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tosomeonessomeone · 2 months

Text

f*cking mine.

words・ 5.8k /pairings・ Vampire Lee know x Afab!reader / genres・ thrilling?/ warnings・ intercourse, mentions of alcoholic drinks and drugs, minors DNI.

Hello lovely ones! At last, it has arrived ✨ I might have gotten a bit carried away with the plot and added some extra spice 😅, so if you’re underaged, you know the drill. 🐈‍⬛ anon, hope you enjoy it! Ps. yes.. I did a mood board for this fic.

YN and her friends eagerly embarked on their October adventure, seeking the thrill of Halloween in the heart of an eerie forest. Nestled among the trees stood their chosen sanctuary: a rustic cabin, beckoning with promises of mystery and excitement.

As the night deepened, laughter mingled with the rustle of leaves outside. After a lot of booze and a couple joints, truth or dare became their group game of choice, fueling the evening with daring challenges and revealing confessions. Amidst the flickering candlelight, an irresistible dare emerged from the shadows.

One of YN's friends, eyes glinting mischievously, proposed the ultimate challenge: to explore the forbidden path marked by a foreboding sign that declared, "road not taken." The warning was clear, but so was the allure of the unknown.

Despite the lingering doubt, YN felt a surge of adrenaline coursing through her veins, heightened by the warmth of intoxication.

As YN stepped cautiously along the winding trail, her friends' voices lingered in her mind, their laughter echoing through the dense foliage like a distant melody.

"I can't believe you're actually doing this, YN!" Ella’s voice chimed in her memory, tinged with a hint of disbelief.

"Yeah, this is like straight out of a horror movie," remarked Mia, her tone laced with excitement.

YN couldn't help but chuckle at the thought, her breath forming a misty cloud in the cool night air. "Well, what's life without a little adventure, right?"

"True that," came Hyo’s voice, her tone filled with encouragement. "Just don't get lost out there, okay? We don't need a real-life Blair Witch situation on our hands."

The mention of the infamous horror film elicited nervous laughter from YN, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. "Don't worry, I'll find my way back," she reassured them, her voice carrying a note of determination.

With determined steps, YN ventured into the darkness, guided by the faint glow of moonlight filtering through the dense canopy above. Each footfall echoed against the forest floor, mingling with the whispers of ancient trees and the flutter of unseen creatures.

The path stretched before her, winding deeper into the heart of the forest with every passing moment. Shadows danced on the edges of her vision, casting doubt and uncertainty upon her path.

The forest enveloped her in its embrace, shrouding her senses in a cloak of mystery and wonder. Every rustle of leaves, every creak of branches, held the promise of adventure and danger intertwined.

As she ventured further along the winding trail, the night itself seemed to hold its breath, anticipation hanging heavy in the air. Yet, despite the whispers of caution that echoed in her mind, YN pressed on, driven by an insatiable thirst for discovery.

YN ventured deeper into the forest, her footsteps echoing against the tangled undergrowth, she stumbled upon another cabin, its weathered facade a stark contrast to the one she and her friends called home for the night. The sight of the aged structure sent a shiver down her spine, its timeworn exterior whispering tales of long-forgotten secrets and untold mysteries.

Pausing at the foot of the rickety stairs, YN couldn't help but feel a surge of curiosity tugging at her senses. The door, oddly ajar, beckoned to her like a siren's call, promising a glimpse into the unknown depths of the past. For a moment, she hesitated, torn between the allure of exploration and the lingering sense of caution that gnawed at her conscience.

"Okay, YN, let's not get too carried away here," she murmured to herself, her voice barely above a whisper. "This is definitely starting to feel like something out of a horror movie."

As YN turned to leave, her heart skipped a beat as she was startled to find a man standing at the foot of the steps, his presence looming like a shadow against the fading light of dusk. In the dimness, his features were cast in obscurity, a silhouette shrouded in mystery and intrigue.

Frozen in place, YN's eyes traced the outline of the stranger's figure, noting the striking contrast of his dark hair against the pallor of his skin. His attire, adorned with chains that glinted in the fading light, spoke of a persona both enigmatic and alluring, drawing her gaze inexorably towards his face.

Caught off guard by his sudden appearance, YN struggled to find her voice amidst the silence that hung heavy between them. And as the stranger's gaze met hers with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine, he spoke, his voice a low murmur that echoed in the stillness of the forest.

"Can I help you?" His words, tinged with an air of mystery, hung in the air like a question waiting to be answered, his eyes searching hers for some semblance of recognition or understanding.

Summoning her courage, YN met the stranger's gaze with a steadiness born of determination. "I... I was just exploring," she replied, her voice trembling slightly with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity. "I didn't mean to intrude."

As the words tumbled from her lips, YN found herself caught in the currents of a moment suspended in time, the air alive with the promise of possibility and the lingering scent of uncertainty.

"Uhh..." YN hesitated, her voice trembling with uncertainty. "I was dared to travel down the trail..." Her words faltered as she reached out to steady herself against the door frame, the weight of the man's scrutiny bearing down upon her.

As the man's gaze lingered on her, YN felt a flush of embarrassment color her cheeks, acutely aware of the disapproval etched into his features. His raised eyebrow spoke volumes, a silent accusation that hung heavy in the air between them.

"So you thought you could explore my house, huh?" The man's words cut through the silence like a knife, his tone laced with thinly veiled contempt.

YN mumbled her explanation, a quick shake of her head accompanied her apology. "No, just the trail. I apologize, I wasn’t going to enter,” she muttered, her voice quivering with a mixture of fear and apprehension.

The man stood there, his gaze piercing through her, his silence hanging heavy in the air like a looming storm. Seconds passed like eternities as YN waited, her nerves on edge, her senses heightened to the slightest movement.

"You do realize that you’re lucky to come across me here. These woods are not a safe place for a young girl like you to be wandering all alone," he murmured, his words a somber reminder of the dangers that lurked in the shadows.

YN swallowed hard, her throat dry with fear, her mind racing with a myriad of possibilities. The gravity of the situation weighed heavily upon her, the realization sinking in that she stood on the precipice of something far more sinister than she had ever imagined.

Then, with deliberate steps, the man began to approach her slowly, each footfall echoing ominously in the stillness of the night. YN's heart raced as she felt the weight of his presence bearing down upon her, making it difficult for her to even lift her gaze to meet his.

With each step backward, YN's heart pounded against her chest like a drumbeat of impending doom. The urge to flee surged within her, fueled by the primal instinct to escape the clutches of the unknown.

But fate, it seemed, had other plans.

As YN edged backward, her back hit the wall near the door, a momentary lapse that threatened to plunge her into the depths of uncertainty. Her pulse quickened, her breath caught in her throat, as she teetered on the brink of danger. The rough texture of the wall against her skin served as a stark reminder of the confined space, trapping her in the predator's den.

He stopped just in front of her, his figure towering over her like a specter in the moonlight. His voice, soft yet laden with an undercurrent of warning, sent shivers down YN's spine.

Every fiber of her being screamed for escape as she stood pinned against the barrier, her senses heightened to the looming threat that loomed before her.

Her mind raced with a thousand thoughts, each one a desperate plea for escape, as she stood frozen in the shadow of his presence. The weight of his touch pressed against her, a tangible reminder of the darkness that lurked within the depths of the forest.

"These are my woods,” he leaned in, whispering close to her ears.

YN's voice trembled as she whispered, her words echoing in the stillness of the night. "Y-your woods?" she repeated, her disbelief palpable in the quiver of her tone.

The man's response sent a chill down her spine, his voice dripping with possessiveness and entitlement. "Yes, dear, my woods," he murmured, his words a chilling reminder of the power he held over the domain in which they stood. "This place belongs to me, and anyone who wanders in is fair game for me to play with."

YN's breath caught in her throat, the weight of his words sinking in like an anchor dragging her deeper into the abyss. The realization dawned on her with a sickening clarity: she was at the mercy of a predator, a wolf among sheep, lurking in the darkness of the forest.

In that moment, fear and defiance warred within her, each vying for dominance over her trembling form.

"Would you like to know my name, darling?" His voice was a sinister whisper, laden with promises of power and submission. "I shall warn you, however, that once you say it, you will become subservient to my every whim and bound to serve me."

Her heart hammered against her chest as he spoke, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air like a dark cloud. YN's mind raced with uncertainty, torn between the allure of knowledge and the fear of what it might entail.

As he stepped back, giving her space to consider his offer, YN felt the weight of his gaze bearing down upon her. His challenge hung in the air like a dare, tempting her to take the plunge into the unknown.

"Are you brave enough to take on the challenge?" His words echoed in the stillness of the night, a test of her courage and resilience in the face of overwhelming darkness.

With a mixture of trepidation and curiosity coursing through her veins, YN summoned her courage and faced the man with the glowing red eyes. Despite the warning echoing in her mind, she couldn't resist the pull of the unknown, the tantalizing allure of discovering his name.

"I... I want to… know your name," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath, her heart pounding with anticipation and fear.

With a sly smile curling his lips, the man leaned in closer, his eyes glowing with an otherworldly intensity. "My name is Lee Minho, but for a sweet thing like you, you can call me Minho," he murmured, his voice a seductive whisper that sent a shiver down YN's spine.

As the revelation of Minho's name hung in the air like a shroud of darkness, YN felt a momentary lull in the tension that gripped the forest. The weight of his identity settled upon her like a heavy cloak, its implications stretching far beyond the confines of the haunted woods.

In the stillness of the night, Minho regarded her with a knowing smile, his eyes gleaming with an otherworldly light. Yet, amidst the shadows that danced around them, a spark of curiosity ignited within him.

"And what, may I ask, is your name, my dear?" Minho's voice carried a hint of amusement, his words tinged with a sense of intrigue.

YN hesitated for a moment, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily upon her. Yet, in the face of the unknown, she summoned her courage and met his gaze with determination.

"My name is YN," she replied, her voice steady despite the tumult of emotions swirling within her.

As the sound of her name echoed in the darkness, YN felt a sense of empowerment wash over her, a reminder of her own agency amidst the chaos that surrounded them.

In that moment, she knew that she had crossed a threshold from which there was no turning back. YN found herself inexplicably drawn to Minho, like a moth to a flame, unable to resist the magnetic pull of his presence. There was something about him that transcended the darkness surrounding him, something that spoke to the depths of her soul.

As she stood in his shadow, YN felt a strange sense of familiarity, as if she had known him in another life, in another time. His eyes held secrets untold, mysteries waiting to be unraveled, and despite the danger that lurked within their depths, she couldn't tear her gaze away.

With each moment that passed, the fear that once gripped her heart began to wane, replaced by a curious fascination that defied reason. There was an allure to Lee Minho, a darkness tempered by a glimmer of something more, something that called out to her in the depths of the night.

In his presence, YN felt a sense of belonging, a connection that transcended the boundaries of time and space. And as she stood on the precipice of the unknown, she knew that her fate was intertwined with his, bound by the threads of destiny that wove their way through the tapestry of their lives.

As YN's voice quivered with a mixture of fear and anticipation, she summoned the courage to voice the question that weighed heavily on her mind. "What are you going to do to me?" she asked, her words echoing in the stillness of the night, tinged with uncertainty.

Minho regarded her with an enigmatic smile, his gaze piercing through the shadows that enveloped them. There was a depth to his eyes, a wellspring of secrets and mysteries waiting to be unveiled.

"My dear YN," he began, his voice a melodic whisper that danced on the edge of the wind, "I am bound by the laws of this realm, as are you. What happens next is a journey that we must embark upon together, guided by the currents of fate."

His words held a cryptic resonance, a promise of truths yet to be revealed. YN felt a shiver run down her spine, the weight of his words settling upon her like a heavy cloak.

"In the heart of these woods, we will confront the shadows that linger within our souls," Minho continued, his voice a solemn declaration of intent. "But fear not, for I will be your guide, your protector, and your companion on this journey through the darkness."

As he spoke, YN's gaze lingered on Minho, a chill ran down her spine as she noticed something unsettling: his elongated canines, gleaming in the moonlight, betrayed his true nature—he was a vampire.

The realization struck her like a bolt of lightning, sending shockwaves of fear coursing through her veins. Her heart pounded with a mixture of terror and disbelief as she struggled to comprehend the truth before her.

Finally, YN found her voice, her words trembling with uncertainty. "What... what are you?" she whispered, her voice barely above a breath, her eyes never leaving his.

Minho's smile widened, revealing his gleaming fangs in the moonlight. "I am what you fear most, my dear," he replied, his voice a velvet caress that sent shivers down YN's spine.

Fear and fascination warred within her, each vying for dominance over her trembling form. As Minho's gaze bore into YN's, his voice, smooth and velvety, pierced the silence like a dagger.

