#is because there's no plot reason to it. it's one of the last scenes we ever get with remus and it basically | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

retrievablememories · 6 months

Text

cherry bomb | part 2 | jungkook (m)

pairing: jungkook x fem reader

summary: after your town goes into lockdown because of the cherry bomb massacre, you find out that the murderer's interest is on you. eventually, you’re left with no choice but to face him.

genre: horror/slasher, angst, smut, college!au

word count: 13.7k

warnings: major character deaths, gaslighting, hallucinations, anxiety/paranoia, grief, trauma, violence (including knife and gun use), torture, blood, gore, descriptions of dead bodies, a funeral scene, fuckboy!JK, oral (fem receiving), fingering, finger-sucking, handjob, cumplay(?), hair-pulling

a/n: this part is quite rougher than the first, so heed the warnings. same notes as the last part—not meant to be entirely realistic since this *is* a slasher. block/filter as needed. i didn’t mention this in part 1 but this fic is not set in present day; more like somewhere in the 2000s? i don’t think this fic would work as well with all this advanced technology/the prevalence of social media now

...also, i had this story all written out and then decided to completely change the plot at the last minute because i figured out a way to write the original plot i had wanted to do from the beginning. 💀 yeah…just leave your thoughts below

taglist is at the very bottom of the fic—for some reason i wasn't able to tag everyone who requested, so please reblog this fic so folks can see it

sources for the fic dividers: one | two

link to part 1

you’re standing in front of some stranger’s house in the early hours of the morning, your body heavy from exhaustion as your adrenaline has run out. this is not at all how you expected your night to end when you left your dorm hours ago. it must’ve taken at least 40 minutes to get to this house, and you’re less familiar with this part of town, which you try not to feel uneasy about. you suppose the farther away from the scene of the carnage, the better.

jungkook bangs on the door, calling out the name yoongi-hyung until the porch light comes on. though it’s illogical, you’re tense with apprehension that the murderer could somehow appear at any moment, and you hope whoever yoongi is lets the both of you in soon. so much for no longer looking over your shoulder.

a man with hair just as long as jungkook’s answers the door, looking disheveled and annoyed. “why the fuck are you banging down my door at nearly 2 am—"

yoongi stops speaking as he eyes the both of you up and down, his gaze going from the bite mark bruises you left on jungkook’s neck to the dried blood on your face to the bullet holes in jungkook’s car. his expression is between surprise and curiosity. “what the fuck is going on here?”

“can we talk inside?” jungkook says, though he doesn’t wait for an invitation before pushing his way past the other man and stepping inside.

“uh…hi. sorry.” you step inside too, glad to not be out in the open anymore.

yoongi takes another look outside the door at the state of jungkook’s car before closing and locking it. “mind explaining this shit? i thought you were going to that party you told me about?

“i did,” jungkook says, his voice full of frustration. “the fucking killer showed up at the party.”

“the fuck are you talking about?”

“you know what i’m talking about. that werewolf-masked freak? he came and just started stabbing people to death. we watched him shoot a fraternity member in front of us, dude. that’s why my car looks the way it does.”

“the campus is probably dangerous,” you add. “that’s why we came here. we just need somewhere safe to stay for the night.”

yoongi goes to the window and draws back the curtain. he peeks out the small holes in the side of the blinds rather than pushing the blinds down to look outside. “and you’re certain he didn’t follow you here? i thought he only killed virgins anyway. why the hell was he shooting at you?” then yoongi turns away from the window and looks at you. “oh. is this why?”

feeling put on the spot, you blurt out: “look, i don’t think that matters much anymore. he seemed to be killing anybody who was in his way.”

“and he was on foot the whole time, so there’s no way he could’ve followed us,” jungkook adds.

yoongi shakes his head and walks away from the window. “whole town is fucked, then. come on.”

you’re relieved to be able to scrub the blood off your face and change into fresh clothes. you initially thought it was peculiar that yoongi had spare clothes ready for you to wear until he alluded to keeping them on hand for any of jungkook’s hookups that he brings over.

“sure—of course.” you’d just nodded and tried not to look embarrassed as you accepted the clothes.

even after showering you don’t feel entirely clean, though. you think it might be impossible to return to feeling anything like your former self after tonight.

the couch has a pull-out bed, so it’s not as uncomfortable as it would be just sleeping on a regular sofa, which you are grateful for. you’re still arranging the pillow and blankets when jungkook walks into the room holding his own bedding.

“i think i should sleep here,” he says.

“there’s no room on the couch for the both of us,” you protest, thinking he means to take your spot.

“i mean on the floor. earlier, you didn’t seem like you wanted to be left alone in here.”

“oh.” you try to take the edge out of your voice; it’s hard to be polite when you’re still so overwhelmed with stress. “that’ll be uncomfortable though.”

jungkook just waves his hand and dumps his pillow and blanket on the floor before going to push the coffee table out of the way. “doesn’t really matter, i think we’ve been through worse tonight than sleeping on a hard floor…”

“thanks,” you say quietly, watching him spread his blanket out on the ground. you want to say something else, but you can’t think of anything.

“it’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

after a few more moments of staring at jungkook as he arranges his sleeping area, you finally ask, “i was wondering how’d you meet yoongi? he doesn’t seem like he’s a college student. i’ve never seen him around our campus, at least.”

“he isn’t. he works as a music producer, so he’s out of town a lot, but this is his homebase. as for how we met—it’s a long story. he and my brother actually used to know each other, so…” you think he’ll explain further, but he just shakes his head. “but he’s a good friend.”

“i see. a music producer…nice. how cool for a little town like this.”

after everything is to his liking, jungkook gets under the blanket. “tonight was a lot, so try to get some sleep.”

you nod and turn the lamp off, though you’re doubting you’ll get any peace tonight. “yeah…you too.”

SATURDAY MORNING, NOV 4

you wake up around 11 a.m. on a strange couch wearing strange clothes in a strange room. with your brain’s half-conscious state, your terror reawakens; you think maybe you’ve been kidnapped by the murderer and the car ride with jungkook last night was a dream—until yoongi pops into your mind.

you try to regulate your breathing and settle back beneath the blanket, though you know you won’t be going back to sleep.

you haven’t gotten more than an hour of sleep in total, broken up into 20-minute intervals across the hours. every time you’ve tried to close your eyes and drift off, you see the frat member’s skull bursting apart again, shocking your entire nervous system. you can think of nothing but the piles of bodies and the deaths you witnessed. perhaps it’s better that you don’t sleep; you figure your dreams wouldn’t be any more tolerable than your thoughts.

as you shift around on the couch, your whole body screams with soreness. your arms, your ribs, your sides, your legs, and—to a lesser extent—even between your thighs where jungkook was last night.

you glance over and see that he’s still sprawled on the floor, blanket halfway kicked off. he’s actually awake, his face turned away from you as he blinks slowly and stares at nothing, but he doesn’t say anything and so neither do you. with you spending most of your night awake, you saw that he was able to get more rest than you did. lucky him.

it hurts to move, but you reach for your phone and check for any signs of lorelai. none. there is one text from camille, sent 40 minutes ago.

➤ camille: I talked to Lorelai’s sister. She went to go see about a missing persons report. The police took her information but didn’t seem very concerned about it and said she might have just stayed the night with other friends after the party. Apparently a lot of others had the same idea as you. Campus is a ghost town. They’re still identifying all the bodies, so no word yet.

➤ y/n: so we just have to sit here and wait to see if she’ll turn up alive or dead? that’s useless.

➤ camille: As per fucking usual with the pigs.

➤ camille: She also told me there’s supposed to be a lockdown or something. It’s on the news.

➤ y/n: a lockdown???

looking around the room, you spot the TV remote sitting on yoongi’s coffee table a few feet away. you try to sit up, but it takes you a couple minutes longer than you anticipate because of the pain. jungkook notices the movement from the corner of his eye and turns to look at you. “what are you doing?”

“tryna get the remote.”

jungkook grabs it and hands it to you, and you turn the TV to one of the local news channels.

➤ camille: They’re telling people not to leave their homes for anything non-essential while they search for him. Not sure how long that’s supposed to last. I guess now they wanna get serious about this fucking killer? Too late for that.

you and jungkook watch as the newscaster gives a rundown of last night’s events; to your small relief, it looks like the killer didn’t try to go to the campus after the murders at the party house. the newscaster goes on to announce that the police are instating a citywide curfew, which they’ll discuss further at a press conference in the afternoon. in the meantime, they advise everyone to only travel in groups, shelter in place if possible, and keep all windows and doors locked.

you laugh humorlessly, and jungkook glances at you again. “in groups? we were all packed into one damn house at the party, and how much did that help?”

➤ y/n: are you sure you’re okay at the uni?

➤ camille: I’m fine. My roommate brought some of her friends into our room so no one’s left alone. Either way, my dad is coming to help me move some of my things out and come back home.

➤ y/n: okay, please just stay safe.

➤ camille: You too.

“what now?” jungkook says once the newscast goes off. “everybody just stays holed up for like a month while they hunt for that guy?”

you roll your eyes. “people won’t stay in their homes for that long. i don’t know how any of this is gonna work. we wouldn’t be in this mess now if they’d cared when this first started happening.”

“you think so? students would still be getting killed. the only difference is that a good chunk of people would just be sitting at home freaking the fuck out and too scared to go anywhere while the killer would still be on the loose.”

“…damn. it’s truly bleak to assume we’d still be in the same situation. you’re an optimistic one.”

“better than deluding yourself about it.”

“whatever. where’s your family to freak out over you? somebody should be concerned about your whereabouts by now. didn’t you say you have a brother? speaking of, i’m gonna have to call my sister soon…”

jungkook turns back to the TV, and you can tell he’s become more tense than he was seconds ago. “yeah, but i’m estranged from them. yoongi’s my family.”

wrong thing to ask. you wonder about the reason for it but decide it’s probably better not to pry. “ah…that sucks.”

jungkook looks back at you like he’s irked by that response, but he makes a noise resembling a chuckle. “tell me about it.”

later that afternoon, after you’ve reassured your sister veronica on her work break that you are fine and at a “friend’s” house (because you have no clue how to refer to either of these men), you and yoongi sit at the kitchen table with brunch while jungkook goes outside to examine the damage to his car more closely.

it’s difficult to eat, but you do so anyway; you don’t want to be rude by wasting the food yoongi made. the news station still plays loudly from the living room as you wait for the press conference to come on.

“so, about you and jungkook...” yoongi starts, looking at you from over the rim of his cup of coffee.

“what about me and jungkook?”

“we both know he didn’t get those bites on his neck from a wild animal attack.”

you sit up straighter in your seat, a sudden spike of irritation hitting you. “aren’t we all grown here? who cares?” you try to sound unbothered despite feeling very green about all of this. after all, you’d only had sex for the first time last night.

“look, i don’t care. fuck him all you want. i’m just trying to advise you not to get emotionally involved, because that’s not how jungkook operates. the amount of girls i’ve had somehow coming after my neck when their situationship with him doesn’t work out is starting to get really old. it’d be best if you didn’t do the same.”

you’re simultaneously annoyed at his assumption of you and flustered because you want to prove him wrong about acting the same as the other girls. you hate both feelings. “i don’t want anything like that with him. i just needed something done and i got it. it doesn’t matter anymore.”

yoongi shrugs, and you get the sense he’s heard that before and isn’t convinced, but you can’t be bothered going back and forth with him about this.

the press conference comes on TV a few minutes later. they announce that classes at your university are cancelled indefinitely; parents and relatives will need to come move their students out, and the school will be operating with a skeleton staff and increased security presence for any students who can’t leave the campus. the citywide curfew will be at 8 p.m. every night, by which time almost everyone will need to be in their homes, and it will end at 6 a.m each morning.

“fun,” you say sarcastically. “at least i won’t have to worry about finals and trying not to get murdered at the same time.”

when jungkook comes back inside, you let him know about what he missed from the press conference.

“we should just stay here for now.” when you raise your eyebrows, jungkook says, “i basically live here when i’m not on campus for classes. plus yoongi-hyung lets me bring girls here all the time, this is nothing new.”

