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juyeonszn · 3 months

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PRINCESS AND THE PAUPER (PT. 2)

PAIRING kevin moon x f!reader

WORD COUNT 5.60k

GENRES angst ﹒little bit of fluff ﹒little bit of smut

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, reader is better than me cause i would not let kevin do all the shit he’s done 😭, ANYWAY i digress, this part is very reader-centric — whereas part one is very kevin-centric, inner turmoil goes absolutely crazy, most of this fic is reader putting kevin in his place and him realizing how big of an asshole he truly is, mentions of injury (past tense), mentions of insecurity, lots of arguing, reader cries at one point or another, the smut places a very minimal role in this, but unprotected sex, public sex (the auditorium dressing room), no foreplay but wtv we fall like soldiers in battle, pussy job lowkey (high key…), creampie, lmk if i missed anything!

SUMMARY it wasn’t like you and kevin hated each other. in fact, you quite admired him despite his somewhat indifferent attitude toward you. well, now that you’re paired up for the last dance of the year, you guess it’s the perfect time to find out why.

MORE oh my god. it’s finally fucking here. A MONTH, 2 SICKNESSES AND MANY MANY STRESSFUL NIGHTS LATER— part two of princess and the pauper is here!!! i’m so sorry to those of u who have been itching and waiting on me to get ‘er done,,, it’s been an ordeal to say the least, and while it’s nearing the two month mark since the black out or back out collab was announced, SHE FINALLY FINISHED!!! for once i saw something through omg i can sleep peacefully and work on my other wips without guilt now… 😭 ALSO THANK U SO MUCH MAYA @/kimsohn FOR PUSHING ME THROUGH THIS and for making me thug it out bc without u it definitely would’ve taken much longer to finish 💔 please dont forget to read part one and the other fics in the series if u haven’t!! both are linked below! and as always, pls reblog if u enjoyed <3

PART ONE | SERIES MASTERLIST

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble @zzoguri @deoboyznet @cloverdaisies @vernyangel @ericlvr @sunwooverse @kimsohn

TAGLIST @millksea @deobibbang @deobi0412

Never in your life have you felt so… Confused.

It wasn’t just confusion that settled deep in the pit of your stomach. There was a sharp pain there too, like someone stabbed you and twisted the knife. That was probably the best way to describe what you were feeling. You were bleeding out, and no one was coming to save you.

Kevin wasn’t answering your calls. He wasn’t answering your texts. He ran out of the lecture hall as soon as class was over, never giving you a moment to speak to him. It was making you nervous.

You still had half of a dance to choreograph and a fuck ton of pressure riding on your back. After the last performance you and him did together, you’d have a lot of eyes on you. It most definitely wasn’t your fault that he dropped you. How many people willingly want to acquire a broken ankle? The crutches were a bitch to maneuver around with. But like every single thing that’s happened in the three years you’ve known Kevin Moon, he’s managed to place the blame on you like it was.

It was crucial that you make amends with him even if it was momentarily. Your final grades were dependent on your performance. If he couldn’t get his shit together for at least that, he was a lost cause in your mind. Not even your professor would be able to refute that fact. Actually, nobody would be able to refute that fact.

Your lips form an O as you blow the steam away from your coffee, pulling out your phone to try Kevin’s phone once again. The line rings a few times before going straight to voicemail like it has the past couple weeks. You kiss your teeth, tying your sweater around your waist as you slump in your chair. The baristas at the campus cafe were probably sick of seeing you sitting in the same high-top counter spot since the incident with Kevin in the studio.

“Y/N?”

Ji Changmin appears beside you and you click your phone off, so he wouldn’t see his friend’s contact on the screen. You give the Early Childhood Dev major a weak smile.

“Changmin! What’s up? How are you and your girlfriend?” You hope he can’t recognize the distress written all over your features. You highly doubt it, though. You can feel the wrinkles pulling at your skin.

“We’re good! How’s the showcase performance going with Kev?” He asks like he knows something you don’t. When your lips fall to a thin line, an all too familiar grimace, he sighs a knowing sigh. “Do I have to smack some sense into him?”

“Not gonna lie, yeah, you do. He’s being really fucking difficult and like half of our dance is unfinished. I can’t even get a hold of him, so I’m starting to lose my patience.” You express your annoyance. The border between complacency and free-will was a lot slimmer than one might think. For example; your feelings when it comes to Kevin Moon.

You don’t expect to get a returning call later that night when you’re washing dishes after dinner.

In fact, you don’t even hear it at first, too absorbed in scrubbing the staining out of your bowl. It’s when your roommate yells out to you, that you snap out of your reverie, albeit dazedly. You dry your hands on a nearby tea towel, hitting the green answer button without a second glance at the caller ID.

“Hello?”

“Are you free tomorrow?”

Your heart catches in your throat. You recognize the owner of the voice practically by the first breath into the receiver alone. It’s actually kind of unhealthy how quickly it took to realize who was on the other end. You swallow heavily, praying he doesn’t hear the gulp.

“In the latter part of the afternoon, I believe. Why?” You try not to sound hopeful. That’s one thing you’ve learned being in the same vicinity as Kevin Moon. You could never be too expecting, because it would only lead to disappointment. And you’d dealt with enough of that the past few years.

“We need to finish this fuck ass choreography,” he grunts, and it takes everything in you to bite your tongue. “I’ll meet you in the same studio at 4.”

He doesn’t let you get anything else in, hanging up swiftly. You deflate as you set your phone back on the counter. All you had to do was push through these next couple weeks, like you always have when it came to him.

That should be a piece of cake, right?

Wrong.

“No, that looks stupid.”

You grit your teeth, swiping the back of your hand on your forehead. You’d been inside of this studio maybe 30 minutes tops, and you were on the verge of strangling Kevin. With as long as you’d been putting up with his shit, you thought getting through this wouldn’t be as rough as it’s been. But if there was one thing Kevin Moon had, it was pride.

“We don’t have time for you to nitpick right now. Let’s just finish the choreography and clean it after.” Your hands rest on your hips, nostrils flaring.

“If we clean as we go, we’ll have more time to drill it into our systems and get down muscle memory. It’ll be a stronger performance.” He argues. You roll your eyes as you turn away from him, taking a water break to calm yourself. “Why do you have so much fucking attitude today? You were the one preaching to the choir about me making things difficult. It seems the tables have turned.”

Usually, you were pretty good at keeping your frustration at bay when it came to Kevin’s remarks. You liked to think it was because you were down bad for the guy, despite him always wanting nothing to do with you. But as of late, (Read: Since your performance of Princess and the Pauper) every little comment he’s made has managed to crawl under your skin like a damn parasite. You were beginning to get real sick of it.

“God, you’re so—“ You interrupt yourself to groan, fingers curling into fists. “You’re fucking insufferable. Do you know that? I’ve been bending over backwards to ensure we aren’t kicked out of the goddamn program and you don’t even fucking care. Over what? A kiss that you initiated?”

Kevin is stunned into silence, not at all prepared for you to blow up on him like that. After all, that razor thin line between complacency and free-will had yet to be crossed. And well, it appears that you just crossed it. You whip around toward him, pulling down the collar of your t-shirt to reveal the faintest of bruises that still remains from your impromptu act of intimacy.

“I’ve had to look at this every day for a week and all it’s done is make me feel shitty, ashamed of something I didn’t even start. Now I need you to stop acting like an ass and get it together so we can finish this and perform the best dance this university has ever seen.” Your chest is heaving up and down, similarly to when you made out against the mirrors last week. Except this time isn’t out of breathlessness, but rather anger and exhaustion.

Kevin’s eyes don’t leave the hickey on the base of your throat, something undetectable swimming in them as he stares. You can’t read the emotions swirling rampantly in his irises, a mixture of too many blurring into one another. Honestly, it’s funny. It’s funny that it’s taken you this long to get him to shut his mouth for once.

So you laugh.

It’s a snort at first, an off handed projection of how comical the situation has become to you. But then it metamorphoses into a small giggle, which leads to full scale laughter that has you hunching over your knees and wiping away tears. This whole thing is stupid. Absolutely fucking stupid.

“What are you laughing at?” His eyebrow raises in question, broken from his weird trance.

“I just can’t believe it took three years for me to shut you up,” you shake your head slowly, rubbing your eye with the heel of your palm. “You’re always the one who can’t stop talking.”

Kevin deadpans, mouth pulled pin-straight as his expression drops. “You’re so unserious.”

As the height of your laughter reaches a valley, you collapse onto the ground, resting your back against the mirror. You take another long sip of water before sighing. “Look, I know this isn’t ideal. Trust me, I know. But, we’ve gotta set aside our differences just this once. Please, for the sake of the department.”

“Fine,” he murmurs, plopping down beside you to stretch his back. “Let’s finish choreographing so we can start cleaning it up.”

It’s a victory in your book, and probably the most obedient the Pisces has ever been. Maybe this wouldn’t end in complete disaster like you assumed it would. It turns out Kevin Moon wasn’t entirely brainless and knew when he was wrong. Sometimes. Maybe. We’ll see.

You shut your eyes and visualize what you’ve choreographed so far, going over the moves in your head to see if the rest will come to you like a prophecy. It’s wishful thinking, but with how much you’ve accomplished since setting foot in the studio, you’re willing to try anything. The track would be nice for elements of hip hop style choreography, but you knew the audience wouldn’t eat it up as much as they would the route you’re currently taking.

Driver roll up the partition, please…

The song plays through the speakers and you watch as Kevin stands to run through everything you have. You’re entranced by his movements, the flow of his body on certain points. It’ll look ten times better once you’re doing it with him, costumed and performing it perfectly in front of a crowd. You can picture it now, the gentle but controlled glide of his hands along your arms when Beyoncé sings “We ain’t even gonna make it to this club”. He was right. You very well might be seduced by your enemy.

“Should we use props?” You suddenly voice, eyes narrowed in thought. He hums.

“That’s… not a half-bad idea, actually,” his tongue darts out to wet his lips. “What did you have in mind?”

“A chair, maybe,” you look away from him, placing your focus on the way your toes alternate between a tendu and relaxed position. “That could take up a good chunk of the choreo.”

Kevin stalks over to the supply closet in the corner of the studio, pulling out a folding chair. He puts it in the center of the room gently, careful to not scratch up the wooden, lacquered flooring. You spend the next couple of hours brainstorming through numerous versions of the dance. While it was a lot easier than your past practices, there were still the occasional argument over which movements looked good and whatnot.

At a certain point, everything becomes cohesive and the end is near. You gulp down some water as Kevin does some random choreography. It’s then that it comes to you, like a vision from That’s So Raven. You practically drop your water bottle, scrambling to your feet and stopping him. Your breath is heavy from fatigue and you’re slightly afraid of even suggesting this, but it’s exactly what this dance needs. It’s exactly what everyone wants to see from the two of you.

He pauses the music and gestures for you to get on with it. You push down the lump in your throat, scared of rejection. But maybe he was smart and he would agree that this is what you have to do. “What if we did a lift?”

You see the hesitation swirling in his eyes and you raise a finger before he can shut you down entirely. “Nothing crazy like… um— you know— Princess and the Pauper, but something smaller. Something… sexy? Like, Dancing with the Stars type beat.”

When he shrugs instead of outright dismissing your idea, you know you’ve won. He nods slowly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. “Okay, sure. But we better clean up everything else fast so we can perfect the lift.”

The two of you take another three hours running the entirety of the choreography, ingraining the moves into your brains and muscles. You still had a bit until the actual showcase, but your priority now lies with the lift. If you nailed it, the entire department would very well grovel after you in reparation for all of the slack you got after Kevin dropped you. Hell, the entire university would kiss your feet. This was your redemption. In more ways than one.

You both decide to call it a day at around 9:30 PM. Your hands reach for your belongings and then you halt yourself, a thought coming to mind. While you had him in this weird state of obedience, you figured it was as good a time as any to ask the question that’s been weighing on you for the past few years. Your fingers swipe away the sweat beading around your hairline.

”Kevin,” you start, voice a lot softer than before. “Why do you— what did I do to make you dislike me so much?”

He’s caught completely off guard, eyes widening in surprise. If he was anticipating you to say anything else prior to parting ways tonight, he didn’t think this would be it. He’s actually a little off put that you hadn’t asked him this already in the span of your definitely-one-sided rivalry. He takes a large gulp of water.

”I’d call it indifference, not dislike,” he corrects after a pregnant silence. “It’s really fucking stupid thinking about it in hindsight. I don’t know if you remember this time, way back in our first year, we ran into each other at the campus cafe— literally, might I add— and you spilled your coffee all over this white shirt of mine that Changmin had gotten for me as a birthday gift. I only recently found out that it wasn’t as expensive as he made it out to be.”

You blink at his admission, processing his words as thoroughly as possible. You don’t know what you wanted him to say. You weren’t even sure if there was a concrete reason for him to be so fucking mean to you all this time. And now that you know, you come to the conclusion that Kevin Moon isn’t as smart as you’ve painted him out to be in your head. He’s actually a gigantic idiot. Because who in their right mind goes through these lengths to form a distance between the only other person on par with their talent?

Before you can stop yourself, you’re bursting into another fit of laughter. Kevin falters at your reaction. He was waiting for you to blow up on him, to scream in his face for causing you so much pain and unnecessary drama over something so silly. So when you do none of that, when you start fucking laughing like a damn hyena, he feels dumb. Like his entire college career has been built off of nothing.

”This is so—“ you pause to gather your bearings, wiping away the tears that managed to escape. “We’ve spent so much time going back and forth over some spilled coffee? Surely you’ve realized how insane that is at some point.”

”It took a lengthy argument with Changmin, but yeah, I did,” he nods, adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder. “Old habits die hard, I guess.”

You worry your lower lip between your teeth, finally getting your things together. The two of you bid each other an awkward goodbye. Neither of you knew what to make of your relationship now that things had been partially sorted through. There was a fuck ton of baggage that still had to be sifted, but at least you had an answer.

That was enough to push through this showcase performance. You think.

You’re nervous.

Never in your entire life have you ever been this nervous for a performance.

You grew up doing musical theatre and dancing, it’s always been the one constant presence you could rely on. But standing here, backstage at the showcase, you think you’re going to throw up. Your palms are clamming up uncontrollably and your chest feels unbearably heavy as you watch the quartet doing a contemporary piece to some ballad you couldn’t be bothered to remember the name of. There were still a couple groups before you.

Not even when you had to perform fuckass Princess and the Pauper were you this anxious. You wince, trying to stop the incessant bouncing of your leg. Your weight keeps shifting from one hip to the other. As a seasoned veteran, you don’t know why you feel this way. Maybe it had to do with all the pressure riding on this very dance. Every single eye in that crowd was going to scrutinize your every move on that stage.

“Calm down,” a voice whispers harshly from beside you. “You’re making me nervous.”

Kevin wraps his fingers around your wrist, stopping the annoying tap-tap-tap your own were doing against your thigh. He gives you a look, and you sigh. “Sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

That’s a lie. Not only was the high expectations from the entire school getting to you, but so was the fear of history repeating itself. He knows this, it was inevitable. After what happened the last time he was tasked with lifting you, it was only natural.

”We’ve drilled this dance hundreds, if not thousands, of times, Y/N. We’ll do just fine.” Kevin assures you.

His hand feels foreign holding yours, like it was illegal for his skin to be touching your own. You feel your lower lip quiver, a sense of trepidation that you’ve never once felt creeping down your spine. Your mind was spiraling, and quite honestly, Kevin being so close was making it worse. All you could think about was him dropping you again, leaving you in the middle of the stage with a broken leg and a broken heart. You release a shaky breath and he turns to face you.

Your eyes widen and he searches your face for any disingenuity. When he finds his answer, he brings the hand that was holding yours up to cup your cheek. He’s cautious, afraid he might break you like he always does. He waits for you to shove him away and to yell at him for being a fucking coward.

You don’t. You stay still, hoping he follows through with what you think he’s about to do. And then he does.

It’s such a featherlight peck of his lips on your own, you almost don’t even register. But sparks shoot from the source all the way to the tips of your fingers. You feel as if you were dealt a static shock of electricity, your whole body buzzing from the small kiss alone.

He pulls away just in time for the stage manager to inform you that you’re next. Kevin rolls his neck jogging over to the wings to patiently await your performance like he hadn’t just kissed you a moment ago. You blink dumbly, two fingers coming up to touch where his lips had been. Sure the nerves were gone now, but the sensation of butterflies swarming about in your stomach easily replaced that. What the fuck was his problem?

“Our last performance is one I’m sure all of you have been waiting for. Kevin Moon and Y/N L/N with Partition!”

Before you know it, you and Kevin are in position, your body squared upstage and his to the crowd. Your eyes are closed, but you can feel his arm wrapped around your waist and his steady breathing on your nose. The spotlight switches on, the heat of the lighting warm against the side of your face. It’s silent in the auditorium, but it rings in your ears. You could do this.

Let me hear you say ‘Hey Miss Carter’…

You move on reflex, muscle memory kicking in instantaneously. Each circle of your hips, every turn you make— a fouetté here, a pirouette there, a couple coupes, each roll of your body. But what really gets you is the long brushes of Kevin’s skin on your own. You’d practiced with distance between the two of you. There was a tension that had been there for years. Now it’s all coming to a rolling boil, a new uncharted tension that every single member in that audience could see.

And then comes the lift.

You, along with everybody in the auditorium, practically hold your breath when Kevin’s hands grip your hips. He raises you above him with all of his strength, completely focused on you and only you. You shut your eyes and feel the moment, like, really feel it. Your body is relaxed, the Dirty Dancing-esque lift bringing the whole performance together just like you knew it would. The only difference from the movie and real life is the fact that you’re flipped, your backside to Kevin and your chest to the ceiling.

Your eyes flutter open, the spotlight all but blinding you, and you finally feel content. Like everything has fallen into the right place for once in your life. Especially so when Kevin sets you down gently and you finish your dance with the utmost confidence.

The crowd erupts into a roaring chorus of applause, going as far as giving you a standing ovation. Holy shit. You pulled it off. You actually managed to pull it off.

Your face feels like it might split from how big your smile is. You and Kevin bow, walking off stage. You’re entirely too happy right now, a newfound energy overtaking you as you trail behind him.

“We did it!” You cheer as you follow him towards the dressing room where your things are. You’re the only ones left backstage, everyone else filtering out between performances. Kevin doesn’t give you much of a response, just a small nod of acknowledgment. Your smile falters. “What the hell is your problem?”

”Nothing, Y/N, fuck. Can you just mind your own fucking business?” He snaps, turning around to glare at you just as the door slams behind you. You instinctively flinch at both loud noises. His features soften but you take a step back from him.

You aren’t sure why you’re surprised. This isn’t anything new. Kevin has always made it crystal clear that he wasn’t your number one fan. Being neutral for your performance wasn’t enough to repair all the holes in whatever your relationship was, and you should’ve known better. You shouldn’t have let your guard down so easily. You should’ve expected this. Old dogs can never learn new tricks.

But Kevin’s scared. He’s afraid of letting you in after all the mess he’s put you through. The only thing he’s good at doing is hurting you, over and over like there was a prize that came out of it.

”Look…”

”No, you listen to me,” you swallow heavily, tears already tight lining your eyes. “Kevin, I have taken so much shit from you. Over these past few years I have just sat there and let you unload all your fucked up insecurities onto me. Have you ever wondered why? Have you ever thought to stop and think about why I let you be so mean to me without even questioning it?”

He says nothing, just stares with his lips parted. They open and close like a fish out of water, words there at the tip of his tongue but refusing to make their escape. And then one of your tears rolls down your cheeks and he’s directly in front you, his heart on his sleeve for the first time since you’ve met him.

”Why?” The simple question is so quiet, you almost don’t hear him. But his eyes hold so much hurt, so much anguish that you’ve never seen in a person before.

“I’ve had feelings for you for so long, it’s actually starting to ache. You’ve only ever seen me as this thing, this obstacle. And I’m afraid that that’s all I’ll ever be to you, because you won’t let me be anything else. You won’t—“

”That’s not true, Y/N,” Kevin sighs, looking off to the side, away from you. “I just— it’s complicated. It’s more than just being rivals.”

”So help me understand,” you frown. “Let me in, please.”

”My entire life I’ve had to work to get to where I am. I’ve fought tooth and nail to be as good of a performer as I am today. There were so many hoops I had to go through to even get into this program and— and I thought I’d finally become the best I could be. I thought that there was no way anyone could ever be better than me. And then you showed up. You and your pretty smile and your natural ability to be the best at everything you do. It was like you were the real life manifestation of all of my critics, of every challenge I faced to get here. Where I had to practice day and night to perfect something, it just came to you like second nature. During Princess and the Pauper, when I dropped you, it truly was an accident. But we’d spent so much time nailing it, that it— I just made myself feel better by saying it was your fault. ‘How could it have been my fault if I perfected it?’ I was jealous and petty and it was just easier to blame hating— to blame my indifference on you spilling coffee on my stupid shirt. For that, I’m sorry.”

You don’t know what you were waiting to hear, but it wasn’t that. Your tears turn into full on blubbering, because what the fuck? That’s so much burden for someone to carry on their shoulders for three years.

“Why are you— why are you crying?” He flounders, reaching up to swipe away your tears.

“I wish I knew… I wish I could’ve helped you somehow,” you sniffle. “Kev, I’ve always admired you and your work ethic. I hoped one day I’d be half as disciplined as you, half as determined.”

He blinks. You’re both dumb, aren’t you? Too focused on the wrong things. You both could’ve been a lot less hateful, a lot less miserable, had you just spoken your differences out. This entire rivalry has been completely one sided, but also built off of plain stupidity and ignorance. He supposes it’s not too late to make amends if you aren’t running in the opposite direction despite everything he’s put you through.

Kevin leans forward, hand still pressed to your cheek, and connects your lips softly. He’s testing the waters, making sure you’re comfortable before he continues anything. When you don’t back away just yet, he adds more force, deepening the kiss like a man starved. You whine against his lips.

This is what you’ve been wanting from him. More than what he gave you before your performance, but not what happened in the studio a few weeks ago. This desperation isn’t abashed lust, it’s unbridled affection— it’s everything he’s holed inside of himself for years, unwilling to let it see the light of day until now. If you were to label anything as perfection, it wouldn’t be a dance or a moment on stage, it would be this. Just you and Kevin finally bringing yourselves together in the most intimately emotional union.

He pulls you closer to him, hands sliding down to grasp at your waist, bunching up the thin fabric of your leotard. You can’t help but bury your fingers in his hair, tugging when he nips at your lower lip. A gasp permeates the air when his mouth travels south, along your jaw and down the side of your neck. He bites and sucks the tender skin at the base of your throat, ensuring he leaves his mark on you. This time isn’t careless, this time he has purpose. He wants everybody to know that you’re his, that you’re the only person insane enough to put up with him.

Your breathing is shaky when you reach behind you to lock the dressing room, dragging him over to the long vanity adjacent to you. He slots between your legs when you hoist yourself onto the surface. He pecks your lips and pauses his movements, rubbing up and down your thighs. In the dim, yellow lighting of the room, you look so gorgeous. He’s always thought you were beautiful, the most stunning thing he’s ever laid his eyes on, but he’s repressed it for so long. He wants to take his time staring at what he’s avoided.

”You’re so pretty,” he says quietly, kissing you again and again and again. “I don’t think I can last long with you.”

“Can we skip the foreplay?” You ask, bottom lip jutted into a pout. “Need you to just fuck me like you mean it.”

Kevin’s forehead falls to your shoulder with a groan. “I don’t deserve you,” God, he’s such an idiot for holding out from this. You should’ve been given the world and so much more. He has a lot of lost time to make up for. He kisses your shoulder with a sigh. “Yeah, baby, I can do that.”

You don’t waste another second, slipping your arms through the sleeves of your leotard. He has to bite down on his tongue when he sees that you’re braless, fingers going slack as they unbutton the rest of his silk shirt. You shimmy out of the one piece, left in nothing but the fishnet stockings you wore underneath and your lacy panties. Kevin thinks he must’ve done at least something right in a past life to experience this.

Your eyes sparkle as you look up at him, undoing his slacks and kicking them down his legs with your feet. Something takes over him when he rips a bigger hole in your stockings, pushing your underwear to the side. His thumb glides through your folds with ease, your slick providing enough lubricant. He pushes your lower lips apart while you busy yourself shoving his underwear to his ankles.

His cock slips inside of you with less friction than he would’ve thought, but he doesn’t complain, screwing his eyes shut as he acclimates to the feeling of your walls surrounding him. You moan, such a soft sound that he nearly loses his balance.

“You feel so good, baby,” he coos, digging his fingers into your hips as he rocks his own. “You’re so so perfect.”

The praise is too much for you, given the circumstances. Your brain is already cloudy, stuffed with what could only be described as cotton. You watch with half lidded eyes as he begins to piston into you at a faster speed. This all feels like a fever dream, something that was only possible in your craziest fantasies. Even then, it seemed unlikely.

“‘M close, Kev,” you whine, unable to stay still and attempting to match his thrusts.

“Already? We’ve only just started, gorgeous.” He laughs, but it’s breathy, strained from the exertion of his body. You hardly have the strength in you to be embarrassed about it, especially since he’s seen you in much worse situations.

You nod frantically, snaking a hand between you to circle your clit with nimble fingers. Kevin halts you and pulls out momentarily, sliding his cock between your folds like it was your hand. The tip catches your sensitive bundle of nerves repeatedly, making you dizzier than you already were.

He presses back into you with ease, resuming his sloppy but animalistic pace. He uses his thumb to continue your handywork, your cunt fluttering around him needily. You’re both losing your sanity quickly, both going batshit insane over the bare minimum. You’ve just needed this for so long, yearned for this moment for a humiliating amount of time.

Your moans start to rise in pitch and he groans. “Fuck, baby, you can cum for me.”

He could cry, he thinks, when your back arches and your legs shake with your orgasm. It hits you like a freight train, triggering his own release just as fast.

You stay like that for a bit, regaining yourselves and comprehending everything that’s just happened. So much for the whole hating each other narrative.

“What does this mean for us?” You suddenly ask, arms hooked around Kevin’s neck. You’re still connected by your lower halves, but he makes no effort to pull away. Part of you likes it that way, it gives you hope that this isn’t a one time affair.

“It’ll be hard for things to change overnight,” he says, massaging your sides. “We have a lot of unresolved issues and insecurities that we still have to push past. But I’m willing to do that with you. I want to take a chance on us.”

Your lips pull into a smile, an expression you don’t think you’ve worn around him genuinely in the years you’ve known him. “I do, too.”

“It’s kind of ironic that it was a performance that tore us apart and brought us back together, don’t you think?” He laughs.

“And we fucked in the dressing room…” You add, glancing to the top corner where a security camera is stationed.

“Maybe we should get out of here before someone checks the footage,” he suggests. “Tau Beta Zeta is conveniently hosting our end of semester party tonight, do you wanna be my plus one?”

“I would be honored.” You grin, pecking his lips tenderly.

Perhaps happy endings existed after all.

#deoboyznet #the boyz #the boyz x reader #the boyz smut #tbz #tbz x reader #tbz smut #the boyz kevin #tbz kevin #kevin moon x reader #kevin moon smut #kevin x reader #kevin smut #moon hyungseo #blackoutorbackout🍻#juyeonszn

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slytherinshua · 3 months

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SHUT UP, BRAIN

genre. hurt/comfort. warnings. kevin has some thoughts and insomnia. pairing. kevin x reader. wc. 745. request. no. a/n. i love him so much he deserves the world hes so sweet and perfect :(

When you stirred from sleep from the unmistakable chill and loud rustling in the room followed by a hushed curse, you knew Kevin had struggled to fall asleep again. You were exhausted, but you knew it was probably even worse for him. He never seemed to show how tired he was, but you could sometimes see it in his eyes, especially when the lack of sleep built up over time.

You forced your eyes open, pulling the blanket closer over your body to help with the shivers. Without Kevin’s body warmth, you always felt a constant chill, no matter how many blankets you piled on top of your body. It just wasn’t the same as being wrapped up in his arms.

“Kevin.” You called out, rolling to the other side of the bed to locate where he was in the room.

“Hm?” He answered immediately, turning around to meet your tired eyes. This same routine had happened so often that he had learned to not feel bad about waking you up because he couldn’t sleep. You really didn’t mind, you just wanted him back in bed cuddled up next to you.

“Cold.” That was all you could muster out in a tired whisper. Thankfully, it was all Kevin needed to know that you wanted him back under the covers. He shuffled over sheepishly as you opened up the blanket for him to crawl under with you.