"Shall we have dinner?" he asked, his words laced with a subtle invitation that sent a chill down YN's spine.

Minho's question hung in the air, the weight of its implications echoing in the silence that enveloped them. YN's heart raced as she grappled with the surrealness of the moment, the reality of dining with a vampire sinking in like a heavy stone.

The invitation, so innocently posed yet laden with sinister undertones, sent a shiver down YN's spine. Her instincts screamed at her to refuse, to flee from the darkness that threatened to consume her.

With a trembling breath, YN met Lee Minho's gaze, her voice barely above a whisper. "I... I suppose so," she replied, her words tinged with uncertainty, her heart pounding in her chest.

And as they ventured deeper into the heart of his cabin, YN knew that the dinner they shared would be more than just a meal—it would be a dance of shadows and light, a journey into the depths of the unknown, where danger and desire intertwined in a delicate balance.

As they reached the dinning room lit in the soft glow of moonlight and a couple candles, Minho gestured towards a rustic wooden table set with an array of fruits and delicacies. "Please, have a seat," he said, his tone inviting yet tinged with an air of mystery.

YN hesitated for a moment, her mind racing with a thousand questions and uncertainties. But something about Minho's demeanor reassured her, drawing her closer to the table with a sense of cautious curiosity.

As they sat at the rustic wooden table, YN couldn't shake the sense of surrealness that hung in the air like a thick fog. Minho's presence, though captivating, sent shivers down her spine, a constant reminder of the darkness that lurked beneath his charming facade.

Minho poured a glass of deep red wine, his movements graceful and deliberate. "Please, indulge yourself," he said, offering the glass to YN with a small, enigmatic smile.

YN hesitated for a moment, her fingers hovering over the glass, before finally accepting it with a nervous nod of thanks. As she took a sip, the rich, velvety taste flooded her senses, warming her from the inside out.

"So, YN," Minho began, his voice low and melodic, "tell me more about yourself. What secrets do you carry in that beautiful mind of yours?"

YN's heart raced as she searched for words, her thoughts a jumbled mess of fear and fascination. "I... I'm just a girl, really," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "Nothing special."

As YN sat there, she couldn't shake the feeling of being nothing more than prey in the presence of a predator. His gaze, though captivating, held an intensity that sent a chill down her spine, a reminder of the darkness that lurked behind his charming facade.

Minho's eyes danced with amusement as he listened to YN's hesitant words, his lips curling into a small, knowing smile. "Just a girl, you say?" he mused, his voice a soft purr that sent shivers down her spine. "I find that hard to believe."

YN's heart raced as she met his gaze, her pulse quickening with each passing moment. She could feel the weight of his scrutiny, his eyes devouring her with a hunger that sent a thrill of fear and excitement coursing through her veins.

As they sat and dined in the flickering light of the moon, YN couldn't shake the feeling of being nothing more than a mere mortal in the presence of a creature far beyond her understanding. And as Minho's gaze lingered on her, she knew that she was merely a pawn in a game of shadows and light, a game where the stakes were higher than she could have ever imagined.

Minho got up at some point and walked closer, closing the distance between them, YN's heart thundered in her chest, her breath catching in her throat as she felt the heat of his body leaning over hers. Trapped between him and the chair, she could feel the weight of his presence pressing in on her, suffocating her with its intensity.

With a gentle touch, Minho reached out, his fingers brushing against her cheek skin like a whisper of silk. YN's breath hitched at the contact, her senses ablaze with a mixture of fear and anticipation.

"Shh, my dear," Minho murmured, his voice a soft caress against her ear. "There's no need to be afraid."

As Minho's breath caressed YN's neck, she couldn't suppress the shiver that coursed through her body. His words, a whispered caress against her skin, sent a thrill of fear and excitement dancing along her spine.

“You smell viciously delicious," Minho murmured, his voice a low, seductive whisper that sent a shiver down YN's spine. "Makes me hot."

YN's heart pounded in her chest as she struggled to find her voice, the intensity of the moment rendering her speechless. Her mind raced with a thousand thoughts, each one a tangled web of fear and desire.

"Wh-what do you mean?" YN stammered, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes wide with uncertainty.

Minho's eyes gleaming with a hunger that sent a thrill of anticipation coursing through YN's veins. "It means," he murmured, his voice dripping with temptation, "that you are unlike anything I've ever encountered before, you are special."

YN's eyebrows furrowed with confusion, her mind swirling with a whirlwind of emotions. "Wait.. what?" she whispered, her voice barely above a breath, her heart pounding in her chest.

Minho's lips curled into a knowing smile, his eyes shining with an otherworldly light. "I'm simply showing you the truth, my dear," he replied, his voice a velvet whisper that sent shivers down YN's spine. "The truth of who you really are… mine… my mate”

The air crackled with tension as YN felt the heat of his gaze upon her, his proximity igniting a firestorm of emotions within her. She could feel the weight of his words hanging in the air, each syllable laden with a hunger that sent her heart racing.

In that moment, YN's senses were overwhelmed by the heady scent of danger and desire that surrounded her. His words, though filled with a darkness she could scarcely comprehend, held a seductive power that she found herself unable to resist.

As Minho's tongue traced a soft line along YN's neck, a tremor of sensation rippled through her body, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through her veins. His touch, though gentle, ignited a firestorm of desire within her, awakening a primal instinct she never knew existed.

YN's breath caught in her throat as Minho's lips kissing a sweet spot near her ear, his kiss sending waves of heat cascading through her. In that moment, the world around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the intoxicating allure of the night and the enigmatic figure who held her captive with his touch.

"Your skin," he whispered, his voice a soft caress in the night air, "it sings to me. A melody of temptation and longing."

YN's pulse quickening with each word that fell from his lips. She felt herself drowning in the depths of his gaze, lost in a world where desire and danger danced in a tantalizing embrace.

"In the darkness," he continued, his voice low and melodic, "we are free. Free to explore the depths of our desires, to succumb to the pull of the night."

With a graceful step backward, Minho gently took YN's hand, his touch sending a surge of electricity coursing through her veins. In the dim light of his cabin, his eyes gleamed with an otherworldly allure, drawing her deeper into the shadows.

"Come," he murmured, his voice a soft echo in the night, "there is much to discover.".

With a silent nod, YN followed Minho into the darkness, her heart ablaze with the promise of adventure and discovery. For in the depths through the walls, she would find the truest expression of herself, and the secrets that lay hidden in the depths of her soul.

Minho's touch was gentle yet possessive as he guided her through the labyrinthine corridors, each twist and turn a step deeper into the heart of the unknown.

And as they reached his room, bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, YN felt a surge of anticipation course through her veins.

As she felt his grip tighten around her waist, YN's eyes widened, her heart racing with a mixture of fear and desire. The air crackled with tension as she met his gaze, her eyes searching for answers in the depths of his own.

As Minho's hand trailed from her side to her nape, she felt a shiver run down her spine. She knew that this kiss was going to be different, that it was going to be dangerous. And as his lips met hers in a slow burn kiss, she felt his fangs brush against her lower plump lip.

She knew that she should pull away, that she should resist the temptation that Minho offered. But she couldn't help herself. She was drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

As his tongue slipped into her mouth, she tasted the danger and the passion that he offered. She knew that this was a kiss that could destroy her, that could leave her broken and shattered.

And as the kiss finally ended, she knew that she was lost. Lost in the passion and the danger that Minho offered, lost in a world where pleasure and pain were one and the same. But she didn't care. She had tasted the forbidden fruit, and she knew that she would never be the same again.

As Minho's hand slid down to her back, she felt a jolt of electricity run through her. His touch was electric, sending shivers down her spine. And as his other hand played with the bare skin on her waist, she felt a warmth spreading through her body that she had never felt before.

As he kissed his way down to her neck, she felt her heart racing with anticipation. As his lips brushed against her neck, she felt a surge of desire wash over her.

"Are you going to bite me?" she whispered, her voice trembling with uncertainty.

Lee Minho's eyes held a glimmer of amusement, a knowing smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Not unless you want me to," he murmured, his voice a soft caress against her skin.

With a trembling breath, YN met Minho's gaze with unwavering resolve, her heart ablaze with the thrill of the unknown.

As Minho's lips brushed against her skin, YN's breath hitched in her throat, her heart pounding with a mixture of fear and longing.

"I want to taste you fully," His voice was a soft murmur against her ear, his words sending a shiver down her spine, "before dragging my teeth on your beautiful neck and drinking your blood… marking you as mine"

As Minho slowly undressed her, YN felt a thrill of excitement run through her body. She slowly undressed him in return, she felt a sense of power and control wash over her. She knew that she had him in her grasp too, that she could make him do anything she wanted.

As YN's naked body glowed under the moonlight, Minho couldn't help but let out an animalistic sound, like a predator who had found its prey. He was consumed with desire for her, and he kissed her with a passion and need that left her breathless.

YN surrendered to Minho completely, knowing that she was his to do with as he pleased. She felt his hands roaming over her body, exploring every curve and crevice, and she moaned with pleasure as he took her to new heights of ecstasy.

As Minho moved YN's body slowly towards his king-sized bed, she felt a shiver of excitement run through her. She knew that she was completely at his mercy, and she surrendered to him willingly.

He leaned her down onto her back, and as he kissed down her chest, she felt a wave of pleasure wash over her. He tasted her breasts, making her let out soft moans of pleasure, and she arched her back in response.

Minho's actions were possessive and dominant, and they sent a thrill of excitement through YN's body. She knew that she was completely under his control, and she loved every moment of it.

He whispered in her ear, "You belong to me, and only me. I'll never let anyone else touch you like this."

YN shivered with pleasure at his words, feeling a sense of safety and security in his possessiveness. She knew that he would always protect her, no matter what.

As YN laid on Minho's bed, her body aching with desire, he continued to explore her with his lips and tongue. He moved down her chest, taking one of her breasts into his mouth and teasing it with his tongue.

YN moaned softly, arching her back and offering herself up to him completely. She had never felt so alive, so desired, so wanted.

Minho continued to kiss and lick his way down her body, stopping only to tease her belly button with his tongue before moving further down.

He leaned in, kissing the inside of her thigh before moving to her center, where he began to explore her with his tongue, sending waves of pleasure coursing through her body.

YN moaned louder, her body writhing with pleasure as Minho continued to pleasure her in ways she had never imagined possible. And as she reached the heights of ecstasy, she knew that she was his, completely and utterly, forever.

As Minho continued to kiss and lick his way up to YN's body, he couldn't help but feel a sense of dominance and ownership over her.

"You're mine," he growled, his voice low and husky. "No one else can ever have you like this. You're my little plaything.”

YN moaned in response, her body trembling with desire as Minho continued to explore her with his lips and tongue. She had never felt so wanted, so desired, so owned.

As Minho locked YN in between his arms, he looked deeply into her eyes and asked her, "Whose are you?"

YN whimpered in response, feeling a sense of pleasure and submission at his possessive words. She looked up at him with desire-filled eyes and replied, "I'm yours, all yours. I belong to you completely."

Minho smiled, a look of satisfaction on his face. He knew that he had complete control over her, and that she would do anything he asked of her.

"Good girl," he said, his voice low and commanding. "You're mine now, and I'm going to make you feel so good."

And with that, he leaned down and captured her lips with his, kissing her deeply and passionately as they lost themselves in a world of pleasure and desire.

As Minho continued to kiss YN deeply, he let his hand travel down between her legs to find it wet. He chuckled as he felt how wet she already was, his fingers tracing up and down on her lower region.

"Already so wet for me?" he whispered in her ear, his voice dripping with desire.

YN whimpered and moaned in response, her body trembling with pleasure as he continued to pleasure her with his fingers. She had never felt so alive, so desired, so wanted.

As YN reached down for Minho's manhood, she couldn't help but gasp at how big and hard it felt in her hand. She stroked it slowly, feeling his body tense up with pleasure as he let out a groan.

YN smirked, feeling a sense of power and control as she continued to pleasure him with her hand. She knew that she was driving him wild with desire, and that he would do anything to make her feel good in return.

As YN lined up Minho's member above her wet folds, she bridged closer to him with her other hand on his back. He took the cue and slammed himself into her without warning or waiting for her to adjust, his lips whispering profanities to her.

"Too big for my new plaything, huh?" he taunted. "Wasn't ready for it, baby girl?" He promised her that his fangs would break into her skin later, making her cry out in fear and pleasure.

Her nails found their way to his back, scratching him as he pounded into her with increasing force. She was overwhelmed by the intensity of their passion, and she knew that she was completely at his mercy.