“if both of you are gonna be hiding out in my place, we’ll need to go to the store,” yoongi says. “more mouths to feed.”

“…or i could just go home?” you propose, your mind reeling at them already making plans. you feel awkward about staying in a stranger’s house for who knows how long. “i think we only really needed to stay here for the night. it’s fine.”

“will you have people there with you?” jungkook asks. “it’s not safe to be alone.”

you’re surprised he seems to be this concerned, but you answer: “well, i mean…my sister works 12-hour shifts as a nurse and she’s the only one living there, so…” you’d chosen your university because your older sister lived in the area, and because it was a tradition for women in your family to attend that school, but there were no other relatives you could turn to. your parents lived a couple of towns away.

yoongi comes to the conclusion so you don’t have to. “in other words, you’ll be alone most of the day.”

“…i guess. but i’m really not tryna impose on you by staying here.”

yoongi tilts his head, a small smirk on his lips. you automatically dislike the look on his face. “why don’t you take jungkook with you, then?”

you and jungkook glance at each other. “but, hyung…”

yoongi shakes his head. “you already know i can take care of myself. seriously, don’t worry about it.” and then yoongi winks at you. you don’t know for sure, but you take that to mean he’s probably packing heat like camille’s dad.

“if you’re sure.” turning to you, jungkook says, “so, how about it?”

“it’s my sister’s house, so i’ll have to ask her,” you say tentatively. “yeah…uh. let me do that now, i guess.” you pull out your phone to text her about it, though you know it’ll be a while before she gets another work break and can answer. “in the meantime…i think we’ll need to go to the store either way. and then to campus to pick our things up.”

“you’re right. let’s go then,” jungkook says.

the store is full of people panic-buying food and necessities in preparation for the curfew and effective lockdown, which you expected. you and jungkook end up going your separate ways to find the things you need because it’s quicker that way, and because you want to get in and out of the store as soon as possible. the crowdedness is too much like the party, and despite yourself, anxiety begins rising in you due to the claustrophobic atmosphere. you try to maintain even breaths as you keep searching for items. just what you need—a shiny new trauma to make your life harder.

you pass by a man in one of the less-crowded aisles before realizing he’s standing in front of what you need to get, examining one of the food packages. you wait a few moments to see if he’ll finish up soon, and when your eyes begin to wander, you see that there’s a long gray hair clinging to the back of his leather jacket, standing out clearly against the black. you probably wouldn’t have noticed this at all on any other day, except your mind has been on high alert for hours now; you find it strange that this strand clearly doesn’t match the shade or length of the hair on his head, which is short and plain brown. the shade of the hair also weirdly reminds you of something, though you can’t quite recall what; it remains just out of your mind’s reach.

you shake your head. he could’ve come to the store with somebody who has long gray hair, or hugged them before he left home, and a strand stuck to his jacket. it’s the least of your issues right now.

the man must feel your presence behind him because he turns around to look at you. you’re a little taken aback by his gaze; his expression isn’t mean per se, but very intense, as if his entire focus is trained on you.

there’s a second’s pause, like he’s thinking about something before he speaks. “am i in your way?” he asks, never breaking eye contact. his voice doesn’t portray any particular emotion.

“i just have to get something really quick.” he steps aside and gestures to the rows of food without a word. you slip in beside him and grab what you need before moving away again. “thanks.” you think about telling him about the hair on his jacket but decide against it; your decision is solidified when you spot a wolf figurine keychain on his keys, faded from time but still distinguishable. it makes your breath catch.

there’s no way it could be him. it was kind of dark in the party house with nothing but string lights and lamps illuminating it, and everything happened so quickly…but you do remember the colors of that mask. red, yellow, black—and that dark gray for the fur.

but maybe it’s really all just a coincidence; how much sense would it make to turn every person with wolf paraphernalia and random stray hairs into a suspect?

you walk down the rest of the aisle and away from the man with growing unease. maybe it’s time to find jungkook so you can get out of here; you can hardly keep yourself together, and despite your best attempts at logic, you can’t stop yourself from getting more frantic about those two things.

speeding up your walk and weaving through people, you look down every aisle in search for jungkook before you find him, rushing over to him as you breathe heavily.

“whoa, what the hell is wrong? did somebody do something?”

“no, i…”

“what happened?”

“it’s the…well, the…i saw, uh…”

“y/n.”

“i saw—the mask. the fur from the mask. do you remember it?”

“…you mean that stupid ass werewolf mask?” you gesture for jungkook to lower his voice. “wait, you’re saying you saw it in here?”

“no, i saw a man who had a strand of hair on his jacket…” it starts sounding ridiculous to your own ears the more you speak, but you continue. “the strand—it was the same color as that fur. the same length! and he—he had some weird wolf keychain…”

jungkook stares at you for a long moment before sighing. “you’re not serious? a random strand of hair that could be from anybody or anything? that could be from someone’s fucking grandma for all we know. plus a keychain…maybe he just likes wolves, y/n.”

you already know that saying i just feel like something is off won’t be enough to convince him. you sigh with a deep sense of defeat, considering that he’s probably right. maybe your initial assumption was the more sensible answer. “…right. i think i’m just really fucked up right now after everything that happened. can we finish up here?”

“yeah, we will. because you definitely need to lay down soon or something. you haven’t had any sleep all night, right?” the way jungkook eyes you with concern as if you’ve lost your mind annoys you. you’re about to give a smart remark when you notice something in the carrying-basket he has.

“…a baseball bat?”

“if the killer comes after us again, duh. we’ll be prepared this time. or at least i will.”

“good luck with that if he happens to have another gun.” rolling your eyes, you brush past jungkook to go to one of the checkout counters.

in the parking lot, you see that the man from earlier has also come out and is putting the last of his grocery bags into his car trunk. there’s really nothing spectacular about his appearance that would make him stand out in a crowd, with his average height and average looks, let alone incriminate him as a serial killer. yet that familiar unease won’t leave.

he sees you and jungkook walking towards the car together, and his eyes dart to the bullet holes in jungkook’s car. then he makes eye contact with you. you give a half-hearted wave, unsure what else to do with his eyes stuck on you. for a moment, his lips turn up into the faintest smile before he shakes his head and gets into his own car.

MONDAY, NOV 6

you’ve spent half of saturday and all of sunday trying to get used to living in your sister’s house with jungkook. veronica had been surprisingly okay with having him stay over, though most of it was her being relieved you finally found “a potential boyfriend who’s actually cute.” you didn’t have the energy to argue with her.

you’ve also been constantly checking on camille (to her eventual annoyance) and seeing if there are any more updates on lorelai. still nothing. your dread grows the further away you get from that bloody friday, but you try to keep your thoughts from straying too darkly.

right now, you, veronica, and jungkook all sit on the couch together in a neat little row, a bowl of popcorn in front of you on the coffee table and some science-fiction B-movie playing on the TV. your sister proposed the idea to distract yourselves from everything going on, but so far, you feel like it isn’t very effective. at least not for you. your mind keeps wandering to other things every 5 minutes.

eventually, veronica yawns widely, stretching her arms and legs before rising off the couch. “okay, i’m getting tired as fuck. i need to go to sleep for work tomorrow anyway. you guys enjoy the rest of the movie, okay?” she pats your shoulder as she passes by you on her way out of the room.

jungkook waves. “oh, sure. goodnight.”

“night, sis.”

when jungkook’s attention goes back to the movie, your sister makes eye contact with you and points her finger at you menacingly. you give her a shocked look while she mouths you know what i mean and swirls her finger in jungkook’s direction. embarrassed at the implication, you roll your eyes and turn your head back to the TV screen. having sex with jungkook on your sister’s couch is not high on your list of priorities tonight.

after your sister is gone, jungkook spreads out on the couch like it’s his own living room, placing his legs right over your lap. you sigh, looking over at him—and hoping that your eyes don’t linger too obviously on the expanse of thigh muscle that’s now on display from his shorts riding up higher.

“…really? i don’t want your big ole legs in my lap.”

jungkook just grins. “you should lay down too, it’s more comfortable this way.” you stare at him, and he tries to egg you on by pulling the sleeve of your shirt. “come on.”

“i’m not laying down on top of you, if that’s what you’re after.”

you do end up lying down, but on the opposite side of the couch so that your legs are tangled together, which really just increases the amount of contact between you either way—but whatever.

this makes jungkook laugh more. “ha, it’s like we’re scissoring.”

“so damn corny.”

you two continue watching the rest of the movie, but by the end of it you don’t remember half of what happened. taking the remote, you flip through the channels and try to find something else to look at. there isn’t much interesting to watch on a random monday night—which would be a school night anyway, if not for the current context.

as you search for a channel, jungkook asks: “what would you do if you found out who the killer was?”

you squint your eyes at his odd question. maybe the obvious answer would be to alert the police. but after days of having your anger stoked like a fire, that’s not exactly the answer you’d choose. “maybe i’d kill him.” the words leave your lips easily, and you hardly think twice about them once they’re out.

neither of you speak for a few long moments.

“does that scare you?” you ask, after the silence starts annoying you. you want to laugh, but there’s nothing really funny about the situation.

“…not really. angry women are kinda sexy. so are dangerous ones.”

you scoff. “i’m not tryna be sexy, you fool. and how many dangerous women have you dealt with? seems to me you only have a thing for the innocents.”

“it’s not like i only fuck virgins. you don’t even know me like that.” he nudges your leg with his foot like he’s also annoyed, but his expression doesn’t show any actual irritation.

“…if you want to go back and forth about it, go outside and argue with the wall or something. i’m in no mood, jungkook.” you shove his foot off of you. “just, holy shit. i wish i could have just one hour where i don’t have to think about any of this shit. my mind can’t even breathe.”

he’s actually quiet for a couple minutes after. you think he’s moved on from the conversation until he finally says, “i can give you an hour.”

your body becomes alert at that. the insinuation in his tone is obvious. you glance backwards as if your sister could hear you from upstairs, though you know that’s illogical. “i got what i wanted from you already,” you whisper.

“so? what if i wanted to give you more? you know you’re allowed to have sex with a person more than once, yeah?” he chuckles.

here he is making you this offer, and once again you feel like you’ve been reduced to the state of a confused lamb in front of a hungry wolf. you realize that the idea of letting yourself get more physically entangled with jungkook scares you. he is not someone you can turn into a boyfriend, who wants to be a boyfriend, and you are only looking to save yourself from any potential hurt. “it would just be sex—right? you have to know i’m not looking for anything deeper from you.”

jungkook smirks. like with yoongi, you don’t know if he believes you. “i know.”

you want to undo almost everything from the past few days. you can’t forget, but for a while, you want to just exist outside of the timeline where there’s a killer on the loose and one of your friends is missing. it’s too much to handle; your body is approaching its limits for the amount of stress it can take. you need a balm to numb the pain and the fear, and you dislike that you are giving into your base instincts to do so. you feel guilty, somehow. but pleasure is easy. at least it has been whenever you sought it on your own—and now you have someone else to give it to you. someone who is in front of you now, proposing it with all the willingness in the world. maybe there’s really nothing wrong with saying yes.

“jungkook…”

“hm?”

“please just shut the fuck up and don’t say another word about the outside world right now. i don’t want to think about anything but your…” you falter, still trying to get used to expressing what you want sexually.

jungkook sits up, his hands sliding up your legs and to your hips. “but my what?”

“um, your…” your thoughts end when he leans down and pulls the hem of your sweater up, planting a kiss on your waist where your skin meets the waistband of your sweatpants. one kiss turns into a second, and a third. the fourth becomes an open-mouthed embrace of his lips on your skin, and you make a small noise of pleasure when his tongue gets involved.

“careful. don’t want veronica to come down here, remember?”

you huff. “that isn’t happening any time soon, believe me.”

his kisses continue as he begins to slide your sweatpants down, revealing the waistband of your panties. once they’re fully on display, he leans forward to nuzzle his face between your thighs, his mouth and nose pressing into the seat of your underwear. his actions take you off guard. you actually give a brief chuckle from surprise, though you are also somewhat embarrassed. “now what the hell are you doing?”

“let me savor my meal before i eat it.” his warm breaths tickle your inner thighs as he speaks.

“ugh, don’t turn me off.”