You sighed as soon as you were able to wrap your arms around his body and could feel the warmth that washed over you almost immediately. You rested your head back on the pillow and watched Kevin’s eyes drift to the ceiling, blinking several times, but never falling down to look at you.

“You thinking about something?” You asked quietly.

You heard him sigh. He took a while to respond, but you didn’t rush him. You focused on the little skin exposed on his chest from his pyjama top, drawing little circles on the spot to relax him.

“Just… us, I guess. Thinking about everything, but mostly just you… and me.” His eyes flickered to you for a split second before settling back on the ceiling.

“What about us?”

“Are you tired of this?” The question was filled with worry, and you knew that ‘this’ referred to more than just what your mind immediately jumped to.

“No. Are you?”

“No… but I still feel bad.”

You understood what he was feeling. It was almost impossible not to feel some frustration with the sacrifices you both had to make just to be able to date each other. It was hard, but it was worth it. You just had to reassure him of it at times.

“I know, Kev. You know you make me really happy, though, right?” The way you said it was almost like a promise to him; a promise that he would always make you happier than anyone else.

“I know I do, I just wish I was able to do more, you know?” You hummed, trying to fight back a yawn and listen to everything that was plaguing his mind, but it slipped past you before you could stop it.

“I’m sorry, I know you’re tired. I’ll be okay. You can go back to sleep.” He turned on his side, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Will you be able to sleep?” You pulled him just a bit closer, craving more of his body warmth and comforting embrace.

“I’ll try. If I can’t, I promise to still keep you warm.” He smiled fondly at you as you got comfortable again, adjusting the blankets to cover you properly and shuffling your head on your pillow.

“I love you.” You mumbled, closing your eyes and letting the tiredness wash over you in waves. You felt Kevin’s lips press against yours, but it was soft and fleeting, only lasting for a second before he pulled away.

“I love you too. Sorry for my brain.” He whispered back.

“I love your brain, too. I just wish it was nicer to you.” You said, half asleep at that point. You couldn’t see Kevin’s half-hearted smile, but you felt him pull you even closer until your head was resting on his chest instead of the pillow. The last gesture assured your brain that you could really fall asleep again. Kevin always slept better the closer he was cuddled up to you, so you had hope that sleep would finally grace him as well.

↳ tbz taglist: @eternalgyu,, @cyberpunksunwoo,, @cosmicwintr,, @weird-bookworm,, @haecien

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from-izzy · 5 months

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that's him, that's just who he is | tbz kevin moon

» PAIRING: tbz kevin moon x gn! reader (proofread but lmk if i missed anything!) » TROPE/AU: childhood friends 2 strangers, highschool and slight uni au!, non-idol au!, idol au! (just kevin towards the end) » GENRE: once again...angst, fluff and comfort from the flashbacks, kevin being an extremely supportive friend, you're also an extremely supportive friend!, platonic 'i love you's being said, you both met at church, choir and ensemble singing!, you both are shy introverts that are only chaotic with each other » WORD COUNT: 4179 (2k word limit who?) » ESTIMATED READING TIME: ~15 mins » WARNINGS (lmk if i missed anything!): mentions of Christianity (not sure if it's a 'warning' but i felt like it should be mentioned!), swearing (b-word), mentions stress relating to: academic (high school), music and performing » PLAYLIST: you never know - HSMTMTS, you better know - red velvet, reflection - christina aguilera, steal the show - lauv, try everything - shakira navi/masterlist!! 🤍 series introduction 🤍 series masterlist

my second story for my project! this may be my favourite story ever ❤️‍🩹

ahhhh this got so personal so quickly 🥹 performing has always been for leisure for me, and for the same reasons in this story, i got so burnt out last year. writing this really made me realise how much i miss the stage. going from about 7 performances a year to only about 1 is to put it simply, heartbreaking.

but i learnt that there are opportunities. i learnt that i'm satisfied with just getting my voice out to the world whether it be through choir, the internet or on the streets. i think things will work out; time does help sometimes 🫶

for those who may not know, kevin's representative number is 16 🌙 and the meaning of this number is explained in this video! i did some research and found that it's from 1 Peter 5:6.

to my readers who are followers of God: I pray that you will always be filled with hope and joy as you advance in your daily endeavours. Believe that God has the best plans for you and that He will never leave you behind, especially when you are at your lowest. Confide in Him and love Him as much as He loves you.

“Can I sing this part with Kevin?”

The question is new to everyone who heard it. Did you just ask to do a supposed solo with someone else? No, you were not a greedy performer though you understood why most people would think that. The choir conductor looks to the other side of the ensemble where the group of altos stood. Including the older woman, all the children including the said boy stood there surprised at the request you asked for.

You’ve been singing in the church youth choir since you were ten and you were incredibly gifted. For example, you landed most of the solos and smaller ensemble parts whenever there was a chance. At first, you didn’t want to be in this church because you were shy (incredibly shy) and you never made a lot of friends in school and most definitely, outside of school. Needless to say, your parents were pretty worried but at the very least, they found that when you were asked to go to church events, you were able to talk with people, smile, and laugh but then you would go back into your shell.

Your parents met at this church through singing and performing together as part of the choir and the band. The children were around your age but you found that your interests mainly conflicted with them and it was hard to keep up with their conversations.

So, when a certain Moon family moved into your area and started attending their local church, Kevin, who happens to be a boy who is incredibly gifted in music, joined the choir with that unique, radiant, excited smile on his face. With a simple and friendly “Hello everyone. My name is Kevin, I’m fifteen and am very excited to be here!” Contrasting to his introduction, you found that Kevin was just as introverted as you were and with your courage to finally approach someone, you made your first friend. School life became better as well when you found out that Kevin attended the same school as you.

Going back to the first dialogue though, the duet did happen and the church community knew that you both were the perfect musical partners for each other. Your softer soprano voice complimented Kevin’s deeper alto voice easily. You both found yourself auditioning, performing, and showcasing your team work together in a bunch of school, church, and even the larger community-based musical events.

Now, after eight years of joining the choir, three after meeting Kevin, you were both in a state of uncertainty, distress, and frustration with the piles of sheet music that scattered everywhere to the point where it was almost covering the surface of your room’s floor. Your hair strands were everywhere and you were sick with the school uniform that you’ve had on since seven in the morning. You both have been secluding yourselves in your room, going back and forth with the arrangement of your final high school piece that you are going to perform with Kevin within less than a week.

The current situation in one word: messy.

It’s all a mess. About a week ago out of nowhere, your voice decided to have its own mind and leave for about a week. Kevin had a sudden test that his teacher thought would be fun to assign at the last minute. You also had this assignment that you were going to do but you found a mistake in the written arrangement, a note that was about a tone and a half out of your range, and since Kevin was better at rhythm, arrangement, and using the composing software, you could only sit next to his left in the corner of your room as he groaned at how the app was not doing what you both wanted to do.

So yes…it’s a mess, and it’s been around three hours.

“This is impossible.” A few more of your tears manage to trickle down your already red, puffy cheeks, “Okay you know what, I’ll just sing it. It’s fine. It’s not even two tones above what I usually sing in AND I’ve done it befo—”

“Lost your voice and felt lightheaded after.” Kevin cuts off your panicked rambles. No doubt, he’s feeling all the things that you are feeling right now but the only reason why he’s still able to muster up a smile and just ‘inhale, exhale’ through it all is because at the very least, one of you should be able to stay grounded, “We’re not going to put out a performance that we’re not proud of, okay? Especially when this is our last high school performance together.”

“We also said that we wouldn’t do any performances that were out of our capabilities.” At these words, you were both reminded of the promise you made to each other in front of your melted ice creams. It was an ‘oath’ that was made when you both realised you would be standing on the same stage, at the same time more often:

We will finish every performance to the best of our capabilities. We will focus more on quality rather than quantity.

At the new educational path that you were about to embark on, automatically closing this one that you’ve been on for just about six years, you were both starting to get greedy, wanting more than anything now to be on stage. With you both turning eighteen, you both couldn’t sing with the youth choir anymore. Taking music as a subject in high school meant there was a certain prerequisite in terms of how many stages you would have to perform; you and Kevin always exceeded this regardless with solos, duets, or larger ensembles. With graduation, however, the granted opportunity to perform would be taken away from you both and you were getting restless.

You were both greedy, forgetting almost all the other priorities that you had set out, and raked the internet for any chances to perform on stage. For the last two months, both of you have been juggling between your heavy study load, auditioning, composing, arranging, practising, and bowing at the end of it all. To the untrained ear, they could have probably missed the way you were momentarily out of tune or the way that Kevin missed his entry due to his fatigue. The greed consumed you both and most of the stages that you performed were nowhere near satisfactory for any standards that you both set for yourself. After the first performance that you were bashing yourself over, you rationalised that you would need to do another one to make up for the ‘loss’ from the previous one. That you NEED to go to another stage to make up for the ‘loss’ from the previous one.

That cycle is deadly and it keeps going for a while.

“Kev…I’m tired.” It feels like after a whole three years of back-to-back, almost seemingly non-stop performances in addition to the sudden addition from the past two months, you have finally hit a wall that you never wanted to admit. Kevin didn’t need verbal words to know the reason behind the lack of enthusiasm and the way the lyrics sing are no longer as projected and emotionful as before; because it was the same way to him.

“I know…” Kevin sighs. He finally relieves the downward strain on his neck, pulling it back up to rest against the wall. Offering you both comfort, he wraps his arm around the back of your shoulder, his palm pulling your left forearm to get you closer to him, “I’m sorry, I can’t get this right.”

“No, don’t say that.” You finally give in, plopping your head on his left shoulder in defeat, “I’m sorry. You’re doing your best.”

You let most of the silence fill you both, the hints of the trackpad clicking and the way the note that Kevin clicked would play out of his laptop’s speaker to audibly confirm the note that he just readjusted on the musical lines. Kevin’s left hand is maneuvering on the trackpad while his hand pats on your head that rested on his left shoulder, humming comfortingly while you calm your racing thoughts.

“But hey.” Kevin finally speaks up, “I just wanted to say that I like how busy this is making me.” Nodding to his own words, “It makes me forget the other subjects for a while.”

You exhale, knowing how much Kevin has been having a hard time with the other core subjects but still wakes up every day and chooses to smile courageously, “But this isn’t the right way. To forget other things, I mean.”

“I know, I know.” The boy lets out a little ‘aha’ when he finally finds the rhythm that you both wanted, playing the bar again and again, tapping his index finger on his thigh as he follows the 4/4 count, “But hey, thanks for accepting this performance even with all the final year-end exams. Or else I would REALLY be overthinking that recent chemistry test.”

“Love you, bro.” Reminding him thoughtfully to calm the noise in his head, “I’m always here for you.”

“Love you too, sis.” Playfully, he makes a fist and gently taps your forehead with his knuckles, emitting a laugh from you, “Just take a rest, okay? I’ll just,” Kevin adjusts his slouching posture, straightening his back fully against the wall so that his shoulders are higher and more comfortable for you to lay on, “be on another war with this app. You would expect I know all the tricks after using it for a year but guess not.”

So yes, it was a bit of a mess but on the bright side, you are both extremely proud of that final stage together as high school students. It earned a huge round of applause from the audience and many thankful regards were given by all the teachers in the department of music. It was a bittersweet feeling to see the head of music cry at the realisation that he would never see his two best students attend his class anymore but he made you both promise to visit once in a while.

But the performance being an open event, neither of you realised the opportunities or the types of people that would attend the concert. And so here you both are in an educational setting but with casual clothing unlike the blazer, tie, and the one hundred percent cotton blouses that you were forced to wear.

“Gosh Kev, you’re so funny!” Kevin smiles nervously, biting on his bottom lip as he refuses to look at you at all. You continued to laugh a little bit more, the tears in your eyes and the stitch on your abdomen growing with each breath you took. It’s when Kevin doesn’t laugh along or show any indications of joining in that you raise your eyebrows, some sort of nervousness in your eyes, “Wait, you’re being serious?!”

“It’s crazy, I know!” You just stare at him in shock, your mouth hanging wide open at your best friend next to you, “I think I’ll take the chance and university can wait. People can apply to university anytime but this?” He is finally telling you his worries and thoughts that have been running endlessly after two months of keeping it in, “It’s kind of time crucial.”

"Yes,” You understood his worries, knowing that the life of being a celebrity or an idol is quite limited. It has never been said explicitly but at least for Korean companies, there is a reason why there is always a certain age limitation when auditioning, “I get that but Kevin, are you sure? I get that you've always been into music and you've always been good at it! Trust me, I know! But you've always wanted to be here as well! You never really wanted to be a musical artist."

"That's why life is crazy right?"

You just finished your last class of the day and surprisingly Kevin shows up, waiting for you, looking conflicted and stressed about a subject that you obviously did not know about. His tired smile told you everything, you being able to read him easily like an open book. Kevin realises this, his shoulder slumping in defeat with how you look at him in concern and he feels your hesitation to keep the conversation going.

“Your ‘passive-aggressive tiger parents’ are good with it?”

“Well,” Reminded of the day that Stella convinced their parents to let him go with his path and to support his desires, “I guess so? They let me do everything and introduced me to music so it ain't my fault!" He finally turns to you for the first time after the laughing fit, "You’ll support me right?"

"Of course I will!" You confirm incredulously, both your eyebrows raising and the volume of the sentence rising with each word, “Damn we only met a bit over three years ago but it really does feel like we’ve been friends since birth.”

Kevin shrugs, happy with your genuine response to his uncertainties, “I’m just cool in that way.”

A roll of your eyes is your only response to him, “So, when’s the last time that I’ll see your ‘slay’ful face?”

He grimaces at the way you worded the adjective, “Ew, what is that word?” But then the truth had to be dropped someday; that being right now, “Y-Yeah about that.”

“Kevin Moon.” You frown at the way he just whistles to avoid the subject, an obvious action to buy time, “Kevin.”

"Not too soon! Like…like five days…"

Comedically, the crows on the campus made their signature noise and you took in the information slowly.

"WHAT THE BLEEP DUDE?!"

"OKAY IN MY DEFENCE I REALLY DIDN'T KNOW WHAT TO DO! YOU KNOW HOW INDECISIVE I AM!"

"OKAY BUT YOU NEVER BOTHERED TO TELL ME?!"

"I'M SORRY!"

Smiling at the obvious decrease in the stack of papers that needed to be marked, you decide to stretch your limbs and take a breath of fresh air before your energetic third graders arrive at school. You really left it to the last minute and you can’t wait to finish the last day of the week so that you can chill until another week starts. The weather was strangely gloomy, possibly due to the rainfall and the colder wind. You kind of regretted coming out, especially since the steam from your coffee no longer had that hypnotising white swirl in the air.

But you didn’t leave.

Instead, you even lean over the balcony’s metal railing. Even with the long sleeve covering your elbows, you enjoyed the contrast between your still-healthy body temperature and the icy surface. You weren’t sure why either but you just wanted to bask in the cold air and you can only pray that you weren’t going to get sick. The weather causes your shoulders to tense, bringing them towards the centre of your body to try and conserve some heat. It didn’t work that well but you were still feeling some sort of comfort with the morning weather.

You didn’t realise the time that passed by faster when you were practically doing nothing. The driveway, parking lots, and walkways eventually fill themselves with the diverse colours of school bags, shoes, and hair accessories. Mentally preparing yourself for the day ahead, you prepared your ‘teacher smile’, trying your best to hide your fatigue from the seemingly long week.

"Teacher, teacher!"

You finally lean away from the railing, giving a slight nod to the parent of your most energetic student, and the gesture is returned straight away. Crouching down to match his eye level, you put your palm out to him and he slaps his palm on yours, "Wow. Looks like someone had too much sugar."

"Teacher! Do you know K-Pop?" Your body froze just like the raindrops that didn’t make it to the floor, hanging solid on the rooftop’s overhang, "It's a huge thing right now!"

Oh, if only he knew…

"I can hear your rumbling thoughts like an open book." After his flustered state and a string of apologies that led you to put him in a joking headlock, Kevin grew quiet once again, letting his thoughts fill in the atmosphere between you both, "What's up? And don't lie because you know you suck at it."

The boy attempts to change the subject again, "If it's a book then wouldn't it be read instead of heard?"

"...ok smartass." You stare at him unimpressed with his attempt, "But no seriously, what's up? You know that it's okay not to be okay."

"It's just that…" He ponders, a sad smile on his face as he thinks about his current life situation, "My life is fine as it is right now. It's all great: I'm going to a good university, studying the course I want and I'm looking forward to being a teacher." An eyebrow slowly raised on your side, prompting him to continue, "Why is this happening now? Why is this happening when everything is going fine?" Kevin's facade finally breaks, his eyes pooling with tears with the many unanswered questions, "Why didn't this opportunity come earlier? Maybe when I wasn't in university? I can't even get a refund now…"

"Hey…" Kevin rarely cries in public. For one, you've only seen him cry twice and both times were because he dived in too deep with his plans, making him depressed and lost. You realised once again, with the tears that fell on his jeans that Kevin is not the happy-go-lucky guy who he displays himself to be most of the time. He's human above everything else and even though he always tries to see the best in every situation, it's moments like these that you see your best friend in a different light than the rest of the world, "Money is not all to life, you know? What's the point of stacking up money when you can't even do what you want?"

"But then why would people be so money-crazed then? People work for money…"

"To use it on what they love and need. Some people don't even feel like work is for money." Even though Kevin just stares down at the floor, swinging his legs in the air, you know that he's taking in everything you're saying, "But that's beside the point right now, okay? If making the stage your usual routine will lead you to happiness, then I want you to take it."

"But…why?" The clause can never be fully answered and Kevin knew that despite his multiple endeavours to rake for answers, "Why me? When everything is going well?"

"Because God has different plans for you." Inhaling the colder air, you told yourself to remember this moment between you and him, "I'm not saying you're pretending to be someone you're not. But the moment that you stop pretending, the moment you accept that something out there is better for you, I think will be the moment when you finally accept yourself."

"Are you positive that it'll come?" His voice decreased, along with the final bits of his self-confidence, "The journey of self-acceptance, I mean."

You both have been talking in hushed whispers, as gentle as the whistling wind. But you decide to finally add confidence into the conversation.

"Hey Kevin." The said boy looks up to you, "Humble yourselves, therefore, under God's mighty hand…"

"...that he may lift you in due time." He finishes the biblical passage that he has been fascinated with for the longest time.

Satisfied, you nod, proud of him, "I can't answer your 'whys', Kevin. To be honest, I don’t think anyone can." You finally voice your opinion, knowing now that your time with him is limited, "But just know that even though you would have strived here in university, one of God's greatest gifts for you is your musicality."

Your words relieve Kevin of his headache, heartache, and the shirt that he has been clamping since the start of the day. You chuckle when Kevin asks for a hug, opening your arms wide to offer him the best comfort that he will forever cherish and be thankful for. Soothingly, you sway your body side to side, humming the melody to the latest (and last) song that you performed together. Kevin joins in with his harmony which has always left people in awe and starstruck.

"Maybe you're just meant to be up there and twerk in front of the camera and not just to our friends." You comment when the song comes to an end.

"Wow, alright." His sniffles didn't cease even when he dragged the final 'w' and 't'.

"You'll be okay, Kevin." The light but secure taps on his back prove your reassuring words, "I know you will."

"Surely…right?" It's the final question that he would ever ask you about this subject, "As we know, not everything we see on the screen is real. I just feel like I'll lose myself because the idol world wants us to be a certain way."

"No, I don't think you will." You pull Kevin away, pouting at his flushed cheeks and tired face, "I know it's stressful to keep up with society but I hope you know that there will be people that will love and support you. And if you make a mistake? If you lose yourself in shape, way, or form? Then you fight. You fight for your rights and fight for them righteously. You’ll fight because like you always say: learn from relationships. You learn the do's and not do's and still keep the relationship genuine."

“You have that much faith in me?”

“I do.” You tilt your chin high in the air, confidence finally reaching him in the form of a bright smile, "And for those who don’t,” You shake your head, flipping your hair back sassily, “those bitches can walk out the door."

You remember the memory somewhat fondly. To be honest, you found it a bit funny because you lost your best friend over music. You would learn after his departure that you would never find a friend like him ever again. Ironically, it was music that brought you two together—yet it was the same thing that drifted you both apart.

It took a while for you to bounce back. You grew bitter about doing music especially when Kevin no longer answered any of your messages anymore out of nowhere. When you bumped into Stella while grocery shopping, you found out that it was because of his phone ban as a trainee. You remember going home that day, feeling guilty that you blamed him, not considering his external situation; especially when you knew that Kevin would never cut someone off without an explanation. Yes, it’s been lonely; you did lose your best friend after all. At first, you regretted letting him go, you resented him for not texting you back and you avoided the stage because it reminded you of him.

But God had a different plan for you too. Because when you accidentally clicked on one of the recommended videos on your page, the satisfied smile, the happy tears and the relieved exhale showed your real feelings that you were merely in a phase of confusion. All the hate, all the resentment, all faded as soon as you heard the slightly changed vocal timbre that you unfortunately are no longer used to. You found peace with the person who dances happily underneath the flashing, colourful lights with ten other boys.

“Teacher?” The boy’s innocent head tilt pulls you back to the present time and he seems pleased with the way you nod to his question, “I like K-Pop too! I found this group! They’re called THE BOYZ!”

You were amazed at the stars that the topic put to your student’s eyes and you nodded intently to his excited story. It’s not long after when the mother pushes her child in, sitting him down so that you can get on with your priorities. You straighten your knees, standing back up, pushing your hips out side to side to stretch from the unexpectedly long conversation.

“Damn, Kev…” Your shoulders and chest rise at the deep breath and your hands find their place on your hips, “And after all these years…you’re still able to make me smile?”

The starting bell rang just in time for your last student to arrive just before you closed the glass door to block out the outside background noise. With the final student ready and set up, you stand in front of the electronic board that displays the first class of the day. Your mind begins to wonder again, particularly about the boy that you once shared a dream with. Routinely, you rhythmically clap to grab everyone’s attention, and surely enough, the conversations between the students die down, and you give back the fond look that your students gave you.

“Shall we start music class?”

The enthusiastic response answers your wondering thoughts and the question you asked yourself outside the classroom.

“Guess that’s just you, Kevin. That’s just who you are, Kev.”

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 series introduction 🤍 series masterlist tags (send a dm/ask if you would like to be here!): @deoboyznet 📢❤️ @k-labels 💙🤍 @k-films 🤎🎞️ @kflixnet 📺🍿

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8myass · 2 months

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.. submit .. pairing. kevin moon x female reader genre. smut pov. second person (you, yours, yourself, etc.) synopsis. who woulda thought your best friend would use the handcuffs you bought him for his birthday on you? wc. 1k cw. best friend!kevin, brat taming dom!kevin, bratty sub!reader tw. dubcon (reader is drunk), handcuffs (f receiving), alcohol consumption, pet names (‘darling’, ‘baby’, ‘babe’, ‘beautiful’, ‘friend’?), name calling (‘slut’), praising, degrading, cursing, dirty talk, unprotected sex (wrap your meat fellas), p in v, breeding, choking, teasing, i think that’s it?? a/n. i should just accept the fact that i won’t ever get a birthday fic posted on time for their birthday ☺️ anyway, i wrote this while i was high at 3 in the morning, so i’m sorry if there’s mistakes :}

“I love seeing you so submissive. Give in to me,” he whispered against the back of your ear, running his soft hands along your delicate skin. You were shivering underneath him, body nearly convulsing against his touch, fingers fumbling with the material holding your wrists to the headboard behind you.

“You’re beautiful like this,” he purred, fingers gently caressing your moist and reddened cheeks. You weren’t just embarrassed, but you were ashamed as well. This was your friend, your best friend, whose bed you had found yourself in, drunk off your ass without a care in the world who was watching as you stripped yourself of all your clothes, shaking your sexy body in his face. You thought, without a doubt in your mind, that there was not a chance that he would act on any ounce of desire he had toward you; especially since you thought he wasn’t interested in you in that light whatsoever.

So, obviously, when you were pinned down to the bed underneath him, his kisses rough and full of passion, you were well beyond the line of shock, skipping right into complete and utter dumbfoundedness. Lost in the heat of the moment, you hadn’t even realized he used the pink fluffy handcuffs you gifted to him as a joke on his birthday just a few days ago to connect your wrists to the posts at the top of his bed.

“Quit teasing,” you snapped, jerking your face away from him. You just wanted this agonizing moment over with, it was way too much for you, honestly. The overwhelming embarrassment, shame, disappointment, you were just a mess. A hot mess, sure, but still a mess, nonetheless.

“Ah, but I thought you were into foreplay, darling? If I remember correctly, you always bitch whenever you don’t get any,” he hummed, cockiness radiating from his tone. You cringed at how insensitive he sounded, knowing damn well why you wanted to move on with this little scenario that he insisted on playing out longer than what is needed.

“Just… just put it in or something… I’m already… turned on enough…” you could barely stumble out the right words to explain to him where you were coming from. You had never felt so degraded in your life, and you’d barely even gotten anywhere with him.

He chuckled at the tone of your voice, hearing how impatient you were becoming. He really did find great amusement in your suffering…

He slowly slipped his hands down his own body, tugging his pants off and hesitatingly lifting his shirt up next.

On instinct, you wanted to reach out and touch him, but it only resulted in you rubbing at the fluffiness of the handcuffs containing your wrists. He faked a pout as he stared down at your desperate form, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, “Aw, does baby wanna be let free? Do you wanna touch me?”

“N-no! They’re just… bothersome…” you were so easy to read that it made you sick to the stomach with how much your tone gave away your truth. It only resulted in playful eye roll from him, but it didn’t take long for him to push his cock into your clenching hole. You gasped, the back of your head digging into the pillow below, nails fervently scratching and clawing at the sheets nearest to them.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, babe,” he groaned, pushing every inch inside you agonizingly slow.

You hissed, “Why are you doing everything so fucking slow, Kev? Why don’t you fuck me like a man? Do something right, goddamn.”

His eyes widened at your outburst, but you were just as surprised by your words as he was. Only, you failed to react quick enough before the cataclysm of rage fell over the man on top of you. You squealed as soon as you felt his entire length dip inside you, only to be pulled out and shoved right back in. His hips were brutal against you, just as you had provoked him. You realized your mistake as soon as his reaction was pinpointed on your newly abused pussy.

Your legs looped around his waist, hoping to stabilize his pace a little, maybe so it wouldn’t be so unforgiving and sporadic, but it didn’t help. If anything, it made him more pissed off, growling, “Why are you moving, slut?”

You readjusted your legs again, spreading them far apart, allowing him full access to everything you had to offer. It’s like you were giving yourself to him, allowing him to take everything from you, your own best friend.

“And how do you suppose we go back to being friends after this?” he asked, upper lip twitching along with his cock still pounding into your tight cunt, precum slipping out into your wetness enveloping him. “You think we can do that?”

You shook your head violently, eyes shut tightly in an attempt to focus on his words instead of the intense pleasure you were feeling, your cries and screams evidence of that.

“You gonna let me use this pathetic, whore pussy whenever I want then? We’re not friends anymore, that’s long gone. Now I’m gonna fuck you every single fucking day to my heart’s content. You’re gonna fulfill every desire of mine, like the good little slut you are, aren’t you?” he gripped your neck, squeezing enough to make your eyes pop open and hands struggle at the fuzz coating your wrists for freedom. You nodded, drool pooling around the corners of your mouth, lids drooping.

“I’ve always wanted this. Always wanted to use you like this, abuse your pretty cunt, fill it up with my cum. Always dreamt of this moment, beautiful. I’m gonna have so much fun with you now that I finally have you in my grasp,” he hummed, face inches from yours, each breath you took just recycled air from his lips. “You’re mine now, you’re never gonna get away.”

With one last thrust, lips colliding into yours, his hot, creamy liquid spewed out inside of your dripping cunt. Your orgasm was soon to follow, your tiny and weak body trembling under him as his hips glided against yours to help you ride it out. Your tongues were entwined, your meek whimpers falling against his recently explored mouth.

He slowly pulled away, a trail of spit falling between your lips as he analyzed your dreamy expression, your eyes seemingly in a daze. He smirked, leaving a gentle peck to your nose, “I think I might like you, friend.”