And as Minho continued to take her to new heights of pleasure and pain, YN surrendered completely to him, knowing that she was his forever, body and soul.

YN felt herself getting closer to orgasm, Minho sensed it and brought his face near her neck, kissing and licking it. Her walls clenched around him, and in the right moment, he bit her neck, his canines deep, drawing out her blood, savoring the taste of her blood and the pleasure that he was giving her.

She let out a deliciously moan alongside a groan of pain, the sensation of the pain and her orgasm taking her higher than the things she used with her friends earlier.

Minho continued jamming into YN's feminine parts, he slammed harder and harder until he finally came, painting her walls white with his release.

YN cried out in pleasure as she felt him release inside her, her body trembling with the intensity of their passion. She knew that she had given herself completely to Minho, and that he had taken her to new heights of pleasure that she had never even dreamed of before.

“You taste so good, baby girl," he said, lapping his tongue over the fresh bite. YN felt completely under his spell, lost in a world of pleasure and desire where nothing else mattered except for the two of them and the love that they shared.

As they lathere, spent and breathless, YN felt a chill creeping into her bones, sending a shiver down her spine. Panic flickered in her eyes as she struggled to catch her breath, her mind racing with uncertainty.

Minho's arms wrapped around her, a reassuring presence in the darkness. "It will be quickly," he murmured, his voice a steady anchor in the turmoil that surrounded them.

Her heart pounding, YN's eyes widened in disbelief. "Quick what?!" she exclaimed, her voice tinged with anger and fear, her breaths coming in short gasps.

"Your transformation," Lee Minho stated firmly, his tone unwavering. "You. Are. Mine. Now."

YN's throat tightened at his words, the weight of their implications settling over her like a suffocating blanket. She swallowed hard, her mouth dry with fear, her mind reeling with the enormity of what lay ahead.

In that moment, YN knew that she stood at the precipice of a journey that would irrevocably alter the course of her destiny. With a trembling nod, she silently acknowledged the truth of his words, bracing herself for the darkness that awaited her on the other side.

to be continued?

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loneliestluvr · 2 days

Text

𝑪𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝑯𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒔

part 1. part 2.

pairing: eris vanserra x archeron oc

synopsis: Caught up in a world of hollow grief for her people, her life, and her father, Blair Archeron is forced into a life under the light she wants no part of after ghosting through immortality since being Made. But what she finds, is not what she expects.

warning: depression, worthlessness, cauldron trauma, angst, that’s kinda it for now tbh.

word count: 1.9k

taryn thinks: ive been thinking about eris vanserra for a long time and reading lost bonds by @readychilledwine about tamlin kind of gave me some inspo and motivation i haven’t had in a while to write this. also ttpd because ive been down in the dumps and feeling angsty so… enjoy!! 🫶🏼 i apologize if it’s a bit scrambled lol, i just wanted to write it out.

The fabric Nuala and Cerridwen had dressed her in erased any and all traces of the truth. The destitute it had felt her life became since this newfound immortality ripped everything Blair Archeron had ever known away from her, tucked away. Hidden behind the gauzy chiffon.

There had been small pockets of awareness, of feeling like she had control over herself lately. Where she didn’t rot away in bed, or a chaise— alone and wrapped in the quiet of her mind. Staring into open space, ghosting through whatever this life was.

Those times were hard to come by, and even when the war against Hybern was raging it was decided Blair would stay safe in Velaris. Where she had always remained. Where she did not leave, until today.

It was a pointed argument among their small circle that this life was no better than what Feyre had been through with Tamlin, but Blair did not fight it. Simply… existed inside of it.

It wasn’t that nobody tried to help, they did. They asked questions, gave the second eldest sister every chance to open up. To get out, to experience this new world. To talk.

Elain would argue even when she did, it was mere hollows of the person Blair had been who responded. The echoes that remembered how to speak, that walked so smoothly and carelessly that she seemed to float on a hot wind.

Blair was not fearless, she was not cunning, she was not soft, nor was she anything that her sisters were. She was simply… other.

And maybe that was the furthest thing from simple, that there were no words to describe the ethereal beauty of her hollowness. Maybe there never would be.

Blair didn’t seem to mind, and she got away with it.

Content was the feeling that seemed the most appropriate to describe the life she lead now. Moved into her youngest sisters River Home, with a large room at the end of the house overlooking the winding waters. The gardens Elain had crafted and tended when she wasn’t at the townhouse sat below, the large expanse of the land out to the river in full view. The snow capped mountains that danced across the skyline, one’s she sometimes watched Feyre paint in front of from her window day after day, month after month.

She supposed she had it coming when Nesta was forced to the House of Wind. When her older sister by a mere year had pointed out that Blair had amounted to nothing in the time Nesta had been taken hostage inside that House on the side of the mountain. When Nesta had been expected to work and be something, Blair had still remained as useless as before.

“She is adjusting,” Feyre had argued on Blair’s behalf. Blair had been the kindest of their sisters to Feyre when they were in that cabin, poor and broken and nothing. Who had helped with no qualms, who had genuinely cared for them all— even their seemingly worthless father. “—she did not ask for this, the same as you. At least she is not drinking herself to death.” The smartest of them, as Feyre had described to Rhys’ Inner Circle before those meetings in the mortal realm, others would have thought the same if they knew her before.

Before she became this… thing.

“You let her wither away, sitting about in her sadness and grief and her muteness. I would think she had forgotten how to speak if it weren’t for the utterly mundane responses she gives.” Nesta had barked back at their little sister while Blair sat by the window, unmoving. Her face a mask of cool indifference like she wasn’t quite hearing anyway. “How is what she’s doing any different than what I have? Because she isn’t spending your money? Because she hasn’t tainted Rhysand’s precious Court image?”

She didn’t care how they spoke of her, didn’t care to defend herself from Nesta’s forked tongue— it took more energy than she had to argue. Blair could have washed away right into the water that rushed through the river she stared into for all she cared.

Everything had just gone so… wrong from that point. As if Nesta’s breaking point was seeing her first baby sister be so broken and discarded, she had ripped into a secret nobody had even bothered to tell Feyre or Blair— that Feyre’s babe would kill her.

The rest had been a blur like usual after and here they were, dressed and gowned in the finest clothes they had. In the short time since finding out about Feyre’s deadly predicament, everyone seemingly had agreed with Nesta about Blair’s lack of presence in their court… or any at all.

The only people who knew she existed were those that were present when she was forced into the bitterly cold water of the cauldron. When it had felt as though she drowned, that she had died there and something else had filled her body. Felt as though she could only see herself from outside of her body, outside of whatever she had became.

Blair Archeron would be making her debut to the Court of Nightmares in the same fashion Feyre would be revealing her pregnancy. She didn’t know much else, didn’t care for the details or even why Nesta had been training in dances they both knew since childhood. Just what she was to wear and to come when called.

To admit the dress she was now wearing wasn’t utterly beautiful would be a disgrace in itself, and she looked stunning.

Despite her pointed ears being viewable, Blair’s long and heavy gold-brown hair had been curled gorgeously, cascading down her freckled and fair bare back to cover where her dress did not. Kissing and tickling the skin when she moved her head, half of her hair pulled back from her face into loose twirls and braids.

Her face painted in light cosmetics that she didn’t need. It was no secret that her beauty came first out of the four sisters, even before dear Elain’s— skin freckled, dark lashes and brows, cheeks usually tinted pink naturally. But her eyes, her eyes were the rarest of her sisters and what made her so profoundly different.

A base of that gray-blue that grew more vibrant as it met her pupil. But the flecks of nearly golden amber splattered like an artist had flicked their wrist in a rush is what made them so different.

Why the black of her dress fit her so much better than it did poor Elain, her second youngest sister nearly washed out by the bleak darkness she had been presented to wear.

The dress clinging to Blair’s torso was bedecked in gold sparkling beads that formed lines of detail along the bodice and the hem by her feet, the fabric black beneath it. Hugging tight to her figure. Eating and drinking had gotten easier after the war and had allowed her to fill out again.

Her full breasts wrapped tight to her chest where they sat prettily, the dips in her hips and waist outlined by the sheer sleeves that flared well past her hands, capped around her shoulders but left her back utterly bare despite the illusion of the chiffon looking like a cape.

The dress hung from her body as she waited almost carelessly to enter the throne room of Hewn City, and Blair felt a little like she might die.

The air here, anywhere, was so much colder than the sweltering heat of her bedroom where she kept the fire roiling day and night— where she felt like she was at home even if it was just in her head. Sleeping on the floor in front of it most nights, where the crackling of the fire could drown out the sound of her thoughts. Where the warmth could make her feel something other than empty.

Now. Feyre’s voice rang warmly in Blair’s head, echoing outside of the thick walls of forest she’d been taught to put up. Spruce and oak, winding paths lined with red poppy’s and orange geraniums, fogged over meadows to traipse through at will. A maze for anyone else, with no beginning and no end.

The rest of them had gone in a half hour ago it seemed, Blair to be used if they needed to pull a distraction or anything. She would be introduced no matter what, but timing was to be used as an advantage.

The towering doors to the throne room boomed open as Blair turned the corner to the hallway, the curls in her hair bouncing with every step despite the light wind billowing through her flowing sleeves as if she were gliding.

The music continued as she kept her head high and entered the space, hands folded neatly in front of her. A small upward twitch of her pretty red lips, her face calm and still.

Still as the room became when her feet hit the marble across that threshold.

She walked, one foot in front of the other. Head in a full fog before she even entered the throne room— but there was a tug. Something that had almost made her stumble, but she sucked in a tight breath as she focused on the dais ahead.

Pulling, tugging, a line going taut the closer she became and her vision cleared. Someone that had been in deep discussion before Blair entered, someone now turned to face her as everyone else did.

All but the Court of Dreamers gaping at her, at her beauty. So much different than her obvious sisters, a third sister to the High Lady of the Night Court, but so much the same that it was easily distinguishable. Gasps and whispers filling Blair’s now clear ears, but she didn’t look anywhere but the male in front of Rhys and Feyre— as much as she wanted to. As much as she pleaded with herself to look away, she could not.

The bright auburn hair, the pale and freckled skin of his handsome face. All fae were gorgeous, she’d been told and equally come to learn but… just the very look of him made her skin heat.

A look of something similar washed through his amber eyes, the matching amber to the flecks in her own, his throat bobbing.

Something like devastation went through this male and though Blair couldn’t tear her eyes from his as she finally made those last steps to the dais, she could see Rhys’ mask slip ever so slightly from the corner of her eye before it went back up.

There was a part of her, so enamored by whoever this person was— and something about him made her slip back into consciousness. That outside look at herself faded back into her own body and she didn’t realize until she breathed again that her heart had been beating so rapidly.

Or that she hadn’t addressed her High Lord and Lady.

Or that they’d demanded the crowd go back to dancing and drinking and eating.

Or that all she did was face this male, a look of shocked confusion painting her usually dull expression because somehow, someway, she felt like she knew him.

And that the tug she felt, that line, went utterly taut before him.

🏷️: @thehighladywrites and anyone else that wants to be added to a tag list for this or anything else lmk lmfao

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #eris vanserra #autumn court #night court #elain archeron #feyre archeron #nesta archeron #rhysand #eris vandaddy #eris vanserra x oc #oc #your honor i love him #me when mating bonds😦#cassian #Azriel #blair archeron

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daslary · 1 year

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not even a meme just something to cry over but I'm sure u will manage since having read cdad

#charon docks at daylight #cdadmeme #cdad #genevivie moretti #echo blair #hayden blair

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userlaylivia · 1 year

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callsign-magnolia · 11 months

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Undiagnosed // Ch. 9

Mature Content 18+

Jake Seresin x Neurodivergent OC

Summary: Katie Blair grew up trying to be the perfect daughter. She always struggled to be the prim and proper little girl her parents wanted. Big personality as a kid, but now at 25, she's the shy admiral's daughter who just keeps her head down and tries to get through law school. So what happens when she's had enough and with help from a certain Lieutenant, she gets out.

Warnings: Emotional abuse, trauma response, abusive parents.