“that’s funny, because i seem to have an easy time getting you wet.” to prove it, his fingers press into the seat of your underwear to feel the wetness that’s seeped into them; you sigh from the brief pleasure his fingers’ movements afford you before he pulls them away.

jungkook drags your panties down next, his lips trailing down your lower abdomen and across the curls of hair covering your pubic mound. your body fills with anticipation at the gradual pace of his actions and the purposeful, wet caresses of his mouth.

when he uses his thumbs to press your lower lips apart and expose you more fully to him, you have half a mind to be self-conscious about it until he places his mouth on you in earnest.

jungkook eats like someone who hasn’t done so in a while and doesn’t know when he’ll get to do it again. his mouth sucks at your clit like he’s desperate for you to come, tongue rolling over the swollen nub in an unrelenting pattern that has your stomach tensing, and you quickly realize you do have to try to silence yourself even if you know it won’t wake veronica up. you twist your hands into the sleeves of your sweater and lean your head back on the couch’s armrest as you arch your hips up closer to jungkook’s face, uncaring about how vulnerable you feel completely offering yourself up to him like this; right now, all you want is to feel good.

“gonna come quick again? maybe we can set a new record?” jungkook pins your knee against the couch with his elbow to keep your legs open as he slides two fingers inside, diving straight in instead of working you up this time. your body breaks out in a sweat and you know you really won’t last long once he does this, the tips of his fingers aiming for that dreadful, wonderful, and overpowering place inside you. you don’t know how people do this—you feel like you’re going to die when he stimulates that spot, and all you want to do is scream even though you can’t.

“a r-record? fuck off…” you choke out, though you begin to rock your hips into the rhythm of his fingers, needing so badly for him to take you over the edge again.

he chuckles. “i don’t think you want me to fuck off right now.”

you have no words for a good comeback when he buries his head between your legs and slurps at your pussy again and crooks his fingers repeatedly to where your orgasm is unexpectedly rushing down upon you, causing your body to tense as you gasp and stifle any sounds that escape with your sweater sleeve.

jungkook doesn’t stop there and you don’t really expect him to, because you’re beginning to learn he isn’t a one-and-done type of man. he keeps sucking and stroking you right into another releasewhile you push the beanie off his head, fist your fingers into his strands, and tremble over the sight of his pitch-black mess of hair between your thighs. something about the visual is so appealing to you.

after he has made you come for the third time, you watch him sit up on his knees to reach into his shorts and pull his dick out, his darkened tip slick with precum. his long hair falls into his face as he glances downward, using the hand he’d been fingering you with to lube himself up with your cum.

“come here,” you tell him, your voice coming out sharper than you intended; but he doesn’t care, because he follows your request without a word and presses himself into your side. the couch is just big enough to accommodate both of you in this position, but it’s still a tight fit, and your bodies are once again tangled together.

“let me touch you,” you say, your palm pressed to his stomach, feeling the firmness of the muscle.

he raises his eyebrows, like you didn’t even need to ask. “of course.”

“no, i mean…” he realizes what you actually mean as you brush his hand away from his shaft and wrap your fingers around it instead.

“should i teach you how?” jungkook brings his hand to overlap yours, though his breath becomes a bit strained when you slide your hand to the base of his cock and back to the tip again, the pads of your fingers rubbing over the sensitive head. seeing your fingers around him turns him on more than he thought it could, and it’s just a simple fucking handjob.

you roll your eyes. “stroking a dickshouldn’t be that hard.”

“everyone likes it differently, though. fast, slow, soft, or rough…just the tip, or the whole shaft.” you can’t deny that—or the way you find yourself throbbing at his words, his voice husky from the pleasure. which is why you let jungkook close his hand more fully around yours and guide your movements.

it’s captivating to observe his reactions from your hand on his skin—the heavy breaths he lets out and the soft moans and even softer whimpers that come in between the exhales. whenever you squeeze his shaft more firmly or rub your thumb against his leaking tip, you find yourself grinning at the rise and fall of his chest and the tongue that darts out of his mouth to lick at his lips. but mostly, your eyes are drawn back to the sight of your hand working him over, his thighs and stomach tensing sporadically.

eventually, you both look away from your joined hands and at each other’s faces. your eyes dart to his lips and back to his gaze again, and you shift your face forward to signal your desire for a kiss. he meets you there by pressing his lips to yours, and it isn’t hard for him to get lost in the meeting of your mouths and the heat from your palm on his shaft.

your free hand returns to his soft hair to tug on it as your tongues slide against each other. he grunts at the burn of his roots being pulled but doesn’t stop you; on the contrary, his body responds favorably as more precum swells from his tip and his nipples poke against the material of his shirt.

“do you like that, jungkook?” you mumble against his mouth.

“you know i do.” at some point, his hand falls away and he lets you stroke him on your own.

jungkook gives a shuddering moan into your mouth when he climaxes minutes later, thick streams of his cum shooting onto his shirt and dripping down your hand. he tries to keep quiet and doesn’t entirely succeed, but it doesn’t much matter.

you squeeze the few remaining drops of cum from his cockhead, trying to make sure you don’t grip hard enough to actually hurt him. you pull your sticky hand away from jungkook when you think he’s finally emptied, but he grabs your wrist and you look at him questioningly. you watch with shocked eyes as jungkook brings your hand up and takes your messy fingers into his mouth, sucking his cum from them. you know instinctively it isn’t the first time he’s done this—not with the look of pure satisfaction on his features as he licks his own seed off your fingers.

his enthusiastic pleasure is part of the reason why you accept when jungkook gives you a crushing kiss, passing his cum from his tongue to yours. you don’t know what you expected it to taste like, but it isn’t gross like you’ve heard others complain about when sharing their sex tales; despite being salty, the overall taste is neutral. still, it takes some getting used to.

when you pull away from each other, noses brushing and lips wet from each other’s spit, you look into his dark brown eyes and get the sudden desire to say something that’s been buried in the back of your mind for days now.

“why did you come straight to me that night?” you whisper. “like you already knew who you were there for.”

jungkook stares back, his lips curving up slightly. “i just wanted to. or i wanted you, more specifically.”

“that’s not an answer.”

“well, it’s my answer.”

“was i another one to knock off your list?”

“you think i have a list?”

“i’m not stupid. it’s not unusual for guys to have a list. plus, plenty of rumors go around.”

jungkook taps his fingers underneath your chin and kisses you on the lips again, though it is brief. “stop believing everything you hear.”

you clearly won’t be getting a straight answer from him tonight. with the moment broken, you sigh and begin pulling your bottoms back on. “…whatever you say, dude.” once you’re dressed, you climb over his body to get off the couch. you poke him in the chest as your eyes roam over him in his disheveled state, his shorts pulled down and his cum staining his black shirt. “might wanna clean yourself up, huh? i’m going to sleep. and, yeah…thanks for the distraction.”

TUESDAY, NOV 7

with the weather being as cold as it is and heading toward winter in another month or so, lorelai is surprised by how quickly the bodies began to smell.

she doesn’t know much of anything about bodily decomposition—because, to her parents’ disappointment, she wasn’t about to be a biology major and have to be around cadavers in a dissection lab—but if this were a movie or something, she would’ve thought it would take longer than just one day. the smell started to hit her the saturday after the party.

but ultimately, this isn’t a movie, and the fact that she’s trapped in a decrepit house in some remote part of town is her present reality.

she doesn’t remember anything about how she got to this house; she thinks she must have been concussed before she was brought here. her head has been hurting badly for days, and not even the simple relief of a painkiller is available.

what she does know is that she’s being kept in a dirty living room on an equally dirty mattress, her hands and legs tied by rope and zip-ties. if there were any miniscule chance of her escaping, it would be impossible to go anywhere considering both her ankles are broken, only adding to the amount of physical pain she’s been in for days.

the living room is mostly empty except for the bodies of some other students from the party, which have been scattered around the room. lorelai tries not to look at them—especially not at the ones she knows—but it’s difficult. they become even more terrifying to her when night falls, turning into dark, rotting shadows in the corners of the room. there has been nothing but the company of these corpses for days, and a couple of visits from the killer.

he's never once taken off his wolf mask or his gloves, and every other part of his body stays covered in all black. she doesn’t have the first idea of what he looks like underneath it all. he has spoken to her a few times, but the voice isn’t one she recognizes. his words when she first awoke inside this house still knock around in her mind, filling her with dread.

he’d crouched in front of her, watching her move around on the mattress and try to orient herself. he had the casual air of someone observing a flipped-up bug struggle on the sidewalk before crushing it underfoot. “you aren’t y/n, but you’ll do for now. we’ll have some real fun later on. you’ll help me give her a good scare.”

“how the fuck do you know y/n?” lorelai had struggled against her restraints, but this only made her newly broken ankles hurt worse. tears began to fall from her eyes from the pain and fear.

the killer had said nothing to that—only tilted his head curiously and stared at her, which was unnerving even if she couldn’t see his eyes.

“you have no fucking reason to go after her, she’s not even a virgin anymore you dumb fuck—” with those words, the killer had backhanded her, sending her already injured head into a fresh wave of agony.

“things would’ve been different if not for that fucking party. you students think you’re so fucking clever, yeah? and look how you paid for it.” it was impossible to see any facial expression, but his body language spoke of anger. “no matter, though. virgin or not, i’ll see this through to the end.”

now it’s yet another morning, and he has returned. he has a lot of debris in his hands—stuff like sticks and dry moss and foliage. he’s also carrying a small bag, the contents of it a mystery. everything he does causes alarm for lorelai, but now confusion joins in.

“ready to have some fun?” he asks. with duct tape over her mouth, she can’t answer back. she watches as he arranges the debris on the ground in front of her, her anxiety mounting as he takes a lighter out of his pocket and sets fire to the foliage.

leaning forward, he rips part of the duct tape away from her mouth with his gloved hand, causing her face to sting. “got anything to say?”

“wh-what the fuck are you doing?”

“i’m gonna stoke a nice fire here…get this knife hot enough to hurt.” he brings out his knife then, and lorelai shrinks away from the blade as he drags the flat of it across her throat—but there’s nowhere else to go, as she’s sitting up against the wall. “then i’ll just cut this pretty little body up a bit. the finishing touch…i think i’ll slice your throat open. how does that sound?” he takes the knife away from her neck to hold the blade over the flames.

lorelai’s breath hitches, and her stomach begins to physically hurt from the outpouring of anxiety flowing through her. she starts to sob, trying to speak through the tears and snot and drool. the only question she can muster up is, “wh-why?”

“this is for y/n—remember? i hope that concussion hasn’t fucked with your memory.” the killer watches the reflection of the flames on the blade as it grows hotter. “and…i’m doing someone a favor.” he doesn’t wait for her to speak again before putting the duct tape back in place over her mouth, leaving her to cry to herself and face her rising distress as he heats the knife until it’s burning hot. internally, she wishes there was any way in the world to get out of this situation.

it isn’t much longer before he’s finished. lorelai screams as he approaches her with the knife, and then at the feeling of the red-hot blade scorching her skin, though the sounds are stifled by the duct tape.

“now, be still while i fix you up.”