#[ lele writes 🐝 ]#the boyz #the boyz x reader #the boyz imagines #the boyz fanfic #the boyz scenarios #the boyz kevin #kevin moon #kevin moon x reader #kevin moon imagines #kevin moon smut #moon hyungseo #tbz #tbz x reader #tbz imagines #tbz smut

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ppumeonae-bigvibe · 1 year

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Cuddle Hormones - Kevin

find more content here: the boyz masterlist ↬ summary: ever heard of cuddle hormones ? ↬ tags: non-idol! kevin, gn! reader, sleepy sleepy vibes (i wrote this when i was sleepy too so it adds on to the sleep) ↬ word count: 185 words

↬ a/n: shorter piece this time ! i’m not very inspired at the moment but this piece is better than no piece ^^ enjoy

“Can we just…shut our eyes…”

“Do you only come here just to sleep?” Kevin raised an eyebrow (knowing full well your eyes were closed) as you snuggled closer to his side and his arms instinctively wrapped tighter around your shoulders.

“We’re not even halfway through the movie.”

When you gave a huff in response, Kevin jokingly rolled his eyes, “I’m starting to wonder if you’re dating me or the bed. You sleepy bear.” You half-heartedly punched his shoulder, before kissing the same spot, causing him to chuckle at your antics.

“‘M not sleepy, just…it’s comfortable around you…” Kevin gently patted the back of your head, watching as your chest rose and fell steadily beside him. Reaching out with his right hand, he tucked the blanket securely around you, a smile on his lips mirroring yours.

“Okay, okay. We’ll finish this some other day.” Kevin relented, adjusting both your bodies so that he was holding you flushed against his chest. Staring at your peaceful form for a bit more, he leaned towards you, peppering kisses all over your face.

“I’m glad to be your safe space.”

#ppumeonae-bigvibe #the boyz #the boyz kevin moon hyungseo #the boyz kevin #the boyz imagine #the boyz scenarios #the boyz fluff #the boyz kevin x reader

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sanaxo-o · 28 days

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We can’t be friends (Kevin Moon)

Warnings/genre: ah well lovers to strangers, misunderstandings, angst, hurt comfort at the end ig? Not proofread so let me know if there should be any corrections. Plz let me know if more warnings or anything should be here.

Word count: 1,340

Sana: I am back (only for a while lmao) and I present you my first ever Kevin Moon fic which I am slightly proud about. I had to write on we can’t be friends because yes. Like the song is just so SHSHSHDJD it’d be a crime if I did not do anything considering I am known (I like to believe that) for my fics which are inspired by songs. My all time favourite beta reader izzy is not available so no proofread because yas 👏. And a huge thanks to @mosviqu bar for making the banner despite it getting on her nerves. Love you loads mwah.

Tagging: @mosviqu @kimsohn @cloverdaisies

@o-onikix @quaissants @deoboyznet

🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸

Date: March 30th 2024

Sitting in the corner of the room you stare at all the people mingling with each other, laughing and giggling as if everything is normal and going oh so well in their lives when in fact it’s crumbling apart.

Taking a sip of the beer which was almost over you look around the room once again when your eyes meet his, staring at you from across the room.

You could feel your heart beating again, the way it started beating loudly made you scared, not because you feared him but because you feared yourself.

You swore to yourself that you had moved on from him. After everything you both went through, you thought it’s better if you stayed just as friends but you yourself knew that you both cannot be friends.

Every passing second of the day made you loathe him more, not because he was your ex but because he just decided to give up on your relationship just like that when you decided it was the end.

Keeping the can of bear on the nearest table you found you grabbed your coat and walked away from there. Not being able to sit there and act as if everything was alright when it in fact was not. You knew it was not, he knew it was not.

Date: March 20th 2024

Sitting on the bed you hold the necklace in your hand as you take in a deep breath. You hated arguing with him, in fact you hated when you would snap at each other simply because you both would bottle up your feelings.

The countless misunderstandings you both went through meant nothing at this point when your whole relationship is tearing apart like this.

“What’s the point?” You hear Kevin mumble briefly as he sits up from his lying position and places his head in his hands.

You could feel your heart breaking when you heard his voice for the first time ever since the argument you both had in the living.

You muster up the courage and strength to speak as you let out the words which were oh so irritating for someone in his shoes because of the obliviousness “What do you mean?”

You close your eyes when you hear Kevin let out a scoff, “You know what I mean, this is not working out. Whatever we have going on, none of it is working out. We can pretend that it’s all fine but deep down you know nothing is. Let’s stop wasting each other's time and just..end it.” Kevin says that as he stands up from the bed and grabs his coat to walk out of the room.

“Can we still be friends?” You ask him, halting in his steps Kevin turns around and lets out a small sigh when he sees your expectant eyes which were now filled with tears threatening to fall down and roll down your cheeks.

“We can’t be friends..” he says as he leaves the room and slams the door of your house shut.

You sit there in silence as you look around the room, on this very bed you celebrated your 20th birthday with him.

“We can’t be friends, but I’d just like to pretend…” you mumble to yourself as you bring your legs to your chest and let your tears fall down.

Date: March 30th 2024

Time: 12:47 PM

Walking down the street you hug yourself closer as you look up at the sky, it was empty which made you smile but it had no feelings.

You stop walking when you hear footsteps behind you, turning your head you could feel your face stiffening when you see Kevin running in your direction.

“Are you going back home?” He says once he is in front of you. Giving him a single nod you start walking again, not being able to stare at him for another second.

Walking in silence you stare at the ground while kicking the stones on the sidewalk. Taking in a deep breath you look up at Kevin who was walking beside you.

In his words he just wanted to make sure you reached home safely. Hence, the reason he decided to accompany you.

“Do you regret it?” You ask suddenly. You notice Kevin stopping in his tracks for a moment only to walk again as he tries to act nonchalant.

“Regret what?” He asks softly as he looks down at you, his eyes looking like daydreams. You still remember how you always felt seen and heard at night.

For you night is when you can finally be yourself, you don’t have to hide yourself anymore.

“Us breaking up…”

Letting out a deep breath Kevin looks at you with a small smile as he holds your hand guides you towards the end of the footpath to sit down on the ground.

“We needed to put an end to our story Y/N…I did not want to continue feeding on the monstrous fire which was increasing day by day. It’s difficult, yeah…but that’s the best for us.” He says softly as he holds your hands in hid for comfort.

“It’s hard. Really hard. I don’t know how you’re acting all fine..” you tell him as you pull your hand away from him.

“I am not fine if that’s what you’re wondering. I tell myself countless times to just wait for you to come back but then I was the one who broke up with you. I wish we could still be friends but I cannot get myself to do it. I cannot pretend to be your friend when I know I want more than that.” He says as he lets out a small sob.

“I can wait for you. I can wait for your love, I can do that..” you say as you try to stop yourself from crying over this again.

Shaking his head he lets your hand go as he stands up and helps you stand up.

“Can I just say one thing?” You say softly, your words coming out slurred as the alcohol starts getting to you. Giving you a small nod he helps you walk towards your house, “Know that you made me the happiest person when we were together. I couldn’t ask for more than what we had…it feels like you left me hanging by myself but I know I would have to move on and let this story die.”

You say everything in one go as you cough and hiccup. You notice Kevin opening his mouth to speak again but you stop him by putting your finger up telling him that you want to continue and that you’re not done yet, “For now, it’s only me but…but I’d like to pretend that we’re still friends, okay?” You say as you look at him with your expectant eyes.

“Okay…whatever you say..” he says softly as he looks down at your shining eyes which were staring back up at him. “Maybe that’s all you need to move on from me..” he says, mostly to himself but you catch onto it but he doubts you’d remember all this in the morning tomorrow.

Reaching your door steps he helps you stand straight as he looks through your bag to find your keys.

“You keep on clinging to your papers and pens, yeah?” You say softly in a joking manner as you enter the house and slam the door shut on his face.

Letting out a small chuckle Kevin looks at your door as he takes a step back, stuffing his hands in his pockets he takes a one last look at your door and walks away.

That’s an end to a story then, something which was bittersweet. There are some moments he wishes he could forget all together but most of them are the ones he cherishes the most and that’s what matters to him.

You guys maybe strangers to each other now but the time you both spent as lovers was some of the most valuable ones.

🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸

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jaestrz · 1 year

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𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 - 𝐤𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧 캐빈문

૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎧

𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: fluff | little angst | established relationship

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: kevin moon x afab!reader

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: mental breakdown | mentioned of stress

≡;- ꒰ °you had a hard time with being insecure of yourself and kevin was there for you꒱

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ a/n: i went to take a break after I wrote this. I want my own kevin ㅠㅠ

There wasn’t a time where you think you were ‘enough’ for him comparing to his fans that treated him better than you did. Especially when you’re his girlfriend. There was a sense of insecurity blew your mind when it comes to this. You couldn’t blame Kevin for it or course. This made you blame yourself for couldn’t be the best for him.

You wondered if he ever felt that way. Although he did talked about how both of you should be transparent with each other. But humans can say words with empty promises anytime they desire. It’s just up to you to believe it or not. It doesn’t make it any better, the way your own mindset is thinking is making you look like you don’t trust Kevin. You don’t want it to be that way. But you were scared to death each time your life depends on Kevin too much. Once he leaves you, with or without reason, you didn’t want to feel the unbearable pain. If it was going to hurt at least make it less.

Leave is a powerful word. It’s something he could hold onto and use it anytime if you did not live up to his expectations. That’s what you had in your mind. It’s more awful to think how much you have tried your hardest to be a better partner for him. For Kevin.

He’s talented. Kevin is the most talented person you had ever met. He had always been since high school. Kevin was everyone’s dream boy as far as you could remember. A boy who knew how to sing, dance, cook and more things you could list in your mind. It was no surprised that a lot of people liked him. But compared to everyone else, you couldn��t understand the way he sees the world.

It was definitely clear in your memories. You remembered when it was the first performance for Kingdom. He came back home with a worn out figure. Very different than when he went out the door in the morning. There were bruises on his body’s, your guessing is that he has quite a fall during practice. But then again out of all of that sweat and minor injuries, he looked like the happiest boy you could possibly imagine. When the group gained more fans from the show, you couldn’t forget how excited he had gotten.

There was a night, where both of you were sitting down in the living room. The only thing that could be heard was songs from his phone with a mix of yours and his playlist. It was 2 in the morning and a layer of glass was formed in his eyes. The tears threatening to fall out. He was stressed. Kevin talked about something that has to do with not getting the choreography right, the song was hard and the album was a total mess. He was completely a different person at this moment. He wasn’t smiling like he always do, wasn’t laughing nor cracking up his stupidly funny jokes. It was just Kevin who let out and spill all of his struggles. Which soon leads to him breaking down with you comforting him.

You can’t deny, the world is a scary place.

He felt too much pressure in his head. It seems like it could burst if he didn’t let it out.

That was the last time you had seen him breakdown.

‘I don’t think I could even cry, because then I couldn’t be the one that he could lean on’ the sound of pen scratches against your notebook paper, leaving nothing but ink. Your knuckles turned white from gripping the pen too hard, feeling your hand going numb.

Your heart questioned you. What do you know about Kevin and yourself?

You stared blankly at the white wall. Nothing came up to your mind except the not so nice ones. A tear slipped down from your eye, following by a few more so it was non stop.

Kevin loves midnight driving in the middle of the highway with nowhere to go. He prefers speaking English with you and Jacob because to him it doesn’t sound as awkward as speaking Korean. He doesn’t like to be called by his Korean name, he doesn’t have a reason why but people rarely calls him Hyungseo.

Was that really all you could recall after dating him since high school?

‘I can’t even understand my own emotions. Something is hurting but I can’t tell what it is’ You scribbled, pulling your knees to your chest as you cried. Forgetting about the world around you as everything seem to fade away.

Kevin won’t be back until another few hours. I’ll be fine you thought. You couldn’t even sleep. Tears were streaming down your face that you didn’t even bother to wipe away.

And you didn’t even bother to turn on your phone to see the miss calls from Kevin and notifications from his text messages he had sent you.

Kevin was indeed, a little bit skeptical about your quiet behaviour this morning before he left for practice with the other members. He had actually asked if you were alright but you just replied with a dry ‘yes’ to him. He almost made up his mind about going to work and just stay at home with you to keep an eye out for you. He couldn’t skip today due to an important meeting. But that doesn’t mean he won’t ask about your condition in text. Which also, you replied dry.

‘what would happen if I could not be the one enough for him?’ The notebook was stained with tears.

You were too lost in your own thoughts to hear the sound of the front door creaked, signalling and a reminder that Kevin is home. He saw you sitting in the dark living room on his work desk with your notebook opened. The only thing that could be heard was your slow sobs.

And through the night was playing on your phone.

Kevin’s eyes softened at the sight of your silhouette. Slowly approaching you so he wouldn’t startle you to death. He took a glanced at your notebook before he touches you, watching as your tensed body suddenly eased at his skin contact. The unfamiliar temperature of your body pulled his heartstrings, taking you in a hug.

“i’m home love. I’m here now.” He whispered as you buried your face in his chest, letting out every single of your worries by crying. He could tell you had so many problems in your head that you were afraid to admit. Kevin could read your eyes that was screaming how you were not okay. And his heart broke more to see your ill body that you had neglected. “don’t cry, it’s okay shh. I’m right here with you. I’ll keep your problems away baby. Trust me. I will hug you so tight, until you forget about every single problems that’s stuck in your head.”

It took a few minutes for you to calm down. The tears were still flowing but it had definitely lessened. His hand was rubbing your back repeatedly while he gave you forehead kisses every few minutes. You were avoiding his eye contact. “Look at me sweetheart.” His request was soft, he could see the glassy layer in your eyes when you look up to him. “What were you thinking baby? Was the fever bothering you?” He wasn’t completely wrong about the fever part. You do tend to get in a 5 emotional stages when you don’t feel well.

Your voice was stuck in your throat. You were trying to swallow whatever was in your throat so you could speak. “Deep breaths baby.” He said and you followed his breathing.

“I was- not feeling like the best person today. Maybe not just today, for the past few weeks as well.” You admitted. Kevin let out a hum, signing you that he was listening.

“I felt like I wasn’t good enough to be your… girlfriend.” There was a slight frown formed on Kevin’s expression before he reached his hand to cup your face and wipe the tears with his thumb. “You were everyone’s favourite person since high school and i’m- just. Not up to your expectations.”

Kevin guided you to the sofa and placed you to sit on his lap before he started saying. “You’re the most precious and wonderful person that had entered in my life. No matter what really happened, you’re the first person I will come to at the end of the day.” Kevin told you. “You’re the actual reason why I’m still here and performing in front of people. I don’t think I could even continue if you weren’t here.” He tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“I don’t want you to feel like you’re not enough for me. You’re everything love. I swear if I could take you to see what you are in my life, I would. Just to proof to you that you worth much more than you thought.”you felt his lips connected with yours. It wasn’t full of lust or anything lewd. It was full of sincere.

When you pulled away to catch a breath, you stared into his eyes. You didn’t know how to say thank you. You weren’t good at expressing yourself. But Kevin could read your thoughts better.

You snuggled up in the croak of his neck, inhaling the scent of his cologne while he starts telling you about his day and something interesting that had happened at work. Some made you laugh and he felt like his mission was complete.

“Did Eric really lost his phone?”

“Changmin found it underneath the couch. But Eric accused Jacob for taking it” Kevin replied with a slight laughter.

Both of you ended up talking more about his days. Until he realised both of you had to go to bed.

“Now that my girlfriend is smiling, you have to take your medicine before bed you old sick ahjumma” Kevin joked. “Then you’re ahjussi. We’re the same age.” You laughed.

He was grateful that he could be the reason you could smile again. Kevin wouldn’t trade you for the whole universe. He wanted to stay like this for the rest of his life.

With just you.

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cobiehaven · 1 year

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Locked In with an Alien — Kevin Moon

SYNOPSIS; kevin moon is the only alien in the entire universe that you have met and hated. you get thrown into alien prison and now you have to be cell mates with him, only, you both have something that each other can benefit greatly from.

PAIRING; alien!kevin x astronaut!reader

GENRE; funny, drama

WORD COUNT; 2.5k

TAGS/WARNINGS; enemies to partners in crime, criminal!kevin, prisoner!kevin, prisoner!reader, fem!reader, takes place in the future with more advanced technology, not meant to be taken racially (just words like mixed and half-breed mentioned), author doesn’t know much about space technology so i’m sorry skjdjd, basically everything is made up.

AUTHORS NOTE; for some reason, it felt like kevin was the right person to choose for this story? not only did his last name fit perfectly but i just feel like he’d appreciate being put in a mythical au.

“you have got to be fucking joking!” you cursed as you were roughly thrown into a large prison cell under the kingdom of this disgusting planet.

how did you even manage to get in this situation? all you needed was gas for your ship. it was a small one so it wasn’t like you were asking for much. literally any alien substance would work but this is where negotiating in your broken language got you?

wow, maybe you should have payed attention more when they were teaching you some of the very few alien languages back on earth.

“hello?? hey! i’m innocent! i swear! i’m not trying to pull any funny business! i just want to get back home!” you shouted down the cell halls, the few other inmates groaning at your loud voice. “hello??” you called again when you got no answer.

much to no surprise, you still seemed to not get an answer.

you sighed deeply, slumping down agains the cold bars that you had no idea what were made out of. they acted the same as iron but you knew for sure that whatever was made in that, was not the iron you knew. “i would save my breath, if i were you,” you head an unfamiliar voice speak in a low enough tone, only for you to hear. you jumped back up to your feet when you finally noticed the dark figure sitting in the shadows of your prison cell. there wasn’t much light down under the kingdom so noticing him was practically impossible. did the guards know that they threw you in a cell with someone else?

“whose there-“ you tried to hold back the fear in your voice but you horribly failed.

the low voice just laughed, only strengthening your pounding heart as you could have been thrown in a cell with probably one of the most dangerous aliens on this damn planet. you didn’t know what kind of things they did here, but by the looks of everyone else, you were expecting to see a monster that looked like a bigger version of a blob fish.

but much to your surprise, he was nothing like everyone else.

“kevin, kevin moon,” he lurked out of the shadows. he looked like you but.. mixed? could he have possibly been half alien? his fair skin was shimmered with a soft layer of blue and pink tints. his lips, ears and fingertips dusted darker than the unusual color palette. his tongue bluer than the deep sea and his hair as white as the clouds on a sunny day. his eyelashes, that were also white, were long with what looked like tiny beads on the ends of them, you wondered if they had ever felt heavy to him. there was just too much to say about how he looked.. he was beautiful. “you’re shocked, aren’t you?” he asked, snapping you out of your trudging thoughts. “you speak english?!” was the first thing you blurted out, having no idea how he’d even know of your language when they didn’t teach such thing as english in this land. when you quickly realized how rude that could have sounded, you awkwardly cleared your throat. “uhm, what do you mean?” you asked despite knowing exactly what he was talking about.

“by me. i don’t look like everyone else on this planet.” all you needed was to glance his way to tell that he wasn’t fully of his cultural race, it was obvious. you didn’t say anything as you didn’t want to say anything you regretted. he just took your silence as a sign to keep talking. “anyways, you don’t know me and i don’t know you, but i think the both of us will find that we are of great help to each other,” he tilted his head at you, his body crawling out of the shadows and closer to yours, moving slowly and swiftly around the cell. you backed away from him, “what are you talking about?” was he usually the type to change the topic so quickly?

he stopped when he noticed your cautiousness, which he quickly understood why. “what could you possibly want from me?” you furrowed your eyebrows, standing your ground as you were ready to lunge at him if he tried anything.

you weren’t about to take any chances on this unknown planet.

no words were exchanged as all he did was point over to you, your eyes following his pointed finger down to your right pocket. slowly reaching into the caved clothing, you pulled out a small key. “the key to my ship? why would you want-”

that was when it clicked, this half-breed was trying to steal your ship in exchange to getting you out of here!

“what the hell? no way!”

“if i ask nicely, will you give it to me?”

“uh, no.”

“please?”

“listen buddy, no means no.”

“but whyyy?”

“because its my ship and my only way back home? why would i give it to someone i just met for no good reason?” what was wrong with this guy? did he have no common sense? without that ship, your way home would never come. the whole reason you came to this dumb planet was for gas so you could touch the earths surface again, so you could smell the filthy air, and so you could say hi to the people you missed the most. “okay, but what if i help you get out of here, give you all of my belongings, and then grab that key from you?” kevin pressed, his persistence starting to actually piss you off now.

you stomped your foot and crossed your arms, giving him the infamous eyebrow raise. “i’m not letting you have this key. end of discussion.”

it was a small paused silence as you both stared at each other for a solid minute. eventually, he sighed deeply and put his hands up. “okay okay, fine. but i still do want to get out of here.. got any ideas?” you squinted your eyes at him, finding that switch up to be wayyy too quick in your opinion. especially after he had practically just begged you for your ignition key. “what are you up to..?” you questioned, noticing how he had started to circle around the cell again only for you to circle the opposite way from him.

“what do you mean? i want to leave this imprisonment just as much as you do, so why don’t we work together to get out of here, at least.”

“do you not want the key anymore?”

he just shrugged, putting on a half convincing face as he spoke, “you said i wasn’t going to get it, so, no need to waste my breath asking for it.” you again, squinted at him as the both of you made your round in the slow circle, getting back to where you two had stood previously. you both stood in silence for another whole minute, observing and anticipating what the other was going to do or say next. then, “but that won’t stop me from just taking it..!” he charged at you as you dodged and the two of you started to quiet literally have a cat fight in the cell. obviously he was more agile than you since you still had the space suit on, but you had the win for the protection part. thank god there was no low gravity on this planet. in fact, the atmosphere was just right enough for a middle aged man to breathe their air for a total of 30 minutes before feeling like he was suffocating.

“stop it!” you shouted at him as he quite literally knocked you down to the ground, your words being swallowed up by your gasp when he snatched the key out of your pocket. “now, i’ll stop,” he snickered.

you watched in disbelief as he made his way over to the cell door, reaching in between the bars and fumbling with the lock. you narrowed your eyes, trying to see what exactly he was doing before you heard the lock turning, the click sending waves of happiness down your body. but, it was short lived when he slid out of the cell, just to lock it back up, again, with you still in it. “what are you doing?!” you half-yelled, pushing yourself up to your feet and grabbing ahold of the bars that separated the two of you.

“let me out!” you tugged on the cell door, as if it was just going to fly open within your grasp.

he just shook his head. “i told you we’d be of great help to each other but you decided to play the hard way.. so, this is your punishment,” he grinned darkly before slowly backing away from your cell door. your voice ringing down the hall once more with the most profound names known to man that you could think of calling him. when he disappeared out of your sight, you cursed, screamed, punched, kicked, literally anything and everything you could do or say was how you decided to take out your anger. sliding down the back wall, you hugged your knees close to your chest, feeling the saddening warmth of tears welling up in your eyes. “why does this kind of shit always happen to me..” you silently cried, not wanting any of the other inmates to listen to your weeping. it would have been embarrassing if one of them were to say something. you never thought that you’d b crying, in prison, on the floor, because your only escape had just escaped without you. but what were you supposed to do? give him the key just so you could get out of here and he walk, or i guess, fly, off with your ship? what if you had just sat down and tried negotiating with him? maybe listened to his proposal?

ugh, you felt so stupid.

burying your head into your folded arms, you continued to silently hate on yourself. trying to accept the fact that you were just going to die here. either a: your oxygen ran out or b: the aliens on this planted finally decide what to do with you. either way, you were going to die so you supposed it didn’t necessarily matter how.

you sat there for what seemed like forever before you jumped at the sound of the far door opening, along with a lot of yelling and fumbling. “let go of me..!” the familiar voice struggled. you could feel that well known sadness morph into a cocky smirk.

before you knew it, the same boy that had left you in these lonely four walls of bars was thrown back into the same space you two shared just moments ago. “hah, wow, i didn’t think you’d be back so soon,” you crossed your arms, tilting your head at him as he quickly got back up to his feet. “shut up! you don’t know how hard it is to get out of this place by yourself!” you just rolled your eyes. “you shouldn’t have left me in here then, dipshit.”

this time, he was the one to roll his eyes. “you put yourself into that position.”

“you made an unreasonable offer!”

“it was totally reasonable!”

you both groaned at the same time. you snapped your head at him.

“are you copying me?

“what? why would i ever do that?”

“you’re so annoying!”

“well i could say the same thing about you.”

the two of you continued to argue like children for a whole 2 minutes before some of the other inmates started to get fed up with both of your voices. “hey! lovebirds! will you keep it down over there? some of us are trying to live a little!” one inmate yelled, only furthering the both of your anger. “we’re not lovebirds!” the both of you yelled at the same time again, looking at each other with squinted eyes.

they told you to shut up or else they’ll call the guards in and bribe them to do anything just to make the both of you shut your mouths.

“so,” you started. “what did you do with the key that you stole from me?” you quiet down.

“oh, i lost it.”

“you what?!” you shouted, this news being enough to push you up to your feet, your eyes wide with confusion and anger. “you fucking lost it?!” the other inmates groaning in annoyance again.

you sucked in a deep breath of air, trying to calm down your nerves so you don’t burst, again.

“i have never met someone more infuriating than you.”

you seriously considered fighting him again. but you knew that wouldn’t get you anywhere with him. you sighed again, digging your nails into the palms of your clothed hands. “okay, can we just put our hatred aside and just.. focus on where you think you saw the key last?” you tried to reason with him, holding your hands out in a calming manner. “you’re talking to me like i’m a dog.”

yup. you hated him.

“please, just answer the question.” you pressed. he thought about it and you waiting patiently for his response.

“i don’t know.”

“i hate you.”

you can’t believe you cried because this fucker left you alone to die.

you paced around the cell in a frenzy. “do you actually not remember where you dropped it?” you turned towards him. “of course i remember, why would i tell you when i don’t even know you?” he asked.

wow, that was the very similar thought you had when you first met him.

“listen, can we somehow make a deal? a truce?” you finally started negotiating with him. not wanting to make the same mistake you did as before. he looked up at you, lifting a brow as he was trying to figure out just what exactly you were up to. “you’re not going to trick me, are you?” he asked, you shook your head.

“how can i trick you when we’re both getting something out of it?”

“many ways.”

“are we going to make a deal or what?”

he nodded and you went on to explain some of the many possibilities that you could come up with that were reasonable to the both of you. personally, your favorite one being the one where the both of you made a truce and helped each other escape this place after finding the key. then, maybe making an exception to having him on board your ship afterwards. if he really wanted to go to earth so badly, and your ship was the only way he was going to be able to do that, then with a lot of convincing, you were sure you could make it work. you weren’t entirely a cruel person. you just had to be reasoned with.

“so, what do you think?” you lifted your chin to meet his height. “do we have a truce?”

he also met your height with a soft smile spreading across his face, it was the first time you had seen him smile in the small time that you had known him. why was even that, beautiful? “truce” he held out his hand, one in which you happily took.

now, time to find a way out of here.

#cobiehaven #tbz #the boyz #kevin moon #tbz kevin #kevin x reader #moon hyungseo #tbz sangyeon #tbz younghoon #tbz jacob #tbz juyeon #tbz hyunjae #tbz new #tbz chanhee #tbz q #tbz changmin #tbz eric #tbz sunwoo #tbz haknyeon

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astrae4 · 1 year

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ONE DANCE | teaser

synopsis — Kim Eunji writes love letters to all her crushes. One day, her brother Kim Sunwoo decides that his sister needed to get into a relationship. Rummaging through her room, he finds a box filled with her letters, all signed with addresses. My my, was it going to be a thrill ride…

"LOOK, SUNWOO; I'M NOT lonely, nor am I seeking for a relationship right now! Don't bother me, and just go and do your homework," sighed Kim Eunji.

"I'm just saying, it'd be better if you did date someone so you wouldn't be moping around the house most of the day!" replied Eunji's little brother, Sunwoo.

"Aish, don't bother me anymore—just go already."

"Ya ya," He rolled his eyes, before going up the stairs. While doing so, however, his eyes landed on a shirt. To be exact—Eunji's shirt.

What a mess.. He picked it up, before going into Eunji's room. His eyes darted around her room; it was the same as how it always was. Books put everywhere and walls filled with small writing nooks and polaroid shots. Yet somehow, a vase of bouquets would somehow always be in her room too.

Sunwoo went to her walk-in closet, before throwing the shirt into one of the messy drawers. He was about to leave before something caught his eye. In the corner of his eye, hidden in the back of the clothes was a white box. It looked to be the size of a shoe box, and had a pink ribbon tying it. And, being the curious kid he was; he decided to take it and open it.