Word Count: 6.9k

Chapter 8 | Masterlist

I eventually fell back asleep on the couch before waking up and making breakfast. I changed out of my pajamas and into some yoga pants Kelly convinced me to buy and a soft shirt. I attempted to watch a movie, but without glasses or contacts I couldn’t see clearly. I had to stand smack in front of the tv to see and it was annoying so I gave up. Once the movies were over I got bored and the thoughts crept in. What if my dad knew and confronted Jake at work? What if something happens to his jet and he crashes? What if I didn’t cut the stove off and catch the house on fire? At that thought I jumped up, going into the kitchen and making sure I did in fact, cut the oven off. I sighed in relief when I did and walked away, but suddenly stopped, turning back around and looking again because I forgot what I just saw. I huffed, turning back into the living room. I tapped my foot, and looked at my phone seeing it was only noon. I huffed, laying my head back. You’re nothing without us. My mother’s voice echoed in my brain. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing it to go away. I decided to distract myself by looking for eye doctors in the area. I looked through reviews finding a handful that I would consider until I finally found one. I stared at the number, it practically glared at me. Maybe I could have Jake call? God no. I need to do this myself. I’m a grown woman, I can do this myself. I dialed the number and it rang twice before a friendly voice answered. “How can I help you?” She asked. “Hi um… my name is Katie Blair and I need to make an appointment.” I heard typing on the other end and she hummed. “Have you been with us before?” I shook my head. “No.” More typing. “Okay, the next opening we have is Wednesday at four-thirty.” I nodded. “That works.” I agreed. “Great. We’ll see you Wednesday. Have a nice day.” She said and hung up. Once that was done, my mothers voice crept back into my head. You’re an ungrateful little shit. You’ll die out there on your own. You’re hard to love. Tears welled in my eyes and I grabbed my phone, pulling up Bradley’s number.

Can we talk when your free?

I text him, hoping he would respond eventually. I laid back on the couch, taking deep breaths and trying to clear my mind. Eventually my breathing evened out and I slipped into unconsciousness. “Darlin’.” I jumped awake, startled by the voice and the hand on my arm. “Hm.” I sat up as Jake sat next to me. “How long have you been asleep?” He asked and I glanced at the clock. “Shit. Four hours.” I said, face planting the soft couch. He chuckled, rubbing my back. “Must’ve been tired.” He said and I scoffed. “Something like that.” I said. “Well, I’m gonna go shower. I’m thinking steak for dinner? I put some in the fridge to thaw this morning.” He said as he got up, heading to his room to shower. “I can start it." I said as I sat up. "You sure?" He called down the stairs as I nodded, stretching. "Yeah." He's letting me live here rent free, the least I can do is make him dinner. I went into the kitchen, pulling out the steaks, then rifling through his freezer for sides. I found some asparagus and some potatoes in the pantry. I was halfway through cooking the steaks when he came in, shirtless. He didn't notice but it took me a second to avert my eyes. "Is it just us tonight?" I asked and he hummed. "Yeah, Kelly is working late tonight." I nodded as I finished the steaks, letting them rest as I tossed the asparagus into the same pan with some garlic.

"Damn that smells good." He said, coming to stand next to me. I smiled, practically keeping over the compliment. "My mom wasn't completely useless." I remarked and he laughed. "Guess not. Anything I can do?" He asked. "You can go ahead and cut the potatoes open. Give them a chance to cool a little before I burn the shit out of my fingers." He just chuckled and sliced them open. Soon dinner was done and I made him go sit down. "I can make my own plate." He said. "I can make my own plate." I mimicked. "No shit. But I'll bring it to you." I said as he crossed his arms over his chest. "You're not winning this one Jake. Go sit down." I said with a more stern tone and after a second he did as I asked. I smirked, plating everything and walking it out. "See. Not that hard." I remarked and he rolled his eyes. "Yeah yeah." I waited patiently with a smirk on my face as he took the first bite and his eyes went wide. "You're telling me that we ate out the past two nights and you can cook like this?" I laughed as he ate more. "And it's even medium rare! How did you know?" I shrugged. "It's the only way my parents eat it, so it's the only way I know how to cook it." I said, starting in on my food. "Yours medium rare too?" I nodded. "That's the only way I've ever eaten it. Mom would make steak and she refused to cook it differently for me."

Dinner was great and we talked about our day, but once we were done the mood changed. "I have something to tell you, but I need you to not freak out." He said, sitting up in his chair. My heart started racing a million miles a second. What could he possibly have to say? "We overheard your dad talking to Cyclone." Why would he be talking to Admiral Simpson? He doesn't like him. "He's going around asking everyone to keep an eye out for you. Apparently when they came home and saw that you were gone, they called the police and tried to say that you were kidnapped." My chest started heaving and I was trying to calm down. But now not only were the police looking for me, so was practically everyone on base. "Oh my god." I said as tears built in my eyes. "Hey, no darlin'." Jake said as he took my hand, squeezing it in his. "The police say you probably just left. You packed a bag and took your purse, so they think you just walked out of there. They aren't looking for you." I sighed in relief, feeling better about that. "But you should lay low for a while. If anyone from base sees you, then your dad will know." I nodded, taking deep breaths. "I can do that. I can lay low." I muttered. "Good. I'll clean the kitchen." He said, grabbing my plate and standing. "I can help Jake." I said as I stood. "You cooked, I'll clean. Go do something." He joked and I huffed but did as he said. I went up to my room to plug my phone in, setting it on the small white bedside table. But something light blue caught my attention. It was in my suitcase, wadded up at the very bottom. I grabbed it, feeling the soft material in my hands but even in the dark I knew what this was. My favorite Tiffany blue dress, and the one Blake ripped. I could still see the droplets of blood that fell on it.

Do you have any idea how this makes us look?

Sometimes giving people what they want makes life a lot easier.

The words flooded my brain, remembering every moment of that night. Including the way his hands felt on me, the way they practically slithered under my dress. I felt disgusted with myself. I should've done more than punch him and I should've walked out of that house no matter what. But I couldn't. I was a coward and I fell right back into their trap like an idiot. Tears filled my eyes as anger grew within me like a fire being fed oxygen. The rip in the dress reminding me just how close I came to having my own choices ripped away from me. I turned rushing down the stairs, stomping on the way down. Hard enough I probably shook the house. "Katie?" Jake asked from behind the couch. I attempted to blow past him, but he caught my arm and I stopped. "Jake. Let me go." I said calmly, trying not to have a breakdown. I was so tired of crying, I wanted to be done with my emotions. "Darlin', let me see it." I shook my head. I couldn't let him see it, he'd absolutely lose it. "No. Just let me throw it away." He shook his head. "Trash wouldn't have you this upset." We stood in silence for a moment, me not looking at him, when he suddenly yanked me towards him and he snatched the dress from my hands. "Jake!" I yelled and he held the dress up, furrowing his brows in confusion. “What is this?” He asked, he looked close at the blood stains, his jaw clicking in anger. “Is this yours?” He asked lowly. I shook my head. “No, it’s Blake’s.” He looked at me for a second. “When you broke his nose.” He said in realization. “But the rip…”

“That was when I managed to get out from under him and he grabbed the neck line. It ripped when I got out of his truck.” I muttered. “What?” His eyes flashed to me and I could tell he was angry. I opened my mouth to respond but he stopped me. “What do you mean, ‘Get out from under him’?” He asked. “When my dad forced me on that date, he stopped just before taking me home. He stuck his hand under my dress and I smacked it away. He said that Coop told him I could be difficult and then he yanked me down in the seat and-” I took a deep breath, looking at the ceiling to keep the tears at bay. “He pushed my dress up…” I was trying not to sob and took another deep breath and suddenly my face was grabbed. This was different from any other time my face was grabbed. Jake’s hands were gentle as he held my face, making me look at him. “Did he hurt you?” I wanted to shake my head no, but he kind of did. “Sort of.” He furrowed his brows. “What do you mean, sort of?” He growled. “When he grabbed my leg, he left some bruises.” I muttered, not meeting his eye. “So he didn’t force you into anything?” He asked. “No.” I shook my head. “I didn’t give him the chance.” I saw his lips twitch, as if he wanted to smile but he didn’t. “Can I please throw the dress away?” He looked at the dress in his hand and smiled. “I have a better idea.”

So he dragged me outside and off the back deck to a small fire pit in the yard. He handed me the dress and started up the fire. Once it was roaring he stepped back, looking over at me. “Ready?” He asked and I nodded, looking down at the dress in my hands. I took a step closer, stopping just in front of the fire before tossing it in. I watched as it went up in flames, burning away until it started turning to ash. Jake’s arm went around my shoulder, tucking me into his side. “How you feel, darlin’?” He asked and I took a deep breath. “A little better. But it’s gonna take some time.” He hummed, catching me off guard as he once again kissed my head. “Take all the time you need, darlin’.” We stood in silence until a thought crossed my mind. “Fuck.” I muttered and Jake looked down at me again. “What’s wrong?” He asked. “There are some pictures on my old phone that I need. If I access my old iCloud do you think my parents could get my new number or track me?” I asked and he shrugged. “You have a new email and everything so personally I’d delete the old one. One less thing your parents have to track you down with.” I nodded and rushed upstairs, grabbing my phone. I quickly got into my old account and grabbed the pictures I needed from storage and saved it to my phone before deleting it. I was sitting in a chair not far from the fire, looking at the pictures when I felt a presence behind me. I looked up to see Jake looking at my phone. “Is this after?” I nodded, allowing him to see the pictures. “I took them, just in case. I didn’t think about it when I left my phone at my parents.” He hummed, swiping over one. The bruises on my thigh glared at me. They weren’t bad but they were noticeably finger shaped.

Jake inhaled deeply before disappearing inside. I felt bad, these pictures seemed to bother him a lot and I didn’t want anyone worrying about me. I stared into the fire, my eyes locking on to the last piece of the dress burning. The beautiful blue color turning black from the immense heat, but I was brought out of my thoughts by something cold and wet. I looked over to see Jake offering me a bottle. I took it with furrowed brows, looking at the label. “Decided I needed one, so I thought I’d offer you one too.” He said as he pulled the other chair closer to me, sitting back in it as we watched the fire. He twisted the cap off, and set it on the arm of his chair, taking a sip. I looked down at my own bottle, attempting to twist the cap off but to no avail. “Oh, sorry.” He said taking the bottle from me. Irritation built in me at the action. I could’ve done it if he gave me another chance. “Kelly always needs me to take hers off. Didn’t think about you possibly needing it too.” I huffed. “I almost had it.” I muttered. His head snapped to me and his brows furrowed. “You okay?” Don’t let him know you’re mad, it never ends well. I looked at him with a smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?” I asked and he leaned back in his chair again. “You just sounded mad.” I shook my head. “Oh, no I’m good.” I took a sip of the beer immediately spitting it out. “Oh my god! How do you drink that shit?” I asked and he laughed, attempting not to spit his own beer out. “Do you not like it?” I shook my head, handing him the bottle. “God no!” He set the bottle down next to him as I attempted to get the taste out of my mouth. “Have you ever drank before?” I nodded. “A few times but it’s only ever been wine. Mom doesn't drink anything else so that’s really all I’ve ever had.” I said and he nodded. “I’ll get you some when I go to the store next time. What’s your favorite?” He asked. “Chardonnay.” He chuckled. “Fancy.” He said in a posh tone, making me laugh.

The next day Rooster agreed to talk to me and came over once him and Jake were done for the day. I slipped on a square neck floral dress and opted for some of the white platform sandals Kelly bought for me on Sunday. It was weird to put on shoes that were flat but they were so comfortable. I grabbed my purse just as the doorbell rang and rushed downstairs. “Rooster? What are you doing here?” Jake had been home all of twenty minutes and I had been getting ready so I hadn’t even spoken to him yet. “He’s here for me.” I said as I walked over. “You?” Jake asked, looking at me and I nodded. “I asked if we could talk and he agreed.” Jake nodded, motioning Bradley in. “Oh, then come on in, I'm cooking and Kelly will be here soon.” I bit my lip, wondering how to tell him we were leaving. “Uh, Jake?” I asked and he turned to me. He looked at me with a wide smile. “It’s a private conversation.” I said, pointing out the door. “Oh, then y’all can sit out front, I don’t care. I have a porch for a reason-” “We’re leaving.” I said and he stopped again, looking at me once more. “Leaving?” I nodded. “Bradley thought it would be a good idea for me to get out of the house so we’re going for a drive.” Bradley nodded. “Figured we’d stop for dinner too.” He said with a wide grin. “But I’m cooking.” He said and I immediately felt bad. “Well… you and Kelly haven’t had much alone time since I got here!” I suggested. “We’ll probably be gone for a few hours so that’ll be good and if there’s leftovers I’ll eat them tomorrow for lunch.” I suggested. “Uh yeah. Yeah, that works. Um, Rooster? Can I talk to you for a second?” He nodded and stepped inside. “I’ll wait out here.” I said and stepped outside, closing the door.