WEDNESDAY, NOV 8

you go outside that afternoon to check the mail and have an excuse to get out of the house; it doesn’t matter if it’s only for a few moments. you’re not used to staying cooped up in one place for so long with absolutely nothing to do, and you feel like you’re not too far off from going mad with cabin fever. it hasn’t even been a week since everything happened.

you open the mailbox, and there are the usual bills along with something strange: a blank envelope with no return address. even your sister’s address isn’t written on it. flipping it over, you see that the envelope was never sealed. someone must’ve just come up and put it inside the mailbox. but who the hell would do that, and for what reason? whenever any of your neighbors have something to give you or your sister, they come straight up to the house to do it.

inside the envelope is a set of polaroids. their content makes you drop the rest of the mail. your legs grow weak, and you end up sitting down hard on the end of the driveway, some of the polaroids slipping from your hands. the pictures show the bodies of some of the students from your university, their corpses posed in odd positions and some bare of clothing—all dead.

you struggle to breathe as you frantically flip through the rest of the pictures. in the center of all the group photos is lorelai, her neck torn open and her wrists and ankles tied. she’s still dressed the way she was the night of the party, though her dress is stained with dark brown blood. there are open cuts all over her bare skin, their appearance rough-looking and uneven as if they’ve been cauterized.

there are several group polaroids, several of lorelai alone, and several angles of the outside of a house, which must be the same one the bodies are being kept in. one photo of lorelai slips out of your shaking hands, and you see there’s barely legible handwriting on the back of it, which reads, “this is just the teaser, y/n.”

you scream and don’t stop screaming until jungkook comes running out of the house holding the baseball bat, as if the killer might’ve gotten bold enough to attack in daylight. a couple of your neighbors peek out of their houses and make their way over with concern on their faces once they see you sitting on the ground, your exclamations ringing through the street.

there’s a disarrayed group of people around you grabbing at your shoulders and asking what’s wrong, what happened, and then gasps and exclamations of shock when they see the polaroids. you feel yourself being pulled to your feet and then lifted up—maybe it’s jungkook, because it smells like him—but you’re too disoriented to make proper sense of anything right now. you can only think of how much time has been wasted, and how little time lorelai actually had left.

SUNDAY, NOV 12

in the main lobby of the funeral home, you sit in a chair next to camille, staring into empty space while the other girl tries to cry as quietly as she can. she cries as if she’s ashamed of it, and you wish you could comfort her, but you don’t know what to say or do. for the past few days, you’ve mostly just felt numb.

you’re waiting for veronica to come back out so you can leave, as she’d stayed behind after the service to talk to lorelai’s family for a little longer.

lorelai’s family had opted to have her cremated after seeing the state of her body. a lot of other families did the same after the events of cherry bomb, not even wanting to entertain the idea of a closed-casket funeral. you can understand their feelings about it if you push through the haze in your mind to consider it for long enough. though the morticians have done the best they can over the past week, sometimes knowing that your loved one has multiple stab wounds and eviscerated organs beneath all the makeup and fancy clothing is too much to handle.

when veronica finally comes out, the three of you walk outside to join the rest of the people who’ve started getting in their cars. some still linger in small huddles, shaking their heads and wiping their faces.

jungkook, who’d driven you and veronica to the memorial, waits outside for you all, leaning on the side of the building. you both thought it was probably better for him not to attend the service considering lorelai was never fond of him and he didn’t know her that well.

“is it finished?” he asks.

“it is.” veronica sighs. “god, funerals are so damn…bleak.”

you notice a man waving at your group from the other side of the parking lot and realize it’s camille’s dad. her posture straightens when she catches sight of him, and she hurriedly tries to wipe the rest of her tears before shoving her tissue into her pocket. “i-i think my dad is waiting for me. i…i’ll see you guys later, alright?”

“okay, camille.” the strange absence of emotion that you’ve been trapped in for the past few days suddenly cracks open when you notice camille’s anxious demeanor as she speed-walks away from the rest of you. intense sorrow overtakes you; you don’t want her to leave, but she has to go.

you are crying before you fully understand what’s happening. veronica puts her arms around you and squeezes you against the side of her body. jungkook reaches a thumb up to wipe away your tears, though you don’t let him get very far before turning your head away and into veronica’s shoulder.

“y/n…”

“how am i supposed to go on?” you exclaim, catching the attention of a few people nearby. “the police said maybe she’s just staying with friends. and now look. plus, the killer knows where me and my sister live now…maybe he always knew.”

“we don’t even have a clue who the killer is…” jungkook mumbles. “there’s no one you know of who might have a grudge against you?”

“no, jungkook. the police already gave me all that questioning. and it doesn’t help me feel any better to think maybe all these deaths are somehow my fault.” you scoff.

“y/n, nothing’s your fault because some freak decided to go around killing people; that was his decision.” jungkook argues.

you nod slightly to his words but say nothing else, not wanting to go further into that topic. you don’t know if you can believe him about that.

the parking lot is emptying out now, so you try to pull yourself together so the three of you can leave. “well…you don’t need to keep staying with us if you don’t want to. we have those assigned bodyguards now, so…” you glance in the direction of one other car sitting beside jungkook’s—inside it are two men the police force appointed after the polaroids of the bodies were planted in your sister’s mailbox.

jungkook looks at you as if he’s trying to gauge your expression; he himself looks surprised, though he attempts to play it off. veronica glances between you both, recognizing the awkward shift in the air.

“you don’t want me there anymore? i mean it is your house—” he glances at veronica “—so that’s fine with me if—"

“what? i didn’t say i don’t want you there, neither did veronica, it’s just if you don’t want to be there—"

“i never said i didn’t want to be there, though?”

you both become quiet, jungkook looking at you and you returning his gaze for a few seconds before looking off to the side. veronica is still standing between you both like she’d rather be anywhere else on earth.

“i just figured that maybe…” why are you being so concerned about me? isn’t this the part where we go our separate ways? is what you really want to ask. you have seen and learned enough from your friends’ and even your acquaintances’ experiences to realize that any other one night stand would not have cared so much. that’s how these things go, right? but he isn’t really a one night stand anymore, either.

you don’t even know if you’re considered friends with benefits, but what would that change? you’d still seen others tossed aside without much thought by their FWBs while in times of need. considering his history, you don’t understand why jungkook isn’t following the same template now, and you don’t think you should ask why for fear of breaking the illusion.

fed up with your own confusion, you decide now isn’t the time to lament on your lack of knowledge about these things. “nevermind. that’s fine. so you’ll stay?”

the corner of his mouth lifts in a brief smile. “i’ll stay as long as you won’t try to kick me out.”

you aren’t in the mood to attempt to smile back, but he seems to understand that. “right, well...good.”

“…now that you two have figured that shit out, can we leave?”

FRIDAY, NOV 17

jungkook thought that getting outside a bit more would help you feel better and prevent you from developing a complete fear of leaving the house, which is why you’re sitting in this claustrophobic little diner now with him, yoongi, and camille—and of course, your ever-present bodyguards in the booth behind you all. but this outing isn’t doing anything to mitigate your fears.

nearly 10 minutes in, you have to ask jungkook to switch seats with you so you’re not on the outside of the booth, as you’re afraid that it’s too easy-access if anyone—say, the killer, though you’ve been trying not to think so obsessively about him—were to come in and start stabbing you to death right where you sit. being on the inside calms you for a little while until you become anxious about the window beside you; what if he has a gun again and simply shoots through the glass? all he’d have to do is stand on the sidewalk and aim, his werewolf mask laughing at you with its eternally frozen growling expression, and your brains would be all over the table just like that frat guy’s.

your meal sits half-eaten as you get increasingly lost in your anxieties. the others are talking about something, but you can’t hear what. it’s like some of your senses have shut down or begun working incorrectly. the strawberry sauce in camille’s sundae looks too much like blood and even smells like it from the occasional whiffs you get, and you find yourself staring at the sundae dish and wanting to throw it across the restaurant.

jungkook’s hand touches you on the back, and the tension in your body increases. he feels it and draws away, though he keeps trying to meet your eyes. “are you okay?” he whispers.

“why ask that? she obviously isn’t,” yoongi says, like he’s annoyed with the obviousness of jungkook’s question.

“hyung, i’m just trying to help.”

“it was your great idea to come out here when she didn’t want to, though.”

“y/n—” camille starts.

“can’t you throw that out? it smells like blood.” your mouth feels useless and hard to maneuver, but you manage to say those words.

“what?”

“the…that. that thing.” everyone looks at camille’s melting sundae. yoongi raises his eyebrows.

“blood?”

“do you mean it—looks like blood?” jungkook suggests.

you raise your voice in irritation, not understanding how everyone else is unable to perceive the same scent that you do. “no, i-it does, but it smells like blood too! just get rid of it!”

one of the waitresses comes over to the table. “is everything okay over here?”

“um, we’re fine! i’m finished with this though.” camille hurriedly hands the sundae off to her, trying to keep the situation calm.

“oh, well—the rest of you too? that’ll be it, then?” she gathers everyone’s plates and leaves with a smile that attempts to be cordial but is still colored with unease.

her departure leaves a stiff silence in which you all spare glances at each other but try to avoid directly meeting eyes. camille is the first to break it.

“i’ll ask my dad if i can stay over with you,” she suggests. she suddenly sounds much more tired. jungkook’s eyebrows furrow slightly at her words; yoongi silently glances at the younger man. “just, you know…maybe the extra company would help? he’s been treating me like a kid again, but we should be safe with the bodyguards there, so…”

“you don’t have to do that,” you say, though you’re too exhausted to truly argue.

“you’re in shambles, y/n. and it’s not just for your benefit. i’m feeling pretty fucking alone right now, and it’s hard for my dad to understand the emotional side of it, so…” camille plays with her fingers and doesn’t look at anyone as she speaks; you know talking about her father can be a sore spot for her sometimes. “uh, anyway. not to trauma-dump or anything. just let me do this.”

you sigh. “fine…okay. do whatever you have to. can we just leave?”

as you’re all walking outside, jungkook pulls you aside.

“i still worry about you after that incident at the store, you know?” he admits.

you shrug his hand off your arm and glare at him. “you think i’m crazy.”

“i don’t. i just want you to be able to relax and not feel like you’re being hunted 24/7. i don’t think the killer is constantly waiting around the nearest corner for you, y/n.”

“you don’t know how close the killer could be. he knows where i go to sleep at night. so stop the bullshit, jungkook.”

“you’ll be okay. you have me, remember? i protected you that night…i can do it again.”

you examine his face for a long moment and find that you are too overwhelmed with stress and fear to be moved by his words. “i’d like to trust you…but the killer might just murder you too. then who’ll save me?” you don’t wait for his response before walking away to catch up with the other two.

LYING IN WAIT...

it’s strange to see the police bodyguards in veronica’s driveway and backyard everyday. it’s not the same two all day—they switch off so that there are two doing a day shift and two doing a night shift.

the security team at the hospital where your sister works is aware of the situation, so you try not to get too worried about her safety when she’s away from the house—but it’s difficult.

there have been no more kills connected to your university since lorelai. it seems like half the town has forgotten their fears and tried to go back to some sense of normalcy while the other half still hides away and lives in perpetual panic, including you. the former group of people has started muddying the waters for the police, with some teenagers getting brave enough to sneak around in wolf masks and vandalize buildings with red-lettered virgin graffiti just to fuck with the cops. there have even been a few people who turned themselves in claiming to be the killer—only their supposed confessions never matched the details of the case.

reporters have tried to hound lorelai’s family and your family several times for any speculations or answers on the killer’s identity, but none of you are willing to spread misinformation just to give them something to write about. however, that hasn’t stopped other residents of your town from sharing their speculations and even implicating their own relatives or neighbors—whether as a fucked-up joke or as genuine revenge just depends on whoever’s speaking. with all of these false leads, the police are still no closer to finding the killer than they’d initially been.

everyday feels like you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, though the chances of any more kills are starting to seem improbable; the university is practically empty. but it doesn’t matter to you if the school is nearly deserted, because the killer has his aims set on you now, and you only wish you knew why.

up in your room, you and camille sit on your bed gazing out the window—the window that must always remain locked now, for fear of unwanted ingress. you’ve never been uncomfortable in your sister’s house, but lately you’ve been feeling like you’re boxed in with every wall pressing towards you.

sitting up from your lying-down position, you have to find the appropriate words for a moment before speaking. “camille—i can’t stop feeling like maybe we aren’t entirely safe,” you murmur.

camille raises her eyebrows. “why not? those guys stay outside all day, and we keep everything locked up day and night. literally, the only time the front door opens is for veronica to leave and come back from work everyday.”

“i don’t know. there’s no particular reason for it…it just seems like we’re waiting for something.”

“…yeah? for the killer to be caught.”

“but he’s made no moves recently. you remember the policeman’s daughter, right? i even texted her and she hasn’t heard anything new that we don’t already know. seems like things have slowed down at the police station. it’s not like that abandoned house was in the killer’s name or anything, so what leads would they have?”

camille frowns and rubs her eyes like something’s in them, but when she looks at you directly, you see her eyes are red from unshed tears. “…i want things to be okay, though. i’m tired of living like this. you know how i had to beg just to get my dad to let me leave the house. he’s constantly on edge.” you feel even more unsettled to see camille so distressed lately, as she’s always been the only one able to pull something funny out of a terrible situation—something enough to distract you from the horrors. “all i know is they’ll have to dig his ass out of some hole in the ground at some point. he can’t hide in this town forever.”