To be fair, Sunwoo totally did not expect whatsoever was inside it. He had expected more paper, more books, or maybe even; an upcoming book series that Eunji was going to publish. However, inside it was letters. Not only that—but they were addressed and named.

That day, Kim Sunwoo smiled mischievously, not knowing the upcoming consequences of his actions.

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ethereal-engene · 1 year

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rubber boots | hyungseo

pairing: university!AU Kevin x fem!reader

genre: fluff, slice of life, nonidol!AU & university!AU // warnings: uses of cuss words & brief mention of food

summary: A girl who hates the rain joins a boy who loves the rain to dance & the aftermath // word count: 2015

note: recently remembered rubber boots existed & got inspired to write this! enjoy <3 ooh and @liliansun here’s the fic I was talking about :))

Most people either hate or love rain. You hate the rain. Unfortunately, most of the time the rain seems to add on another thick layer to your already bad day or mood.

So today is no different from your usual attitude towards the rainy weather as it starts to pour. You’re luckily able to run quickly into a building to stay dry. Wondering why anyone would want to get wet from the downpour and why you hadn’t decided to look at the forecast to prepare for this.

The building you’re in is none other than your campus’s cafe. Seeing students study with their friends and drinks remind you that a good old warm drink would be the perfect way to get you all warmed up. So that is exactly what you get.

After drinking some of it, you couldn’t help but people watch. Feeling like you’re in a movie trying to figure out who everyone is and what they’re doing. Eventually your eyes reach the windows and spot someone outside. Their arms are spread out and feeling the rain hit their skin gracefully. Almost like they’re some sort of main character in a movie.

They kind of have you in a trance because you’re just wondering why anyone would possibly want to be rained on right now?? Like the rain is cold and you could get sick or something. With your eyes locked on them, they would surely feel like someone is watching them. Just when you notice and they do too, a quick exchange of eye contact is made. Rubbing your eyes to make sure you weren’t going crazy. So you look over to where they were and sure enough, you guys stare at each other. Only for a few seconds too long before you turn your head.

Trying not to think much of it as you go back to people watching but somewhere in the back of your head, that little interaction between the two of you wouldn’t leave you alone. And before you know it, you’re racing out of the door to join them in the rain. Normally you would do almost anything to avoid the rain. Hating the way it makes your clothes cling to your skin, more specifically having wet socks. Plus there have been a couple of times where the floor is so slippery that you become the victim of slipping on the floor.

You’re really not sure what possessed you to do it but perhaps the best things in life do not always require an answer. When you reach them, you see that he’s a guy. The first thing you notice is his style is so nice and once again can’t help but think why he would want it to be damp. Before even introducing yourself, he bows in your presence and offers his hand to you. His phone is playing some song from the musical “Singing in the rain”. You place your hand in his and you’re not much of an intuitive dancer but it’s like you’ve danced to this before.

Everything fits in place and you manage to not step on his toes. This moment feels unreal but one you definitely wouldn’t forget for years to come. The way the steps and twirls match the tempo of the songs adds more sprinkles of magic into this moment. You’re sure that people have maybe stopped to watch you guys. Anyone could easily mistake you two for a couple from afar. The thought of being watched is the least of your concerns.

Throughout the dance numbers, you learn that his name is Kevin and small things about him. He sounds like a cool guy to be around. Loves to draw, loves Beyonce, has a big friend group of 10 friends, and can play piano. Wait forgot to mention that not only is his taste in music and style impeccable but his looks are on par with everything else. Kevin learns some things about you as well. His smile is soft and sweet.

“Here comes the last dip but watch out for that puddle real quick. Wouldn’t want you to get more wet than you already are.” Turning your head to avoid the puddle, you side step and he dips you perfectly just as he’s done the previous times. Right after he brings you back up, your eyes meet his little rain boots. There are little doodles and drawings on them.

“Thanks and just noticed. Your rain boots, they’re really cute! Did you do those designs yourself?” He nods and quickly searches for his umbrella. “Yeah, I actually didn’t like how they looked so plain so I decided to grab some paint markers and freehand these. Admittedly not my best work but they work for me. By the way, thanks for joining me to dance in the rain. Couldn’t have asked for a better dance partner!” As he opens up the umbrella to shield you two from the relentless rain, you respond with “Ahhh, don’t mention it! I had a lot of fun and don’t even know what had encouraged me to join you but super glad I did it anyways.��

Walking towards the cafe where your stuff was in, he quickly closed the umbrella to open the door for you. Perhaps chivalry isn’t dead. A quick thanks leaves your mouth and you head over to your stuff to grab your wallet. He follows behind you and his eyebrows raise as he sees your wallet in your hand.

“Come on, Kevin. Lemme buy you a drink, it’s the least I could!”

“No no! It’s okay, I swear that having you as a dance partner is way worth more than a cup of coffee. Plus, I don’t want our interaction and friendship to feel like it’s built off of owing each other things.” When he was done talking, your mouth slipped into a small smile. Hearing that he decided that you were his friend, it warmed your heart. Making friends at university has been a little tough for you, so to hear this was sweet. Nonetheless, you kept on insisting and telling him that you didn’t feel like you owed him anything.

“Well if you insist that much, I’d love an Iced Americano please.” Your eyes roll as your hands pull out your card to pay for it. “An iced americano? Really??” A tinge of disgust in your tone. His face is in disbelief and hands are up in the air as if he’s done something wrong.

“Excuse me, iced americano is a classic but still good! What type of beef do you have with people who get an iced americano??”. Shaking your head in laughter. “Nothing, it’s just basic. I thought you would have had some specific drink order or something else. You don’t look like someone who likes iced americano. No offense, of course.”

Now he’s the one rolling his eyes. “If you must know, while my drink order is basic, everything else about me is not basic!”

“Alright, alrighty. I hear you crystal clear Mr. Kevin Moon.”

Before you know it, his order is called and you walk to the table where your stuff is. Taking a seat where you were before, you felt a rush of an unknown feeling course through you. Not too long ago, you were sitting in the same spot and watching this guy dance in the rain. If you told yourself that you would be sitting across from Kevin who was dancing earlier, you wouldn’t believe it.

Both of you talk some more before he takes a look at the time and realizes that his class starts in 20 minutes. Before he leaves, he hands over his phone for you to put your number in. As you’re typing in your phone number, you put your contact name as “cute dance partner”. Handing it back to him and wishing him that he has a good class, you go back to your work. You find it hard to focus because your head is still wrapping around the fact that you had danced in the rain. In due time, you manage to get back into the grind.

The time passes by and you don’t even notice until Kevin decides to come back. “Woah, you’re still here? Ma’am it’s been like 3 hours since I last left. How the fuck are you still here? Have you even eaten since then?” Your head rises up to meet his eyes. “Wait, wait. How long has it been? What time is it right now?”

You look up at the clock in front of you before your jaw drops. “Oh my god. wHAT IT’S ALREADY 7 O’CLOCK? I swear last time I checked it was only 3 o’ clock.” A chuckle escapes from you. “Woops… heh, looks like I forgot to eat but it’s okay. I’ll go eat soon, I promise. Lemme finish this.”

“Nope, nope. Come on, let’s go get dinner. You can finish this later. Also we’re not gonna be alone, my friends are going to join us.” He closes your laptop lightly and helps you pack your things. “I didn’t even say yes yet thoughhhh… not that I would haven’t said yes. Okay fine, let’s go!”

And with that the day ended with even more fun than earlier. Meeting his friends was nothing like you had expected. Plus the food was really good.

To months to follow, yours and Kevin’s friendship eventually turned into something more. All of his friends were growing quite tired of hearing him talk about how much he liked you. When he had asked you out, his face light up when you said yes. “Here’s to more dances whether they be in the rain or not. If you’re my dance partner, it doesn’t really matter to me.”

— bonus —

Once while visiting his studio, he wasn’t answering his phone and that’s what prompted you to drop by. His phone was on one of the tables far from him and you saw how his phone lit up after receiving a text from the group chat. When it lit up, your eyes caught the fact that he didn’t ever change your contact name. It was still “cute dance partner”.

Walking over to him and tapping his shoulder brought him out of the zone. He was about to go off but then he saw your face. His frown turns into a smile before puckering up. Giving him a quick kiss and holding up his phone until he sees it. “Oh… sorry about that. You know how I get when I start to create art. Anyways what’s up, my love?”

“Ah nothing, but I was bored. Also why is my contact name still “cute dance partner”? Literally cringing at the fact that you kept it.” Starting to cover your face with your sweatshirt, that is actually his, and scooting away. Only for him to pull back your sweatshirt so that his hands can hold your waist. “I thought it was really funny and cute. Plus it’s true, you are my cute dance partner. So why change it? But if it does bother you, you can change it again. I don’t mind, whatever makes you happy!”

“God you’re so cute and sweet sometimes Kevin. You’re going to give me a sugar rush. For the record, I think we should keep it. It reminds me of the first time we met, you know?” He nods and you leave kisses all around his face. The last kiss is, of course, on his lips. Smiling into it because nothing could be sweeter than this.

Except there is, the rain starts to fall. Before he says anything, you’re already dragging him outside with you to dance. It’s become some unspoken agreement that almost anytime whenever it’s raining, either you or Kevin could take each other to dance in the rain. While of course, nothing would be like the first time, each and every time would remain near & dear to each other’s heart. Who knew a girl who hated the rain would end up falling in love with a guy who loved the rain?

man i hope this fic does well 😭 I forgot to add this into the bonus b/c I got too tired but he eventually gives you your own rainboots with his own doodles <3

I HOPE YOU ENJOYED IT!! also @sungbeam IT’S FINALLY HERE, anyways I highly rec anyone who likes this to check out duckie’s works as well. We’re on a mission to bring back deobiblr !! as always if you liked it, please leave a note or interact by reblogging it with your thoughts in the tags or even sending an ask or message to me!!

take care & signing off with love

- ash

#kflixnet #underworldnet #the boyz x reader #tbz x reader #kevin x reader #hyungseo x reader #kevin moon x reader #the boyz imagine #the boyz fluff #tbz x you #tbz x y/n #the boyz #the boyz imagines #tbz fluff #moon hyungseo x reader #moon hyungseo #hyungseo imagine #kpop x reader

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sungbeam · 4 months

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𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫

artist!kevin moon x senator's daughter!reader

after a long night, you find yourself on the front doorstep of a man who's heart you still held tightly in your grasp.

4.0k words, exes 2 lovers?, bittersweet angst with a happy ending, kissing, swearing, mentions of arranged marriages and controlling parents, mentions of social class, it takes place in washington dc bc i had a specific place in mind lol but i've also only went to dc once(???)

a/n: dug this up and dusted off the cobwebs — originally inspired (partly) by youngk's cover of moon river <3 (im sorry i always give you angst kevin...)

It was late when you knocked on his door. It was so late, in fact, that the fog had begun to roll over the Potomac and dampen the cobblestones beneath your shoes. You would have taken off the death traps your mother called fashion, but you'd seen your friends on the rowing team get foot diseases before. The streetlights here glowed from their perches in golden yellow flames, not amber like they did in some parts of the district.

You hadn't really expected him to answer. You knew he was almost guaranteed to be awake, but there were always exceptions. You knew he would recognize you, too, but if he would open the door for you… it didn't matter that he was the kindest person you'd ever met, there were always exceptions.

His expression sat carefully blank when you faced him, a war brewing in his beautiful eyes of a long past you shared. He swallowed, scanning your form.

"I'm sorry," you managed to say. You suddenly felt stupid. Why were you here? Why had you run all the way across the river to his place in Georgetown? Why him? Out of all the people, you chose the one person who's heart you let fall to the ground and shatter. It was a miracle he even opened the door. "I—I didn't know who else to go to."

The bobby pins in your hair stabbed your head and intensified the headache building in your scalp. It had been a long night; you weren't sure if you were even of sound mind and thought right now.

Kevin Moon considered you for a moment, his eyes and posture softening at the lines. "Come in," he murmured as he stepped aside in the doorway, "it's late."

You swallowed as you took slow steps into his townhouse and he closed the front door behind you. Everything was as you had last seen it—pictures of him and his family, his friends; his artwork hung on the entryway walls; stair leading up to the upper floors, and hallway traveling back toward the parlor and kitchen. You could extract the memories that you had of this place, but that would keep you up the rest of the night. It would be a dangerous endeavor, you thought, as if coming to Kevin in the first place wasn't already.

"Here." He held out one toned arm for you to grasp. "So you can take off your shoes."

You gave a barely-there nod. "Oh, uhm, thank you," you said, locking your hand against his forearm as you swiftly discarded the stilettos from your feet. When your aching feet met flat ground, a weight fell from your shoulders, and you lined up the pair against the wall neatly by his shoe rack.

He began trekking up the stairs, beckoning you to follow. "You can have the guestroom," he sighed, carding a hand through his hair. It stuck up in the back, you noticed whilst following him up, which meant he had probably been tossing and turning for awhile.

Everything smelled the same, felt the same.

A different weight fell upon your chest, suffocating. Was it a mistake to come here? It was all coming back to you.

And he was opening the only other bedroom door besides his on the floor, leaving the door open for you to follow. He fluffed the pillows and pulled a blanket out from the closet shelf. This room used to be for guests, not for you, but that change was your fault.

"I'll grab you something to change into," he said in the silence with one hand cupped behind the back of his neck. He didn't look at you this time. "You still know where everything is?"

"Yeah," you rasped. You cleared your throat and held your clutch in front of yourself like a pitiful shield. "Thanks, Kevin. I… I promise I'll be out of your hair by the morning."

A beat passed. You felt his eyes on you and met them.

"Just—" his arm fell to his side and tucked into the pocket of his sweats, "—take your time, Yn. Good night."

You watched him leave. "Good night."

The house was quiet again after you finished washing up in the bathroom and retreated into the guest room. Kevin could hear the door close even from the third floor in his attic studio, his feet pressed against the cool wood, eyes staring out at the half-filled canvas on the easel. He'd been stuck for awhile, having not yet decided what he wanted to do with the rest of it. This indecisiveness came with the artist's block, unfortunately.

He didn't like to admit that one of the few ways to get him out were the dozens of canvases shoved against the far corner. There was a drop cloth draped over them so he wouldn't get distracted, but… most nights he couldn't resist.

There was always something soulful about the way he painted your eyes. It had always been that, and your smile, that he intentionally captured first whenever he painted your portrait. It was a greedy, selfish attempt to keep some part of you for himself because he knew that it was and could never be like that in the real world. He knew that fact all too well.

The vision of you on his porch tonight… he'd almost believed he was dreaming.

Kevin released a frustrated huff from his mouth, rubbing his hands down his face, then up through his hair. His brushes remained untouched, canvas on the easel left undone.

He stood from his stool and quietly made his way back down to the second floor.

He could've sent you away, he thought. He could've, but did he want to?—

"Oh. Hi."

His eyes shot up at the sound of your voice, meek and soft. You stood in the doorway of the guest bedroom with his T-shirt and sweatpants hanging from your frame like it was two years ago. He lost his breath for a second; he didn't think you were still awake. "Did I wake you?" He asked, clutching the banister.

"No," you said while leaning against the door jamb. "I was… I wasn't sleeping."

That made the both of you.

"You still have bandaids in the medicine cabinet?" You asked him.

He nodded, stepping down fully onto the second floor. "Yeah. How many did you need?" He shoved the intrusive thoughts away from the forefront of his mind and replaced them with the idea of bandages. He padded over into the bathroom, turning the light on to rifle through the medicine cabinet.

Never mind that you knew where they were and that you were capable of getting them yourself—he already lost when he let you into his house.

You slipped in behind him. "Just a couple small ones is okay—for my feet."

Oh, right. He'd nearly forgotten you must have traveled all the way from across the river to get here in those god awful shoes. Not only that, but no doubt spent an entire night in them at some stuck-up, rich-prick gala—

Not now, he hushed. Most of the time, it was never your choice to even go to those functions.

He withdrew the box of Band-Aids he kept, all beat up from years of figuring out where they belonged. There was a mishmash of sizes, but most of the medium-sized ones were all gone, leaving only the extreme sizes on the spectrum. He picked out a few of the small ones for you, staring at the tile on the floor while you sat on the lid of the toilet to cover your blisters and bruises.

“I know that my showing up here unannounced was really unfair to you,” you suddenly said. He raised his head a little. You were grabbing your heel now, gently massaging your foot. “Especially at this time of night. I—” You paused, “I just—I’m sorry.”

If he didn't think about it too much, he could pretend this apology was only about you showing up unannounced, out of the blue, at an ungodly hour, and not about every other elephant in the room.

“It's okay, I understand,” he murmured. He felt his body move to settle on the edge of the bathtub across from you to take your foot from your hand to rub soothing circles into your aching bones.

You connected gazes again and he saw the flicker of gratitude in them, and something else he didn't want to see. Hope was so cruel sometimes. “You don't have to do this.”

“I know. I want to.”

It felt like college all over again, just you and him. Those four years had been some of the best years of his life—but they were filled with naïve bliss. The long, humid summer days and nights along the river; the golden light filtering through his windows as you read and he painted; the picnics on the Georgetown University lawns; the echo of your laughter against cobblestone walls and streets.

They were engraved into his memory, even with the rose-tinted lenses off.

He would call it a fever dream, but he knew you were solid and real when he held you. Your smile was real, your love was palpable. He could hear your humming in his kitchen in the evenings and feel the ghost of your arms around him in the mornings.

When you were called away by your family to fulfill filial obligations, you would always return home to him. Not them, him.

In this moment, he knew exactly what he was doing, even if he chose to pretend he didn't. Like this wouldn't lead to his heart getting broken again when all that was left of you in the morning was your perfume on his clothes and bandaid wrappers in the trash.

“So what was tonight about?” He piped up, daring another glance at you.

You shook your head. “You don't have to—”

“Only if you're comfortable.” Sometimes it helped for you to talk about it, and sometimes it didn't. He wanted to help, nonetheless. He still cared about you, after all.

You wrestled down a swallow. “It was some dumb charity that wasn't even about the charity,” you rasped, returning your bare feet to the floor when he was done rubbing the hurt away. You had to look away, and he resisted the urge to turn your chin back to him. “And something about—something about marriage.”

His heart fell to the bathroom tiles. “What?”

Marriage?

“It—it’s nothing—”

“Nothing,” he repeated, speechless.

“Not nothing,” you amended, tripping over your words. You shouldn't have mentioned it. Why would you mention it? Out of everyone, you and to say it to him. “My parents mentioned something about it, but it's just one of those things where they're urging me to start looking. I don't know. It's not arranged or anything.”

He said exactly what both of you were thinking, “Yet.”

You looked at him then. He saw the way silver lined your eyes, the hurt threatening to spill over just like what pounded against the floodgates of his heart. Yet.

If you waited any longer, who knew what your parents would do to secure a political alliance? You were a Senator's daughter, your family's jewel and pawn piece. You were born to be someone Kevin couldn't be with and god-fucking-damn did that hurt like a bitch.

They were giving you time to make your own, careful choice. It was an illusion of free will that made him seethe and ache for you.

“It's gonna be fine,” you said with little to no strength behind the words. “I'll be fine.”

Kevin stared at you. You and he had shared plenty of arguments about this exact topic before and it all ended in the same place. He didn't know what to say this time to make you say or think or do differently.

What could he possibly say to make you stay? To make you rethink your entire life and career, to make you turn your back on your own family?

“I'm sorry I said anything about this.” You sighed. “I don't know why I said anything about this.”

He swallowed. “I asked in the first place; it's okay.” His hands yearned to touch your skin, to swaddle you in his arms and rock you into assurance. He missed when he could reach over and warm your knee with his palm to silently tell you he was here and listening.

“We should try to sleep. I've taken so much of your time already. I'm sor—”

“Yn, love, stop saying you're sorry.” You didn't ask for any of this and you kept acting like you did, like it was your fault. He couldn't fault you for anything if he tried.

It looked like you were about to say something to him. He could practically taste the words that sat on your tongue.

Tell me I'm not suffering alone. Tell me that you still love me, even after all this time.

Instead, you nodded while rubbing your eye. “Okay,” you exhaled. “Thanks for the bandaids and your time.”

When you stood, so did he. He pressed a warm palm to the small of your back to lead you out of the bathroom, his other hand hitting the light switch.

He reluctantly drew his hand away from you to step towards his own bedroom.

He heard you stop, his head pathetically raising to meet you as you turned around.

“Kevin, I…” There it was again.

Oh, he wanted so badly for you to say it. But it was late and neither of you were in the right state of mind.

“Sleep on it,” he whispered. He couldn't handle any of those words exchanged now if you were going to regret it later. “Please.”

You inclined your head, lips pressing together. “Good night.”

“Good night,” he said back, for the second time tonight, and for as many opportunities as he was granted. As long as he didn't have to say goodbye instead.

Sleep refused to take you and you tossed and turned for what felt like hours. Two long hours of torture, and you gave up, throwing the sheets off your body to step over to the window. The street below was dark with only a small halo of golden light from a street lamp to provide some reprieve from the darkness. You'd always seen this back street from Kevin's bedroom, never this one. It was so odd seeing it from a different point of view.

You closed your eyes with a sigh and rested your forehead against the cool glass. What were you doing here? Why were you troubling a man who you'd already troubled before? Your being here had to be bad for the both of you, but why did your being here feel right instead? You could separate comfort from rightness anymore, couldn't find where the line was in the sand because maybe you had danced all over it before to muddle it up.

Maybe you didn't want to define it—you just wanted it to be him.

You would never forget this moment, standing with your eyes closed against a cold window pane, that you came to an understanding. You had little to no sleep in your system, but your heart hurt as much as your feet, and while there were plenty of ways to soothe sore feet, there weren't as many to heal a broken heart.

Maybe a glass of water would refresh you enough to fall asleep. It would be terrible of you to wake him up, especially when you'd bothered him this much. He had already done so much for you.

But you'd seen him just hours ago, and you'd seen the tenderness in his gaze, felt the tenderness in his touch.

The way he'd asked for you to “sleep on it” had been loaded with something. Hope was so cruel sometimes.

Your chest tightened and you pulled away from the window. You stepped over to the door to quietly open it and slip out. There was no light coming out from beneath Kevin's bedroom door, and you tiptoed across the landing to make your way downstairs.

When you'd successfully retrieved a glass of water, you climbed back up the stairs, only to freeze at the sight of Kevin stepping up onto the ones leading up to the attic. Your heart galloped at the sight of him.

“I hope I didn't wake you up,” you whispered this time, gesturing to the cup of water in your hand. “I just needed some water.”

He nodded. “Don't worry about it. Can't sleep still?” He asked.

You shook your head. Not even if you tried.

He seemed to understand, and with a sweep of his hand through his hair, he beckoned you up to the third floor with him.

You hadn't been up to the attic for as long as you had been away from Kevin. It was his studio space, somewhere he could let his creativity run wild. There were canvases pressed and stacked up against the slanted roof, paint cans and boxes of brushes off to the side, and the chaise lounge you always draped yourself over when the sun filtered in just right. It was the perfect spot to curl up with a good book, and you could feel its cushioned back imprinted against yours even now.

The memories all flooded back in one, big tidal wave and your hand tightened around your cup.

“Are you working on anything?” You asked quietly, lingering at the stair landing to sip your water. You feared you weren't allowed to venture further, as if you needed permission to wander now.

He glanced back at you from his easel stool, forehead creasing between his brows when he saw you still standing there. “Yn, you can sit,” he said, nodding to the chaise lounge. “Not really,” he confessed. “I just… I've been in a block, I guess.”

You crept over to the lounge chair and seated yourself on the edge, stiff and with your legs crossed one over the other. You leaned your forearms onto your knees, looking in the direction of Kevin, his body half blocked by the wooden easel. “Ah, I see,” you murmured. “Have you had trouble sleeping lately?”

His eyes flickered to yours. “It's… on and off. You?”

“Same.” Your mind went to what you thought about in the guest bedroom earlier. Would it be out of left field to spring it up on him? You didn't even know if he felt the same way anymore, but… but you had to try, didn't you?

Why did you come to him? Out of all the people and places in this city, your feet carried you here.

“I—” Both of you said at once, eyes clashing when you realized the other's voice was speaking.

“You first,” he said.

You shook your head. “No, please. I—I think you should go first.”

He seemed to hesitate, but relented. There was so much emotion in the way he looked at you then; the wideness of his eyes gave it all away. “Why are you here, Yn? Why are you really here?”

It was like he could read your mind. You knocked back the rest of your water and placed the empty cup on the floor a little ways from your feet so you didn't knock it over. “I,” you began, “I don't… at least, I don't consciously know.”

He pursed his lips together. “Do better than that. I know you can.”

You knew he was right; you could do better. You knew the truth, but it was a matter of how much courage you had to face it. “Kevin, I—I should've never let you go that easy, and I should've never let my judgment be swayed by my parents as it had. I'm so sorry for hurting you; you never deserved it. You never deserved any of it.

“I think,” you said, one hand grabbing your other shoulder, “after all this time, I still know who I want, and it's never been anyone but you. That's why—that’s why I'm here.” You wished you could shrink into yourself with his gaze pinned to you like it was. “And this is all so unfair to you—I know. I know it is, and I am so, so sorry.”

You would bear your entirety to him in hopes that he believed you and saw your sincerity. Because while your parents had raised you to be their perfect daughter, they missed the part when you fell hopelessly in love with your best friend from college. It tore you apart that day they forced you to part ways with him—you knew it did just the same to him, too.

Kevin was quiet for a moment with a pensive expression on his face burning into his floorboards. He suddenly stood and made his way over to you, your body shifting to make room for him on the chaise. The pair of you sat side by side with your shoulders and legs pressed against each other, sharing the other's warmth.

“I don't blame you if you're bitter,” you said. “I would be, too. And you can kick me out if that makes you feel better, because I…”

“Don't say it's because you deserve it.”

You tilted your gaze over to him.

He shook his head. “You don't deserve it. You hurt me, yes, but I know why you did it and I can't blame you for it, no matter how hard I try.” He turned his gaze up to the ceiling for a moment. “Sometimes I wish I had been born in a different position so neither of us would have to hurt so much.”

Your chest ached.

“It's not your fault,” you said. “Kevin, it was never your fault.”

His smile curled into something somber as his hand reached over to thumb your cheek. “I know it's not. And it's not yours either.”

For a moment, his hand lingered, and you let it.

“Don't marry someone else,” he said so quietly you thought you'd imagined it. But there was that tenderness in his eyes then, loving and imploring, and you knew you hadn't just kidded yourself.

His hand went to cup the side of your face. “I can't—” he swallowed, “I can't stomach that thought. I love you too much to see you unhappy.” His words were slurring together, voice watery, as he attempted to cover it up by pressing his lips to your hairline.

“I love you so much it hurts,” you told him in earnest. “Of course I'd run back here to you. It's always been you.” No amount of parental control could change that. They could never choose who you fell in love with when your heart was yours to give.

Kevin shifted to press his lips against yours, soft and cautious, giving you the space to back out. You reciprocated though, hands coming up to cup his face. And as you kissed, a sense of comfort settled over you, something akin to contentment, like knowing this was where you were meant to be. All the worries and heartache melted away for one split second of bliss that you found in a man whom you loved too much to let go.

His nose gently bumped against yours, his thumb caressing your cheekbone affectionately. “I love you. You can break my heart when you leave in the morning, but let me have this at least.”

“You can have this, and you can have me,” you said, nodding against him. You were going to fight this time; you would fight until you bled because you would be damned if you let him go so easily a second time. “You've always had me.”

a/n: i have to be up early tmr as usual... but i hope u didn't get bored by all the wordiness sjfbdkdn

tbz m.list

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @tinkerbell460 @kaaimins @hyunjaespresent-deobi @otterly-fey @zzoguri @floatingpluto @winterchimez @ethereal-engene @gyulfriend @polarisjisung @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @loveliestfelix @bless-311 @zhaixiaowen @leaz-kpop-life @amourdsr @pxppxrminty @kqyutie @sseastar-main @kxthleen14 @fluorescentloves @mosviqu @justalildumpling @jaerisdiction @super-btstrash-posts @jundundun @http-gyu @mvvnsseul @outrologist @vernonburger @maessseongs @ericlvr @mars101 @kflixnet

#kflixnet #deoboyznet #the boyz x reader #kevin moon x reader #moon hyungseo x reader #the boyz angst #the boyz fanfic #the boyz scenarios #the boyz oneshot #the boyz drabbles #the boyz imagines #kevin moon imagines #kevin moon oneshots #kevin moon drabbles #kevin moon scenarios #kevin moon angst

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juyeonszn · 6 months

Text

I CAN’T LOSE WHEN I’M WITH YOU

PAIRING kevin moon x f!reader

WORD COUNT 603

GENRES itty bitty angst? ﹒fluff ig? ﹒smut

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, kevin is having an existential crisis, established relationship, kinda? cnc?, somnophilia, cockwarming, tbh that’s all 😭 this is a shortie but she’s kinda cute too ig

SUMMARY even when the world felt like it was no longer spinning on its axis, he had you to revolve around, like his own personal sun.