After a few minutes Bradley and Jake came outside. “Ready?” He asked and I nodded. “I’ll see you later.” Jake said, kissing my temple and dipping back inside. The door shut and I stared at it for a second. “You have quite the protector there.” Bradley said as we walked out to his car. “I’ve come to see that.” I said. “Oh, I love your truck.” I said as he opened the passenger door for me. “Thanks.” He helped me in and he shut the door as I buckled the seatbelt. He got into the driver's side, smiling at me. “Jake was going on and on about how I had to be careful that no one from base saw you, as if I haven’t been hearing the same things he has.” He said as he started the truck. Once we started down the road, the wind picked up and it felt nice. He had the top off, allowing the sea breeze to blow by as we drove along the coast. The sun blinded me as we drove, my hand resting on my forehead to shield them. Rooster reached into the glove box in front of me and produced a pair of raybans identical to his. “You sure?” I asked and he nodded. “They’re my spares.” I smiled, taking them from him and putting them on my face, getting instant relief. “So what’d you wanna talk about?” He asked as he pulled up to a red light. “Um…” I said, not knowing how to start. “Shit, this is harder than I thought.” He chuckled, looking at me. “Lay it on me.” He said, his smile making me feel more comfortable. “I hear my mom’s voice in my head.”

He nodded slowly. “I do too.” I was a little shocked at his statement, looking at him from across the bench seat. “What does she say?” I asked and he smiled. “That she loves me. If I'm struggling she reminds me I can get through it.” I nodded, just wishing those were the things I heard my mother say. “What does yours say?” He asked, glancing over to me as if he already knew. “Basically that I’m a fuck up. On Sunday I thought I pissed off Kelly and I heard her voice in my head saying, ‘you probably did. you’re good at that.’.” I huffed, playing with my fingers in my lap. “Katie, I’m sorry.” He said and I shook my head. “I’m used to it.” I said and he shook his head. “But you shouldn’t be.” He was completely right. I shouldn’t be used to it, but I am. “Jake suggested therapy. He said his was mostly work related, but you have experience with personal things.” He hummed, nodding. “I do. My dad died when I was two in a training accident here at Top Gun. Mom died when I was seventeen. Brain tumor.” My heart broke for him. “I wish I could trade with you.” I said, leaning my head back against the seat. He didn’t say anything, but a part of me felt like he agreed. “When was your first time?” I asked and he was quiet for a moment. “I was six. Dad had been gone four years at that point. I got off the school bus and mom met me on the porch. She had on one of his naval academy jackets. It still smelled like him because she never washed it and when I hugged her, I had a panic attack. She decided at that point I should see a therapist.” I nodded. “Did you ever stop going?” He nodded. “Around high school. But I started again when mom died.” I nodded. “Did you know Mav is my godfather?” I looked at him wide eyed. “Really?” He nodded. “My dad was his RIO and they were best friends. Mav was there the day I was born and he was there the day mom died. We had a falling out when he pulled my papers for the naval academy.” I frowned. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to Bradley.” He chuckled. “But I wanted to, plus it’s easy to open up to you.” I smiled at him, happy he felt comfortable enough to share this with me. “I used to be so angry at the world, people around me, for things they had no control over. Being in therapy has made me a better person. I used to be hot headed and I can still be occasionally, but I’ve learned I don’t have to be mad anymore.”

“What’s therapy like?” I asked. “A lot of talking. In my case a lot of yelling, a lot of tears but I always feel a hundred times better coming out than I did going in.” I nodded. We drove a little longer till we got to this pier and he pulled into a parking spot. “What are we doing here?” I asked. “Getting dinner.” He said with a smirk before he got out. “Oh.” I unbuckled and opened my door. “Woah.” Rooster said, coming over and helping me out. “I can do it myself.” I said and he chuckled. “I know. But my mom is probably rolling in her grave because I didn’t open your door.” He said and I giggled. “She seems great. I wish I could’ve met her.” I said as he placed his hand on my back, guiding me to the pier. “She would’ve loved you,” He said, making me blush. “I can hear her now, ‘Oh, Bradley! She’s just adorable!” I laughed at his imitation. We quietly walked over to this little shack and we stopped outside of it. “This place has the best burgers.” He said as he looked at the menu. “What do you want?” He asked and I looked at the menu. Everything looked good, but I stuck with the safe bet and got a burger and fries. The conversation was light and fun while we ate, but as I was finishing my fries it took a turn. “So, when you hear your mom in your head, what’s the most common thing she says?” He asked. You’re so hard to love, Katie. I took a deep breath, wiping my hands on the napkin. “The night I went on that stupid date with Blake,” His hand tightened around his cup, practically squishing it. “I attempted to leave. But my mom forced me to sit down and was telling me they did the things they did because they loved me.” I scoffed at my own words. “Just after that she told me I was hard to love.” I said, my eyes falling to my lap as tears formed in my eyes.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t be crying about this.” I said as I wiped my tears. Bradley got up, coming around and sitting next to me. “They’re still your parents, Katie. A part of you is always going to want their love.” I sighed shakily. “I don’t want to want it.” He sighed, pulling me into a hug. “Trust me, I wish you didn’t either.” He held me for a moment until I calmed down. “You done?” He asked and I nodded. “Come on. I got something that’ll make you feel better.” I stood and we went back up to the window and he ordered two chocolate milkshakes. “Glad I like chocolate.” I said and he laughed. “I had a feeling.” We walked back over to the bronco and he stopped, taking my milkshake. “Take your shoes off.” I furrowed my brows at him. “What?” He motioned to my shoes. “Take them off.” I knew there was no point in arguing, so I did it anyway. He handed me my milkshake and took his off before we tossed them into the bronco. "Come on." We made our way to the hill that the parking lot was perched on and he started down. I followed behind very slowly and very cautiously. "Need help?" He asked, holding out his hand for me and I lunged for it as I tripped. I grabbed it and he helped me steady myself as we continued down. "Don't let me fall." He just chuckled. "I won't." Once we were on flat ground he let go of my hand, chuckling at me. “You’re not gonna trip over your own feet are you?” I shook my head as we started walking down the beach. “It’s so nice out here.” I said as we walked along the beach. The sun was setting, there weren’t many people and the breeze was warm. “I like coming out here when I’ve had a hard day, or if I’m missing my mom.” I smiled at him. “And when you're missing your dad?” I asked and he chuckled. “I spend every day doing what he loved. I get up in that jet and I feel close to him.” It was nice knowing he had some way of feeling close to his parents.

We spent the next few hours sipping our milkshakes and walking along the beach. My parents never brought me to the beach the few times we’ve lived close to one so this was really my first experience. “So where did you grow up?” He asked and I shrugged. “Everywhere. We moved almost every year it seems like.” He nodded. “I never really got the chance to make friends, but we moved out here when I was sixteen and we’ve been here since.” He hummed. “Where were you born?” I chuckled. “Coincidentally, here. My dad was stationed here for a while and my mom went into labor with me.” I sighed. “She called it the worst twenty one hours of her life.” He scoffed. “She deserved the pain. But I’m happy you’re here.” He said, nudging me with his elbow. We made our way back up the hill and Bradley dropped the tailgate on the bronco. “Sit up here.” He said and I placed my hands on the tailgate behind me. As I jumped he grabbed my waist, making sure I got up and seated. “What are you doing?” I asked as he pulled a black bag closer to him, looting around in it. “Aha!” He said, pulling out a container of baby powder. “Baby powder?” I asked with a quirked brow. “Yep, helps get the sand off.” He sprinkled some on my legs and his before grabbing a towel and wiping them off. Once he was done there was no sand to be found on my skin. “Remind me to get some of that if I go to the beach.” I said, hopping down from the tailgate. Once he closed the tailgate, Bradley helped me into the car and shut my door before we took off down the road. It was dark now but the wind was still warm. It blew my hair around as we drove in silence, nothing but the radio on. But a few miles before we got back he turned to me. “So… gonna go to therapy?” He asked, looking over at me. “I think I’m going to try. I’m just scared.” I said and he smiled, grabbing my hand and holding it up. “You’ll be okay. It may take a few tries to find the right therapist for you, but when you do, it makes a world of difference.” Once we got to the house I noticed the lights were still on, which was odd. Jake seems strict about his sleep schedule and he should be heading upstairs by now. Kelly’s car wasn’t in the driveway so I assume she went home. Bradley helped me out, taking my hand in hopes I wouldn’t fall out.

The bang of the front door made me jump as Jake threw the front door open. “WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?!” He yelled as he stormed off the porch and towards us. “Oh my god. Oh my god.” I whispered, quickly moving behind Bradley to shield myself. “I’VE BEEN PACING FOR THE PAST TWO HOURS!” He yelled and Bradley held his hands up. “Jake-” “I have tried calling and got no answer! I had no idea where the fuck she was, if she was still with you!” My hand gripped Bradley’s shirt as my heartbeat thrummed in my ears. “Hangman-” “No! Do you know how stressed I have been? I had no idea if someone saw you, if you ran into her parents-” “Hangman!” Bradley yelled and I became light headed, my adrenaline flooding my body. “She doesn’t need someone controlling her life! What she does need is someone who lets her have her freedom!” Bradley yelled back. Jake’s eyes shifted to me and immediately a look of guilt crosses his face. He sighed deeply, as if letting go of all the tension he’s felt. “Fuck.” He muttered, running his hands through his hair. “You’re right.” He said and it was like all the anger disappeared. “You can’t spend all your time worrying about her. She’s an adult.” He nodded, smiling at me. “I’ll be inside.” He said, motioning to the door before walking that way. “You okay?” Bradley asked, turning around to face me. “Yeah… he just really scared me.” He hummed. “I could tell. If your grip on my shirt was anything to go by.” he joked and a blush covered my cheeks. “Sorry.” He laughed before pulling me into a hug. “Don’t worry about it.” As if he could sense my emotions, he squeezed me tightly and immediate relief washed over me as I squeezed back. After a few seconds he let go and I felt a little better. “Something else your mom taught you?” He beamed with pride at my words. “Yeah, it’s something she did to me when I was stressed or overwhelmed.”

“Well, I’m tired so I’m gonna go in and go to bed.” I said and he nodded, yawning. “I’m gonna go crash in my bed.” He said, walking around the bronco. “Goodnight, Katie.” He smiled at me and I waved as I walked towards the porch. “Goodnight, Bradley.” I replied. He got in the bronco and started it, but waited until I was inside to leave. I triple checked that the door was locked before making my way through the dark house and into the guest room. I immediately stripped out of my clothes and grabbed some of the pajamas I packed when I left. It was a tank top and shorts combo. They were emerald green and satin and so comfortable. The little ruffles on the hem on the shorts made it cute, not that that really mattered. Once I changed I sat on my bed, pulling out some of the lotion I bought and started putting it on my legs. I thought back to Jake out in the driveway. He scared me so bad with all the yelling and when he rushed over, it was like my dad was stalking towards me and I just wanted to bolt in the other direction. Tears streaked my cheeks and my chest constricted. I sniffled, trying to stop my tears, but of course I couldn't. So I sat there on the bed, rubbing lotion in my legs as tears dripped onto the white sheets. “Katie?” Jake’s voice caught my attention as he knocked on my open door, breaking my dead stare from the chipping polish on my toes. I quickly wiped my tears, not wanting him to see me upset. “Oh, darlin’.” He said, coming over and sitting next to me on the bed. “Katie.” I didn’t want to look at him. I knew if he did I would just start crying again. “Katie. Please look at me.” He said and I didn't move. I was startled as his hand gently touched my face, turning me to face him. “Katie, darlin’. I’m sorry.” I shook my head, turning away from him. “No, it’s my fault. I should have looked at my phone and called you back.”

“No, Katie. It wasn’t your fault. I was just so worried and when I saw you get out of the car I was so… relieved. Then I was angry at Rooster.” I furrowed my brows. “Rooster?” He nodded. “Why Rooster?” I was the one that asked if we could talk, not him. “I know you’re safe with him, I know that.” He said, flopping back onto the pillows. “But just the thought of something happening to you, and I’m not there to…protect you? It kills me.” I chuckled. “Aw, do you care about me Jake?” I joked and I felt him grip my tank top, tugging on it to catch my attention. “It’s not a joke, Katie. Of course I care. I worry about leaving you here alone, when you left the house with Rooster.” He sighed, looking up at the ceiling. “When I woke up that morning, and you were gone, it was like pure panic took over. I was ready to go over to your parents house and kick the door in.” A feeling swelled in my chest at his words as I looked back at him. Having someone who cared for me was a new feeling and it’s gonna take some getting used to. I sighed, flopping back next to him, resting my hands on my stomach. “I wish you did.” I muttered and he turned to face me as I continued to look up at the ceiling. “I was stupid to think anything would change. But they played the part of loving parents so well.” I said as anger swirled inside me. “That’s one of the first times I remember my mother hugging me. I know damn well it was the first time my father did.” I started pulling on my thumbs, wondering if I would pull one out of socket.