“yeah…i guess you’re right.” you still don’t feel reassured, but you don’t voice your doubts.

WEDNESDAY, NOV 22

“i think i might go mad,” camille says from her position on the armchair, her limbs splayed haphazardly across it and one hand stuck in a bag of chips.

you sigh. “you’re the one who wanted to watch this thanksgiving movie marathon.”

“the most mid holiday of the season,” jungkook adds.

“no one cares what either of you think, thanks.” it isn’t long before the program is over and the ending credits are rolling. with an exaggerated exhale, camille gets up from the chair and crunches the bag of chips in her hand. “i’m going to your room, y/n. you two just do whatever it is you do down here, since you hate my movie choices so much!”

“means we can finally turn the channel.” jungkook snatches the remote off the coffee table and does just that.

camille goes into the kitchen to throw out the chip bag and wash her hands. your focus returns to the TV. a few seconds later, you hear the upstairs flooring creak above the noise of the water pouring from the tap.

“what’s up, sis? i thought you were sleeping.” veronica is known to be a deep sleeper, so it’s not common for her to be getting up in the middle of the night. there’s no answer to your question. you glance upstairs, but your sister isn’t standing there; she isn’t standing at all, instead being carried by someone wearing an all-too familiar mask.

you scream as the killer tosses your sister over the stair railing. her torso has been sliced open from collarbone to navel, her body leaving a large splatter of blood on the floor where she lands. jungkook jumps to his feet but is momentarily immobilized as he gazes at your sister’s body crumpled on the floor. you slide off the couch and crawl over to her, still crying out, but there’s no life left to try and salvage.

the screaming brings camille rushing to the kitchen doorway. she can barely vocalize what’s wrong? before spotting veronica’s body and stopping in her tracks. in a moment that feels like it takes forever to pass, the killer pulls a gun from his waistband—you recognize it as one of the guns the policemen carry and realize he must’ve killed the bodyguard posted in the backyard—and shoots her in the chest twice.

“camille!” when you go over to where she’s lying on the ground, she is still alive but bleeding intensely and struggling to breathe. your knees slip in the blood that begins pooling around her. “shit, camille…p-please don’t die…” you press your hand against the wounds, but they’re bleeding so much that your efforts don’t help, and the pressure of your hand causes her more pain.

there’s the sound of a gunshot at the front door as the lock is blown off, and the door is banged open a few seconds later by the remaining bodyguard. he has virtually no time to fire off another shot before the killer is shooting him in the head first.

the killer throws the gun aside, taking his knife in his other hand and making his way down the stairs. “your sister left her window cracked open. i waited for days for a slip-up like that. see how much harm can come from a simple mistake? well, she was collateral damage anyway.”

even in your panic, it’s as if all your bodily functions freeze when you recognize the familiarity of the killer’s voice. camille reacts with a rattling gasp, but her body is becoming too weak for her to utter anything; all she can do is watch as the man stops at the bottom of the stairs and pulls his mask off.

“yoongi…” your voice breaks as you try to speak again, but nothing coherent comes out.

he drops the mask on the floor and brushes a hand through his hair. “i guess you weren’t expecting that. good. we kept it up ‘til the end.”

your lips form around the word we, but your vocal cords won’t cooperate. you twist around to look at jungkook, who is still standing by the couch.

the man who you’d gotten too close to for your own good and done so many firsts with, who’d promised you that he’d protect you and was even there for you on the day of lorelai’s memorial, looks at you now with eyes glowing from the thrill as his mouth twitches into a smile—small at first but growing into a full grin. “i almost can’t believe we staged all that shit and it actually worked. you really believed it all, y/n.

not all of those kills were hyung’s, of course...there’s no way i’d miss out on the best parts. you don’t know what it’s like until you kill a person for the first time. crashing cherry bomb was his idea, though. and lorelai was mine. that bitch would’ve kept you away from me, and i needed her gone for this kill to work.”

through tears, you finally muster up the strength to ask, “wh-why have you done this? that night…y-you mean to tell me none of that was real? being shot at—why would you—” your voice rises until you’re shouting. “you-you’ve killed so many people. what was the purpose?!”

jungkook’s smile fades somewhat as he pretends to think about it, acting like he’s reminiscing on wistful memories. “i realized that killing and fucking aren’t that different, y/n. the real ecstasy of it is in taking someone pure…and doing something to them that has never been done before, and can never be done again. there’s a certain eroticism in killing someone, stabbing them, entering them…it’s like sex in the most profane sense.”

“you’re disgusting,” you mutter, glaring at him through your tears. you can’t help but feel shame to think of the times you’d had sex with him. had he simply been imagining murdering you during those moments? it makes you want to throw up.

yoongi steps closer until he’s right in front of you and camille. “and as for me…i just enjoy it. practice really does make perfect. you wouldn’t believe how entertaining it can be to see someone beg for their life.” his lips turn upwards in a dark smile resembling jungkook’s. “but instead of raging at us, i think you have bigger matters to be concerned with.” yoongi gestures his knife hand to camille, and when you look down at her body, you realize she’s no longer moving.

you lift camille’s head up with your hands as if that could make her return your gaze, though you can find no sign of breathing or pulse. “god, no…” you scream in frustration, your hands slipping in her blood. you check once more and again for any signs of life, because there is just no possible way this could’ve happened, but there are none present. “please—i’m sorry…”

“time’s up.” yoongi grabs your arm and yanks you away from camille, jostling you to try to get you on your feet. you flail around in his grip, fruitlessly scratching at his arms that are covered by his thick jacket, before managing to elbow him in the groin with your frantic movements. “shit!” this causes him to loosen his grip, which is enough for you to scramble away from him, slipping in the blood as you go.

you make it to the other side of the room where the officer lies facedown—though there isn’t much left of his face from yoongi’s shot. you snatch the gun from the dead officer’s hand and point it in the direction of both men. the safety is already off; all you’d have to do is pull the trigger and kill either one of them right now. before you can act, yoongi uses his free hand to pull another gun from his waistband—his own.

“as i said before, i know how to take care of myself,” he says, flicking the safety off and aiming for you, though his stance shows he’s still in pain. “please don’t assume it’ll be that easy. do you even know how to shoot a gun?”

you and yoongi are at an impasse as you both point your guns at each other, jungkook looking on with casual amusement coloring his face. “fuck you,” you spit out. you remain hesitant to fire on him, knowing that even if you succeed, he could fatally shoot you at the same time.

“let’s not do it this way,” yoongi says, his voice low and soft in an attempt to be persuasive, though you just find it disturbing. “you were supposed to be a clean kill. a few stabs and it’d all be over. i’ll even let jungkook do it, since you seem to like each other so much. do you really want to be shot down like a dog like camille over there?”

“you and him can both fry in hell!” you shout.

yoongi glances over at jungkook. they both nod before yoongi hands the knife to him, and the younger man takes a few steps in your direction. you don’t know whether to point the gun at him or keep it trained on yoongi; your head is pounding with a headache that you’ve only just realized you have. “don’t come over here. stay away from me!”

you press your back to the wall as jungkook comes closer, inching towards your right side with his knife at the ready. you slide away from him as you keep your back against the wall. “hand it over, y/n. it doesn’t have to be like this.”

“hand it over and let you kill me? are you insane? you lied to me this whole time, you fucking piece of shit.”

jungkook scoffs and looks at yoongi as if to say can you believe this? “why wouldn’t i lie to you? you were always meant to die.”

he won’t stop coming towards you, and you’re running out of room to slide away from him. you grasp for anything to try to reason with him, though you know it’s futile. “you realize that if you kill me now and you conveniently survive, everyone will know it’s you? you’ve been living here for weeks, you jackass!”

“hyung and i have that covered. it’s not for you to worry about, considering you won’t be worrying about anything soon.”

jungkook lunges for you with the knife, thinking he can catch you off guard and overpower you. you scream and pull the trigger in your frenzied state of mind, shooting yoongi. the next few things seem to happen almost simultaneously:

you hear the crash of yoongi’s body hitting the TV stand and the TV falling to the floor.

you feel jungkook’s knife piercing your shoulder, causing you to fire a stray round into the wall from the unexpected burst of pain.

you hear another gunshot that’s not from you; you see and feel jungkook stumble into you, the knife sliding from his fingers and to the floor.

you realize that he’s been shot when his hand flies to the bullet wound on his lower back; he’d been standing in front of you, and yoongi meant to hit you, not him.

“jungkook!” yoongi’s shout is furious and regretful as he steadies himself on the TV stand.

trying to push the pain into the back of your mind, you clumsily grasp jungkook’s fallen knife and run for the stairs. more shots follow you and most of them miss but one, which strikes you in the thigh. while you cling to the stair railing and try to regain your footing, you are suddenly staring mortality in the face and understanding with a freezing-cold clarity that you will die right now if you don’t do something.

your nervous system vibrates with fear and adrenaline as you tighten your grip on the police officer’s gun and shoot yoongi with it twice—in the same area he’d shot camille.

these last two bullets finish him off immediately. you don’t think it’s fair, with how camille suffered and bled and died in your arms. for a moment, you’re so outraged that you wish he’d come back to life so that you could kill him again. you’re torn from these thoughts by jungkook.

“you bitch…he was my only family after everyone else threw me away. do you understand? i’ll fucking kill you!” jungkook is nearly writhing in the ground from his upset and from the hurt of his injury; it frightens you that this same man is someone you once thought you could grow fond of.

you aim the gun for jungkook next, but the chamber is empty. either way, he currently has no weapon, which leaves you with a small chance to get away before he re-arms himself. throwing the gun away, you stagger up the rest of the steps while his screams continue echoing up to you.

you give no thought to the blood trail you’re leaving behind as you rush to veronica’s room and to the window yoongi had entered through. you begin squeezing yourself through, keeping your grip on your knife all the while, but your injuries make it difficult to move. a few more tears slip out as you try to balance your injured leg on the tree branch beneath the window, and the desperation of wanting to give up clings to you.

you hear jungkook’s heavy and limping footsteps coming up the stairs, and you attempt to hurry, but you’re only halfway out of the window. when he crashes into the room, it’s unnervingly easy for him to grab your arm and yank your body back through the window, uncaring of how you get scraped up in the process.

he jams you up against the nightstand with one of the kitchen knives to your neck to stop your movements; his harsh maneuver causes the objects on the nightstand to rattle. the nightstand’s edge digs into the backs of your thighs, the pressure causing your wounded thigh to hurt more.

“you want to know why i picked you?” jungkook hisses, the knife’s blade stinging your throat as it begins to break skin. “you were just another choice out of many, but i decided you’d be the first one that i’d fuck and kill.”

it’s painful to hear, but it angers you at the same time. “fuck you!” in your rage, you spit in his eyes. jungkook jerks back and the knife shifts from its previous position at your neck; you take those few seconds to grasp the alarm clock off the nightstand and crash it against his head.

“shit—!” he cries out, stumbling and grasping the side of his head. he tries to grab for you again, but you jump onto the bed and crawl away from him, your stomach lurching at all of veronica’s blood soaked into the sheets. you spot a small decorative glass bowl on the dresser—the one filled with little candies that you’d always teased veronica for, saying she was so much like a grandma handing out treats to her grandchildren. when your feet touch the ground again, you clasp your hand around it like it’s a lifeline and fling it at jungkook’s head as hard as you can, just as he makes it around the bed to your side. the shards cut his face when it breaks, slowing him down further as he grabs his slashed and bleeding face. one of his eyes is blinded from the blood and glass.

this will probably be your only chance while he’s struggling to gather himself. you rush towards him with the knife handle tight in both of your hands and drive the blade into the middle of his chest, putting all your strength into that movement—just as his own knife impales your abdomen.

you are both simultaneously struck from the shock of being stabbed, and it takes you a few long moments to piece your mind back together as the pain radiates throughout your body. jungkook groans when you shift the knife around in his wound as you pull it out, letting his blood flow out freely. his breaths become wet and rattling as he chokes on his own blood, the red fluid staining his mouth and dripping down to his neck. he jams his knife further into your wound in retaliation so that the handle is flush against your body, causing your head to spin.