MORE this one is a double whammy besties 🤓 along with being kevin’s fic for fawntober, she is also a long awaited request from my 100 follower event for @confuchan !! im sorry this took so long 😭 i hope it meets ur expectations!! if u enjoyed, pls don’t forget to reblog! prompts used are: 8, 19

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble @zzoguri

Laying here, staring up at the ceiling like it was more interesting than any news story on TV, Kevin felt like he was at a standstill.

It was like the world came to a spinning halt, and the only thing he could focus on was the low hum of the fan in the corner of the room along with his own breathing. But then you stirred beside him and pulled away his concentration as if it were second nature to you.

Now all he could do was listen to your evened breaths, watching your shoulder rise and fall as you slept. You looked so peaceful, soft snores filling his ears as he leaned in to wrap his arms around you. You felt so warm in his embrace, your skin against his tucking away all the worries that had been stuffed inside of his head. Everything just came so easily with you.

It was amazing how you didn’t even have to do anything, just your presence was sufficient to calm the storms raging in his brain. Your brows were slightly furrowed, like you were invested in the dream you were having. He can’t help the small smile that works its way onto his lips.

You mumble something in your sleep, alarming Kevin for a moment before he caresses your cheek, leaving a kiss on your temple. “I just want to hold you close.”

Maybe holding you close was a bad idea though, what with the way you kept moving. Each squirm brushed up against him, turning him even more restless than he was before. He pushes your hips into the mattress to still you, holding in the choked groan threatening to free itself from the back of his throat.

Despite all the uncertainties that plagued Kevin’s mind moments ago, one thing was for sure. You were wearing way too many clothes for what he had in mind. The thought of your wet heat alone was enough to bring a sense of peace within him. Perhaps that was all he needed to finally fall into a blissful slumber; just the feeling of your warm walls sucking him in.

His fingers sneak down to the bottom hem of your panties, grateful that you were pantsless and your legs were somewhat spread already. He pushes aside your underwear, slipping himself out of his own. Kevin sighs, placing his forehead on your shoulder to quell the inkling of shame burrowing through his chest as his cock slides into your cunt without hesitation.

Fuck, it was like your pussy was made for him. It was as if you were created solely for the purpose of Kevin’s dick burying itself deep inside of you. His eyes flutter shut, finger creeping under your t-shirt to rest his hand on your stomach. He twitches in you when you whimper in your sleep, scooting yourself against him. His broad chest was sandwiched to your back, the two of you as close as physically possible.

This was perfect. He didn’t even have to move, didn’t even have the desire to finish either. All he wanted was to stay like this, his cock snug between the walls of your cunt. In fact, it’s enough to lull himself to sleep, effectively resetting any and every existential crises running through his head.

That was the thing about you. You were always the one constant in Kevin’s life. You could turn a bad day into a good one in a matter of minutes. Even when the world felt like it was no longer spinning on its axis, he had you to revolve around, like his own personal sun.

#the boyz #the boyz x reader #the boyz smut #tbz #tbz x reader #tbz smut #the boyz kevin #tbz kevin #kevin moon x reader #kevin moon smut #kevin x reader #kevin smut #moon hyungseo #juyeonszn #juyeonszn.100🪩#fawntober.2023🎃

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theharrowing · 8 months

Text

Collateral 19: The only lifestyle I have ever known

Your ex-boyfriend gets in over his head working for the local mafia, and Boss Min has come to collect his payment: You.

But was it simply a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or has he always had his sights on you?

PREVIOUS | INDEX | NEXT

🗡️ Yoongi x Female Reader x Namjoon, Jungkook x Female Reader, Jungkook x Taehyung

🗡️ word count: 18.6

🗡️ mafia au, strangers to lovers, graphic violence, major character injury, poly, smut, angst, fluff, nsfw, explicit 21+

🗡️ warnings: tickling, semi-public quickie, handsy creep makes mc spiral, playful possessiveness, feelings as messy as mc's panties are after letting 3 men cum inside her, threats from a fresh face, graphic violence and gore (gun fire, mc wields a gun and a knife, man's head go boom-splat, major character injury, panic attack & blind rage, mc's body count increases from 1 to 2, yoongi gets his scar.)

🗡️ note: these warnings are serious!!! heed them!!! take them seriously!!! on a lighter note, pretend everyone's hair is correct in the mood board ok lolol also yes that is Bibi, who is called Hyungseo in this chapter.

🗡️ beta read by @neoneunnajimin! and shout out to @colormepurplex2 for putting some blood on our kitten's face for this mood board!! i appreciate you both!!! 💜

🗡️ posted on august 2023 | read on ao3

Waking up between Yoongi and Namjoon again is akin to waking from a dream only to find yourself in an even better dream. You roll onto your side toward Yoongi, who sleeps on his back, and you nuzzle into him, wrapping every limb around his body as tightly as you can. Yoongi grumbles and tenses before he relaxes, and then he turns onto his side and tangles his limbs in response, reaching a leg and arm past you to the sweating body on the other side.

You used to hate it when partners would try to hold you in the morning, ripping you from blissful unconsciousness into the waking world with their stinky breath and sweaty skin. With a grumble and a shove, you would always break free and twist to your side, wrapped in your blanket alone.

But Yoongi and Namjoon are your home. Their heavy bodies and warm morning breath ease you into the day, wrapping you in a loving embrace that you hate to have to break free of.

And just when you close your eyes and sigh into the feeling of Namjoon curling against your back, outlining the shape of your body perfectly with his, a phone ringtone blares, causing the three of you to groan and sign in tandem.

"Fuck," Yoongi mutters, leaning to kiss you on the forehead before slowly dragging his limbs away from the tangle, muttering lowly as his shrill ringtone disturbs the peace.

"Who the fuck is already calling you?" Namjoon complains against your shoulder, wrapping around you tighter as Yoongi's warmth disappears.

Yoongi's response is incomprehensible raspy nonsense, and then the sound ends just as he mutters, "Yes?"

After a pause, Yoongi grumbles, "Seokjin-ssi, I am offended that you thought I would forget. Of course, we will be there tomorrow evening. Alright, talk to you later."

The sound of the phone clattering against Yoongi's nightstand follows a sigh, and Yoongi rolls back into his rightful place, wedging your face against nude pecs while he reaches over you to give Namjoon's lifted face a kiss.

The two of them groan, squeezing you between firm, increasingly hot bodies, and you begin to shove at Yoongi's shoulders, fighting for your life, grumbling, "You're suffocating me, you idiots!"

"You're just jealous Joonie got the first good morning kiss," Yoongi teases, backing up before bending down to plant his lips against yours.

"No morning breath kisses!" you attempt to complain through lips pulled tightly together, shoving Yoongi away despite loving the soft press of his mouth against you.

"Was Seokjin reminding you of the gala?" Namjoon asks just as Yoongi decides to begin tickling you, which has you screaming and pushing him away with flailing limbs.

"He was," Yoongi grits as you manage to plant both hands firmly on his chest and shove hard enough to topple him momentarily back. He pounces once more, flinging his entire body over yours, and Namjoon manages to get your left hand held down, then reaches over you to pin down your right arm, filling your senses with his delightfully stinky musk.

"You monsters!" you scream with your arms awkwardly pinned beside your head, uselessly flailing your legs while Yoongi sits and dances his fingertips over your ribs. "I'll kill you both!"

"Awe, our little wolf is threatening us with murder," Namjoon teases, "as if she has it in her to kill another man."

"Especially two as handsome as us," Yoongi adds, lightning up on tickling enough to make you open your eyes and watch him waggle his eyebrows.

As soon as Yoongi's fingers touch down on your ribs once more, your eyes squeeze shut, and you squeal, "Your looks won't save you from my wrath if you don't release me!"

"Awe your wrath," Namjoon teases, and his hot, stinky breath wafts as he leans close. "How adorable."

"I watched you torture a man, I know how to do it, now," you grit through your teeth, swaying your body left to right hard, hoping to throw Yoongi off. "Maybe Taehyung will teach me how to use his katana."

"Graduating from dagger to katana," Yoongi drawls playfully. "How quaint."

Namjoon adds, "But our sweetheart has never seen me with a sword before," piquing your interest despite how you fight for your life.

Each breath heaves from your lungs, pained laughter coming out in exhausted bursts against your will; if you could control your laughter to not give these jerks the satisfaction, you would. Nothing about the hellish feeling of being tickled is actually funny.

In a burst of genius, you scream, "Sakura!"

Yoongi sighs and halts his fingers, and when you open your eyes, he tongues the inside of his mouth.

"That was a dirty move but also a wise one," Yoongi mutters, clearly as amused as he is annoyed. "Nice work, darling."

"So, did you forget about Seokjin's event?" Namjoon asks as Yoongi leans forward, caging your head with his hands and smiling sweetly at you. You attempt to catch your breath, still panting from the onslaught.

"I did," Yoongi responds, grinning.

You roll your eyes and begin to laugh, and Namjoon releases your hands finally and wiggles back into a laying position beside you, laughing as well. "I want to sleep more," he grumbles as he throws a leg over your legs and snuggles up to your side, close enough to your armpit to make you jerk when he speaks because every tiny sensation still tickles.

"More sleep sounds nice," Yoongi mutters, leaning close, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, then to your eyebrow, and to your temple, before laying back down.

You begin to grumble that you would also love to sleep but that Yoongi has woken you up with all of his rambunctious behavior. But as limbs settle over and around you, and you become sandwiched once more between the two of them, heaviness claims your eyelids, and you begin to drift off.

When you wake up again, it is from Namjoon peeling out of the tangle. You grumble and roll toward him, attempting to reach out and bring his warmth back to you. Yoongi wraps around your back, humming something unintelligible into the nape of your neck before his breathing evens out and he is back asleep. You close your eyes and allow yourself to drift once more, stirred only by the feeling of Yoongi peeling away.

The sun is bright by the time you wake up for good, flooding into the room, causing you to squint as you stretch and yawn, slowly flailing your limbs in the large, empty bed.

"Where is everyone going?" you grumble, peeking one eye open to find a tuft of dark, wavy hair sticking out from the closet. Yoongi's smile is almost as bright as the afternoon sun, tugging at your heart.

He responds, "Work, darling," with a smirk, then disappears back into the closet.

"Ugh!" you complain, petulant. If Yoongi and Namjoon go to work, who will be around to hug and kiss and spoil you? "Work is stupid!"

"You should go to Paradise!" Yoongi calls from the closet.

You should go to Paradise. It has been several nights since you last visited, and you miss Jimin and Hyejin. And, if you are being perfectly honest, you miss Jeongguk. Jeongguk will certainly give you plenty of attention to make up for what you are missing from the other two, but you worry just a little that desiring and receiving it from him may make you greedy.

"You just want to shove me off onto Jeongguk," you whine, teasingly.

Yoongi chuckles as he exits the closet, buttoning a black shirt that is tucked into black slacks. "Are you upset about that?"

With a pout, you sit up and whine, "I guess not," making Yoongi laugh so hard that he stomps one of his feet. Since coming home, there is a lightness to Yoongi that you are certain you have never seen before. He laughs so openly and with his whole body, sometimes flinging himself all the way to the floor, onto his knees. It is so nice; he truly seems happy.

"Namjoon and I have a meeting today that may take several hours," Yoongi begins as he approaches, still smiling but no longer laughing. "Then I have to take one of our potential clients to dinner and for drinks. She is an old investor and was a good friend of my mother, and she has her sights on one of my hotels. After we schmooze and convince her to open her pocketbook, we will come by the club. Sound good?"

You hum and nod, considering what you might wear to Paradise while scooting toward the edge of the bed, wearing only one of Namjoon's oversized shirts.

"What if Jeongguk seduces me?" you ask with a raise of your brow, biting back a smile when Yoongi gives you an incredulous little smirk of his own.

He gets close, resting his hands on the edge of the bed, caging you in. Yoongi is musky and sweet, and you lean in close, holding firm eye contact and basking in his bouquet.

"Do you want to fuck Jeongguk again?" he asks low and curious.

Goosebumps cover you, sending a thrill along your spine, and you bite your lip, batting your lashes while pretending to consider his proposition.

"I don't know," you say, attempting to sound coy. "Maybe."

Yoongi hums, deep and slow, leaning close enough that his breath is warm on your face. "Well, then if he seduces you, you should let him have you."

"You don't mind?" you ask softly, genuinely concerned about crossing some sort of line, should something happen while he is away.

"As long as you are happy and communicate openly, I do not mind."

Unsure what to say, you hum in response. You want to kiss Yoongi until you are dizzy, but you worry about your breath being sour and keep your lips closed tight. Yoongi leans and kisses you on your temple, eyebrow, and cheek, then straightens out.

"If you wanted to shoot me a text and let me know, I would not object," he says with a waggle of his brow, making you giggle.

You lift a hand and gently shove at his shoulder, teasing, "You just want to picture me getting fucked, you pervert."

"Of course I do," Yoongi rasps, pressing one more kiss to your forehead before standing up straight. With a wink, he adds, "Don't be shy, pretty darling."

The moment you step foot into Paradise, Jimin prances over with a warm smile and his arms open wide. He wears a satin black shirt tucked into black slacks, and his boots click-clack in a familiar song.

As soon as he wraps his arms around your neck, he begins to jump, and you do your best to jump along with him, feeling stunned that he is this happy to see you. "I have a surprise," he sing-songs, drawing the word long and happily, and you do your best to reciprocate his hug before he pulls away.

"You can't see it until your birthday, but I have been working hard on something," he continues, still hopping around now that you are no longer embracing.

Although your approaching birthday has been in the back of your mind, this is the first time it has felt like a tangible event. You blurt out, "How did you know my birthday is coming up," feeling anxiety and excitement swell behind your ribs.

"Oh, please," Jimin mutters, rolling his eyes. "Yoongi has not shut up about it for over a month. He has been very insistent that we throw you an extravagant party; why do you think renovations on this place happened so fucking fast?"

Stunned and so dreadfully in love, all you can do is stare at Jimin as the words sink. You cannot believe that Yoongi has been in cahoots with the guys for over a month, and he has not let it slip at all to you. This means that even before the trips to Paris and Hong Kong, he must have been beginning to plan something.

"Renovations—" you mutter, mouth opening and closing until all you can say is, "Wait, what?"

"You silly little dove," Jimin teases, booping you on the nose with one of his manicured fingers. "You really have no idea what you have done to this man, do you?"

You knit your brow and slowly shake your head, and Jimin's smile widens.

"Being with you has changed him. It's noticeable."

Stuck like a deer in headlights, you stand and stare at Jimin, attempting to process his words. Sure, Yoongi was a little gruff and not always the most friendly person to be around when you were first brought to the mansion—even in moments when he was being kind—but you had assumed he behaves that way any time new people are brought around.

Jimin giggles, leans in, and plants a glossy kiss on your cheek. Then he walks away, clearly amused, and you continue to stare for another moment until a familiar floral musk breaks your spell, alerting you to the presence of a certain someone.

Truth be told, you have been a bit nervous in anticipation of seeing Jeongguk again. Especially since Yoongi has given you the green light to play around with him—provided Taehyung has done the same. Rather than turn around and greet him, you take a fortifying breath and wait for him to make the first move; it never takes long for him to.

"Dollface," his voice greets slow and deep and so close to your ear that you actually gasp despite already being aware of his proximity. "My, do you look ravishing this evening."

Warmth floods your cheeks; you dressed in a black mesh corset top tucked into fitted black slacks tonight specifically in the hope that Jeongguk would get an eyeful and want to bend you over Jimin's desk. The black material that covers your breasts is thin, and embroidered into the ribbed black mesh of the top are little black dragons that remind you of Namjoon's tattoo. It leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination.

Tilting your head toward his voice, you mutter, "Thank you," surprising yourself by just how shy you suddenly feel.

"There's something I need to discuss with you," Jeongguk says. The feeling of two warm hands gently gripping your bare forearms causes you to let out a shaky exhale. "Come to one of the private rooms with me?"

The private dance rooms are all equipped with cameras, making your anxiety spike higher, but you nod and allow him to give you a gentle push through the club, to the hallway. The sound of his and your black leather boots clacking against the floor is surprisingly loud under the bass-heavy club beat, ricocheting through your mind while the music thrums just under your skin.

Once the two of you enter the hallway, you turn your head, finally getting a glance of black satin almost entirely unbuttoned, tucked into black slacks. You attempt to sound innocent as you ask, "What is it you would like to discuss?"

The chuckle that greets you in response is sardonic and inviting, and you continue to look ahead until Jeongguk places a hand on your arm and guides you through a door on the left.

The room is rather small, with a round mirrored table and metal dancing poll taking up most of the space. Surrounding the table is a deep green velvet horseshoe couch with thick, rounded arms and backrest. You walk over to stand near the side of the couch and lean against it while the door closes and locks behind you. Instinctively, you glance up at the camera and stare, wondering if it is a coincidence that there is no little red light flashing; it must not be recording, after all.

"Don't worry, doll," Jeongguk says with a grin as he approaches, "I shut that camera off."

"Is that so?" you ask with a slight tremble in your voice.

Jeongguk is stunning with his dark hair coiffed off his forehead. He has a light dusting of black powder around his eyes accentuating just how dangerous they are, and as your gaze travels down to the mess of silver chains draped around his neck, and lower, to the exposed valley of his chest, you do your best not to swoon.

"Yoongi hyung sent me a very interesting text this evening," Jeongguk responds with a lift of his pierced eyebrow.

You attempt to sound as if you have no idea what he might be talking about as you ask, "He did?"

Jeongguk hums and closes in slowly, causing your pulse to quicken gradually with each step he takes. "He did."

You swallow thickly, tilting your head. "And what did it say?"

The grin returns as Jeongguk slides a tattooed hand into his pocket and pulls out his phone. He thumbs around one-handed for a moment, then reads, "Our little darling has the green light to play around with you," He glances up and adds, "Discreetly, of course."

"Of course," you mutter softly.

Jeongguk slides his phone back into his pocket. "How are you feeling today?" he asks, voice sweeter than you expect.

Unsure exactly what he might be asking, you fumble, saying, "G-good. I feel good."

Jeongguk lifts his hands and places them on your biceps, then slowly rubs down to your elbows and back up. "Not too sore?"

Ah, of course, that is what he is asking. You did feel the aftermath of him fucking your brains out when you woke up this morning, but it eased throughout the day. Although you are certain that if he slid his thick, pretty cock back inside, your walls would ache. The thought alone has you fighting the urge to squeeze your thighs together.

"No," you respond, wetting your lips and watching as Jeongguk's eyes follow the movement.

Jeongguk's hands slide down past your hands, then he hooks both index fingers into the waistband of your slacks and says, "We have to be quick, but I could be gentle with you, just in case."

He leans in and stops with his lips so close to yours that the slightly sweet whiskey-hinted scent of his breath joins his already enticing fragrance. You want to close the gap and claim his lips, but you wait, staring into his deep, round eyes.

"I don't want you to be gentle," you whisper, gaze falling to his lips in time for them to curl into a smirk and close in.

You moan as Jeongguk kisses you, wasting no time licking over the seam of your lips, begging for entrance. As you open your mouth and dance the tip of your tongue over his, Jeongguk hastily undoes the fly of your slacks, yanking your hips to rock against him as he figures out the clasp and pulls down the zipper.

He shoves the garment to the floor, and as soon as you lift your right foot to free it from the pant leg, he takes your thigh and lifts it, spreading you wide to rake his clothed erection over you. The friction is just enough to make you whimper, and you angle your hips in an attempt to press yourself against him even more.

"Matching mesh panties," Jeongguk groans as he reaches between your bodies and cups your cunt with his palm, squeezing and rubbing in firm, long movements.

"Fuck," you whisper, feeling a burst of arousal quake down your spine.

He leans close once more, lips against yours as he grits, "You drive me fucking crazy."

In a rush, you reach for Jeongguk's pants and begin to undo his button and fly, swallowing every hiss and groan as your knuckles graze his erection. And as much as those sweet sounds urge you to drop to your knees and swallow him deep into your throat just to hear a symphony of his pleasure, you need him to fuck you right now.

Jeongguk takes over and pushes his pants and briefs down, and you shift around to sit back on the wide, velvet arm of the couch, leaning on your elbows and spreading your thighs wide. The look on Jeongguk's face is one of desperation, and you bite your lip at the sight of his pretty cheeks blushing. Knowing you have this kind of an effect on the man who had absolutely nothing nice to say to you for the longest time has your ego inflating to great heights.

"You are so fucking sexy," Jeongguk groans as he pushes your panties aside with one hand while dipping two fingers into his mouth and reaching down to rub the pads of his fingertips over your clit and down to your entrance. You gasp in tandem as he circles your hole and presses broth fingers inside. "Always so fucking tight."

"Please," you whimper, feeling just as needy as he looks. "Please, Jeongguk."

Jeongguk nods and removes his fingers, then spreads your arousal onto his length as he pumps himself a few times, closing the gap between you. Without a word, Jeongguk sinks his cock in deep, giving you no time to adjust to the stretch as you bow your back with a moan and take every inch he has to offer. Your walls ache just slightly enough for the pleasure-pain to make you dizzy.

"Fuck, doll, that's it. You take this cock so well."

You mutter, "Holy shit," punch-drunk from how good he feels, letting your head loll back.

"Eyes on me," Jeongguk instructs, and you lift your head and meet his gaze, watching his mouth fall agape, mirroring yours, while he pulls his hips back and slams them forward.

Jeongguk spears you open so deliciously, you struggle to keep your head lifted and eyes open. And he wastes no time picking up a pace that has you moaning and crying his name.

"Probably shouldn't be so loud," Jeongguk groans as he places the fingers that had been shoved inside your cunt moments ago in front of your lips. You open your mouth and accept his offering, sucking your taste from him as you attempt to stifle your moans.

He fucks you hard and fast, and you squeeze around him, matching his rhythm and working yourself toward orgasm quickly. Eager to cum—knowing that there is no way this quick and dirty hookup will last too long—you reach your hand between your legs and begin to touch yourself. The velvet of the couch feels rough against the one elbow that anchors you, but the hint of pain adds to the overwhelming pleasure, pushing you closer to the edge.

"That's it, cum on this cock," Jeongguk urges, sweat glistening over every inch of skin that you can see.

The twirl of your fingertips matched with the unrelenting drive of Jeongguk's hips has you plummeting past the edge of sanity. And his words certainly help. All you can do is whimper and sob around his fingertips, and your eyes flicker closed before widening as pleasure trembles and quakes through each inch of you.

"Want to fill you with my cum," Jeongguk groans, pressing his fingers against your tongue hard enough to make drool pool in the edges of your mouth. "Want you to walk around feeling me drip out of you. Want my hyungs to find your panties soiled and sticky. That sound good to you, dollface?"

Although you know you will come to regret this choice as soon as the afterglow fades, you do love the idea of Yoongi and Namjoon touching you and feeling Jeongguk's dried cum in your panties. It is filthy in the best possible way, and you yearn for it.

You mutter, "Mmhmm," and attempt to nod your head while sucking greedily on Jeongguk's fingers.

Jeongguk fucks impossibly harder, attempting to stifle his moans through grit teeth, sounding absolutely heavenly as his low voice lilts high and pretty. You should not feel so smitten by Jeongguk when he is balls deep and filling you with his cum, but he is absolutely stunning, and it is impossible to ignore.

As his hips tremble and still, he drops his fingers from your lips and leans close, supporting your legs with both arms as he lays you back and kisses you deep and hungrily. The two of you moan and whimper, gnashing lips, teeth, and tongues as if your lives depend on this exchange.

Jeongguk breaks the kiss and leans his forehead against yours, panting heavily. His skin is warm and glistening with sweat, and you lift your arms to wrap them around his shoulders.

"This is dangerous," Jeongguk mutters, and you tilt your head ever so slightly, humming a curious, "Hmm?"

"How will I keep my hands off you now that I know how amazing you are?"

This soft, sweet side of Jeongguk still takes you by surprise, and you find yourself feeling shy once more as you mutter, "Shut up," at a loss for anything else to say.

"I mean it," he says, pressing his lips to yours and moaning when you lean into the chaste kiss. "I don't want anything as serious as Namjoon has with the two of you…this is strictly physical. But you really are amazing, doll; you know that, right?"

"Stop," you respond, attempting to shove Jeongguk away. He remains firmly nestled inside you and crowding your personal space, and although you enjoy his presence, you are beginning to feel somewhat claustrophobic.

You know that this is strictly physical—you wouldn't want it any other way. So why does him saying it aloud make your heart feel just a little too heavy?

The fact is, you are only in a romantic relationship with Yoongi and Namjoon, and you know that you would not be able to handle it if you and Jeongguk became anything more than two friends who bicker and fuck. But in these moments when he is caring and sweet, there is a tiny part of you that thinks you would like a little more between the two of you.

"Alright," Jeongguk says with a soft chuckle, standing straight and pulling his softened cock from inside you. "I have to get to work."

Jeongguk looks absolutely disheveled and fucked out with blush-reddened cheeks, covered in a sheen of sweat, and you cannot help but laugh as you imagine him returning to the club with a straight face, going about his business as if nothing has happened. You wonder if he cued Jimin in on the fact that he would not be on the floor for however long this little tryst lasted or if Jimin might be searching for the two of you at the moment.

"Good luck with that," you tease, sitting up and immediately attempting to stand, doing your best not to allow any of Jeongguk's and your cum to drip onto the velvet couch.

Jeongguk reaches out and lightly grabs your elbows, steadying you as you bend out of his grasp and begin shuffling your leg back into your slacks. With a series of small hops and wiggles, you are back in your clothing, and you clasp and zip the fly, then run your hands down the front of the tight mesh corset top.

"What are you wearing to Seokjin's event?" Jeongguk asks, stepping close and using the pad of his thumb to wipe under your right eye, where you assume a little makeup has smudged.

"I have no idea," you admit, imagining Yoongi will want to shop for something bespoke tomorrow morning. "I usually let the boss dress me. He seems to enjoy it."

"Gross," Jeongguk responds with a playful crinkle of his nose, muttering to add, "Please tell me you do not call him boss in bed."

You swat away Jeongguk's hand, which has hovered beside your cheek as you break out into laughter. Jeongguk pretends to be affronted, holding his hand close to his chest as if you have wounded him. Once the laughter dies, Jeongguk reaches both arms to drape over your shoulders, forcing you to step close.

"Well tell the boss I request something with a nice long slit up the thigh for easy access. Maybe something that really hugs all your curves."

With a scoff, you search Jeongguk's face for a hint that he is joking, and although he is behaving playfully, he truly does seem serious.

"So bossy. You forget who I am supposedly engaged to, hmm?" you tease, cocking your head to the side and batting your lashes. "Because it is not you, Jeon."

Jeongguk steps closer, forcing you to tilt your head to look at him. He leans until his lips are a hair's width away.

"I'm aware of who you are pretending to be engaged to, dollface," he spits in a tone that could be mistaken for anger if you could not see the smile and glimmer in his eyes, even this close. "That does not mean I won't be pulling you into some secluded room to fuck you while your boyfriends have to stand idly by and wait for us to return."

"And why would you do that?" you ask, already knowing the answer.

Jeongguk gently sucks and nibbles at your lower lip, causing you to gasp and whimper, then he pulls back with a smirk and says, "For fun."

You roll your eyes and shove Jeongguk back, causing him to lose balance just enough to stumble. Then he opens the door and mutters, "Ladies first," holding his hand out as your invitation to exit.

The music playing in the club is loud and upbeat, and although it had been coming through the speakers of the private room, you had been too distracted to really notice it. As you make your way down the hallway, past the dancer's green rooms and Jimin's office, the bass reverberates through you in a rhythm that is intoxicating and overwhelming. You would love a drink right now.

Although you are sure it would not matter if you returned to the main room with Jeongguk, you decide to hang back a few paces and then veer off toward the ladies' room in the opposite direction of the bar, not looking back to check whether Jeongguk notices. And as soon as you step into the small brightly lit space and check your reflection, noticing small tell-tale signs that you definitely just had sex, you take in a deep breath.

