an outright lie. The other one you'll get to likely know of Cirnu's past lives.
"Oh? Fufu, who could've possibly thought we'd ever actually meet."
"Good to meet you, [outlander from reality]~. I've always been watching you from the [Abyss]. [We] all have~."
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Cereus (symbol is a night-blooming flower)- One of the earlier incarnations before Caligo. Known as the "Le Petit Umbra Prince".
Race: Half-Human, half-Fae
Gender: Male
Territory: [Empty White Tower] -- A tower castle surrounded by a snowy weather. Despite its appearance, it's actually rather spacious on the inside with winding and moving staircases that lead to various different rooms; some lead to nowhere, some are locked, some are peculiar, and some are normal. The top of the tower is where Cereus resides.
Quiet and has very few words to say, and is the type of person to say only what he wants to say and sometimes they end up sounding rather vague. Has a gloomy expression which contrasts his rather unique appearance compared to the others. Meeting him is a random happenstance.
"Hm...? Oh... you're... one of those from... the [reality outside], aren't you...?"
".... It's best... that you leave now.... if you get closer to the [Abyss]... then [that person] will...."
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Erebus (symbol is a black gem)- the "first" incarnation. Known as the "Night's Beginning".
Race: Dwarf
Gender: Male
Territory: [Dark Mountain of Yore] -- Nothing in this [territory] exists except this mountain. Everything else beyond this sight is but pure darkness. At the top of the mountain you will see the statue of a horned Devil.
A very mysterious and distant person. His presence alone should be enough to say that he's dangerous despite rather passive and a person of few words. The rarest one you'll ever get to even meet.
"....... Welcome to the Abyss. [Child of the future]. [Outlander from reality]."
"If you have no further business with [Us], then I highly suggest that you follow that [young one] back to [reality] lest your spirit get absorbed into the [Void].
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Each generation is capable of interacting with the previous ones and vice-versa. However, taking complete control over the current generation's body and life is forbidden.
Sharing of memories is allowed, but there's restrictions on how much information can be shared in order for the current generation to "exist and live as their own person".
It is possible for those from [reality] to enter the current generation's subconsciousness and interact with the previous lives... so long as they don't get lost finding their way back to the [starting point].
Each [territory] can be modified by their respective [User], but the [starting point] can never be removed, only moved some place else and only after a certain amount of time has passed.
Cirnu's known about some of her past lives ever since she was young. But even she doesn't know exactly HOW MANY there are or just exactly how long the [reincarnation] has been going on.
#twisted wonderland#twst#disney twisted wonderland#disney twst#oc#twst oc#disney twst oc#cirnu alva valrigethen#twst cirnu#disney twst cirnu#oc lore#twst sybil#twst caligo#twst cereus#twst erebus#heehee lore info dump go brrrrr#🤡🤡🤡#i've been keeping this info to myself for god knows how long#mainly because who the hell else would be interested in this lore hhhaskjdsa#writing
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Into the Great Unknown
They still had their swords held out in front of them, Sylvie a half-step ahead of him as they peered down a long corridor that ended in a large, ornately carved stone door. Despite the enormity of the castle, there were no other paths to take. The entire place reeked of magic, and it worried him. It felt too much like a trap, like they were being herded toward something.
“Stay sharp,” he whispered to her unnecessarily. A withering glare was his only answer, and he shrugged a shoulder. “Come on.”
They crept slowly down the hall, every step measured and careful as they scanned the area for threats. As they neared the door, a soft green rune appeared on the intricate symbols carved there and it slid open, revealing a brightly lit chamber within. Pillars of black stone rose fifty feet to a marbled ceiling swirling with greens and golds. The entire back wall was a large window looking out onto the Space Beyond Time, a black, inky void filled with swirls of brilliant color as the Sacred Timeline weaved itself together with each passing moment. Sconces on the walls flickered with impossibly white light, illuminating every corner of what was clearly a throne room. A long, dark green carpet stretched from the door to a shallow series of steps that led up to a raised dais just in front of the window. Atop that, an enormous throne sat draped in fine silks of black and gold, and in the chair sat a lone figure.
“Welcome.”
Read on Ao3
#loki#loki spoilers#fic#au#loki laufeyson#sylvie#pro sylki#lovedaggers#OTP: I Just Want You to Be Okay#Alternate Ending#what if#Kang is not the BBEG#fight scene#but not THE fight scene
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Double stitched - Rewrite
Finally did the rewrite :D
A lot of Double stitched is out of date and no longer canon in Dreamswap, so I’ve been wanting to fix it for a while... and now I will :)
Probably A LOT of the series will need some rewriting, better working with Ink, Dream, Blue, Nightmare- all the characters... And Underverse Error espically... because well, I didn’t really get to work too well with the canon of his character at the time-keep in mind I wrote this two years ago and finished the series a year ago-so After a while of thinking I started working on it and I’m super exicted to share it! :)
(For those that don’t remember, this is a little Errorcest, just a random idea of if UnderVerse Error got stuck in DreamSwap, and somehow I made it gay. I chose not to question it myself and just rewrite the story.)