“i-if i die, i’m taking you w-with me.” jungkook gasps with his remaining effort. his body starts to sag from its standing position as he weakens, his hand slipping from the knife handle. he loosely grasps the comforter with one hand as he collapses to his knees, his torso becoming soaked with blood and his head bleeding from your earlier hits.

you drop your knife and lean against the bed too, shifting your body to find a position that could lessen the pain, but it’s impossible with a knife lodged in your abdomen. you know enough to understand that you’ll bleed out faster if you remove it, though, so you resist the urge. “you can rot in hell alone, jungkook.” you watch him struggle for what feels like minutes before his breaths stop altogether and his body slumps to the floor. he is just a blur of clothes and blood through your tears. you’ve never felt so lonely in your life.

you have a thought to call 911, but you’re becoming more and more lightheaded from the blood loss, and you can already hear sirens approaching on your street. you figure one of your neighbors must’ve called after hearing the gunshots; perhaps the bodyguard sent for backup before he was shot. your rescue has come much later than you would’ve preferred—or maybe everything just happened much faster than it seemed. you can’t tell anymore.

you can’t tell anymore, and you no longer want to look at the carnage around you, and nothing makes any sense. so, you close your eyes to it all; and when you feel someone lifting you in their arms—this sensation is so familiar—and maneuvering you onto a stretcher, you allow yourself to relent to it and empty your mind of everything.

@ihatemen55 @cottoncandyclouds-stuff @yunhofingers @heybabesposts @twilight-loveer @whipwhoops @mrsminho @junecat18 @hoshi-is-ult-bbg @okayiamkassandra @witchbitxhxx @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @thaiika @goldentea10 @iloverubberduckiez-blog @katie-tibo @ohsweetmimosa @dream-cvtcher @hoseokteardrop @lpgirl2324 @vanillacupcakefrosting @gukiemochi @jkslaugh97 @ahgasegotarmy116 @jeonjklibs @bangtans-momma @screamertannie @kenzietaetae @han-nah-banana @00frenchfries00 @taiwan0618 @laurynne5 @monvante @ynisthatyou @thiccthighs19 @jeonwiixard

#jungkook smut #jungkook fic #jungkook imagines #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts fic #bts smut #bts x you #bts x reader #black reader #x black reader #x black fem reader #black fem reader #fem reader #female reader

949 notes · View notes

throwaway-yandere · 5 months

Text

𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝 𝙝𝙖𝙨 𝙣𝙤 𝙙𝙞𝙜𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙮 (Yandere!Neuvillette/Reader)

a/n: this was inspired by my favorite childhood TV show, House MD & Oedipus Rex. The plot was supposed to be something else but dingleaf happened one 4AM ago. Anyways, welcome to our first Throwaway-Thursday this End of Year Blues!!!

Unreliable Synopsis: Everyone held their breath when they heard ex-defense attorney (Y/n) say these words: "Your Honor, I would like to challenge Champion Duelist Clorinde to clear my charges."

CW: yandere themes, reader has so much spite I can fry an egg, hurt/NO COMFORT. Please prioritize your mental health if these CWs are triggering to you. (Note: The plot happens a month before the Fontaine AQ, so he doesn't know about what happened to Vautrin.)

“Why the pale expression? Has the trial last week caused you tremendous pain?”

"Such pallor is caused by pity, not grief.” Neuvilette made his fragile excuse to reassure Furina, but the words did not reach her ears. The ringing of raindrops outside was louder, more convincing. Fontaine is vexed with storms near-daily. The sad verdant earth will soon sponge and dry the hydro dragon’s tears as always, but every man hopes they won’t drown first.

At first, he was convinced what he harbored was pity. For the pessimists, Fontaine is a nation where virtuous pagans paraded themselves as rich and devoted ran amok. Absolute justice is a cartoonish ideal– lack of entertainment is the death sentence.

Lady Furina was starting to believe he lives his life by a certain suspect’s final envoi:

Count no man happy till he dies, free of pain at last.

"Are you insane?!" Navia held your shoulders, eyes wide.

This was the worst thing you could ever do to your best friend.

"Maybe I am." You told her, chuckling slightly as your thumbs caressed the nerves behind her palms. Navia, as intimidating as her occupation was, never once gripped you this hard.

You wish you could hug her fully.

But these prison bars are holding you back.

"Can you blame me, Nav?"

"Don't." She glared. "Don't do this."

Navia trembled.

"Please, don't follow Dad..."

The blonde woman was reduced to a young, hopeless girl. You saw a reflection of the small Navia who lost Callas, and that short glimpse was stretched into a whole tragic spectacle.

"I'm begging you, (Y/n). Please… d-don't go away. Don't leave me too…"

This was the cruelest you've ever been to someone you love.

But also the kindest you've been to yourself.

"There's nothing else I can do, Nav."

"W-We can always do something! There must be a way!" She screamed gutturally. "We'll find a way to make that Chief Justice pay instead. If there's a will—"

"But there's none. There is no will in me left."

"Then hold on to mine, for Archon's sake! Depend on me!"

"What for? We both lack the means to grasp our Archon's hand." You shook your head, grinning without life.

You wiped the tears off her cheeks. In a small fraction of time, you trembled, showing a bit of soul.

"Our Goddess has abandoned me. Everyone and everything but you had." You said. "Dear Navia, don't make this harder for yourself. Let me go."

"(Y/n)..."

Her grip relaxed.

Navia finally let go.

But that was not the scene's last word.

Clorinde sprinted towards your cell, seething in electric rage. Navia stepped back. Their relationship might be less than cordial, but Clorinde was also your friend.

And after all these years of friendship, she never would've guessed you would elicit such melancholic frustration within her.

She knows she'll come out of this duel victorious.

She knows if she doesn't say a word, she'll be the one to bury you six feet under.

Clorinde's fists clenched and her breathing grew harsh and difficult, unable to accept your inhumane gaze.

"Is this your solution, (Y/n)?"

From the tone of her voice, this would not be a pleasant conversation. One wrong word, and you'll see a side of the Champion Duelist not even her court opponents knew.

You nodded.

"Yes."

"State your reason."

"Because this is the only way I'll die with dignity."

…

"Die… with dignity?"

Something inside her cracked.

"Yes." You nodded again, becoming uncertain. "At least with this, there would be something Neuvillette cannot decide for me. And (Y/n) (L/n) chooses a dignified death."

“DEATH HAS NO DIGNITY!!!”

You and Navia flinched at the sudden sound.

Clorinde screamed, feeling her eyes burn. Her veins became more prominent in her face and her skin reddish. The sheer force of her scream was enough to bring your full attention to her, yet to the duelist, her uncharacteristic outburst meant nothing.

“DEATH WILL ALWAYS BE UGLY!!! DEATH– DEATH IS NEVER BEAUTIFUL!!! IT IS ALWAYS SINISTER— LOATHSOME AND VILE.”

"Clor—"

She pulled you by your collar.

“There– there is only dignity in living.” She trembled, casting her gaze down. “You can live with dignity– but you can’t die with it.”

For a while, only her unsteady breathing could be heard.

Clorinde eventually calmed down, her heavy sighs and frantic pants slowing as the red hue of her face somewhat returned to its usual pale complexion. She couldn’t afford a second more to process her growing grief.

"Find another duelist."

As a successor to the Marechaussee Hunters, there's no one else you need but her.

"But I want you."

"(Y/n)."

"You've always been my idol, Clorinde." You told her solemnly. "I always thought you at least made my clients have a clean death under your blade."

Clorinde paused.

That, she cannot deny.

She did spare mercy to the people you defended. But she doesn't understand how you fail to comprehend why she couldn't bear to bring herself to enact the same reprieve for you.

"Retrieve your gloves. I don't and I won't accept your challenge." Clorinde closed her eyes. "Live your days in the Fortress instead. Death is not the solution."

You laughed. As if you'd let yourself be under Wriothesley's guidance when you can smell from miles away that he's one of Neuvillette's lap dogs.

"Isn't this suffering enough?" You spoke with a casual lack of self-preservation. "I don't want to live under Neuvillette's scrutinizing eyes. Not anymore."

You looked up.

That empty smile was no longer on your face.

And that was somehow more frightening than it should be.

"So do your job as a champion and end it all, just like what you've done to Uncle Callas and the others."

Your last conversation with the Duke was not as memorable as when he caught you spiking the Iudex’s cup, yet you’d give his personality credit where it is due. His was certainly a memorable one.

Wriothesley stood a few steps away from the bars while you purposefully cornered yourself. The distance was noticeable. It was clear that neither of you was close to each other. This was mere formality brought about by one of your should’ve-been victims.

“So, you sure don’t want to be roommates?” Wriothesley asked. "Or you know, see old friends and family down there?"

"I'd rather not disappoint them with my presence."

“So, you're a coward?" He asked, intending to provoke you.

"Maybe?" you answered, mimicking his tone. "Wouldn't know. Last time I checked, I was an honorable defense attorney. But suddenly, the Iudex had a change of heart."

"Neuvillette didn't have a change of heart. You are a terrorist."

You laughed sardonically, "suppose so."

You both weren't entirely wrong. Friends and foe alike know you've turned to rebellion after the justice system had failed you repeatedly. Neuvillette's lovestruck fixation was merely the final straw.

“You’re walking on a death sentence.”

“No shit,” you clicked your tongue and continued. “What else do you think this is for?”

“The Iudex was convinced that you’re acting out because you had a guilty conscience, and he’s very willing to drop those charges and forgive you.”

“Guilty conscience?! HA!!!” You laughed. “As if I felt guilty for what I’ve done. If anything, I’m rejoicing.”

Wriothesley smirked, but it faded quickly.

“I told him the same, but then he says if that were true, you’re probably just masking it to play the villain’s part.”

“Do you believe every word he says?”

“No,” Wriothesley did not hesitate to answer. “I know a criminal when I see one. And I also know when a criminal can get away with their mess.”

“The jury thinks otherwise– the oratrice cannot be wrong.” You snickered. “I’m as guilty as they come, hands filled with arsenic and all.”

"You can still get out of this. Sure, you'll get a stern talking-to— a lecture on the virtue of honor and respect. But in the end, he'd give you a second chance. He's still hoping that a mutual agreement will arise in the end."

You expressed your disinterest with a droopy-eyed “Blah, blah, blah…”

Wriothesley frowned.

“You’ll make him depressed.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“And you think I care? Fontaine can flood next month. Just as long as I die tomorrow it’s none of my business.”

…

“Well, it’s your call,” Wriothesley said. “If you’re willing to throw your life away like that, then you probably wouldn’t survive a week underwater.”

He wrapped a hand around one of the bars.

“You know, (Y/n),” the Duke looked at you dead in the eye. “Marriage with the Iudex isn’t as bad as you’re making it out to be.”

You laughed.

“What makes you say that?” You smiled through gritted teeth. “Are you his second spouse?”

“I’m just saying,” he shrugged. “You could’ve just lived a bit more silently.”

You glared.

“Are you saying I should live like a caged bird? That I should accept that our system here is rigged?”

“I’m saying you should’ve been more grateful with what you have.”

You scoffed.

“Wow.”

An awkward silence followed after. It wasn’t as if a quip was hard to form– but the historical context behind whom you were speaking to made weighing empathy over spite a challenge. You knew of his past, his name or lack thereof, and quiet allegiance to Neuvillette. Sigewinne had made sure you knew of it to glorify the adoptive “father” of the Melusines. Wriothesley owes him his survival.

But "Wriothesley" of all people should've known that those who know morbid truths cannot be silenced forever.

And Neuvillette owes you a peaceful death.

… The Duke sighed, noticing that his admiration for the Iudex did not align with his current morals.

“We’ll forever agree to disagree on this, won’t we?” He asked.

“Hopefully not forever, I don’t want to stay here for much longer.”