This whole situation with Jeongguk is fun, but there is a sense of trepidation that surrounds it, now that you have had a little time to let this entire situation settle. Both Yoongi and Namjoon have given you enthusiastic consent to fuck their best friend, yet you still fear that eventually, at some point, they might change their minds. And although you know that you would absolutely, without a doubt, agree to stop fucking Jeongguk if they asked you to, you already fear that emotionally, it could tear you apart.

You definitely crave Jeongguk's attention. You appreciate how different it feels to be flirted with by him than it feels with Yoongi and Namjoon. You enjoy the thrill of knowing that all of it has to be done in secret when it is not done at someone's home—and Jeongguk has already proven to be the type to like secret, semi-public sex. Being claimed and used by him is thrilling in a way you have not experienced much before.

As you dry your hands and exit the restroom, you curse yourself for continuing to have the same train of thought stuck on repeat. You are far too sober to ignore the fact that already the thought of being something more than a fuck buddy for Jeongguk has begun invading your mind. Already you are asking yourself why you are so dead set on trying to talk yourself out of even humoring the idea.

And it is not as if you can walk into the main room—or anywhere, for that matter—and fully ignore his presence, or try to block what just happened out. With each step you take, you can feel the mix of body fluids squelching just inside your cunt, threatening to drip out. Even if you tried to wipe yourself off, there would be no way to fully cleanse yourself of him.

Perhaps it is not even him you would wish to cleanse yourself of; perhaps you are simply reconciling the idea that you are capable of becoming attached to people rather quickly, and you know just how fucking dangerous that can be.

You make your way to the bar for one whiskey sour and then two. Hyejin is out sick for a few nights, meaning Jeongguk is busy. Jimin seems to know what the two of you were up to just based on the judgmental upturned-eyebrowed gaze that follows you whenever the two of you are even briefly within proximity of one another.

By the third whiskey sour, two familiar men walk into the building. You spot Namjoon first, wearing his black shirt unbuttoned to the center of his chest. His short brown hair is styled off his forehead, and he wears a thin black choker around his neck. Rather than wearing his standard black slacks, he has black skinny jeans that almost appear shiny, outlining each curve of muscle in his thighs.

And then Yoongi follows, and something in the air feels as if it shifts. Yoongi on a normal day is breathtaking—pretty in ways that make you stop what you are doing to watch him. But tonight, his hair is messy and wild, and he wears a shiny bomber jacket with hints of gold and burgundy that shimmer in the club lights. A leopard print scarf is tied around his neck, and he wears a black shirt with a low, rounded neck, tucked into very tight black jeans.

Yoongi scans the room, eyes landing on you first, and you clench tightly to the cold, damp glass in your hand as he makes his way over slowly, like a beast on the prowl. Namjoon follows, dimples creasing his cheeks as his gaze rakes over your form. As they approach, you catch hints of black ink on Namjoon's honey skin peeking from his shirt, and notice both of them are wearing a dusting of black eyeshadow.

"Darling," Yoongi greets with a smile, lifting his arms up, beckoning you to hug him. You shift to the side just enough to set your drink on the bar behind you and to your left, and then you step forward and allow Yoongi's arms to engulf you. With his lips pressed to your temple, Yoongi softly rasps, "You look absolutely stunning, tonight."

"Thanks," you mutter as your heart pounds, and you lift your hands to his hips. Yoongi's musk is more floral than usual, and you close your eyes and bury your nose against his neck and the scarf tied around it, then drag your lips over the soft, warm skin.

When you finally take a step back, you rub your hands over the fabric of his jacket, which appears almost metallic, feeling rough tiny sequins lightly scratching against your palms.

"I like your jacket," you say as your eyes move from the pretty, inviting material to Yoongi's even prettier, even more inviting face.

"Then it's yours," he responds with a smirk, causing warmth to flood your cheeks.

"I like it on you," you clarify with a lift of your brow, then you push at the material enough to lift it and have a peek at his bare shoulders, realizing that he has a tank top on, adding, "Although I suppose I would like it off of you, as well."

Namjoon approaches on the right and leans an elbow on Yoongi's shoulder. His gaze is dark and hungry—piercing, almost—and there is a bloodshot quality to his eyes that suggests he is either high or he has been drinking.

"This jacket truly does look lovely on the floor," Namjoon says with a wink, turning in time to watch Yoongi roll his eyes and crack a smile that shows off his gums. Namjoon chuckles, and the sound is deep and pretty and makes your heart pound.

You are curious about so many things, including what drove them to get so dressed up tonight, and how their meeting went with the possible hotel sale. But you open your mouth with the intention of finding one of those topics to ask about when Jeongguk steps into the peripheral and wraps an arm around your waist.

"Hey, hyungs," he greets in a playful tone that gives you goosebumps.

Yoongi and Namjoon nod to Jeongguk, but their gazes flit between the two of you, and to the hand that holds you just under the ribs.

You expect one of them to tease you—it must be obvious that you fucked, or that you have become closer in some manner—and you are a bit surprised when Yoongi cocks his head toward Namjoon, eyes still on you, as he says, "Aren't the two of them gorgeous together?"

Namjoon hums and nods, and suddenly, you want to squirm away and create space between you and Jeongguk. You feel scrutinized in a way that is unfamiliar but that you liken to parents meeting a romantic partner for the first time. It is not Jeongguk's presence that embarrasses you, but the way they acknowledge his presence, making you feel like an insect trapped under a magnifying glass.

Namjoon keeps his elbow on Yoongi's shoulder as he glances around the space, eyes slowly trailing around. "You, Jimin, and Hyejin are doing well, it seems."

"Business is booming," Jeongguk responds as his hand gently rubs small shapes against your side, fingertips playing lightly with the threading and ribbing of your corset top. "Jimin is the genius of the operation; Hyejin and I merely do what he tells us to."

"Well you seem to be doing it well," Yoongi says, holding his chin high with a proud glimmer in his eyes.

The hand on your side tenses then relaxes, and you turn your gaze to Jeongguk, who looks at you with a shy smile, then turns back to Yoongi to mutter, "Thank you, hyung."

"You seem happier," Namjoon adds, dropping his arm to his side, then stepping in to play with Jeongguk's satin collar. "This style suits you, and your attitude has improved substantially."

"Hyung," Jeongguk whines, attempting to step away from Namjoon but hitting his elbow against the bar.

This makes Yoongi chuckle, who teases with a playful, "Our little Ggukah is all grown up."

"Ugh," Jeongguk complains, dropping his hand from your side before walking away, making the three of you laugh.

"He's so easy to rile up," Namjoon jokes, to which Yoongi says, "Too easy."

The three of you settle at the bar with drinks. You finish your third, and they slam a few shots to catch up. By the time you are setting down the fourth drink and excusing yourself to the restroom, both men are handsy and whining about letting you go.

"I have to pee," you complain, yanking your wrist from Namjoon's eager grip.

"Fine," he groans with a pout and puppy dog eyes that have you scoffing and shaking your head.

You are surprised by how much you stumble through the club on your way to the ladies' room. To be fair, you were more excited to dress up and get pretty this evening and barely touched any food before heading over here—something the three of you will need to remedy before heading home. The light of the bathroom is too bright, and you sit just a little too hard on the toilet, squeezing your eyes closed to try to focus them a little better when they open, causing the stall to be nothing but a tan and red blur.

After washing up and checking your drunk but agreeable reflection, you make your way back through the club. But before you can reach the bar, a customer—some older man you have never seen before—grabs you by the bicep.

"Are you available for a dance?" he slurs, filling your chest with anxious trepidation, which you attempt to swallow down while yanking your arm uselessly. "I see you here all the time, but you're never on stage."

"I don't work here," you respond through grit teeth, pulling your arm from his grasp and stumbling two steps backward.

The man frowns and opens his mouth to shout something slurred and incomprehensible, and in a blink, you are surrounded by Yoongi, Namjoon, and Jimin.

"Do we have a problem?" Yoongi asks in a firm, direct tone that is as intimidating as it is sexy.

"Boss M-Min," the man stammers, eyes moving between Yoongi, you, and the others. "No, sir. S-sorry."

Jimin pipes up, "If I see you lay a hand on another woman in this club—employee or not—I will have you kicked to the curb," causing the older man to stand tall, suddenly appearing offended. But he does not respond with words; he merely nods his head and turns away, returning to his seat at a small round table facing one of the side stages.

"Sorry about him," Jimin says, stepping close and placing his hands on your shoulders.

Only now, when you finally have a chance to breathe, are you aware of the panic that fills you, squeezing at your chest like thorny vines snaked between your ribs, threatening to make you collapse.

"I need some fresh air," you mutter quietly as you turn out of Jimin's light hold toward the back exit and struggle to move your feet more than three steps.

Namjoon wraps an arm around your waist and assists you with walking to the exit. "Does that happen often?" he asks low and sweet, voice as comforting as it is concerned.

"No," you mutter, shaking your head. "Never."

Frankly, you are shocked that it has taken this long for a man to accost you—a thought nobody should reasonably have. But considering the atmosphere and your proximity to it, you have come to expect some of the customers to be a little sleazy. Sure, men have whistled, shouted, and made lewd gestures before, but nobody has ever grabbed onto you.

Once the back door is open and the cool night air hits you in a somewhat uncomfortable burst, you tense up and curl into Namjoon's chest, having to somewhat waddle sideways as you fully step out and maneuver both bodies beside the door. You shiver, but a second and third body close in on you.

"Want me to throw him out?" Jimin asks, burying the other side of your face against his chest.

"No," you mumble.

"Alternatively," Namjoon suggests, "I could bring him out here and gut him like a fish. Paint the street with his blood and fill the night with his screams."

The tone in Namjoon's voice is so dead serious that it makes your stomach churn. "No thank you," you mumble, burying your face into his soft shirt and softer skin in an attempt to block out the mental image.

At moments like this, you remember the men you love are part of a no ordinary civilian men. Has Namjoon gutted someone before? Does he enjoy the way it feels to pierce and slice flesh with a blade? Can he stomach the smell?

"I have to get back in there," Jimin states with a sigh, hugging the group of bodies tight and practically suffocating you in satin before backing out of the bunch. "If you change your mind about that guy, let us know."

Jimin steps back, and you hear the door open, followed by the loud burst of upbeat club music before it closes, muffling the noise to nothing more than bass reverberating through the walls. Yoongi wraps himself over your shoulders, chest pressed into your back, and you rest against Namjoon, closing your eyes to the gentle sound of the two of them kissing.

"Jeongguk mentioned he left us a gift," Yoongi drawls after a quiet moment, and you gasp.

You had somehow forgotten all about what transpired between you and Jeongguk earlier, but now that it is at the forefront of your mind, the damp cloth between your legs feels somewhat cold and uncomfortable.

Before you can say anything, one of Yoongi's hands begins to travel down between the press of your and Namjoon's bodies, fingers grazing over the thin material covering your breast, making you shiver as your hard nipple is lightly touched. As his hand moves lower, you take a slow, fortifying breath and hold it, eager not to give yourself away too much.

Just the gentle graze of Yoongi's fingertips passing over your waist and hip has your eyelids fluttering. And when he reaches between your legs, presses against your soiled slacks, and groans, you let out the breath in a shaky exhale, gripping onto Namjoon's shoulders, lest you collapse.

"My, my," he groans, making Namjoon hum in question. "She's soaked, Joonie. Is this all you, darling? Or is it him, too?"

You huff an embarrassed sigh and attempt to relax your grip on Namjoon as you mutter, "It's him, too."

Namjoon reaches between your legs and touches eagerly—almost roughly. You whimper and take a dizzy step back; if it weren't for the tight proximity of bodies, you may have fallen into Yoongi.

"Naughty, naughty," Namjoon teases, cupping his hand over both your clothed cunt and Yoongi's wandering fingers. "What do you think, hyung? We can't just let some runt stake claim on our pussy without having it for ourselves."

Yoongi chuckles deep and sardonic, and you bite back a smile of your own. If it weren't for their eager touches and inviting tones, you would be laughing over the mental image of three dogs pissing on the same hydrant to claim dominance. Only, instead, they are your sexy boyfriends and their equally sexy best friend, and their little rivalry involves wanting to fill you with their cum.

"I know a spot," you all but moan, looking up to find Namjoon staring at you hungrily.

"Oh?" Yoongi asks playfully, pressing his fingertips against you in a slow circle.

With a nod and a whimper, you say, "Just so ha-happens there are rooms in this very building, meant for that very thing."

Yoongi steps back, taking his warmth and hand away, and your skin feels almost shocked by how cold it is.

"Lead the way," Yoongi suggests, and you fumble a couple steps back, still holding onto Namjoon's shoulders, before turning toward the door.

As soon as you walk back into the building, the music is loud and overwhelming. You take Yoongi's hand and lead him to the hallway, making a pit stop at Jimin's office door, which is ajar just an inch. You knock, and hear his soft, "What is it?" then peek your head in.

"Anyone in the executive suite?" you ask nervously, biting your lip.

Jimin squints then grins and shakes his head. "It's all yours, dove. Have fun!"

The sing-song manner of Jimin's tone makes your cheeks warm, and you mutter, "Thanks, Jimin," as you step back and return the door to its almost closed state.

Namjoon takes your other hand and rubs his thumb over your knuckles, and it does very little to calm your pounding heart, but you are still a bit on edge, unsure of what to expect. Neither of them seems upset, but there is still that fear in the back of your mind that it could change.

You know that you should give both men a little more credit; Yoongi and Namjoon have been nothing but open, curious, and honest with you about their desire to share and experiment. This threesome only exists because of their experience and eagerness to have this kind of relationship. So why do you worry so much?

Past the private dance rooms, the hallway takes a left turn. Changbin sits on a chair in a small enclave that is black from floor to ceiling and looks like a dead end. At your approach, he straightens out and stands, then bows.

"Boss," he says, standing tall and strong and stepping aside to pull back a curtain to reveal a black door with a small keypad. "All rooms are empty, so you can take your pick."

"We plan to use the executive suite tonight," Yoongi says with a gentle squeeze of your hand. "Jimin has already been made aware."

"Of course," Changbin responds with a bow of his head. "Enjoy."

Everyone who has access to the lower level has their own eight-digit code for the keypad. This way, Jimin is able to track who goes where, and stragglers cannot simply find their way down there. Not that the door is ever left unmanned.

You punch in 19931994 and listen for the mechanism to whine and click, then you press the door open with your palm. It is heavy, and the moment the three of you are through, it closes tightly behind you, though Yoongi reaches back to push against it anyway.

The stairwell that snakes you down under the building is lit in fuchsia, and the music is slower and more sensual—some R&B track you cannot identify with a singer whose voice alternates between soft and breathy, and quick and raspy. As you reach the bottom of the stairs, a long fuchsia hallway greets you, and Namjoon releases your hand and walks ahead to the end of the space. When he reaches the door just a few paces before you, he turns and crosses his arms over his chest.

With a stern voice and sterner expression, Namjoon says, "I want you to undress and position yourself exactly how Jeongguk had you, understand, baby?"

You respond, "Yes, daddy," without hesitation, and although Namjoon's eyes widen ever so slightly, his stern expression does not falter.

Namjoon steps aside, and you enter your passcode on another keypad and walk into the dimly red-lit space, past the bed, to the white leather sofa. The arms of this sofa are not quite as wide as the ones on the green velvet couch, but they are wide enough.

Wordlessly, you strip your slacks off but keep the left leg still hooked in the fabric, then you sit on the sofa arm and rest back on your elbows.

"Didn't bother to undress you," Yoongi practically snarls as he takes his place before you and undoes his belt buckle and fly. "Just a quick and dirty fuck, huh?"

"Yes, sir," you respond through a somewhat shattered breath.

"I'm guessing no foreplay?" Namjoon asks, taking his place beside Yoongi with his arms once more crossed over his chest.

"No, daddy."

Yoongi tsks and shakes his head. Namjoon chuckles.

"Poor girl," Yoongi teases with a pout, sliding out of his pretty shimmery jacket, which Namjoon takes and places neatly aside, on the bed. "I was really looking forward to tasting you."

The thought of being denied Yoongi's tongue fills you to the brim with frustration, but you let your eyes rake over his toned, bare arms as a distraction. Yoongi is far more muscular than he appears under the long-sleeved shirts he wears, and even a glimpse of his bare skin drives you wild—has you thanking the fashion gods for tank tops.

"He groped me over my panties," you inform Yoongi with an innocent smile. "Cupped his hand over me, rubbed and squeezed a little."

Yoongi steps forward and grabs your cunt firmly with his palm. "Like this?" he asks, and you gasp as your head lolls back, whimpering a soft, "Just like that."

"What else?" Namjoon asks.

"He spread and lifted my legs," you mutter as Yoongi palms roughly at you, pressing moist mesh against eager nerves. "He held my right leg with his arm."

Yoongi removes his hand only long enough to lift and spread your legs, yanking slightly to get you into position. Although Jeongguk is a little taller, you line up with Yoongi just right, and you attempt to swivel your hips in search of friction, but Yoongi's palm returns.

"He pushed his pants and briefs down, and pulled my panties aside," you continue. "Then he licked two fingers and touched me a little."

With a lift of his brow, Yoongi brings two fingers to his doll lips and wets them with his tongue.

"He only touched my clit briefly, but he did finger me," you specify.

Namjoon wraps his arms around Yoongi's hips and finishes unzipping his pants, then he pushes them, along with his briefs, to the floor. The sight of Namjoon's arms around Yoongi, while Yoongi stands hard and leaking, makes you dizzy, and you lick your lips, watching Namjoon step back and pull his arms away, wishing Namjoon would continue to touch him—longing for the way Yoongi falls apart just for him.

Yoongi reaches between your bodies and pulls your panties aside, then swirls over your clit once, twice, three times, building your arousal quickly, only to make it dissipate before his fingers dip inside, and you groan from the feeling.

"Messy, messy cunt," Yoongi teases, lips parted as he plunges deep inside. "But still so fucking tight."

"Please fuck me, sir," you beg, absolutely needy for Yoongi's cock.

"Is that how you begged him?" Yoongi asks, pulling his fingers out and stroking his hard length.

"Yes, sir," you admit, panting.

"And did he fuck you, darling?"

"Yes, sir. He fucked me hard and deep."

Yoongi closes the minuscule gap between you and sinks his cock all the way in one fluid motion, pushing a moan from deep within your chest and lighting your body on fire. Yoongi feels thick and familiar in the most dizzying way, and you scrape your fingernails against the sides of the leather armrest in an attempt to hold on.

"Did he kiss you?" Yoongi asks, leaning close and pulling his hips back, only to slam them forward.

Some part of you wants to lie and say no, he did not kiss you, but you swallow thickly and admit, "Not during sex."

"After?" Yoongi asks with a smirk, pulling back and slamming forward once more.

You sob through the word, "Yes!" and Yoongi's sharp smile grows bigger.

"Did he do anything else?" Namjoon prompts, and you huff out a sigh, wishing Yoongi would set a pace and fuck you, already.

"While he fucked me, I was being too loud, so he put his fingers in my mouth," you admit.

Yoongi pulls back and slams forward again. "Being too loud, hmm?"

You whimper and nod, saying, "We weren't down here. We were in one of the private dance rooms."

"He couldn't even bring you down here to fuck you?" Namjoon teases, cocking his head. "Aren't there cameras in those rooms?"

Finally, Yoongi sets a pace and begins to fuck you, and as you attempt to say he turned that camera off, all you can do is moan a broken, "He t-turned," losing the rest of the sentence.

Yoongi lifts his hand and slots his fingers between your lips before you can attempt to say another word, and you suck hard, doing your best to keep your eyes on him. The taste of your arousal on his fingers is different from the taste you left on Jeongguk's—a bit subdued but still just as heady.

You whimper and babble uselessly around Yoongi, drool falling from the sides of your lips while you suck. Although this is meant to be just a quickie, Yoongi does not rush; he has nowhere else to go. By the time you lift your hand to touch your clit, you are already fast approaching orgasm.

"Did you touch yourself while Jeongguk fucked you?" Namjoon asks.

You nod, and Yoongi removes his fingers for you to say, "We had to hurry, and I wanted to cum."

"Greedy girl," Namjoon teases with a wink and a smile, making you smile in return.

Your head bobs as Yoongi fucks you, and he says, "Well, then, touch yourself, darling," before returning his fingers to your lips.

Just one pass over your clit has you crumbling, and you suck hard, squealing. Yoongi's pace quickens, and the hand on your hip grips bruisingly.

"That's it, darling; cum for me."

As you clench around him, chasing your high, Yoongi's head rolls back, and he groans deep and pretty. The sight of his dark, messy hair and sweat-slicked neck is so inviting, you continue to clench just to push him over the edge as your high begins to crash.

You reach for Yoongi's leopard print scarf to pull him close for a deep, hungry kiss—much like the one you shared with Jeongguk, only softer. Yoongi does not gnash and nip as if this is the last kiss you will ever share; Yoongi sucks gently and licks firmly, filling your mouth with his sweet, needy moans.

It is not long before Yoongi's hips are trembling and stilling. And your grip on him is so tight that you feel him twitch and empty inside you.

"Fuck, baby, your pussy is heaven," Yoongi groans against your lips. "Absolutely perfect."

Overcome with emotion, you continue to grip tightly to his scarf and lick into his mouth. Yoongi chuckles lightly and hums as you tease his lip, indulging you before pulling back and straightening out.

"Did you kiss him like that after?" Yoongi asks, cheeks tinted with blush and hair messy.

"No, sir," you admit, letting your head dip downward while keeping your eyes up and on him.

The smile that graces his lips is pretty and loving, and he stares for a moment, catching his breath despite being the breathtaking one.

Yoongi bends to pull up his pants and get himself situated, then steps back. You feel his release dripping from your cunt, and you almost begin to sit up when Namjoon approaches and begins to undo his belt.

"Think you can handle one more?" Namjoon asks with a grin that dimples his cheeks.

"Don't think I have much of a choice," you respond with a bite to your lip, eager to feel him inside you.

Namjoon's smile falls, and his hands drop to his sides. "Of course you do," he says sadly, making your heart clench.

"I know that," you insist, sitting up quickly, instinctively reaching your hands toward him. "I was just being cheeky; I know you would never do anything that I don't want."

Every feature on Namjoon's face is sweet and soft, and his lips tug into a smile once more. "Sorry," he mutters as he steps close and leans forward. "I get in my head sometimes."

You reach out and take Namjoon's shirt just as you held Yoongi's scarf, and Namjoon stumbles forward before bending closer. "You're sweet," you say as you slot your lips together and hum. Namjoon is pillow soft with hints of whiskey, and you sink into the feeling, eager to drown.

Slowly, you pull from the kiss and say, "Fuck me, daddy," watching as his lips upturn.

"So bossy," he teases as his hands reach for his slacks and begin working open the button and fly.

"Please," you add, releasing Namjoon's shirt and leaning back on your elbows, spreading your thighs wide. "Make me forget what Jeonggukie did to me."

Namjoon practically snarls as he shoves his pants and briefs down, and he somewhat forcibly cups your wet, used pussy, sending a shiver of arousal through you.

You hardly have a chance to breathe with the way Namjoon kisses you—hot and rough and demanding. And although he follows the same formula Yoongi had, with very little instruction given, the pace and ferocity with which he fucks you has you momentarily forgetting even your own name.

For Seokjin's event, Yoongi has bought you a simple black satin evening gown with a plunging v-line and spaghetti straps that cross over your exposed back. The back v-line dips dangerously low, and, much to Jeongguk's excitement, there is a high slit up the right thigh.

You stand in Yoongi's closet, staring into the mirror along the far back wall while Jimin finishes getting all of your hair pinned up. Yoongi wraps various delicate silver necklaces around your neck in search of the perfect one while Namjoon and Jeongguk chatter lowly in the bedroom about something or other, and you swear you hear Taehyung's deep voice at some point, as well.

Yoongi finally decides on a dainty silver chain with no charm for you to wear and begins to search the drawers in his closet's island for a matching piece for himself. Meanwhile, Jimin exits the closet, and Jeongguk steps in.

"I hope you don't mind, but I wanted to give you your birthday gift early," Jeongguk says.

Surprised, you glance at him through the mirror before turning to regard him fully. Jeongguk is in his typical Paradise garb—in fact, all of the family men wear black satin and black slacks, with black and silver accessories. Jeongguk's hair is styled away from his forehead with a freshly short chop and sharp undercut.

"After that guy touched you at Paradise, I thought you should have it," Jeongguk continues. "Especially since we'll be at the casino tonight; there's no telling what kind of seedy characters might be there."

Taehyung pops around the corner, holding onto a small, rectangular box, and Jeongguk nods for you to take it. You reach for it, and Taehyung says, "From both of us."

"Of course," you respond with a smile, feeling your heart burst as your fingertips rub over crushed velvet. You have a feeling there must be some kind of weapon inside, based on Jeongguk's hint—a knife, judging by the size of the container.

As you open the box, Yoongi leans in close, and Namjoon takes a step into the space, glancing over Jeongguk's shoulder.

"I, uh—"Jeongguk begins as you crack it open, and you halt your movement to look at him. "I hope it's not too insensitive, given…well…you'll see."

You hesitate a moment, then continue opening it, gasping at the sight of the gift. Nestled against what appears to be black lace is a switchblade. The handle is black lacquer with mother-of-pearl decorations of flowers and birds. It is gorgeous and dainty, and when you lift it, the weight is surprisingly heavy. The blade that springs out is thin and appears to be very sharp, and you twirl it in your fingers as your eyes well with tears.

"This is beautiful," you say, finally looking at Jeongguk, then to Taehyung. "Thank you so much, you guys."

"It's sharp as fuck," Taehyung says with a grin. "And if you ever need it to be sharpened, just stop on by."

"There's a strap, too," Jeongguk adds somewhat shyly. "Hence why I thought…"

When he trails off, you giggle. Clearly, Jeongguk knows about your method of killing Seungri all those years ago, and it is a sweet thing for him to consider.

"I love it," you say before he can spiral, and when his features turn soft and his smile brightens, warmth rises to your face. Somewhat sheepishly, you add, "And I like it a lot more than a gun."

"Well," Namjoon urges from over Jeongguk's shoulder, stealing your attention. He winks as he says, "Try it on."

You set the box down on the island and pull out the bundle of lace, which happens to be a thigh garter. With a scoff, you turn to Jeongguk and teasingly ask, "Is this why you wanted me to have a thigh slit tonight?"

As everyone's attention turns to Jeongguk, he visibly balks, rolling his eyes. "I can have many reasons for wanting the things I want," he huffs, crossing his arms over his chest.

You unfurl the thigh garter and step into it, attempting to ignore all the eyes that watch as you bend and hike it high up your leg. Once it is in position just under the top of the dress slit, you grab the knife and attempt to decide where on your leg it might be most secure.

Taehyung steps in and asks, "May I?" holding his hands toward your thigh, and although you cannot begin to fathom what he is asking for, you are flustered enough to nod and say, "Yes."

"There is a little piece of elastic inside," Taehyung says as he squats and delicately begins to snake two fingers under the band and feel around. Thankfully, he finds it quickly at the front of your thigh, and he gently begins to rotate it until that part is resting on your outer leg. Holding his palm out, he says, "Knife."

You hand Taehyung the knife, and he slides it into the band, securing it in the elastic bit. As he stands, you reach down to feel it. It only takes a few adjustments of the band's height and position on your thigh before it is perfect. Granted, when you look in the mirror, the entire weapon is visible in this particular dress.

"Stunning," Yoongi says in a tone that is dark and rich with desire.

"I agree," Namjoon adds, and you glance up to smile at everyone through the mirror before turning your attention back to your reflection.

"And a perfect accessory for tonight," Yoongi adds, making you look up at him. "That paired with the engagement ring will tell everyone loud and clear just how deadly our little darling is."

Ah, yes. The engagement ring.

You look down at your empty hand and mutter, "Right, I should go get the ring," before turning and waiting for the wall of men to part and let you pass.

At the thought of the ring—and Yoongi's statement about you being deadly—your heart feels heavy. Anxiety fills you as you pad barefoot through Yoongi's room, past Jimin, who sits on the bed, scrolling through his phone, glancing up with a soft smile.

In the mansion, there is a light clattering of voices. Members of the family security team are downstairs waiting to escort you to the event, and Yoongi’s cooking team is in the kitchen finishing something sweet and full of carbohydrates, the smell of which wafts throughout the large mansion.

Time seems to slow as you walk to your room—a room you hardly visit anymore. The familiar and unfamiliar sights and sounds are as comforting as they are daunting, and all the connotations of being part of this gentle but looming chaos fills you with dread.