FIXED DOUBLE STITCHED SO THE DREAMSWAP CHARACTERS ARE HUMAN LIKE THEY ARE IN ONEBIZZAREKIA’S CANON
Also, for once, I did do the glitching, and from now on will be trying to pre-write chapter so I can make it more accurate and go over mistakes, as well as do the glitching to make it a little more Error. There is a difference between DS!Error’s and UV!Error’s glitching though, but only slight, just enough so you can tell without me saying it.
Chapter 1
Previous(The original series) - First(Here) - Next
Groaning, the glitched skeleton woke up, body sore from fighting, bones creaking in protest, wanting more rest. Where was he? Last his buzzing mind could remember he was fighting Ink, then the stupid squid teleported him away from the near destruction of the Au they were in. He couldn’t have been teleported far… but his surroundings said otherwise.
Sitting up and looking around, he was in the Anti Void, but it didn’t feel like it. What was that damned place Core brought survivors to-wasn’t that place supposed to look like the Anti Void? This new place felt foreign, his magic somewhere in it, but different elements. More basic, not his destructive magic that came with his title as a god.
How far away was he teleported? The Anti Void was vast, but there’s no way he made it back to where he first entered, way back to when he was only a pathetic Geno variant.
Searching the space, he felt two more presences of magic, one that was near identical to the Cross he knew and another that felt like a toned-down version of Nightmare, the same amount of magic as that little insolent guardian Dream.
Why would Cross, much less someone with the same magic presence as Nightmare, be in the Anti Void?
Quickly, the destroyer opened serval windows, checking on the AUs, confirming if they were all still the same. They weren’t.
A large, near castle-like building with a “JR” logo plastered on its front sign, was in place of Nightmare’s mansion, a god-like human version of Dream judging by the crown, and a pretty normal-looking human Ink talking and possibly looking over the paper’s in the room he checked on.
When did Dream get so tall? Or get wings? His outfit was totally different too. The crown still sat perched on his skull, but he had the tunic he used to wear, just a different color-a plain brown, with a yellow flaming jacket over it. The cuffs and hood of which were fluffy. An odd trinket sat just under the fold of his collar too, what looked like an ovular spiked sun with a red jewel resting in the middle. He was also wearing basic pants and tied shoes, completely different from the normal boots and battle gear that the destroyer was used to seeing. His skin was almond, eyes blood shot with yellow-pupils a darker yellow to stand out, and hair dark blonde. Looking neat and kept, parted off to the side of his head.
Even Ink was different, dull colors instead of the vibrant ones the artist usually had. Dull grays, dirty browns and bronze colored his outfit. The only thing still vibrant about him being the being his colorful expression of boredom and the shiny “JR” pin on his paintless peanut brown scarf. It was weird. A simple black t-shirt, plain brown jacket with dark gray cuffs and hood, coin gray shorts, boring lace-up ankle shoes. Honestly, the only thing that looked the same was the paint stain on his cheek.
Inks skin was reddish golden, darker freckles peaking out from underneath the paint stain and across his face. His eyes were still mismatched, one green and the other orange. His bright blonde hair was shaved on the sides and swooped over to the right, showing off the double gold piercings in his ears. Ash gray tattoos peaked out from underneath his shorts, curling and crawling down his calves with long bold designs. His paint brush had changed as well, barely noticeable from a distance, a long thin pole with a small long tuff of hair at the end, the “JR” pin hanging on as an accessory by some decorated strings.
The different Ink seemed to get fed up with the god-Dream and left the room, flipping the bird and showing off brown fingerless gloves as well.
“MaybE THIs Ink and I cOuLd gET aLOnG...” He chuckled, before moving his attention to the next window he had opened, surprisingly not far from the god-Dream.
Some version of Blueberry was there static and glitching, small white blocks littering his left eye. Just like Dream and Ink, his outfit was different too and he was also human. Instead of a tattered and worn bandana, he wore a long blue scarf, a long-sleeved half blue half spiked white sweater, plain pants, and blue boots. His skin was a pale vanilla, and eyes a light blue, matching well with his light fawn brown hair. Was he stalking the god-Dream?! Jeez, this was definitely not his multiverse.