“They apologized for everything. For the first time in my life they told me they loved me.” I said through gritted teeth. Jake sat up, leaning on the wooden bedframe. “Then I wake up the next morning with a lock on my door, my mother telling me i'm an awful daughter and that they could no longer handle me.” Tears filled my eyes again, but this time out of anger. “That feeling of hopelessness when I pulled and pulled on that door. I finally stopped beating on it when my hands started to bleed.” I wiped the tears, not wanting them to fall. “I begged and begged them to let me out. I leaned against that door for three days, hoping they would change their minds. I gave up on hoping it was a dream, I knew better. It didn't matter how much I begged and pleaded, all it got me was a day without food.” I felt his fingers thread through my hair, and it felt so good. “Katie.” I looked up at him through my lashes and he stared down at me in silence for a moment. “You didn’t deserve that. You know that right?” His words made my bottom lip quiver and I started to sit up when he stopped me, pulling me into him. I had never been held like this, but it was so comforting and I couldn’t help but wrap my arms around his waist. “What’s so wrong with me, that they couldn’t love me?” I asked as the tears flowed freely now, soaking his t-shirt. “Nothing, darlin’. Absolutely nothing.” He said. His words soothing me until I drifted off to sleep.

The next day when Jake got off work, he was swinging by to pick me up for my eye doctor appointment. But I was so distracted watching a show that I was running late, that being signaled by the sound of Jake’s horn on his truck. “Dammit!” I yelled, grabbing my shoes and hopping to slip one on before putting the other on at the bottom of the stairs. I rushed towards the door, purse in hand and I barely remembered to lock the door on my way out. I ran through the yard, yanking open the door and climbing in. “What’s going on? We’re gonna be late.” He said as we back out of the driveway. “I know we’re gonna be late.” I snapped, buckling and sitting back in the seat. “Gee what’s got you in a mood?” He asked and I scoffed. I wanted to snap at him again, but I thought better of it. He might just leave me on the side of the road, I joked to myself. We were silent the rest of the car ride, which was nice. I just couldn’t get it together today, which was odd for me. My hair was up in a bun with my bangs hanging loose, I didn’t put on any makeup or jewelry, not having any time. I just managed to slip on a sundress and sandals. Once we were there, I didn’t even wait for Jake. I just got out and walked up towards the door. “Katie. Katie!” He hissed and I stopped, turning to him. “Wait, let me go in first.” He said. “Why?” I asked in an irritated tone. “What if someone from base is in there?” He asked, walking in with me on his heels, ignoring his words. We went in and I pushed past him, going up to the front desk. “Katie Blair.” She immediately pulled up my info and I looked around. There was no one in the waiting room, making me feel a little better. “Hi, you must be Katie.” I looked over to see a very tall, very built man about my fathers age standing before me. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, the fear settling in the pit of my stomach. “H-hi. yes… I’m Katie.” He just smiled at me as he shook his hand. “Well, if you’ll follow me.” I immediately turned to Jake, hoping he wasn’t so mad he wouldn’t come with me. “Would it be okay if my friend came with me?” I asked and Dr.Sparkman smiled.

“Of course.” We went into an exam room and I sat in the chair, Jake taking the chair beside me. We went through the usual motions of testing my eyesight, including dilating my eyes. “Well Miss Blair. It looks like from the last prescription you brought me, your eyesight has in fact gotten worse, and that goes for your astigmatism as well.” I sighed, hating that it got worse. “Do you want contacts and glasses?” I immediately shook my head. “Glasses only.” He nodded. “Very well, if you go out here we can get you set up with frames.” I grabbed my bag and Jake held my hand as we walked out, seeing as my eyes were still dilated and I felt unsteady on my feet. “Can you even see these?” He asked and I nodded. “Up close I can.” I said, grabbing a set of frames and holding them close to look at them. He chuckled as I looked around, holding each set close. I quickly noticed a pair of Kate Spade ones. They were a metal frame and the lenses were back and mostly rounded and rimless on the bottom. The stems were gold in color and the tips were black on the outside, but white on the inside with black polka dots. I looked at the price before quickly putting them away and moving on, but nothing caught my interest like they did. “See anything you like?” Jake asked from behind me, startling me. I sighed, setting another pair back on the rack. “No. I can get the prescription and order some online.” I said and he hummed, nodding. When I didn’t find anything I got my prescription, and we headed out. “Anything else you want to do while we’re out?” I smirked, rolling my head to look over at him. “Yeah, actually. Can we go to the bookstore?” He just smiled at me before busting out laughing. “Anything you want, darlin’.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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#undiagnosed #top gun maverick #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #hangman #jake seresin top gun #jake hangman seresin imagine #hangman seresin #ADHD OC #jake seresin x neurodivergent oc

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boosoonhao · 3 months

Text

flesh and bone | 2

jeonghan x reader 7k words zombie au major character death, swearing, gore

part one . part two . part three

When you were a child, you loved going on camping trips. Your father used to take you and your tightly knit group of friends into the woods and you would sit around a roaring fire, roasting marshmallows and scaring the shit out of each other with dramatic whispers of ghost stories.

Back then, you always brought your favorite teddy bear, which managed to at least somewhat alleviate the fear that reluctantly pulled at your nerves at Soonyoung’s enthusiastic retelling of the Blair Witch Project. The crackling of fire and light snores from your father was like a song lulling you to sleep despite the echoing thoughts of witches and ghosts.

There are no ghost stories this time around, no hot fires or cocoa scalding your tongue. There’s darkness, a constant fear of lurking bodies that might hide under the cover of the night, and the low sobs of a man who just watched his best friend die.

You’re lying in your tent, and you find it hard to close your eyes. Whenever you do, the images of Soonyoung getting ripped apart right in front of you replay in your head, his screams echoing; bouncing between the walls of your brain and making you choke on air. Not much was said when the three of you had at last found a spot that seemed at least somewhat safe, nor when you had put up your tents. Chan had told you to sleep first, that he and Jeonghan would take the first watch. You had expected Jeonghan to object to that, distant memories of a man who loves to sleep caressing the forefront of your mind.

Jeonghan had not said a thing. For some reason, that’s what chilled you the most.

---

Tensions are high the following days. There’s a constant fear of death luring at the top of your brains, all of you seemingly too scared and too fragile to even say much of anything to each other. Chan tries, bless him, to be a comforting figure; tries to hold your hand when it trembles and murmur reassurances into your hair. You want nothing more than to repay the favor, or to push him away, or to disappear completely.

Instead, you only nod. Jeonghan stays silent.

---

When Jeonghan finally does speak, it’s been three days. Three days of awkward silences and the sound of Chan quietly weeping over the death of a boy he’s seen as a brother figure his entire life. Three days of minimal food and even less of an appetite, of a grief that threatens to overcome you every time you allow yourself to soak in the feeling.

So, Jeonghan finally opens his mouth, while you’re struggling with making a fire, fingers trembling with the cold and your breaths coming out as visible puffs of air into the morning. He opens his mouth, and you wish he’d rather keep it shut.

“Can you fucking get on with it?” He snaps, and his voice is laced with a distaste that makes you shiver in a completely different way than with the cold that bites at your skin. You turn to look at him, taking in the annoyed downwards turn of his lips and the furrow of his eyes. You reel in the anger that bubbles in the pit of your stomach, try to focus on Chan sleeping in the tent instead.

“I haven’t done this in years,” you mutter instead, without as much as a trace of apology on your tongue. You don’t tell him that if you’re doing such a bad job, he’s free to get up from his seated position and do the damn thing himself. You don’t tell him that the way he looks at you makes his skin crawl.

“I can tell,” he says, almost mockingly. You turn back to the pile of wood with a roll of your eyes, jaw clenched so tightly it hurts. “Soonyoung would’ve-

He stops. Silence seeps in with the morning fog, your fingers unmoving and not even the sound of breathing reaching your ears. He knows whatever he was about to say was the wrong thing to say. Without even turning, you know that the look on his face would tell you he wants to take it back, not only the beginning of the sentence, but the thought itself. The branch in your hand snaps.

“He would’ve what?” You hiss, swirling around to look back at him. His body is stiff, eyes wide as he takes in your appearance. Your heart is beating too loud, too hard against your ribcage, rage simmering in your veins. “He would’ve been faster? Stronger? Smarter?” You throw the remainders of wood to the ground, get up from your seat by the impromptu fireplace. Jeonghan looks as if he wants to melt into the ground. “I know!” You tell him, and you can’t quite help the uneven tones of your voice, the pitch high and nasal to your own ears.

“It’s unfair,” you continue, your voice sounding so much like a whiny child that it might have embarrassed you had you not been so angry. You take a heavy step towards the long haired man, vision darkened by anger and head clouded. “He shouldn’t have died, I should’ve-”

Your voice breaks, and you stop. Suddenly, the only distinct emotion you can feel is a heavy, crushing sort of pain. Jeonghan shifts uncomfortably, his voice low and apologetic as he murmurs your name, moves to get up. The logical part of your brain tells you to let it drop, to slink back to the wood and get back to working on the fire. That Jeonghan is as burdened by grief as you are, that his words were empty. You shut that part off, let your feet carry you past the boy and towards the dark woods instead.

“Fuck you, Jeonghan,” you yell after him.

---

To your credit, you realize quite quickly that running off in a display of childish petulance isn’t really– dignified. Barely even an okay thing to do at all once you hit your late teens, an absolutely shit decision once zombies start traversing the earth. Even as you’re stomping over wet mud and grass, you think that you should turn back, return the way you came from before it’s too late.

You don’t. You can’t; can’t stand Chan’s weeping or Jeonghan’s harsh words, can’t stand the building ball of grief that lies at the pit of your stomach, and when you finally realize that your speed has quickened, that your feet are running, nothing looks familiar anymore.

You stop, then, hands gripping onto your own kneecaps as you bend over and exhale; the sound loud and the breaths raspy as they exit your mouth. It’s not quite hyperventilation, not entirely panic, but it’s close; playing with the edges of the emotion that’s been lingering in the forefront of your brain for days. You want to cry, to scream or throw a tantrum, but somehow it’s all stuck in your throat.

You don’t pick up on the footsteps, don’t hear the low rumbling of deteriorating vocal chords, until it’s far too late.

They must be getting smarter, you think as the crowd of dead bodies stumble out from behind bushes and trees. There’s a sort of chaotic order in their movements, a bizarre sense of cooperation in the way they surround you. You can’t bring yourself to look at their faces, too afraid that you’ll catch the features of someone you used to know.

It’s strangely cathartic, really. Something tugs at your nerves; not quite fear, rather an unnameable, undefinable emotion that calms your errant breaths and makes your limbs stop aching. You watch with a detached sort of interest as the horde of zombies close in on you, only distantly aware of the fact that you’re about to die. Maybe it’s just as well, you think; Jeonghan’s restrained insult is still echoing in your head. Chan would’ve told you not to waste Soonyoung’s sacrifice, would’ve yelled and furrowed his brow and thrown careless words in your face.

But Chan’s not here, is arguably not even present inside his own shell of a body, and the only comfort you can find is the possibility of rest; of peace.

It doesn’t come. You wait for the sting of a bite, of the pain of your limbs being ripped from your body in the frenzy of the once-living, brainless people crowding you, but before you’re even made aware of your own eyes closing, they shoot back open with the eardrum-shattering sound of weapons being fired. It feels as if your heart has stopped, as if you’ve just been brought back to life; the organ hammering violently against your ribcage and making electricity coursing through your body.

A zombie lies at your feet, guts and dirty-red blood at your feet. For a moment you almost think its head has exploded by its own volition, your brain lagging and your senses dulled with the pang of nausea that pushes at your throat. Time seems to have slowed down, and it takes a few steadying breaths to make you twist your head in the direction of the loud sound that the zombies have started pacing.

Two boys stand at the top of the hill you must have tumbled down in your fit of rage; when you squint in their direction you notice, with a fair amount of dread creeping down your spine, that the boy aiming a slightly pathetic-looking pistol in the direction of the horde of zombies creeping in their direction is missing an arm. The other one, larger in frame and with dark curls the only visible feature you can spot, is brandishing a distinctly larger weapon that you recognize as a rifle, body jerking slightly every time he fires his gun.

”Do you have a fucking death wish?” the pistol wielding boy yells, voice almost undetectable under the groans of zombies and the echoes of gunshots. “Get over here!”

Time speeds back up; a violent ache in your head coming with the sudden jolt of time happening all around you. You inhale, as if you’ve been holding your breath, as if you’ve been submerged forcefully under water, and before you can even consider the fact that these strangers are both dubious-looking and wielding weapons, you run.