Do you want to be deadly? The prospect feels heavy.

And after Yoongi's heroin relapse and stint in rehab, you worry about the prospect of being more entrenched in this lifestyle than you already are. Getting further involved in this business can only put you more at risk. And if Yoongi plunges off the deep end over losing one of his men, what could become of him should something ever happen to you?

Sure, you are merely playing a role tonight—dressing in a way that sends a message, and wearing a ring that symbolizes something fake. But your position at Yoongi's side is anything but fake, and standing there publicly is a huge hazard to your safety.

You heavy-blink and realize you are standing in your dark bedroom, staring toward the bed. Light filters in through the windows, but it is the faint and golden glow of a setting sun. A particularly loud laugh echoes through the mansion, snapping you fully out of your trance, and you gaze around for the ring box, which sits Tiffany-blue on your bedside table.

With a sigh, you approach and grab the ring box, snapping it open and stopping to stare at the giant rock inside before pulling it out and listlessly tossing the open box onto your bed. The ring is heavy as you slide it onto your finger, and your heart clenches at the weight. There is a part of you that hopes one day for this weight to support something real. But can you really become a mafia wife?

Although you hear soft footsteps approach, your gaze lingers on your hand and the ring that adorns it. Yoongi's soft voice asking, "Darling?" causes tears to well in your eyes, and you take a deep, fortifying breath before turning to regard him.

Yoongi is gorgeous, leaning against your door frame with his brows gently tugged into a concerned frown. As he studies your eyes, he stands straight and slowly steps forward. Both of your hands are clenched in front of your stomach, and he takes them in his, rubbing his thumbs against your palms until your grip loosens.

"Care to tell me what you're thinking?"

A chuckle works its way from your tummy, and you gaze down sheepishly at your conjoined hands, then back at Yoongi's face. "I don't know where I would even begin," you admit, feeling the urge to cry and swallowing it down.

"You look a little overwhelmed," Yoongi says, and you scoff, nodding.

"I think I am."

Yoongi licks his lips and hesitates before asking, "Does it have to do with the ring?"

You swallow thickly. "A little," you admit.

Yoongi's grip on your hands tightens then releases, and he wraps you in a hug, pinning your arms to your sides. "Well, you do not have to tell me right now if you don't feel comfortable, but just know that I always value whatever is on your mind. Especially if it is stressing you out."

"I just…" you begin, closing your eyes and nuzzling your forehead against his neck, doing your best not to rub away any of the makeup on your eyes.

With a sigh, you change your path, voice weak as you say, "I love you. And Namjoon. You're both amazing and you have been so good to me."

As you swallow thickly, feeling anxiety rise, Yoongi prompts you, saying, "But…"

"But this lifestyle terrifies me," you admit, voice trembling. "And this ring is so heavy and what it symbolizes is so huge, and I…I don't know, Yoongi. I don't know if I can handle all of this."

Yoongi says nothing, but he does sigh. His arms squeeze tighter, and the silence that drags causes you to ramble.

"I know Namjoon said that the only way out of this lifestyle is death. And I can't…my heart aches imagining all the horrifying possibilities."

"Namjoon told you that," Yoongi mutters, sounding as disheartened as you feel.

"He wasn't trying to scare me," you insist, lifting your arms to return Yoongi's hug and forcing his arms to slide up to your shoulders. "We were just discussing you, and us, and…all of this."

"It's true that there is a target on my back," Yoongi says, sighing, sounding more resolved than before. "But I am protected. I employ the strongest and smartest on this peninsula. I don't want you to worry about me, or Namjoon, or yourself."

"How could I not?" you practically sob, feeling tears rise and squeezing your eyes closed.

"Shhh," Yoongi whispers, rubbing his hands on your back and taking a step out of the hug. "We should talk about this soon, but now isn't the time for worries like these, darling. Jimin will kill you if your makeup smears, and Seokjin will kill both of us if we arrive late."

The playful tone makes you laugh, and you sniffle, nodding your head and looking Yoongi in the eye, taking in his warm, almost sad expression. You know that Jimin would be nothing but sympathetic to your tears, and that Yoongi is only joking, but the image of Jimin's angry little snarl flashes in your mind anyway, making you laugh more.

As if on cue, Namjoon arrives, looking over Yoongi's shoulder with a wide smile that falls into a concerned frown. "Everything okay?"

"As a matter of fact, everything is not okay," Yoongi says, turning to Namjoon with a faux glare that makes him widen his eyes with worry. "Why are you filling our darling's pretty little head with images of us dying."

Namjoon gasps, looks at you, and then back at Yoongi, asking, "When did I ever—"

"You told her the only way out of this lifestyle is death."

Recognition hits, and Namjoon sighs, stepping in and slinging an arm over Yoongi's shoulder, forcing him to turn and face you once more. Namjoon leans to the side, low enough to say softly into Yoongi's ear, "I told her that while you were in rehab and she was lamenting over how badly she wishes you could leave all of this behind."

When Yoongi blinks, his gaze hardens and then drops. "I can't just do that," he says with bitterness in his tone.

"I know," you respond. "It was selfish of me to—"

"Loving someone is never selfish," Namjoon interrupts nicely, then he squeezes Yoongi's arm. "And you know damn well that she has every right to find what you do horrifying, Yoongi. Be gentle."

"I am gentle," Yoongi pouts, eyes still on the floor.

"Alright," Namjoon says, "Shall we? Seokjin will kill us if we're late."

Unable to hold back a smile, you nod and say, "Let's go."

"This conversation isn't over," Yoongi says in a tone that makes you nervous before softening as he says, "but I appreciate you telling me what is on your mind. And I don't mean to get defensive, this is just…well, it's the only lifestyle I have ever known."

To a certain extent, it is also the only one you have known. Only you were at the behest of powerful men and used as a plaything, and even a weapon, in lowly ranks, hoping for a way to escape to a better life. Sleeping in the bed of powerful men and standing at their side is something else, entirely.

The casino is packed, and you already regret having to wear high heels on the carpeted floors, feeling each step sink slightly. Cigar smoke and the stench of an amalgamation of types of alcohol permeate the air, and the barrage of sounds from various betting machines blaring over shouting voices overwhelms.

Yoongi leads you through the center of the casino, and you attempt to keep your head held high and your focus on nothing ahead of you, allowing all the flashing lights to bokeh into spots. When you finally blink everything back into focus, Seokjin is at the center of the room surrounded by a crowd of men.

Try as you might, you have no idea what the hell this event is for. Each time you ask, you are met with a vague response and conclude that this must simply be a celebration of Seokjin and his beloved House of Cards.

About an hour in, you are buzzed from whiskey and champagne and find yourself stumbling to the restroom near the bar. Although you are not quite intoxicated enough to be bumbling around, these heels are doing you no favors, and you find yourself griping about it under your breath. The stalls are all empty, and you sit longer than necessary on the toilet just to have a breather somewhere quiet and off your feet.

When you exit the stall to wash your hands, a woman in a blood-red evening gown with her hair tied high on her head smiles at you through the mirror. You smile back, mostly just to be polite, and wash your hands before turning toward the exit.

"Quite the rock you got there," the woman comments, making you stop in your tracks. Her voice has a sort of practiced shrillness to it, like she is only pretending to care. "What kind of man can afford a ring like that one?"

Unsure whether you are interested in having this conversation, you turn your head, smile softly, and respond, "A powerful one."

The woman hums and says, "I guess so."

You turn back toward the door and exit.

As soon as you return to the bar, you notice that Yoongi and Namjoon are no longer there, but Jeongguk is, so you approach him. His eyes brighten instantly, and he downs his drink, then stands up straight and approaches, taking you by the elbow and spinning you in the opposite direction.

"What are we—"

"Boss Min asked me to escort you to the second floor," Jeongguk responds a little too loud, and you bite back a smile.

"Right," you respond, not buying his ruse.

But he does lead you to the elevator, up to the second floor. Only everything is locked and dark, and there is no one around.

"I can't take it anymore," Jeongguk mutters as he leads you into the banquet room—which he has the access code to—and through the long, vacant space, to the coat check closet where Yoongi first dropped the bomb that he was going to propose to you. "The dress, the knife…you are so fucking hot, dollface."

You say nothing as he closes the door behind you and then switches on the light. There is a low wooden countertop below a partial door, which is closed, and you kick out of your shoes and lean against it. If you are going to let Jeongguk fuck you, you need to do it in a position that is comfortable for both Yoongi and Namjoon to do the same.

Jeongguk is on his phone, thumbing around while smiling, and you almost berate him for giving someone else your attention while you are standing here waiting for him. But then he turns off the screen and slides the device into his pocket with a devious grin.

"Let's see how far we get before my hyungs arrive," he mutters while sinking to his knees.

You are drunk by the time you leave, used and satiated, feeling the squelch of cum between your legs. Jeongguk stares longingly at Taehyung from the passenger seat, but occasionally his gaze flits back to you, making your cheeks warm.

Yoongi sits to your right with Namjoon to your left, and although the vehicle is spacious, Taehyung had insisted on everyone strapping into a bulletproof vest, adding bulk to your bodies. Being that this event was widespread and it is likely that Ryujin's team could have caught wind, he rambled about being safe rather than sorry. Plus, there was mention of someone showing up to the event…some woman whose name you do not remember, who made everyone suspicious.

Ahead of you is the vehicle containing Seokjin, Hoseok, and Jimin, as well as two members of the security team, one of whom resembles Changkyun, though you are unsure whether it really is him. They are leading the way to Paradise, where Jimin insists on having an after-party.

As you drive through the city, a plume of dark smoke rises into the air, causing you to sit up and bend to better look out the windshield. "There's smoke ahead," you mutter, feeling worry in the pit of your stomach.

Just then, Yoongi's phone rings, shrieking and anxiety-inducing, and you sit back, staring ahead at the billowing smoke.

"Yes?" Yoongi says as he answers, then says, "Jimin, speak slower."

"Is that Paradise?" Jeongguk asks as you get closer, and you feel panic rise.

"She what?" Yoongi asks at the same time Taehyung says, "Looks like it's right across the street."

As the vehicle approaches, you realize that Paradise is not on fire, but the building directly across from it is. The building in question is part of a group of warehouses that, as far as you know, have recently been vacant.

"We're right behind you," Yoongi instructs. "Fire workers should be on their way, but we'll assess Paradise for any damages."

The street is eerily empty as Taehyung pulls into the alleyway beside Paradise and shuts his lights off. Although this area is somewhat recently developing nightlife, slowly tearing down all the warehouses like the one currently in flames, there are still usually people littering the streets. Seeing nobody is concerning, even with Paradise closed for the night.

"Strap up just in case," Yoongi instructs, and Jeongguk opens the large glove compartment and begins pulling out handguns.

As everyone removes their seatbelts, Namjoon turns and gets onto his knees on the seat. He reaches back into the trunk, and you hear the sound of velcro parting. Then he hands you and Yoongi handguns, which you take with shaking hands.

"Remember what you learned," Yoongi says as you stare at the weapon in your trembling palms, feeling its cold steel and familiar weight. "Take in a deep breath, line up your shot, and squeeze the trigger as you exhale."

At a loss for words, you nod, then swallow thickly. This is the absolute last thing you want to be holding in your hands tonight. Luckily, you switched your heels for ballet flats once you got to the vehicle, at least.

Taehyung and Jeongguk exit the vehicle first while Yoongi and Namjoon stay put. You sit forward anticipating having to leave, and are a bit surprised when they do not. Through the rearview mirror, you watch as the two of them walk to the street with their guns tucked into the waistbands of their pants and glance around. Then Taehyung turns and waves for the rest of you to join him.

"We should take the side door inside," you say, and Namjoon hums in response, though you are unsure what the nature of his hum is, exactly.

Yoongi opens his door first, and Namjoon follows suit. "Go with Namjoon," Yoongi instructs, and you shift, then turn slightly to your left, waiting for Namjoon to exit.

Yoongi walks toward the street and Namjoon follows, but you hesitate. You do not want to be on an eerily silent street in the middle of the night while the building across from yours is billowing with smoke. This matter should be left to the fire department, and your family men should get the fuck home.

"Sweetheart," Namjoon softly calls, making you gasp, realizing the space between the two of you as you scurry ahead to catch up.

"I don't like this," you mutter, shoulders scrunched to your ears as you glance around the street. The sides of the bulletproof vest are rough and scratchy against your bare arms. "We should leave this to the professionals and go home."

"We are the professionals," Namjoon responds as you turn the corner and begin to walk toward the entrance of Paradise where Seokjin, Hoseok, and Jimin are all congregated. Jimin tenses as you approach, then sighs and relaxes when he sees that it is you.

"Suited and strapped?" Seokjin teases, despite having a handgun tucked into his waistband. Hoseok has a fucking shotgun resting against his shoulder, and his smile is so blindingly bright that you struggle to reconcile the sight. Beside them, Changkyun and another man stand with what appear to be semi-automatic rifles in their hands.

"Safety first," Jeongguk slurs, clearly wasted despite how steadily he stands.

"Any whispers?" Yoongi asks, and Seokjin blinks a few times then shrugs, saying, "None."

"Hmm," Yoongi taps his fingertips to his bottom lip, long fingers dancing as he speaks. "This is certainly a tactic to get our attention…but why? Where are they?"

You are not eager to find out who the message comes from or where they are, and you approach Double Seok and Jimin, sliding in close beside them.

"Do we think this has anything to do with the sudden appearance of Hyungseo?" Taehyung asks. "There had been whispers of her helping in Busan."

Yoongi shrugs. "What could it mean? Unless she really is working for Ryujin, I can't imagine what her place in any of this would be. And why would she be setting one of Lady Choi's buildings on fire just to get our attention?"

"Why don't I take our dove inside?" Jimin suggests, and Yoongi turns his attention to you.

You must look as terrified as you are, because Yoongi nods and says, "May as well. I don't need either of you getting hurt."

"Why don't we all get inside?" Jimin suggests. "We can assess the situation at a safe distance."

"Through what window?" Hoseok asks, and he is correct to do so; Paradise has no windows.

"Stand in the fucking door, then," Jimin snaps, "I don't know."

From the distance, the siren of a fire truck screams, and you sigh with relief. The sound is piercing as it approaches, but it is a reprieve from the haunting silence and it fills you with hope

As soon as the truck pulls up, workers pile onto the street and begin to put out the fire, minding your group no business. It takes a while, and everyone watches as hoses hooked to hydrants do their work.

Although it probably lasts around a half hour, you and everyone stand transfixed. Once everything is under control, the workers pack up and leave without a word to any of you, as if they were never here at all.

Eerie silence returns and is met with the smell of burnt wood and plastic. You feel sick to your stomach staring at the corpse of the building before you, partially caved in while bits of a frame stand amongst the wreckage, scorched black.

"What is the message?" Yoongi asks.

"Shall we go inside and wait it out?" Namjoon asks.

"I'll stay and stand watch," Hoseok says, dancing his fingertips over the handle of the shotgun.

"Me too," Jeongguk slurs, and you feel the urge to insist that he does not.

Jimin turns and pulls a ring of keys from his pocket and uses several to open the various locks. Then he opens the door wide, holding it for you to approach and step inside. Namjoon begins to follow suit, for which you are thankful, and he looks over his shoulder to say, "Yoongi. You should join us."

Yoongi takes two steps toward the building, and the sounds of heels loudly clacking against concrete can be heard, pulling everyone's attention. You look up to find the person approaching is the same lady who commented on your engagement ring at the casino restroom, and she is coming from beside the building to the right of the one that had just been on fire.

The woman has changed from the blood-red evening gown to what appears to be an equally blood-red leather bikini top and denim mini skirt. Her hair is down, hanging to her breasts, and it looks wet, as if she were among the flames as they were being put out.

"Now, now, gentlemen," the woman calls from across the street. "Retreating so soon?"

"Hyungseo," Yoongi calls, crossing his arms over his chest. "What are you doing here?"

The woman, who you surmise is called Hyungseo, walks across the street, swinging her arms loosely to her sides as if to a song that nobody can hear. As she gets closer, you can see that her makeup is smeared in black smudges, and there is a somewhat crazed look in her eyes.

She pouts as she approaches Yoongi, fixing him with a curious stare. In her heels, she is nearly as tall as he is, but there is an intimidating aura to her otherwise lithe frame that makes her presence feel gigantic.

"I come on behalf of my team, asking for a truce."

"Your team?" Yoongi scoffs, cocking his head. "What team?"

"Didn't you hear? Your pretty little ex has stepped down."

At this, Yoongi and all the other men straighten their posture. Yoongi is the first to respond, asking, "She what?"

Under his breath, Taehyung mutters, "So the whispers are true."

The smile that graces Hyungseo's lips is sharp and devious, and she glances around at all ten of you, then back to Yoongi. "You're outnumbered," she drawls in a teasing tone, elongating each syllable as she cocks her head slowly.

"What kind of truce? What do we care if that building is burnt?" Yoongi asks.

"That building," Hyungseo somewhat mumbles, rolling her head listlessly to the side to glance at it, "belongs to a very powerful woman who will no doubt have your head on a pike when she finds out you burnt it down."

"We didn't burn it down," Namjoon responds angrily.

Hyungseo shrugs. "Sure you did. And she is going to be very confused as to why you did, considering you so generously high-balled her for ownership of one of your less flashy hotels."

"Go on," Yoongi says with a sigh.

"You see," Hyungseo continues, "Lady Choi is very well-connected and has family in our organization. I wouldn't be surprised if she wanted to buy a hotel in Seoul in order to keep an eye on you guys. A keep-your-enemies-closer kind of situation, if you will."

"So she owns some shitty, vacant buildings, and you set fire to one of them to frame us?" Seokjin asks with a laugh in his tone. "You realize this building is covered with security cameras, and that your little ruse will be easily discredited."

Hyungseo shrugs and says, "We'll see about that."

Jimin already appears to be pulling the footage up on his phone, and you watch as his brows knit. "Boss," Jimin says nervously, "this man…he looks a lot like you from behind."

"Except I was at the casino all night," Yoongi responds, rolling his eyes.

"Hmm," Hyungseo responds, "are you sure about that? Because my team noticed there was about an hour and three minutes during which you were nowhere to be found. You and your right-hand man, in fact. And how strange that this fire happened to start around the exact same time. She smirks as she adds, "Where were you, Yoongi?"

Yoongi sighs. "I was fucking my fiancé."

"Your fake fiancé," Hyungseo corrects, causing Yoongi's shoulders to square once more. "And what about Namjoon? Was he also fucking her?"

"The nature of our relationship is none of your business," Yoongi responds, to which Hyungseo holds up a hand as if telling him to stop.

"Don't worry, darling. Ryujin has told me all about the nature of your relationship. And the thirty-seven minutes during which your pretty little whore and Jeongguk went missing before you and Namjoon disappeared? Should I not question the nature of their relationship, too?"

Jeongguk pulls his gun and cocks the hammer, filling you with fear and dread. As he lifts it level with Hyungseo's head, you gasp and squeeze your eyes closed.

"Down, boy," Hyungseo mutters listlessly, rolling her eyes. "No need to get so defensive."

"I think we've heard quite enough," Yoongi says, holding out a hand to Jeongguk and lowering it. Jeongguk follows the command and drops his arm down, pointing the barrel of his gun to the ground.

"So…" Hyungseo drawls, appearing bored. "Truce?"

"Fuck your truce," Yoongi responds sharply. "You're just trying to frame me, and I am not playing your games; we can arrange a meeting with Lady Choi and settle this like adults. She happily set the price she wanted for the hotel, but I can always ask her for less. And I can buy that burnt mess your team made if it assuages her worries. Regardless of the so-called family she has on your side, she and my mother were old friends; I'm not afraid of her or of you."

"Hmm, I'm afraid we can't do it that way," Hyungseo says as she scratches her head and begins to walk backward to the street. "Lady Choi may have had an allegiance with your family back in the day, but now your mommy and daddy are dead. She could give a fuck about the Min runt—her words, not mine."

Jeongguk lifts his gun again, and this time, a shot is fired from across the street, appearing to narrowly miss him as he ducks out of the way. You gasp, feeling terror take over so abruptly that your legs tremble and you nearly fall, gun gripped uselessly in your fist.

Everyone but Jimin reaches for the guns they have holstered just as another shot is fired and the men begin to scatter, taking cover. You run into Paradise, making way for Jimin, but he hesitates by the door, calling for Yoongi, who rounds the corner into the alley.

Men charge from around the burnt building across the street, and although it is safe to say your men are outnumbered, if this really is everyone, they are not outnumbered by a lot. Still, fear quakes through you, and you nearly sink to the floor, holding the door cracked open.

"Jimin!" you whisper-shout until he finally snaps out of his daze and enters the building, closing the door tightly behind him.

"What the fuck are they doing?" Jimin mutters, trembling fearfully. "Why didn't any of those idiots take cover inside?"

A fist pounds on the door, causing you to scream. From outside you hear, "It's Kyun. Let me in."

Jimin holds his gun up with a shaking fist and cracks the door, then steps back, pulling it open wide.

"You two retreat," Changkyun instructs. "I'll watch this door. Is there an alley door you can watch in case the men try to enter from there?"

"Yes," Jimin says, nodding his head somewhat maniacally with a distant look in his eye. "I can go to the back door."

Jimin turns and runs toward the back exit, and you stand in place, unsure whether you could will your legs to move if you wanted to. Despite calling it the back exit, it is along the nearby left wall, just past the main floor.

Gunfire is heard outside, along with shouting. You walk to the left wall and stand with your back against it, attempting to take deep breaths. Each exhale comes out in a sob as tears begin to pour. You cannot fathom anything happening to one of these men, and the prospect is horrifying.

You wish they would have all come inside when you could take cover in a back room or even in a basement, but even you are not foolish enough to think any of those men would turn down the chance to kill their opponents instead.

Changkyun opens the door, and you watch with wide, horrified eyes as he rapidly fires bullets through the crack, then slams the door shut. Some shots from outside are much louder than others, making you flinch and jump with each sound. Gunfire rages on, causing tears to spill as your shoulders are held high and tense around your ears, making them ache.

And then, suddenly, it is quiet.

"Do not open this door for anyone," Changkyun instructs. "I am going to get the men back into their armored vehicles and return for you."

"Okay," you mutter softly, nodding.

"Lock it behind me and then get away from it, just in case. Everything is armored, but the walls are safest."

You nod some more, humming in understanding. Changkyun exits, and you shuffle over quickly to turn all five locks, then back away before turning toward the back exit.

Each breath you take is loud in the large, empty building. You turn to locate Jimin, who should be standing near the back exit, and fear spikes when you do not see him. Had he gone outside? You feel a pull to go investigate but stand still, eyes wide and staring toward the closed door.

And then, it flings open, and you watch as a man you have never seen before comes charging in, weapon drawn. You begin to back up but hit the wall, and he spots you, lifting his weapon.

Panic pulsates through you, and you lift your gun far slower than you should to defend yourself. The man smirks and opens his mouth to speak when suddenly his head jerks to the left and explodes, sending blood and brain matter flying against the hardwood floor and a nearby round wooden table. You scream at the top of your lungs and fall against the wall, sliding to the floor as Hoseok steps in, shotgun still lifted.

"We gotta get out of here!" Hoseok shouts, but try as you might, you cannot lift yourself from the floor, and you shake your head, feeling your body tremble so hard it makes your head ache.

"Sweetheart," Namjoon's voice calls. You search for him, but the edges of your vision are black, and all you are able to make out is a form of black that is vaguely human-shaped approaching in the dim room. "Come on. We gotta go."

Strong arms lift you, and you scream, struggling to comprehend anything but horrific fear. You are stood onto your feet and hugged tightly. Slowly, the scent of Namjoon's cologne comes to the forefront, but so does the brassy scent of blood, making your guts churn.

With Namjoon's help, you begin to walk, and as you step past the man who has painted the floor red with his blood, you close your eyes tight. Cool night air hits you and snaps you harshly back to reality. You have to swallow down the urge to vomit, shivering violently in your scant evening gown, feeling sweat that has pooled beneath the thick vest start to cool.

"Jimin, just get into our trunk," you hear Yoongi insist, and you gasp happily at the sound of his voice.

"Fine," Jimin sighs. "I don't want to walk back to our car, anyway."

Bodies litter the street, sidewalk, and alleyway of men dressed in black and holding guns. On the hands of those you can see is a tattoo of a black dagger, the tip of which is red, dripping with a single drop of blood. You wonder if they belong to a gang that marks all their participants in this manner.

The trunk of the sedan is opened, and Jimin rounds the vehicle to get inside. Just then, Seokjin pulls up in his vehicle, and Hoseok runs over, jumping into the front seat. Jimin hesitates and must decide that, since his ride is here, he will just get in with them, because he closes the trunk and takes off running toward the vehicle.

Jimin reaches the sidewalk and abruptly turns to the left, pulling his hands over his head and ducking. Hoseok shouts, "Fuck!" as he flings his car door open, but he is too slow. You hear a gun fire just as Jimin jerks and then crumbles, hitting the pavement. You are so filled with rage and fear that you begin to run toward Jimin.

All you can hear is your own heart pounding in your ears as you turn the corner and find a man standing with his gun lifted. Hoseok and Seokjin stand from the open vehicle doors and raise their weapons, and you do the same.

In a flash, every ounce of fear in your body transforms into anger, hate, and adrenaline. The world seems to screech to a halt as you pull the trigger in tandem with the other two and shoot. The man whose smoking gun points to you—to where Jimin stood—falls back, crashing to asphalt seconds after his brains splatter, and you advance, unconcerned about your surroundings.

Voices shout around you, and you fire one more shot into the man’s head, which lurches uselessly from the ground and then crashes back with a squelch of blood and brain matter. And then another shot, walking until you are straddling his ribs with your ballet flats, firing again, turning his head into bone and sinew mush. Again and again, until click, click, click, your gun is out of bullets, and you scream bloody murder—enraged, as if one more bullet wound will undo the harm this battered corpse has caused.

You raise your arm high in the air, intent to smash the butt of your gun into what is left of his face, but are stopped by a strong, immovable force. You hardly register the solid, warm arms that wrap around you, and as you are pulled from the man, you kick your legs and scream, furious with the world. Your heart continues to pound dizzying and loud, and you are certain that you would rip every last man to shreds with your bare hands if you could—god, if only you could.

Incensed screams rip from your chest as you are dragged backward, feet hitting the asphalt, unable to keep up with the movement. The scent of flowers and springtime greets your nose in waves, bringing Namjoon’s calming voice into the forefront for only a moment, though you cannot, for the life of you, make out what he is saying; shouting and the overwhelming scent of blood takes over too strongly, tugging you between heaven and hell.

In a surge of anger, you reach for the switchblade at your thigh, grip onto the handle, and pull it free. You know that the man is dead—there is nothing recognizable left of his face—but the urge to slice him open and tear out his insides is palpable and unforgiving. You will not be satisfied until his bleeding fucking heart is in your fist.

Namjoon's grip on you loosens, and he shouts something incomprehensible as you attempt to lunge forward, only to be caught again in his grasp. You press the small lever on the side of the knife as hands reach for your weapon, and in a fit of panic and rage, you flail your arm, desperate to keep a tight hold of the knife and continue on to your battered target.

And then, things blur and slow down. Your arm is yanked back, and as you rip it forward again, you feel the knife catch, but you are too caught up in the movement that you do not stop—all you can comprehend is blinding rage at the man whose brains are splattered on the ground. Screams and shouts are deafening, and although you can make out certain words—Yoongi…face…blood—nothing fully makes sense.

The knife is ripped from your hand at the same time the arms around you release, and when you turn to scream at Namjoon for keeping you from attacking the man whose bullet stole something precious and sacred from you, you find Yoongi standing a foot away, hands up to his face, with blood seeping from between his fingers.

"Sweetheart, don't—" Namjoon begins, blocking your view with his arms held out around your sides. But you are frantic, and you do not understand what has just happened; how the fuck is Yoongi injured?

Taehyung wraps an arm around Yoongi and spins him, ushering him away to a sedan, and you panic, desperate to go with him. Faintly, you think you see Jimin on some kind of stretcher with his neck and head braced, and you wonder where that came from. Did Taehyung have something like that handy? Can it actually fit in one of the vehicles?

The fighting all around you was so chaotic that now, even as it seems to be over, your adrenaline is too high for anything to make clear and perfect sense; no sound registers and every light trails in a dizzying spell before your eyes.