Wriothesley chuckled at your morbid joke. But before he could walk away with a less-than-heavy heart, you shifted from your corner.

“Hey, Wriothesley?”

He turned to look at you– your hand specifically.

It’s a letter.

“Mind handing these to the authorities?”

Wriothesley’s eyes widened.

“Is that–”

“It’s a written confession,” you chuckled. “Don’t ask me how I got a pen and paper. I know that damn bastard forbids anyone to lend me anything that’ll help me write a final will. Gotta say, at least his etiquette lessons had some use. At least my last words are in pretty cursive.”

He didn’t say another word.

…

The Duke left the room, empty-handed.

…

No one wants to see the Iudex more heartbroken than he already is now.

The interrogation room was small, but not to the point that there was a minimal budget for its construction. You sat on one end behind the glass divider after one of the guards took your letter. There were only plain walls and two lightbulbs on the ceiling. At the center of the room is a table with two chairs on either side, no pen or paper.

Nothing but an empty table.

But the quiet comfort was gone when the man of the hour closed the door behind him. As the ticking of the clock becomes more softer, the two individuals would be forced to sit for the duration of this “interrogation.”

It was none other than your husband, the Iudex, the Chief Justice of Fontaine, and the bane of your existence.

Monsieur Neuvillette.

His back was straight; his eyes, “stern” and focused. He clasped his hands together, fingers intertwined. His gaze searched for something— regret, remorse, anything that could make the upcoming nightmare disappear.

Neuvillette's voice was “calm” and “collected.”

But you didn’t buy it. Not with his messy hair, his forlorn look, his frown. You rarely saw him cry. You had a gut feeling he hides it by standing amidst heavy rain, but this time the redness of his eyes and puffiness of his cheeks says it all.

It’s a heavy downpour outside.

He can’t be bothered to hide his tears from the public eye anymore.

"In your own words, please explain why you had attempted to poison me."

Your eyes lit up. He immediately wished he could take those words back.

So, he’s still in denial. Neuvillette seriously didn’t think you wrote the letter. He probably didn’t think it was your handwriting. It was almost insulting.

“Oh, Monsieur! You are as generous as they say, finally letting your spouse speak for themselves!” You grinned sarcastically. “And they say chivalry is dead! DEAD!!!”

He cringed at your pointed enthusiasm.

You recount the day you attempted to murder him, describing how you had slipped the poison into his favorite cup. How you didn’t really care to hope it wouldn’t be noticed since what mattered more to you was his death over your own freedom. The more detailed you became, the more it suffocated him.

“But, as you can see, you’re alive and I am behind this glass window,” you tapped the divider. “Away from you, at last.”

He bit his lip.

“(Y/n)—”

“I hate you.”

He breathed in shakily.

“I know.”

“And yet you still fell for it.” Your voice suddenly softened.

“Why?” You continued. “Why did you believe my act for the past month? I know you had your suspicions, so why? You knew I was just playing along to get your guard down– to act like some loving housewife so I can find the opportunity to smother you with a pillow– so… why?”

“Maybe…”

Neuvillette took a deep breath.

“Maybe it’s because dying by your hands would be a dignified way to go.”

Your eyes widened. The air turned to glue. Breathing became a challenge.

He looked up, meeting your gaze. Monsieur Neuvillette was serious. No shifting position can make you feel comfortable.

Because Neuvillette in his most sincere form of speech is the most brutal.

“I just wished to be loved by y-you,” his voice cracked. “Even for a moment, even for a lie, I would die to know I was loved by you.”

His face crumpled, tears flowing freely. He reached a hand out against the glass window, his palm marking the divider. Neuvillette was breathing erratically, desperate to hold you. The pain in his chest was getting heavier, much like the rain outside. You almost couldn’t hear him from all the background noise, and you wished that was what happened.

This was the man who took your clients' happiness. The man who took Uncle Callas away with his rationale. The reason for your unhappiness.

And yet, you couldn't think of any other person who would love you as much as he does.

“Y-You know me for who I-I am,” he gasped out. “I am but a weak and beaten down man w-who couldn’t express himself like a human being. Y-You were there, you comforted me with not a smile, an umbrella, or thoughtless words of encouragement— you accepted me for who I was with a warm embrace.”

You hated it.

You hate how your heart ached for the man that made your life a living hell.

“I was the leader of the Revolution and I needed intel against you, nothing more.” You spat. This time, you were the least convincing one. “It was an act of kindness I shouldn’t have done.”

“Yet it has helped me more than you had accounted for.”

“And never before have I ever regretted playing savior.”

“I was merely attempting to reform your life,” Neuvillette breathlessly spoke. “I wished to set you on the right path. You were a gifted individual with great connections. Your peers had high expectations of you. For you to throw that away for nonsense activism— no— terrorism is heartbreaking. And I—”

Neuvillette gulped.

“I didn’t want to face you on the other side of the courtroom.”

You laughed.

“Some things are just fated to happen,” you said. “An old astrologist told me that. She told me I was bound to get myself in deep legal trouble. Growing up, I figured it might as well be a cause worth doing if it’ll lead me to that path eventually. Why else did I become a defense attorney in such a hellishly political land?”

He trembled, tears falling at a faster rate.

You almost wanted to reach out and wipe those tears away.

Almost.

“Must you treat your life as though it is disposable?” Neuvillette asked, choking slightly. “Why are you…”

You digressed. “You’re not going to retract those charges are you?”

“I did.”

You frowned.

“But Lady Furina would not allow it,” he shook, frustrated. “She found out about your past, your hatred for her so-called incompetences and published lese-majestes.”

“Good for her, good for her.”

Neuvillette’s hand slowly slid down.

“I can’t… I cannot watch this…”

You felt a surge of confidence, for Neuvillette was indeed devoid of hope. You've never seen him with his head hung low. What went through Neuvillette's mind remained uncertain. Perhaps, just a small piece of him knew you could never be his. Perhaps he knew that you were destined for a doomed fate.

But it doesn't matter.

All that mattered was that you were free.

That was a month ago.

The rain had been going on nonstop for thirty days, and the Hydro Archon had every right to worry.

“I can’t sleep…” Neuvillette thought he spoke out loud, but it was just a whisper. He’s growing weak, his sleep deprivation catching up to him.

“Then come lay your head down,” she yawned slightly, fanning her breath. “Such heavy thoughts need a place to rest.”

“An irresistible offer,” Neuvillette mused humorlessly. “But I must decline.”

“Oh Neuvillette, when will you relax from this role you carry?” The archon spoke rhetorically.

Neuvillette chuckled sadly.

The heavy downpour wouldn’t stop.

Perhaps…

Perhaps when the day comes and he is stripped of dignity.

Maybe then, he’ll have his rest.

Neuvillette had already forgotten why he was crying that fateful day. But in those memories, he recalls he was callow and unformed. Was it due to an unfavorable trial? The problem evades him. His recollection remains only in how the people reacted around him. Many asked if he was okay and he'd reply with a simple "I'm fine". And he was, until he could no longer convince himself with that lie. He was certain he was about to dip his toes in another cycle of nihilism.

And then you came.

“Monsieur Neuvillette?”

The rain was pouring out in the cemetery. You were there; your presence questionable. He knew that you arrived intending to probe whether or not he was a sovereign dragon, but he gave you the nod of acknowledgment.

“Greetings, Mx. (Y/n),” he answered, “I trust you’ve been well? Is there a person whom you’re visiting?”

He asked in sheer politeness despite knowing your motivations.

“...”

You frowned.

“How long?”

“Pardon?”

“How long have you been carrying that loneliness, Monsieur?” You asked, voice louder. “How long?”

His lip quivered.

“Centuries, perhaps,” the Iudex thought he could pass it off as a light joke to catch you off-guard, but it came off as too sincere. “I do not keep track.”

You cautiously and awkwardly approached Neuvillette, and without a word, wrapped your arms around him in a comforting embrace.

Just like what Uncle Callas had done for you before.

Your existence here was anathema and your words were seditious. His initial reaction was to resist because he knew you were just like Vautrin. He knew you were secretly seeking vengeance because the oratrice unfavorably judged numerous friends and family.

But he needed it. He needed this badly.

It was then that the Iudex decided that he needed you. That he will keep you.

Neuvillette cannot handle another Vautrin— he can't handle another Carole. So, he'll do it right this time. He'll keep you safe, from your illegal associations and even from yourself.

And it was a selfish yet necessary need.

A lump formed in his throat as a tear fell, trickling down his cheek slowly. He allowed himself to melt in your hug, trembling.

“You’re going to need all the hugs you can get if you’re planning to stay as Iudex for centuries more,” you whispered. “You’re resilient, but in this world, that solitary resilience won’t be enough, won’t it?”

Unable to maintain his stoic facade any longer, Neuvillette gripped you tighter in that embrace, his vulnerability finally resurfacing physically rather than Fontaine's rains. Surprised by his sudden tirade of sobs, you embraced him with all the warmth you could muster. At that moment, you had an epiphany. Despite the enmity of their positions, they were the same. Both of you were victims of a nation that demanded more in your assigned roles than you could bear.

“If you'd let me, I'll be the person you’d come to if you ever need a hug.” You weren’t sure if you said it as a devious plan or an act of empathy. “I wouldn’t mind. Not at all.”

You've made yourself important to him now.

Neuvillette cannot lose you too.

As he clung to the solace you inadvertently provided, you can't help but wish you never extended that small comfort months later. Every inch given could be exploited, and when you offered him a shred of empathy, he had seized it and turned it into a mile-long advantage. The vulnerability shared in that hug was the dangerous crack in the sword you've worked so hard to maintain.

And so, when the time came you faced Champion Duelist Clorinde with it, the gaps broke the sword completely and with its death came soon the end of your life.

She was right. There is no dignity in dying with a broken hilt.

But there was peace.

And as much as you hated Neuvillette, you wish he’d have it too.

"I've made it this far, and all I've ever done was in accordance with what fate and others wanted of me. In my demise, let me do something for myself." “After all, I’ve learned from watching Uncle Callas when he fought Champion Duelist Clorinde— an encounter I’ll surely experience in the next few days— that there is beauty in the end. In his last moments, my much younger self saw what expression he wore.” “He was content. The most content I had ever seen in someone's face.” “It was then that I had an epiphany. One that I hope my “husband” Neuvillette will remember, and I care not if it will bring him comfort or pain.” “What I learned was simple:” “Count no man happy till he dies, free of pain at last.”

Taglist (lmk if you want to be added on the other three fics!): @ayadikreino @kireeen, @pebblemacaroon, @thelostpanta, @vennnnn-diagram, @sagekun, @vadelma-yatta, @detectivei @sugarplumcutiepie @sunhareskies @dxprived4-starboys @unloadingdata @harmonysanreads (amen.) @atomicsoulhumanspy @sangoqueenkoko @pix-stuff @dilucragnidvr

#ansy-writes #yandere genshin #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere x reader #yandere fanfiction #yandere male #yandere neuvillette #yandere neuvillette x reader #neuvillette #neuvillete x reader #yandere #male yandere #yanderecore #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere scenarios

939 notes · View notes

meggtheegg · 6 months

Text

FNAF Movie Theory...

I'm pretty sure there's still one major plot twist in the universe of the movie that's been set up for a sequel but hasn't actually happened yet. Heavy spoilers under the cut:

After watching the movie in theaters and then revisiting a few scenes on Peacock, I'm still kind of convinced that Mike Schmidt is Michael Afton.

Here's my reasoning. A lot of the characters spend time acting like they know something the audience/other characters don't, and those things are...mostly resolved. But some of them just...kind of aren't.

The main thing that sticks out to me is William's whole storyline. Starting with the scene where he offers Mike the job, his behavior is almost explained by the movie's logic. He sees Mike's name, seems...kind of deeply upset, looks at him very closely, stands to get coffee, and has a moment of visible internal conflict. Then he instantly offers him the Freddy's job. The way the movie frames this, it seems to be saying that he recognized the name of one of his victims, realized this was the kid's brother, and decided to kill him right then and there. Which is passable as an explanation, but it has a lot of holes, if you look deeper.