Death, it seems, will just have to wait.

---

The sun is all but gone when you finally return to camp; the boy with the missing arm and the pretty shooter in tow. The first boy, you’ve learned, is named Minghao. He speaks with an accent that suggests having moved fairly recently; stumbles over sentences and confuses tenses in a tone too melodious to consider the stumbling a frustration. You don’t ask about his arm. He doesn’t provide an answer.

The second boy – Jun – is quieter, his voice lower but somehow softer. He’s strange to look at, somehow; too clean and pristine to fit in with the mud on his face and the tangles in his caramel hair. His accent isn’t quite as strong, but the camaraderie between the two, coupled with the hushed conversations in a tongue you do not understand, speaks of a bond that can only come with two outsiders finding their way together.

You remember when you were ten. You think about a notebook tucked secretly beneath your pillow, filled with nonsense letters and garbled words; a language you had created with Soonyoung in order to keep your secrets away from prying eyes. Something seems to crack in your ribcage.

Chan’s head snaps up from staring intently into the bonfire crackling in the middle of the campsite. He’s on his feet so quickly it makes your head spin just to look at, sprints towards you in long, stomping steps. A string of curses fall out of his mouth; so wholly uncharacteristic of the boy who likes to play up his innocence that it would’ve been funny in any other situation, and his hands are rough as his fingernails dig into the flesh of your arms. You don’t miss the slight tremors of his palms.

“Where the fuck did you go?” His voice borders on hysteria, the lines of his face deep with worry, and your heart clenches with guilt at the complete lack of regard you’d shown in leaving the camp in the first place. You don’t look at Jeonghan, completely ignoring the way he rises to his feet to watch the scene carefully. Chan inhales through his nose, brows furrowing so tightly it looks like it must hurt his temple. You make a snap decision never to let him know about your dark, self-destructive thoughts, instead clearing your throat in an attempt to keep your voice even as you open your mouth.

“Needed to clear my head,” you tell him; a weak excuse. The way the edges of Chan’s lips dip makes it clear he thinks so as well, but you gesture towards the boys at your side before he can open his mouth to inquire further. The younger boy jumps slightly, as if he just noticed the two newcomers. “This is Minghao and Jun. They, uh–” you falter for a moment, struggle to find a neutral way to word yourself. “Found me, I guess.”

There’s defensiveness in Chan’s stance, and protectiveness in Jeonghan’s as he comes up behind the shorter male. They both size up the two strangers, both stopping to stare unabashedly at Minghao’s missing limb. The tension is thick over the quiet campsite, ten different – but equally heavy – things left unsaid at once. The fire crackles and pops, creates an almost eerie echo through the thickness of the woods.

It’s Jun who breaks the silence, at last, pushes past Minghao’s broad stance to come up right next to you, a disarming smile painting his pretty features.

“We come bearing alcohol,” he proclaims, and that, it seems, is a language all four boys can understand.

---

Heat blooms and blossoms at your cheekbones, your blood hot and sizzling against reddened skin as you sip as conservatively as you manage from the bottle of rum being handed to you. You wonder, distractedly, when you last felt the woozy, tingly itch of alcohol in your system, how much time has passed since that last moment of peace at Soonyoung’s ‘end of the world’ party.

Chan laughs, an unrestrained and beautiful sound; no matter how put together they boy has always been, his laughs were always the realest sound to exit his mouth. He laughs as if the sound forces itself out of his mouth, muted only by a hand against his lips, seemingly impossibly enthused by whatever it is Minghao had just said.

You can’t help the way your stomach knots, can’t stop yourself from letting your arms wind around your knees as you push your thighs tightly against your chest in an attempt to comfort yourself. A beautiful sound, Chan’s laugh might be, but you find that the sound has never been more tragic and painful bouncing against the walls of your skull.

You learn a lot of things with the rush of alcohol coursing through veins and bodies; questions growing bolder and answers uninhibited. The new pair of boys were foreign exchange students, they tell you; Jun fresh out of school and Minghao in the middle of his studies to become a photographer. You wonder if Minghao is one of those artistic types, if he sees photo opportunities even in the face of death and cruelty.

You learn that it’s possible to stop the virus – whatever it is making people into thoughtless killing machines – from spreading; the evidence of it clear and blatant in your new, gangly companion. You don’t know if it’s the dread at the mental image of a desperate and panicked Jun sawing off his best friend’s arm that’s worse, or if it’s the guilt of the what-if’s and the echo of Soonyoung’s scream that really breaks you.

It’s only when Jeonghan’s gaze drifts over to yours, contemplation visible in the shadowy lines of his face as he gets up on unsteady feet and walks over to wordlessly sit down next to you that you notice you’re crying. You haven’t spoken a word to each other yet, haven’t acknowledged any of the stiffness or the awkwardness that hangs between you, but the long haired man pulls at your shoulder, sneaks his arm around your back, and the quiet comfort, the significance of it makes you crumble.

There’s a big chance one of, if not all of you, will be dead in the not so distant future. What point is there, really, in clinging to old feelings or grudges? You let yourself be embraced, let your head fall against Jeonghan’s shoulder, and you cry. With a hand pressed tightly against your lips, careful not to alert Chan – the younger boy finally smiling as if the world was not ending, laughing as if he doesn’t have a worry in the world – and you cry. You’re not sure what you’re crying over, what you’re not crying over; it all blurs together until the only distinct feeling is Jeonghan’s hand pressed against your shoulder, the only sound you can make out are his even, steady breaths.

He doesn’t offer any words of comfort, no calming sounds or reassurances. For that, you’re thankful. He remains wordless and solid against your side, fingers occasionally pressing into your skin as if to ease out knots and soothe stress. His free hand lies fisted in his lap and his sight is intently staring ahead, observing the three other boys partake in a bizarre, made up drinking game.

You exhale; the sound sharp and the huff of air making the strands of Jeonghan’s hair tickle against your face. Suddenly you feel absolutely empty; you wonder if it’s possible to literally cry out emotion.

“You should cut your hair,” you murmur into the air, your mouth feeling like it’s full of something sticky and gooey that makes it difficult to produce coherent sentences. You feel Jeonghan’s head move in your direction, feel his chin against your forehead. It’s a strange sort of deja-vu that might have felt electrifying had you not been so emotionally tired. “It’s too easy to grab.”

As if to accentuate your point, you tug at the ends of his hair. Jeonghan’s fingers dig into the rounded edge of your shoulder, and your whole upper body moves with his deep inhale. You feel his heartbeat vibrate through your body.

“Okay,” he replies in a rush of an exhale. Somehow you feel like you haven’t heard his voice in years. His voice sounds like something new, something foreign. “Okay,” he repeats, rubs absentmindedly at your arm. “You cut it then.”

There’s still a lot of unsaid things between you, things you want to talk about and things you’d rather forget entirely. You haven’t talked about why you left in the first place, long before any of this horror even started, or the hurtful words he’d flung at you just earlier that day. Everything feels fragile; like you’re holding a dangerously thin thread between you, trying not to make it snap. It’s enough, for now, the attempt. You close your eyes, body heavy and head spinning.

“Okay.”

---

You think that will be it, that your semi-conversation will just be yet another one in the long line of not-quite-sober conversations that the two of you silently agree to forget. Keeping things cordial and pleasant with Jeonghan has always been a sort of dance; with practice and not a few almost-failures you’ve become quite good at following his steps and avoiding stepping on his toes.

Jun tells you he’ll take first watch, looks at you in a way that makes you want to swipe at your cheeks; his edges softened maybe by sympathy or maybe by the amount of alcohol he’s been drinking. Even with only three arms between the two of them and the grime and guts dried into the fabric of their clothing, it’s blatantly apparent that Jun and Minghao have not yet experienced death in such an up-close and personal way as you. Minghao lies on his side right by his companion, his face barely illuminated by the dying fire. Chan fell into his tent two hours ago. You can hear his soft snores as you pass.

For a moment you consider staying up, consider sitting in silence with Jun by the fire and listen to the others sleep. Somehow the thought of lying in the darkness of a tent that used to belong to your father makes your stomach churn, makes you want to throw up.

But Jun looks like the kind of guy who cares too much, and that’s the thing that urges you to bid the two remaining awake boys goodnight and retreat into your tent.

You’ve almost fallen asleep when the entrance to the tent unzips again and someone enters. You jolt up, skin itching and sizzling with the ever-present fear that tugs at your nerves. Jeonghan stares back at you, caught, the fabric of the tent clutched tightly in his balled fist.

“Chan snores,” he offers stiffly as an explanation, but does not move to fully enter the tent. For a sleep-addled moment, you just stare, squinting against the darkness to make out his features. Jeonghan has always been a beautiful boy; full lips and defined features making him the envy of boys and girls alike. Somehow it looks like he’s become duller, his face bleaker and less refined, hair a tangled mess in a tight bun at the back of his head.

Jeonghan waits, standing awkwardly at the entrance of the tent. You see his gaze divert to the side, in the direction of the still crackling campfire. Your mind sets back into gear and you scoot over, press yourself as far into the side of the tent as you can, wordlessly signaling for Jeonghan to come inside.

He puts as much space as he can between you, tension thick and heavy over the two of you as you try to ignore the stinging feeling of familiarity. You try to remember the last time you slept in the same space, the last time it was just the two of you together. You find that everything before the outbreak seems blurred, far away.

“Good night,” Jeonghan murmurs, and when you finally allow your body to relax enough for your mind to drift out of consciousness, sleep remains a black, dark and silent thing. No nightmares.

---

Even with the tangles and knots that have taken residence in Jeonghan’s long, bleach blonde hair, the strands are soft and silky between your fingers. It feels like an oddly intimate thing, pulling at his hair and staring intently at the back of his neck. Jeonghan tries not to complain when you yank too hard at a particularly difficult knot, but you can see the tense arch of his broad shoulders, hear the grunts that seem to echo into the silence of the morning.

Minghao watches with bemused interest from his seat by the now-dead fire, an almost cat-like, barely there grin toying with his lips. The knife feels heavy in your hand, and the thought of what you’re about to do makes you queasy. It’s strange, how it can feel like such a big and monumental thing, in the midst of all the fucked up shit that’s going on. How cutting someone’s hair can feel like the most important thing, even with Minghao struggling to pack his back with his one arm, clearly in view right in front of you.

“It’ll probably look a bit,” you cock your head to the side, let your fingers tangle into his light locks and look for a word that doesn’t sound as alarming as the ones that run through your mind. Awful, weird, strange. “Uneven,” you settle on, ignoring the way Minghao scoffs.

“Please,” Jeonghan mutters, with a tone of voice that almost makes you tingle with how Jeonghan it sounds. “I remember how Soonyoung–” he stops, as if he catches himself almost revealing his deepest secret. Your first reaction is to close your fingers tightly around his hair, heart thudding at the mention of your friend. You think about a boy with blue tips and hair so dry it looked about ready to fall off due to excessive bleaching. The memory of his mother’s absolutely horrified expression upon seeing your sloppily done haircut on her son had been, for many years, something retold in between laughs and large gulps of alcohol stolen from liquor cabinets. “I’m sure the zombies won’t mind an uneven haircut,” Jeonghan finishes tightly. Minghao seems to be suddenly intensely interested in the laces of his shoes.

You exhale, bite down on your bottom lip. The shittiest thing of it all is that you can’t grieve, can’t keep clamming up with the mere mention of Soonyoung or of Vernon or any of the other friends you’ve more than likely lost to this horrible outbreak. The feeling threatens to overcome you, but you know that you have to push it back. Chan already grieves enough for all of you combined, and someone needs to remain collected. It’s a tempting thought to leave that responsibility to Jeonghan. Distantly, you hope it’s a burden you can learn to carry together.

“Right,” you murmur, bring the knife to his hair. Better to just be done with it.

---

“I don’t know,” Jeonghan murmurs three days later, drags absentminded fingers through his choppy, short hair as he watches Jun fiddle with the tent plugs. He looks, at best, suspicious. You can’t really blame him, your nails digging into the flesh of your crossed arms. It sounds too good to be true; this tale the two boys have told you about a fort, a safe haven to the east. A place with tall walls and canned food, whispers and murmurs of safety being what had spurred Minghao and Jun in that direction when they chanced upon you a mere few days ago. Evidently, Jeonghan agrees. “It sounds a bit risky.”

Minghao awkwardly adjusts the strap of his bag, cocks his head to the side. You hear the muscles in his neck crack. “So what? You’re just gonna stay here forever? Without guns or food to last for more than a few weeks?” He’s right, of course. The nights are getting longer, colder, and for all intents and purposes it’s a miracle that the zombies haven’t already found you, haven’t heard Chan’s loud laughs or smelled the fire that roars all through the night.