"Yoongi!" you scream, and Namjoon holds you tighter, keeping you from the one other person you need to be with the most. You scream, "Let go of me, fucking let go of me!" attempting to claw Namjoon's arms away from your middle as Yoongi is helped by Hoseok into the back of the same large black vehicle that Seokjin and Taehyung are lifting Jimin into the back of.

Jeongguk steps in front of you, face stern and streaked with tears, and he firmly—roughly—grabs onto your shoulders, gritting his teeth as he holds you steady.

"You've done enough," he says sharply, piercing into your heart, and hot streaks pour down your face and cloud your vision as you fail to make sense of what the fuck is happening.

"Yoongi—" you mutter, jaw clattering as your body trembles in the cool night air, shaking your head and getting onto your toes in an attempt to see over Jeongguk's shoulder. "What happened, where is he going? I need to go with him, please, I need to go with him!"

"You need to calm the fuck down and breathe," Jeongguk retaliates angrily.

"Jeongguk, what happened?" you ask, quaking with adrenaline and searching his face for answers. His anger is understandable, but you cannot figure out why it seems to be directed at you.

Behind him, Namjoon's face falls to his hands, and gripped tightly in his fist, pointing outward, is your open switchblade.

"Namjoon," you whisper, finding your voice wrecked and unable to project.

"Let's get you into this vehicle," Jeongguk sternly says, steering you toward Seokjin's sedan.

"But they—" you begin, watching as Namjoon walks away and climbs into the very back of Taehyung's vehicle. The seats appear to be down, and Yoongi is sitting beside Jimin's stretcher with his head tilted upward, holding something over his face.

"They have to receive medical attention," Jeongguk says. "And you need to go with Seokjin hyung."

Changkyun and the other man are in the back seat of Seokjin's vehicle, and Hoseok sits staring ahead as Jeongguk ushers you into the one empty seat, behind Hoseok.

"You're—" you begin to ask, and Jeongguk interrupts, saying, "I'm going with them," before slamming your door shut and walking back to Taehyung's vehicle.

You attempt to open the door, but the handle moves uselessly, keeping you trapped inside.

"Seat belts!" Seokjin sing-songs with a hint of exhaustion in his tone.

"What happened to Yoongi?" you ask, frantically watching Seokjin, who glances into the rearview mirror with a frown.

"What do you remember about everything that just transpired?"

Searching your memory, you shake your head. It all happened so fast, and Yoongi was behind you, so there was no way to see how he was injured.

"After we sh-shot…" you stammer, unable to finish the sentence, "I pulled out my knife to stab…" you trail off once more and squeeze your eyes closed, realizing now how ridiculous it is that you wanted to continue attacking a man who was already dead. When you open your eyes, Seokjin is still frowning, eyes on you through the rearview mirror. "And then Namjoon took my knife away. So then…what happened to Yoongi?"

Seokjin continues to watch you for just a moment, then he sighs with a light shake of his head, turning his gaze from you to the road. And you want to demand answers, but when he puts the vehicle in drive, the words die on your tongue. You still do not understand, and you spiral, asking yourself the same questions over and over. How could Yoongi have gotten injured? What could have happened to him?

"Seems you got a little carried away and don't fully remember everything," Hoseok says from the passenger seat directly in front of you. "It happens, especially during emotionally intense situations like this. Let's get you home and prioritize the others getting taken care of, and then we will all touch base with what happened."

"Wh-what do you mean by got a little carried away?" you ask, shaken.

Hoseok hums and responds simply, "The rage you seemed to experience, shooting the man repeatedly despite him already being dead and then attempting to turn the brunt of the weapon on him, followed by pulling out your knife…it was a very irrational but very typical drive to continue punishing the man for what he had done." There is a chuckle on his voice as he adds, "I remember my first blind rage."

"Me too," Seokjin responds calmly, eyes on the road.

The unnamed security guard hums mmhmm as Changkyun says, "Me too."

Your eyes well with tears as you attempt to recount everything, but you only remember it in fragments. Jimin crumpling to the ground, you running and lifting your gun, Namjoon lifting you kicking and screaming, and, finally, Yoongi bleeding.

"I don't…fully remember…" you mutter, eyes unfocused on the black leather seat ahead of you.

"Although we do not recommend charging into battle around a corner like that, you may have saved me," Hoseok says with a chipper tone. "My shotgun was empty, and I had been reaching into the glovebox for another gun, but you were quicker on your feet than I was with my hands."

"You only had one gun?" Seokjin asks, turning briefly to Hoseok before looking ahead at the road.

"I know," Hoseok responds with a laugh. "Uncharacteristic, huh? I came out with a glock on my thigh but gave it to Namjoon mid-fight when his clip ran out. Seems none of us were fully anticipating what was to come."

"For once, I had no insider news," Seokjin laments, and you think you hear a pout in his tone. "I miss having someone on the inside."

Although you are sure Seokjin means no offense, there is a very blasé manner in which he seems to be mentioning the death of Hyunjin that makes you stiffen—makes your stomach churn.

Conversation dies down, and you close your eyes with your head tilted against the window. And suddenly, you are coming over the hill with the mansions in view. Yoongi's home has its lights out—save for the security lights outside—and there are no vehicles in the drive. You assume that everyone is at Taehyung's place, and the thought of going home to Yoongi's cold, empty bedroom is daunting.

"Would you like to come with us for the time being?" Seokjin asks, and it takes a few seconds for his words to sink in. You glance up with a start. "I'm not sure how long the others will be, but we have a spare bed you can rest in."

"Or you can attempt to distract yourself with some television," Hoseok suggests.

You nod, unsure whether either of these options sound good, but eager to do anything but return home alone. "Alright," you mutter, swallowing down the overwhelming urge to cry.

"We'll make some hot cocoa and give you a change of clothing," Seokjin recommends, and you nod listlessly, heavy-blinking.

With a sigh, you stare out as Seokjin pulls into the very start of Yoongi's driveway and does a u-turn. Although you have never been to their home, you remember Namjoon telling you that it is on the opposite side as his, meaning their driveway would have been before Yoongi's. And, sure enough, when they pull into the driveway, past the loud metal gate, it is nearly a picture-perfect replica of Namjoon's home.

Hoseok is gentle as he guides you out of the sedan to his front door while Seokjin walks ahead and unlocks it. Although you are surprised by how gelatinous your bones seem to have become, Hoseok appears to have anticipated it, holding you steady around the waist.

Their home décor is nothing like you would have imagined, and you wonder what Victorian-age vampire prince decorated. Everything is crushed velvet with hand-carved accents and gold leaf, similar to Yoongi's home but with more tones of blood red and emerald green. The wainscoted walls are littered with paintings and sconces, and everything is dark wood with upholstery in he same deep shades.

Hoseok runs up the stairs two at a time and quickly returns with a set of black pajamas—a button-down shirt and pants. You change in the downstairs bathroom, which is all gold and black marble, then return to the living room to the smell of hot chocolate and find Hoseok on the nearby chaise clicking through streaming services.

It is not long before you curl up and fall asleep to the soft sounds of low chattering while some drama you have never heard of plays in the background. Twice you wake up screaming to the sight of watching a man's head explode before giving up on sleep and continuing to watch TV while the sun slowly begins to rise.

i'll keep it a secret 비밀로 할게

your corruption and sin 네 부정과 죄

reveal everything 전부 드러내

friendly reminder: there is no major character death tag!!!

only 3 chapters left 😬😬😬 how are we feeling??? everything is going to spiral to the end, and then there will be a sequel (i know i say this a lot but it seems i need to remind some!!! this is not the end the end, but we are building to an end.)

if you would like a laugh, while searching for an ot7 pic that includes yoongi with long hair, the only one i really found with everyone's hair almost correct (jk and sj aren't quite accurate) all i could find was this years festa pics:

imagine the collateral family men in pastels hehe.

also, yoongi wore this outfit to Paradise:

woof woof bark bark bark imagine him in this fit with his long hair and current muscle bulk.

anywayyyyyyyyy thank you so much for reading!!! comments and reblogs make the world go 'round!!! and likes are appreciated!!! stay hydrated, i love you!!!

tag lists will be on separate reblogs! they've gotten too big to contain as one!

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#yoongi mafia #yoongi x reader #namjoon x reader #jungkook x reader #yoongi smut #namjoon smut #jungkook smut #bts mafia #bts smut #bts angst #bts poly #namjoon mafia #jungkook mafia #fic: collateral #Spotify

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winterchimez · 4 months

Text

Nightmare Before Christmas | Kevin Moon

SUMMARY: your uncle has always been a crime and supernatural fan and would often plan fun little games for your family to solve before Boxing Day. However, things have taken a turn this year as never would you and your friendly neighbour Kevin imagined that the both of you would actually have to solve a decades-old murder case, and eventually finding out the culprit behind all of this was someone much closer than you have expected.

PAIRING: neighbour!Kevin x f!reader

GENRE: horror, thriller, supernatural, crime, angst, some fluff

WARNINGS: nc-17, mentions about dead bodies & severed body parts (nothing too gory though dw!!), missing person case, haunted house, mentions of blood, supernatural (ghosts, black mass), yn's descriptive nightmare (about the ghost-like character she would often see in the past), kissing, betrayal, dual personalities, pet names (sweetheart, princess)

WORD COUNT: 4,465

A/N: so this was supposed to be released on the 25th....but we will pretend that never happened 🫡 massive thankiew to @from-izzy for beta reading and giving me tons of ideas (and just giving me the support bcs i was so done and upset with everything bjasnjsdn) tagging the kevin enthusiast aka @hyungseos-cafe for this 👀✨

“Sissy, wake up!”

You were jolted awake by your little brother, who was violently shaking your entire body as you groaned in annoyance and lifted your bedsheets above your head in hopes that he would leave you alone. But you have forgotten that he was a wild and energetic fourteen-year-old teenager, and there was no way he was giving up that easily.

As your brother pulled your bedsheet off you, your eyes squinted, and you were about to curse at him out loud before he eventually beat you to it.

“It’s Christmas Eve, sissy! Uncle Ben has already left a note on the dining table, and we must start before the clock strikes midnight!” Your brother announced out loud before running out of your room back to the living room downstairs.

You sighed before pinching your eyebrows together, trying to make sense of your surroundings and what your brother had told you moments before.

It was that time of the year for your annual family tradition. Your uncle has always been into supernatural and playing detective. He would often devise a different scenario where he would get you and your siblings to solve the puzzles or cases before you would eventually earn a Christmas present from him. He had a different scenario in mind every year and was full of ideas to ensure each year stood out.

Not only were your siblings encouraged to participate in the hunt, but he would also get your neighbour next door to experience every year, and he had done so for the past decade.

Your best friend, Kevin Moon.

It was a joy to have him aboard, especially when he had the wits and brains to help crack and solve most puzzle pieces or clues in your uncle’s little game each year. Because of that, your uncle has taken a liking to him, eventually pairing you guys up, often thinking that you both would end up great as a couple.

Which isn’t something you were totally against if you were to be completely honest.

You liked him a lot, and he has been your best friend throughout middle school up till university. He has always been someone you could always count on and gave you the support you needed.

You just weren’t sure if you liked him more than just a friend at this point.

Trying to shake away all of the unnecessary thoughts, you quickly rushed down to your dining hall to find the letter that your uncle always left on the table the night before when all of you were asleep. However, you froze as you saw that your brother was already holding one in his hands, reading it internally while another was left on the table.

“Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that uncle made two separate invitation cards and that on the table is specifically just for you and Kevin-hyung next door,” your brother said half-heartedly before he walked out with his invitation, getting ready to get all geared up before heading out the door. You suspected Uncle Ben had probably given him some scavenger hunt games again, given the looks of your brother’s outfit and the big shovel he had just brought out the door seconds ago.

As you diverted your attention back to the invitation card on the table, you slowly picked it up before opening the envelope and pulling up the letter tucked within.

Oh, Uncle Ben, what exactly have you plotted for us this Christmas?

“Your uncle must be nuts going all out for Christmas this year. He must’ve been itching to get this year’s theme out as soon as possible, don’t you think?” Kevin questioned you while chuckling at the side, trying his best to hide his uneasiness.

But that was when you didn’t respond and quietly began looking for clues; that was when Kevin knew that it probably wasn’t a joke this time.

“There’s no actual dead bodies, right, Y/N?”

When you quickly skimmed through the entire letter, your eyes widened at the envelope's contents. You wasted no time and hurriedly scurried out the door to Kevin right next door. With a few knocks, your best friend was out with a hot mug of cocoa, with his hair slightly ruffled, indicating that he had just woken up not too long ago. His eyes widened as he did not expect you to be on his doorstep this early in the day, and he was a bit embarrassed with how he looked.

Deep down, you wanted to tell him how he looked absolutely adorable and how you would snuggle up on the couch with him for the holiday seasons, but there was no way you would admit you had a crush on him just yet.

Shaking off your initial thoughts, you quickly redirect your attention back to the envelope, trying to fill Kevin in with all your uncle wrote on the invitation. He had the same initial response that you had, thinking that this was all some sort of sick joke. All while he was getting ready by changing his pyjamas into a cosy sweater sufficient to last till the destination, you couldn’t help but spare a few glances back at him a few times to take a sneaky little peak at his toned body.

He worked really hard during the summer anyway, and you have seen how he basically went from being all skinny and slim to being toned and bulky within the span of half a year, and you couldn’t stop ogling at the sight whenever you saw a little skin from him.

But again, you would not admit that to him just yet.

As soon as he was ready to go, you both took the pathway down to the written location as the sky quickly turned dark due to the winter season. By the time you both arrived at the entrance of the abandoned house, you needed to grab the torchlight hidden within your sweater and turn it on to navigate the place.

As you both opened the front door with an awful creak, you were met with nothing but complete darkness. The power lights were completely cut off so there was no chance of even having a little bit of electricity within the premises.

There was this eerie feeling in the air that neither of you could describe; it almost felt like a little haunted house, as much as you did not want to admit it. But given the details that Uncle Ben has written in the envelope, that spooky and sinister feeling you’ve had was valid, and it would probably remain this way until the both of you could crack the case open.

“To answer your question, Kevin, I really hope we won’t be stumbling upon any dead bodies too. It’s the Christmas holidays, goddamit,” you spat, still thinking that Uncle Ben was totally out of his mind with this whole dilemma that was going on right now.

“Well, we’ve lived in this neighbour for a good decade now, and never in my life have I heard about a Madam Nee Nee residing in a house right at the end of the road and was actually murdered without a trace,” Kevin replied worriedly, thinking that this whole situation is slowly getting much creepier by the minute.

As much as you wanted to agree with the male, you have heard something or two about Madam Nee Nee through your uncle’s stories. All you knew about her was that she was the one who would often bake cupcakes for the children across the streets and would pass them to Uncle Ben so that all of you were able to get your hands on them every Christmas.

Those cupcakes were indeed one of the best you have ever tried in your entire life; they were not too sweet and were just enough to fit everyone’s liking and taste buds. It seemed as if Madam Nee Nee knew exactly what each child’s favourite television show was as she would make an effort to pipe and decorate each cupcake exactly as each character looked. You would often get your favourite Tinker Bell design, and she would alternate between the different fairies each year, while your younger brother often got his favourite DC superheroes.

But there was only one problem: you had actually never met the baker herself, and each time you tried to bring it up, your Uncle Ben would often tell you that she was too busy delivering the goodies to the other children out of town.

In other words, you didn’t really know if you could trust Uncle Ben’s words on whether such an individual really existed and if this whole murder case was actually a reality or not.

Regardless, you were not going to get anywhere if neither of you was going to make progress in solving the riddles that your uncle had made specifically for you two, adding onto the fact that you really did want to get your hands on the presents as your uncle always knew exactly what you liked.

Hence, you and Kevin moved forward and deeper into the house as you both tried to see where or what could potentially help you both get a kick start on the investigation. Suddenly, the doors behind you both slammed shut with a loud thud, and you both were now in complete darkness, heavily relying on the torchlight you brought to navigate the house.

“We’re really doing this right, Y/N?” Kevin asked as he grabbed your wrist to drag you closer to him, making sure that you both stuck together, especially in the given circumstances. Not going to lie, your heart skipped a beat with that sudden gesture of his, and you prayed that he was unable to hear that loud thumping noise coming from your chest, given how silent the whole place was, to the point that you were able to hear a pin drop if there ever was one.

“Y-Yeah… to face Uncle Ben and get our hands on the gift. And besides, we could always have a little fun mystery for the holiday season.”

After ten minutes, you both arrived at the house's second floor. You both tried your best to scavenge through the bottom floor, but there wasn’t much you found that could potentially help with the investigation.

So here you both were, slowly taking your steps up the old wooden stairs that creaked with every single step, making the uncomfortable feeling you have had since stepping into the house a lot worse than before.

Thankfully, Kevin stuck close to you and took the lead in front, where you naturally held onto his sweater from behind, which caused him to turn behind for a second and offer his hand to you instead. You stared at him blankly at first, blinking your eyes a few times to see if you weren’t hallucinating, but he eventually linked his hands with yours and pulled you slightly forward.

You were thankful that the electricity was out in the entire house, and Kevin held onto the torchlight and shone the pathway in front of him instead; you definitely did not need the male to know how red and flushed your face was right now.

As you both moved forward, you eventually stepped onto something firm and hard, causing you to stop in your tracks, nudging Kevin’s elbow to shine the light directly onto your feet.

You truly wished you hadn’t done that at all.

A severed hand was situated right below your new pair of white shoes, and a little blood splatter was visible around the corners of your shoes. You immediately screamed and took a little jump back, causing you to cower into Kevin’s arms immediately. His eyes widened at the sight, and he tried his best to calm you down by rubbing your back with one of his hands while the other continued to shine the torchlight all around the room.

And there it was: another severed hand, located close to what used to be the fireplace.

“Th-This must be a joke…” Kevin muttered, not wanting to accept reality and thinking, ‘this was all a dream.’

It couldn’t be real.

There haven’t been any reported murder cases around town for the last thirty years. In fact, your town has been regarded as one of the safest in the state for the past decades, and it is also known as the best town to reside in. Whatever situation you both were in now must be wholly made up by your uncle, who was always full of surprises.

…right?

That was until Kevin redirected the light source towards the fireplace above, where there were clearly a few picture frames damaged through time or by someone. As you both began moving closer to examine them, you noticed they all had one thing in common.

All of them had the same person cut out from the pictures themselves.

Three picture frames stood above the fireplace, each depicting a family of five smiling brightly as if the world was free from all sorts of nightmares and misery. At least it was before. Something must have happened for whoever removed the person in question from the pictures—perhaps it must’ve been a bad memory for them, or that person is probably no longer associated with them.

You slowly moved close enough for you to be able to examine it well, gently wiping off the dust from each frame with your thumbs to see who exactly was the family in the old pictures. You didn’t recognise them at first until you squinted your eyes and saw the famous signature on the bottom right of each frame.

It belonged to the Jamaisons; the very first family that moved into this town many years ago.

From what you have heard about the tales from your uncle, they were the ones to be grateful for as they built up and raised the town's reputation as it is known today. Their family have since then lived for generations, constantly passing down their legacy for years until the last heir passed on without a successor ten years ago.

As everyone has been told, the very first generation of the Jamaisons was a family of four: a dotting father, a loving mother, and a set of twins. But then, who was the mysterious missing cut-out person from the pictures? Did they have another sibling they have kept secret for years, and nobody knew about them? And if yes, why did they do that?

Countless questions are pondered within your mind, and you can’t help but want to dig much deeper to discover the truth.

“Kevin…how much do you know about the Jamaisons?”

“As much as they have taught us in the textbooks. Why?”

“I have a bad feeling about this…” You muttered, slowly showing and telling Kevin about the missing person from each picture.

His eyes widened too, and you could tell he had the same thoughts as you.

“You don’t mean…”

“I really hope it isn’t true. Why would Uncle Ben even want us to meddle with their history if it was? Does he think we were detectives that could solve a potential murder case that was decades old?” You questioned, tugging his arm around you even tighter.

He pondered for a bit before answering. “Why not? I have always wanted to go to an actual crime scene.”

“Kevin Moon, this is serious,” you firmly reminded him.

He sighed before giving you a little smile back. “I know, Y/N. Well, I guess there’s only one way to find out then.”

Along with your friendly little neighbour, you both begin scouring through the bookshelves, hoping to find any potential records that could prove that they had someone else in the original line-up of the family.

However, all of your luck was pointless as there was zero to no evidence proving that the missing person from the pictures existed. It was as if the family themselves had erased whoever it was to the best of their abilities.

You groaned as you ran your fingers through your hair. “Ugh, I guess we’re back at square one again.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure if I were you,” Kevin responded, which caused you to turn your head towards him to see that he was pointing towards the empty room across the room, where the door slowly creaked open.

You were sure that the doors were closed tight when you both made your way up an hour ago, and now you were witnessing the door slowly pry open by seemingly nothing.

Oh hell, there is no way ghosts are real.

“Do not say the g-word, I swear,” you immediately placed one of your fingers directly onto Kevin’s lips, preventing him from saying it out loud.

“Not until we go check it, Y/N.”

“Can we just…not…”

“I think you know what the answer to that is.”

You rolled your eyeballs at Kevin’s words; you knew there was no way you both were leaving this place until you found the answers to the case. Without a choice, you reluctantly allowed Kevin to drag you along step-by-step as you both got closer towards the room.

If you were in an actual horror movie, you were pretty sure there would be creepy and high-pitched violin sounds playing in the background right now. The siren by your ear was beginning to resonate aloud, causing you to have a slight headache while you were trying your best not to shit your pants at this point.

As you were a step right before entering the room, your grip against Kevin’s arm tightened, giving him the signal that you were having second thoughts and would gladly dash right out of the house right now. But he returned a little rub on your palms with his, telling you that everything would be alright and that he was here with you.

With one final gulp and nod, you both took that long-awaited step into the room, when you were met with your worst nightmare.

You have never told anyone about how your deepest and darkest fear was about how you once had this dream where a black mass consisted of a white face with a lipped mouth paired with large black eyes used to lurk at the corners of your room watching you sleep. You eventually got terrified to the point that you would think about it all day, which then interfered with your daily routine.

And it was the same nightmare that stood right in front of you, slowly expanding as it crept nearer towards you both as if it was going to swallow you up as a whole.

“No…please don’t…” You whimpered.

Before you could even think straight, the huge mass eventually engulfed Kevin, and he was gone within a second. Just like that, the mass turned in your direction, approaching you slowly as you took a few steps back each time.

With one final huff from the mass, it quickly expanded one last time before jumping right onto you, slowly dissolving your entire body and turning it into the mass just like it was.

You were helpless, and you eventually felt your entire body go numb as if it was all over and done for.

Before you were taken over by darkness, you slowly peered your eyes upon the doors, noticing a bright white figure approaching you before everything was a blur.

“Sissy! SISSY WAKE UP!!”

You immediately jolted awake with that scream coming from the side of your ear, drenched in sweat, and your eyes widened as you tried to calm your fast breathing down.

“Whatever the nightmare you have been having since last night, it must have been a wild one I must say,” your brother responded as he slowly grabbed a cloth to wipe your sweat away.

“N-Nightmare? What are you talking about?”

“Do you really not remember anything at all? You have been sleeping for the entire day yesterday! You have been tossing and turning in your sleep, mumbling incoherent words as you broke out in sweat.”

What? That can’t be.

You slowly looked down to see your hands trembling before moving them to your face, trying to take in everything your brother had just told you.

“What about the scavenger hunt, then?”

“Scavenger hunt? You mean Uncle Ben’s?”

“Y-Yeah…what happened to it?”

“Well, you were in bed for the entire day and wouldn’t wake up, so you actually missed the whole thing,” he bluntly replied.

That can’t be true. You remembered walking down to the kitchen table and grabbing the envelope placed neatly on the dining table, which shocked you as you read the contents.

“Uncle Ben came up to check on you, though; he said it was fine to let you continue to sleep since you were probably exhausted with finals.”

No…this is just not making sense at all.

Wait.

“Kevin! Where’s Kevin?!” You screamed at the top of your lungs as you grabbed your brother’s shoulders, shaking them vigorously.

Your brother stared at you as if a ghost had possessed you because the next thing that happened was that you immediately jumped out from your bed and dashed towards the front door.

You speed ran through your open gates right towards your neighbour’s front porch, banging on the door, not caring if you were creating a scene. You needed to know if he was doing alright and in one piece.

After a few seconds, the doorknob eventually turned and the door was opened. There stood your best friend, exactly like he was the day before when you went up to him to talk about the strange envelope Uncle Ben had left specifically just for you both.

Well, supposedly, at least.

It wasn’t unusual for you to come banging at Kevin’s door in the middle of the day, as you have done it multiple times. What he did not expect was that you would immediately dive into his embrace and begin sobbing into his sweater.

“Y-Y/N? What’s wrong? What happened?”

You couldn’t even give him a proper answer as your tears poured profusely. You were glad to see that he was fine, still in one piece and unharmed.

“Thank God…THANK GOD KEVIN!!!!”

You were not budging an inch, and Kevin only did what he knew was best at the moment, returning the hug and slowly caressing your back as if to calm you down. He eventually rested his lips on your head, leaving you little kiss.

After what seemed like a couple of minutes resting in his embrace, you eventually pulled away and cupped his face with your palms, gently caressing his cheek as you looked at him lovingly.

“Kevin…promise me…you’re never leaving my sight again.”

He chuckled. “Why would I? Y/N, you know I would never—”

“Please, a little pinky promise?” You begged, and Kevin could never resist that little puppy doe eyes you have.

He smiled before he eventually leaned down and connected your lips with his. Your eyes widened upon the contact before you eventually eased into the kiss seconds later, slowly wrapping your arms around his neck to deepen the kiss.

When you both eventually broke off for some air, there was this surge of adrenaline within you, and you felt your face heat up quickly, causing you to duck your head down as you cupped both cheeks to cover up the redness away from the man.

Kevin could only laugh at that little sight. “Come on, Y/N. It’s not like I have not seen your iconic red-flushed-tomato-like face before.”

“It’s not iconic, and whatever that was wasn’t necessary at all,” you pouted.

He took a few moments just admiring how you looked before leaning down and resting his palm on your head. “That kiss is a promise that I’ll always be yours.”

“Even stronger than a pinky promise?”

“Absolutely.”

With that, you reconnected your lips with his warm ones again, trying to savour them as best as possible before leaning your forehead against his.

“Oh, Kevin. You truly are the best thing that has happened to me during Christmas this year.”

“Am I supposed to be flattered by that?” He teased.

You sulked for a bit before slapping him on the arm. “Obviously, silly.”

With a deep huff, you stretched out your arms before wrapping them back around Kevin’s arm, trying to drag him out of his house and head straight towards yours instead for a cup of hot cocoa.

“Say, why don’t we go find Uncle Ben? I’m sure he might have some other tricks to keep us occupied until unboxing night.”

As you tried your best to pull Kevin with you, you were stunned by him standing still at the front of your doorstep, staring at you with a straight face.

“Kevin? Is everything alright?”

There was this odd ten-second silence before Kevin eventually spoke up, which actually sent chills down your spine.

“I’m afraid that Uncle Ben will not be coming anytime soon, sweetheart.”

Within a swift motion, Kevin pulled you vigorously back into his embrace, locking you tight with his arms. You then noticed how his demeanour began to change and was completely different from before.

You began to panic, shivering even, as you looked into his now-turning hollow eyes.

“W-What are you talking about?”

“That little nightmare you had was a reality, princess. Your little Uncle Ben has been trying his best to warn you all these years, and who would’ve thought he would actually get you to head towards the murder site yourself to crack open the case.”

“K-Kevin…you’re scaring me…” you began pushing yourself away, but it seemed that his grip had then gotten a lot tighter, which was when you began to feel the pain that was slowly travelling across your whole body.

“Let me tell you a little story, Y/N. A long time ago, a certain group used to think Christmas was all sparkly and bright. But what if I told you that things would never be the same? That the people around them now think that Christmas is a nightmare. After all, a sparkly Christmas can only happen if there is a drop of blood, right? I think that’s enough for you to figure things out, no?”

It was. As much as you didn’t want to admit it, you knew exactly what he meant.

Not only was Kevin your Christmas, but he was also your Nightmare.

Just like that, he slowly began leaning down as he pushed your hair on your shoulders towards the other side, leaving a clear opening for him to start rubbing your sensitive skin as he leaned down slowly to the point that his lips brushed against them.

“From now on, I’ll always be your Nightmare Before Christmas.”

A/N: a lil belated spooky Christmas to yall 😚

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