Abruptly, not minutes after Ink left, Blue got out of his hiding spot and strutted into Dream’s office, the look on the Guardian’s face was priceless. Man, now he wants to see the little baby grandpa in his multiverse have an actually pissed face.
Deciding that the expression was too much, he scouted for any other’s he could recognize, swiftly finding a human Cross and another human that looked like a purple version of the Dream he knew. At least this Cross looked a little less dorky, and less complicated outfit. That ridiculously big hood was gone, and he wore a simple black long sleeved shirt instead of a turtle neck, his scarf still wrapped around his neck but split off into two ends. Instead of X’s being extra accessories, they were actually in the design of the shirt and shorts, the shoes still owning a cross on each, the color changed to a pitch black. Still not a color in sight except the red scar that adorned his cheek and the single red eye that showed Chara was still very active in this world, the other eye grey.
His skin was quite literally white, as pale and plain as the AntiVoid. His hair was white as well, although a little duller, like a drop of grey mixed in with pure white paint. His hair was styled to meet together at the top, he couldn’t help but laugh at the fact it looked like a trimmed bush. Much like the Ink he had seen earlier, this Cross had piercings, a single black circle on the bottom of each earlobe.
“Nightmare!” This multiverse’s Cross yelled to the purple Dream, who innocently poked his head out of what was probably his room, “Did you put dye in my toothpaste?!” The destroyer just had to turn the window around to see- yep, purple-tinted teeth. At least this Nightmare seemed to be somewhat evil.
He couldn’t help but laugh, all the same, he was so… short. A crown similar to Dream’s sat snug on his head parting his bangs and the rest of his hair, but instead of curving in, at the middle sat a plate with a waxing crescent engraved into it. His skin was nearly the same color as the Dream he had seen before, just a tad darker, light purple eyes beaming through the shade of his untidy and mess bangs. This Nightmare also wore a tunic similar to the God-Dreams, but instead of a plain brown, he wore one that was black lined with white that was short-sleeved, and a torn-up purple scarf hung off his shoulders with a waxing crescent pin holding it together. Purple boots decorated his feet in contrast to slippers covered in tarry goo. They were completely different people at least from physical appearance. He had no clue about their personality yet.
Finally, he searched for one person specifically, where was this multiverse’s version of himself? Was he out giddily destroying AUs? Taking souls to add to his collection? Not even close, just being wimpy and knitting together some doll while sitting in a random OuterTale timeline.
Their outfit was terribly plain too, not that he was incredibly good at fashion, but he does have eyelights. Simple short sleeve hoodie, plain boring short scarf, boring red shirt, simple gloves, dark shorts, and high laced boots. His skin was dark like his own bones, this versions dark brown hair pulled back and braided into long dreadlocks.
Changing the window to a portal, he jumped out of the weird Anti Void and landed nearby the other, startling the skeleton some.
“WhO-O...?” They tried to start but was swiftly cut off.
“I gOt sOmE quEsTIOns, buddy.” His glitching voice explained, getting straight to the point, “I dOn’T knOw wHaT muLTIvERsE I’m In, oR hOw ThE HeLl I gOT HeRE.” He continued, noticing that there was another difference, their eyes. This multiverse’s Error not sharing the red back-drop, his left eye yellow, and the right red. Curved red rimmed glasses sitting just in front of them. The tear stains there but altered incredibly, a near electric blue flowing down his cheeks like cracks in glass “BuT I dO knOw THaT yOu’RE an aLTERnaTE vERsIOn Of mE and I nEEd answERs.”
The other Error stared at him, confused, they seemed to both have the glitching and error messages at least.
“Okay…? I guEss? Sit dOwn and I’ll tRy-Ry and hElp yOu, u-uh, OthER… mE?”
“NO fIGhT? JEEz, THIs muLTIvERsE Is wImpy and wEIRd.” The destroyer commented, sitting down a yard or so away from the other, haphephobia making it difficult to sit any closer.
“BEfORE any quEstiOns, wE shOuld pRObably gEt this namE thing sOrtEd, uh-” His alternate spoke, voice not nearly as glitchy as his. Suddenly, the other Error snapped his fingers, “YOu glitch mORE than mE! WE can call yOu Glitch- and I guEss I can gO by…” The other skeleton looked down at his hands, “...StRings.”
“ALrIghT, STrINGs, wHaT’s GOInG On In THIs muLTIvERsE? SO faR, DREam sOmEHOw gOT wInGs, Ink and I cOuLd acTuaLLy GeT aLOnG fOR OncE, BluE Is a sTaLkER and GLiTChy, NiGHTmaRE isn’t cOvEREd In TaR, CROss acTuaLLy sHOws EmOTIOns, and yOu jusT sEEm LIkE a wImpy LEss amazInG vERsIOn Of mE. And EvEryOnE’s Human.”