“They’re right,” Chan says, echoing the tiny voice inside your head. Perhaps it shouldn’t come as a surprise that the boy has gotten so attached to the two foreigners already, but it still stings how quick he is to take their side. He kicks at the ground. “We can’t stay here. We need to find other people. There might already be a cure for all we know.” You frown. It’s obvious that the three boys have already been talking about this. You glance over at Jeonghan, try to read his expression.

The boy in question exhales, a sound of resignation. He tries to tuck a lock of hair behind his ear, seemingly not quite used to his new, shorter hairdo. The blond curl bounces back against his cheekbone and Jeonghan bites at his bottom lip. He makes eye contact, and something inside you seems to dislodge; there’s something familiar in his gaze, something soft and uncertain that reminds you of something simpler, something that had seemed so complicated at the time. You chew at the inside of your cheek, shrug helplessly.

The three boys are right, because of course they are. You have become stagnant in your little camp, isolated from the rest of the world and resigned to some sort of fake sense of peace and quiet that is bound to shatter sooner rather than later. Jeonghan frowns.

“Fine,” he mutters, bends over to tug expertly at the tent plug Jun was struggling with. “Let’s get going, I guess.”

---

Days bleed into each other; daylight spent walking and walking until your feet drag and your muscles ache, nights spent hurriedly putting up tents and sleeping in shifts. There’s a fear that tugs and pulls at the back of your mind; the lack of knowledge about what you’re seeking, where you’re going, how long you’ll have to keep going. You haven’t dared to ask, but you can’t even be sure that you’re going in the right direction, don’t know which way is which.

Chan massages the back of your neck as you sit in front of a small, unassuming fire made of thin sticks of wood and dry moss. Jun sleeps with his head leaning against Minghao’s shoulder, Jeonghan stares up at the stars twinkling in the pitch black sky. No one really has the energy to speak.

Jeonghan becomes a sort of permanent companion during your few hours of rest. You’re not sure when it started; if it has been that way ever since your first shared night back at your first camp or if it happened after you started traveling again, but you do know that slowly the distance is closing.

He keeps his back to yours the first night, tucked into the soft wall of the tent as if he couldn’t stomach the chance of being touched. The second night, he’s a bit closer, his body a bit less tense and his breath evens out into light snores quicker. The fourth or the fifth time, you feel his back against yours; only barely, only slightly and seemingly not on purpose. The simple contact makes your head spin, makes it feel like all air has been sucked out of the small tent.

You’ve lost count of the days when at last he doesn’t turn away from your body when he lies down, instead choosing to lie facing your back. The back of your neck tingles, shivers running down your spine every time one of his unhurried, careful breaths his your skin. Suddenly, the tent seems like nothing but a tiny box, too tight and too close around you. There’s something at the tips of your fingers that tells you to turn around to look at him; behind your closed lids you imagine what his face must look like, but you feel paralyzed. You wonder if he’s looking, if he’s waiting for you to react.

You don’t. You stay locked in your position with your back turned towards him, and you can’t find the rest to fall asleep before you hear the telltale sound of his soft, even breaths.

You wake up with an arm slung around your body, with a nose pressed to the back of your neck and you toy with the idea of letting your fingers tangle with his own where they lie splayed over the fabric of your blanket, gently pressed against your stomach. Your heart is hammering violently against your ribcage. You let yourself lie there for a while, listen to the low murmurs of the boys outside the tent talking in quiet tones and low murmurs. For a single, wonderful moment, nothing really matters. Not the zombies, not the ever present possibility of death, not the distant hope of a safe destination. All that matters is the warmth that nestles against your bones, the comfortable lull of Jeonghan’s nose caressing the skin at the back of your neck.

You feel as if something’s changing. The next night you find yourself tucked next to Jeonghan inside the tent – you wonder, idly, if the boys have discussed this agreement at all, and the possibility of it makes the nerves beneath your skin buzz – he barely even hesitates with bringing his arm over your middle, tugs slightly at your body to bring you closer. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t make any sort of mention towards this new boldness, his fingers merely tightening against your skin when you slip your fingers between the spaces of his own.

Jeonghan has never struck you as a particularly timid boy. The first time you tumbled into bed with him – years, ages, lifetimes ago – it had been without any sort of hesitation or shyness on his part. This; the careful touches and the uneven breaths, the almost reluctant way he leans his head against your shoulder and inhales as if he’s been holding his breath, feels almost like an entirely different person. But then, you suppose, no one really is the person they used to be anymore.

It’s an all too familiar sort of fear that tugs at your stomach and keeps your eyes open far longer than you intend to; closing only when they sting against the prolonged exposure to the cold air in the tent. Because you know, you recognize the warmth in your chest that seems to flare and flicker with the barest of touches from the beautiful man pressed against your back. You know all too well what it means.

What you don’t know, of course, is what it means to him.

---

You’re not surprised when you wake up one morning to an empty campsite. The fire must have died out hours ago, not even a hint of heat left in the pile of ashes and burnt wood. From inside the tent next to yours, you hear Chan snoring, and at least that alleviates the panic that pricks at your skin.

Truth be told, you’d been waiting for the pair of foreigners to take their leave. You’ve heard them murmur among themselves in low tones and unfamiliar words, have seen the glances and unspoken conversations the two of them seem to fall into at times. Honestly, you had expected them to flee days ago.

You stare at the small pile of weapons and rations they seem to have left behind; the rifle Jun had used to shoot the zombies that almost killed you the first time you met, a knife you’ve seen Minghao carry on his belt. A decent amount of ammo and some cans of food. It’s not– it’s not them, it’s not what you wanted, but it is a reminder that getting attached to people in the middle of what might be the end of the world isn’t a good practice.

Chan tries not to look disappointed when you tell him Minghao and Jun has left. He doesn’t quite manage.

---

You stumble – almost literally – over Lee Seokmin another four days into your tireless travels towards a place that might not even exist. It feels a bit more hopeless now, without Minghao and Jun to hype the place up. Chan mopes, sighs and frowns, but he seems to have found something – somewhere – to believe in, and he refuses to let himself get dragged into the cynicism you share with Jeonghan.

In that sense, Seokmin might be exactly what your little trio needs.

He’s a wonder, really; a tall, inhumanly beautiful boy with a smile that could truly rival the sun. And he smiles– boy, does he smile. He smiles in such a way that you almost forget your surroundings when you look at him, and he sighs in relief when he sees the three of you. He speaks in casual, high tones and rubs the back of his neck as he sits up from his position flat on his back on the ground.

He doesn’t have a single thing on him, nothing but the clothes his wearing and his bright smile, and maybe you didn’t learn a single thing from Minghao and Jun’s disappearance at all, because the offer to travel together falls out of your mouth before you can even stop to consider.

Seokmin’s smile widens, and that’s that, you suppose.

---

“I don’t know how he does it,” Jeonghan mutters into the silence of the tent, puffs of breaths making the hair on the back of your neck stand. You twist your body around to face him, squint in an attempt to make out the lines and contours of his face. He looks, from what you can decipher, strangely unraveled; brows tightly knit together and mouth pulled in a deep frown. “Seokmin, I mean,” he clarifies.

You hum, unable to really open your mind. You know what he means; Seokmin’s good humor about the situation and relentless optimism is so staunch it borders on exhausting. Somehow you get the feeling that Jeonghan isn’t really looking for you to agree. He exhales, a tired and heartbreaking sound, and when he hooks his fingers around your ear, it feels as if he’s trying, desperately, to cling to you without making it an obvious thing.

”I’m sorry,” he whispers, seemingly out of nowhere. You wonder if he’s talking about your fight right after Soonyoung died, or if he’s talking about how shitty he treated you before you left, years ago. You wonder if he means all of it, or if he’s talking about something else entirely, but you find that it doesn’t matter. That he could be talking about something as inconsequential as that one time, years ago, when he singled you out during never have I ever and you still would have felt the same sort of relief at his apology.

When you reach out to touch his face, you can’t quite miss how wet his cheeks are. Have you ever seen Jeonghan cry before, you wonder, swipe your thumbs gently over his cheekbones.

”Jeonghan,” you murmur, surprised to find your voice thick, uneven. He inhales, chokes on air, and the sound makes you want to cry yourself. “Please don’t cry,” you beg him, nonsense words spilling out of your mouth just for the sake of saying anything at all. You lean your forehead against his, clutch at his skin. “If you cry, I’m gonna cry, too.”

He kisses you, then; hungrily and suddenly and with a fervency that surprises you. Not because you haven’t kissed Jeonghan before, not because you weren’t aware that he hides something fiery and explosive underneath his cold and collected exterior, but because it feels, somehow, like an admission. He presses the palms of his hands against your cheeks, presses against you and pulls you close as if he can’t really help it.

Between open-mouthed kisses, he spills confessions against your lips; whispers about how scared he is, nonsense apologies about things so far into your past you can’t even remember them anymore.

”I missed you,” he tells you, so honestly it makes you ache. “When you left. I hated you for it.”

And that, more than anything else, is an admission. You almost tell him you left because of him, because you thought he wouldn’t care. But then his hand comes to rest flat against your stomach, bunches up your shirt to caress your skin, and you forget how to form coherent sentences. He clutches at you as if he’s trying to consume you, and you find that you would let him.

The last time you found yourself in this position, you had found yourself fantasizing about three words. Not too big or significant on their own, but so important, so huge put together. It’s scary how easily they drift to the forefront of your mind as Jeonghan bites at your lip, swipes his tongue against your mouth.

Jeonghan starts holding your hand after that, starts hovering close and kissing your cheeks unapologetically in front of both Chan and Seokmin. Neither look surprised. You try not to think too hard about what that means.

---

You’ll be the first to admit that you might have become a bit complacent. Too used to quiet nights and too caught up in this new – but not really – budding thing between you and Jeonghan. Maybe that’s why you expect it, when you’re awakened by the sound of a scream that makes you shoot up into a sitting position so fast it makes your head spin.

Chan, your mind screams, heart thudding so harshly, so loudly against your ribs that it threatens to make you throw up. But no– Chan’s screams are not quite that high in octaves, and you’ll probably never truly forgive yourself for the relief that knowledge brings you. Jeonghan’s grip borders on painful as his nails dig into the flesh of your arm, a low, rumbling curse falling out of his mouth.

(it’s a mess of cries and flesh and pounding heartbeats against ribs. chan tries to run towards seokmin where he lies on the ground surrounded by brain-dead monsters, and in an ironic change of roles, you’re the one who has to shake him back to reality. chan screams, seokmin screams even louder. jeonghan tugs at your arm, and you run: leaving everything but jun’s rifle behind.)

You must have been half-walking, half-running for at least an hour when Chan finally slows down, murmurs your name in a slow, tired tone of voice. With Jeonghan’s hand clasped tightly, clammy against yours, you come to a halt, look at the younger boy behind you.

Your heart seems to stop.

“Oh my god,” you exhale, voice cracking in a way that seems to vibrate through your entire body. Because right there; red and blatantly visible against Chan’s pale and pallid skin on his long and thick neck, is a bite. He breathes, short and hurried as if he knows that he doesn’t have a lot of time left. Jeonghan stiffens beside you, takes a step as if to guard you against the younger boy. Chan drops Minghao’s knife, raises his hands above his head.

“Jeonghan,” he says, voice low, dragging and serious. He sounds as if he’s not unprepared for the conversation, as if this is a scenario they’ve prepared for. Jeonghan stiffens, his grip on Jun’s rifle tightening. “You have to kill me,” Chan says. You choke, legs not able to keep your weight up anymore.

“We can fix this,” you try, your voice shivering and shaking at every syllable. It’s nothing but empty words, of course, and the way Chan looks at you makes it blatantly obvious that he know it, too. You try to think about Minghao, about his missing arm and pleasant disposition, but even as you do it, you know it’s something entirely different than the bite burning at the base of Chan’s neck.

Jeonghan takes aim, and your breath seems to shorten, quicken.

“Look away,” Chan orders, voice barely even detectable over the sound of your own, hurried breaths. You shake your head, pretend that you’re not about to lose your fucking mind. You owe him that, at least.

“I love you,” you tell him, so sincerely and wholeheartedly that it makes your own heart shatter. He tells you, again, to look away. But you can’t. “I love you,” you repeat, cling to Jeonghan as if he’s the only thing left anchoring you to the world. You can’t keep your body from jerking in tune with the sound of the gunshot. Jeonghan drops the rifle, inhales so harshly that it makes you tremble.

And then there’s only the two of you left.

#svt fanfic #seventeen fanfic #svt imagines #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #svt scenarios

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