Strings gave him a confused look, especially on the part of them being humans, mixed with a glare for the comment.
“Can yOu Explain hOw yOuR multivERsE is?” The other Error asked through gritted yellow teeth, another shared trait.
“SuRE? Ink’s an emOTIOnLEss ass, DREam’s a usELEss prOTEcTOR wITH a babyfacE-but sTILL can be an ass and GeT In my way, BluE Is a dETERmInEd paIn In THe ass, NIgHTmaRE’s a smaRT ass, CROss Is aLsO an emOTIOnLEss ass, and Of cOuRsE, I’m awEsOmE and back tO dEsTROyInG AUs afTeR THaT squId bROkE OuR sTupId TRucE.” Glitch said simply, leaning back against the rocks and staring up into space, “In summaRy, EvERyOnE’s an assHoLE THaT GeT’s In my way, buT THe dRama Is beTtER THan UndERNovELa sO I can’T cOmpLaIn tOO much. Plus, wE’RE aLL skELETOns, wHITE bOnEs, ExcEpT fOR mE, and NIGHTmaRE I guEss.”
Strings hummed in reply, not fully happy with the explanation, mainly because of the destroying AUs part, but not wanting to fight at the moment. Leisurely, he started to get back to work on the doll he had started to work on before Glitch randomly appeared.
The destroyer looked over to the other at the sound of needles clicking fast, sitting back up as he watched Strings proficiently and easily knit away at the doll. His hands moving quickly, looping around and pulling more string from his eyes on occasion, method well-practiced.
“HeH,” Glitch let a chuckle escape, “nO maTTeR tHe muLTIvERsE, I can aT LEasT cOunT On OTHeR mE’s knOwInG hOw To knIT.”
“And hERe I thOught I was wimpy and lEss amazing, mR.EgO cOmplEx.” Strings joked sarcastically, smirking all the while. Slightly slowing his pace down to talk easier, he asked: “YOu knit tOO? DEspitE bEing an all-mighty dEstrOyER oR whatEvER?”
“Of cOuRsE I dO! BEsT pasT TImE, asIdE fROm UndERNOvELLa.” He smiled slightly, not used to doing it so carefree, only ever really smiling at the chaotic destruction of an AU.
Time went on like that, just them talking. Finding their few differences but mostly sharing their commonalities. It felt like hours had passed by in the blink of an eye when in reality, they hadn’t been talking for that long. Their conversation was abruptly stopped when a portal opened behind them, two figures running out of it.
“Night? CROss? What are yOu guys dOing hErE?” Strings asked, standing up and running over to his friends, Glitch watching awkwardly from a distance.
“You’ve been gone for hours!” Cross shouted, nearly lurching at strings before stopping himself. Strings, understanding what he was going for, slowly eased into hugging him, “We were worried… if Dream found you...”
“PlEasE, guys, I’m the OnE that busts yOu twO Out. I’m finE.” Strings assured.
Glitch, feeling left out, decided to walk over and get introductions out of the way.
“HEaRTfElt REunIOn, whaTevER, I’m kInda sTuck heRE and fROm a dIffEREnT muLTIvERsE, sO yEaH.” Glitch swiftly interrupted, standing somewhat near the group of housemates or whatever they were. Strings didn’t mention specifically what they were to him.
“SoRRy, GlItch. Night, CROss, this is Glitch- An ErROr fROm a diffEREnt multivERsE.” Strings gestured, not surprised when his counterpart didn’t accept the handshake from Nightmare and instead moved away from it. “Glitch, this is my NightmarE and CROss, my bEst fRiEnds, tEammatEs, annOying hOusEmatEs...”
“Rude.” Cross spoke up, but a small smile appeared with the comment, Strings rolling his eye lights to the stars, Glitch only nodding in acceptance.
“So… uh,” Nightmare tried to converse, “How different is your multiverse?”
Dreamswap, concept and outfits, all belongs to @onebizarrekai
Ink belongs to @comyet
Error belongs to @loverofpiggies
Cross & underverse belong to @jakei95
Blue belongs to the community
Nightmare and Dream belong to the community
#Undertale#Fanfic#double stitched#Chapter 1#Double Stitched chapter 1#Dreamswap#Dreamswap Dream#Dream#Dreamswap Nightmare#Nightmare#Dreamswap Ink#Ink#Dreamswap Cross#Cross#Dreamswap Blue#Blue#YES THE BASTARD IS BACK#Dreamswap Error#Error#Underverse#Underverse Error#UV Error x DS Error#DS Error x UV Error#Errorcest#Glitch x Strings#Strings x Glitch
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