Why would William so instantly recognize a fairly common last name as the brother of some kid he killed that wasn't even anywhere near Freddy's? Why did he kidnap/kill Garrett in the first place, in some random forest in Nebraska? Why did he see the name on the file, then immediately stop and examine Mike's face so closely, when Mike's memories/dreams pretty clearly show that they never saw each others' faces when Garrett was taken? Why did he send Vanessa to "keep Mike in the dark" if he purposely gave him the job to get him killed? Why not have the animatronics kill him right away? He didn't know that Mike was searching for the man who took his brother, and while he could have maybe guessed he was still actively haunted by what happened based on Mike beating up a guy that he thought was kidnapping someone, it still feels like a weird choice to go and hire him, then just have him do the job with no issue for a few days.

As for Vanessa, we see that she's been cleaning up William's messes for years. Why is Mike the one she changes her mind and stands up to her father for? There's no implied romance between the two and no particularly meaningful connection beyond them both having family issues. I guess she cares about Abby because she's a kid, but kids getting hurt clearly never stopped her from helping her father before.

And, on a more meta level, this is Scott and his storytelling style we're talking about. The man puts plot twists inside of plot twists and everything always ties back into the Aftons, somehow.

So, here's my theory: I think that Mike is William's kid, but Mike's mom left Afton when he was young and remarried the man that Mike thinks is his father.

It seems convoluted and maybe cliche, but if it's true, then suddenly there's an answer to all of those questions. "Michael Schmidt" isn't exactly an eye-catching name, unless you had a kid named Michael and your ex-wife married a guy with the last name Schmidt. Garrett's kidnapping, then, becomes an act of intentional, petty revenge rather than an extremely random coincidence. Giving Mike the job and sending in Vanessa suddenly becomes about piecing together how much he knows and figuring out if he's worth trying to reconnect with or is just a threat that needs to be killed. (It feels worth noting that William is as far as I can remember the only person to call him Michael in the whole film. He also very pointedly never says "Schmidt" until he's decided to kill Mike and suddenly announces his full name out loud. If he went by Michael as a little kid, that is what William would default to calling him, but if he took the new husband's last name, that would be like like salt in the wound that he wouldn't want to voice. By finally saying it out loud, it feels like he's making the decision to fully separate himself from Mike.)

As for Vanessa, if Mike is her brother, it makes sense that he would be the person she'd turn against William to save. It would be weird for her not to tell him, but she could also be trying to protect him, in some way. There's never any mention of her mother, and it seems like it's just been her and William for a long time. Also, ending the movie with her in a coma feels like a strange narrative choice, but it makes sense if she knows information that's purposely being kept hidden for the sequel.

Of course, it could just be that the movie has kind of messy writing and I'm trying to fix it because I want there to be a deeper reason for it. Maybe there is no Michael Afton in the movies, or maybe he's off chilling and doing his own thing somewhere and we'll see him in the sequel. Only time will tell.

#fnaf movie #fnaf movie spoilers #five nights at freddy's #five nights at freddy's spoilers #michael afton #mike schmidt

895 notes · View notes

cloudywriting05 · 3 months

Text

dollhouse — coriolanus snow

“torture me to sleep, have your way with me.”

» part two of one of the girls, can be read after or alone.

word count: 2,965 words

warnings: borderline physical and verbal abuse [DDDE], blindfolding, p in v, hardcore smut, bdsm, rough sex, slapping, mdni

tags: @urfavnoirette < even helped with the plot ugh 🫶

“What? She fucked him?” The blonde boy asked.

“Trust me, I get it. It’s fucked up. I mean, Sejanus? And not me? We didn’t even believe him until we saw them talking, he definitely fell in that pussy, man.” Festus remarked as he stared at Coriolanus, the blonde boy gazing into the distance at nothing as he soaked in the information he was just told. "Before me too, it's fucking diabolical, dude."

It was true, you had sex with Sejanus. Coriolanus stood there, enraged. Were you, his girlfriend? No, you weren’t. Did he feel betrayed? Cheated? Yes, absolutely. The revelation had his chest tight, his temper soaring, his breath shaking. His girl touched a man, not just any man, the one he hated the most, Sejanus goddamn Plinth. The root of all his problems, self-doubts, and hatred. The boy with the perfect ending, a Capitol success story comes to life, a district boy who rose to the top with his family. Just the mention of his name had Coriolanus completely enraged. There’s nothing Coriolanus wanted more than to kill Sejanus, more than usual right now.

“Are you sure she did? I don’t care, just curious," he questioned, his attention now glued to Festus's lips, making sure he didn't mishear the information.

"Didn't you see them at assembly? They were totally giggling and touching each other, they're definitely fucking, man– plus, Sejanus said it himself, he's one lucky mother fucker, I'll tell you that."

Coriolanus tried calculating when and why you fucked Plinth, or what possessed you to. He knew of your friendship, but nothing else. He always despised when Sejanus would team up with you for projects, the idea of you two alone would kill him every time because he knew something like this would happen; and it did. He was right. Was it because he fucked Livia last weekend? What could possibly be the reason? He couldn't find a reason, but he found a very serious problem. In the blonde boy’s head, he could sleep with half the school, and you still weren't allowed to touch another guy. You were his when you played with toys in the sandbox in pre-k, and you are still to this day. It’s never been said explicitly, because to him it never had to be, he just expected you to know.

“That’s fucking disappointing, isn’t it?” Coriolanus remarked, anger brewed within him.

“I guess…? By the way, are you going to Arachne’s birthday tonight? Everyone is going and I don’t know what the fuck to wear. Exams are fucking me up, man.” Festus whined, rubbing his temples.

“Wear whatever, it’s not like it matters. See you tonight.” Coriolanus replied, walking away to his last period.

Coriolanus knocked on the front door of the overly large mansion, loud electronic music evading through the walls, red and pink lights flashing through the window, eliminating the grass in the front yard. He stood there for a moment until one of his peers opened the door, Clemensia.

“Coriolanus…” she cooed, throwing herself towards the boy into his arms.

He held her as her drink spilled down his side, rolling his eyes in disgust. “Get yourself together, are you alright?”

“No, but you look good… I like your shirt,” she remarked, her finger tracing over the patterns as she leaned against him. She’s fucking insufferable, he thought to himself.

“Thanks, now get up, pretty.” He stated, lifting her onto her feet and turning her around.

With a firm grip on her shoulders, he guided Clemensia through the entrance of the house, closing the door behind him. The volume of chatter grew even louder, an interesting scene in the apparent living room where people were lounging around, kissing and hugging. Releasing his hold on Clemensia, she joined her peers in the room. The blonde boy proceeded down a lengthy hallway, exchanging brief smiles with classmates lining the walls, their conversations blending with the music. Reaching the end, he pushed through holographic streamers dangling from the ceiling and stepped into what resembled a second living room, where vibrant lights flashed, fruity alcohol lingered in the air, and the heat hit him stronger than expected.

He stood there, observing the people he’d been in class with a few hours earlier, now dancing relentlessly against each other under the pulsating music. The bright flashing lights washed over their bodies, while pairs, trios, and groups gathered around, indulging in drinks and cigarettes. Amidst the vibrant chaos, Festus caught his attention with an unfamiliar girl. Navigating through the crowd, Coriolanus reached the center, where he firmly grabbed Festus's shoulder, prompting a swift turn in response.

“Dude! You scared me! You’re here pretty late!” he yelled as he leaned in towards Coriolanus.

“Yeah! I know! Have you seen Sejanus?” Coriolanus yelled back, his body being pushed by people jumping and dancing around him.

“Dude! Yeah! He’s on the dance floor with your girl, man! Look!” Festus’s arm extended and pointed towards you, lost in the music as you danced with Sejanus.

Coriolanus watched your body pressed against his as you winded your hips, Sejanus’s hands resting on both sides of you, pushing up against your back. He let out a sigh as you whispered something into Sejanus’s ear and led yourself out of the crowd. Coriolanus took the opportunity to pursue you, pushing through everyone. He followed you closely behind, watching your hands struggle as you turned the doorknob and entered the dark bedroom. Keeping his footsteps light he entered behind you, closing the door. He stood silently as you threw yourself onto the bed, letting out a loud groan as your chest hit the mattress.

“Nice dancing back there, whore.” Coriolanus remarked, sending you into a panic.

“Fuck! What the hell are you doing in here, you fucking psycho? How long were you standing there?” you shrieked as you glared at the boy in the corner, your heart pounding inside your chest as it rapidly raised up and down.

Coriolanus let out a dry laugh and sighed, “I knew you could be dirty; I just never knew you could be so fucking cheap, and easy.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Snow?”

“You fucked Sejanus— now give me one reason why I shouldn’t strangle you and shoot him,” Coriolanus spoke calmly, stepping towards you as you sat on the bed.

“Holy shit, you’re insane, Snow. Does it matter who I fuck? You slept with Liv on the weekend and my entire friend group over the summer, so kiss my ass.” you exclaimed, keeping your stance.

“You’re too pretty to be acting like this, doll. So, get some fucking self-respect and never go near him again.” Coriolanus suggested, his finger running down your cheek.

You slapped his hand from your face as he stood in front of you, looking up at him. “But, why? You’re not my boyfriend, and contrary to your personal belief, you don’t fucking own me, Coriolanus.”

“You said I did when I fucked you so good that you came back for seconds and thirds.”

“I hate to break it to you but, your personality is not as likable as your dick, Coryo. Now get the fuck out.”

“No, not until you apologize for having sex with the biggest bitch of Panem.” he protested, causing you to erupt into laughter.

“Fuck, you really are crazy, Coriolanus... If you won’t get out, I will myself. Move.” you shot up from the bed, your chest grazing his as you pushed past him.

You stalked towards the door, Coriolanus grabbed your arm and pushed you, slamming your back into the wall. You cried out in pain. The boy stood an inch from you, his hands pinning yours against the wall. Your body was engulfed in complete fear, you were horrified.

“If you think for a second, I’m gonna let you go out and grind against that fucking bastard, you’re wrong. You’re staying here, I don’t care when the party ends,” he declared, his face centimeters from yours, your wild eyes staring at his.

“Coriolanus, let me the fuck go,” you spoke calmly.

“Why? Why are you acting like you don’t want this? I know you’re probably getting off to it because this is the type of shit your sick brain likes.” he sneered, adorning a vicious smirk.

You hated him. You hated him because you knew he was right. The heat between your legs, his breath against your neck, his grip on your hands. You wanted him so badly, and you hated that he knew it. “Why the fuck would I want you to touch me?”

He raised your hands above your head, keeping them first against the wall. He let his free hand travel down your side, his other hand clasping at your wrists, holding them in place. His hand wandered to your bare stomach, his fingers then wandering under your skirt. Drawing circles against your clothed pussy, the same pussy that was begging for his touch. “I can already fucking feel it, you’re wet. Such a whore, now tell me what you did with Sejanus.”

He spun you around, your chest slammed against the cold wall. His hands still clasping at your wrists which were now behind you, resting on the lower curve of your back. With the side of your cheek pressed against the wall, you breathed out. “I fucked Sejanus.”

“Say it again.”

“I fucked Sejanus Plinth and let him cum all over my face,” you admitted, your voice shaking.

“Good girl for being honest for once, hm.” he sighed.

He freed your hands, but they still found a way to stay put behind your back. The blonde boy raised his hand and landed it against your ass as hard as he possibly could, conjuring up all his strength to do it a second time. You shrieked in agony, as you bit your lip.

“You know, sluts like you should get worse, but I’m so fucking nice to you. So, fucking nice. You’re just so pretty it hurts to hurt you,” his hand traveled up to your chin, caressing it, then gripping it firmly, forcing your head to turn in his direction, “but your mouth, my love. Your fucking mouth gets you in trouble.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t care, doll. Give me the ribbon,” he tapped his finger against the ribbon around your left thigh, and you untied it, handing it to him shamelessly. “Get on your knees.”

You dropped to your knees, shuffling around to face Coriolanus. His pelvis hovered in front of your face; you peered up at him as he glared down at you. You could still make out his features by the bright lights flashing through the edge of the door frame. Your last look at the boy’s pretty face. He caressed your hair before tying the ribbon around your eyes firmly, and your breath hitched.

“Feel how hard I am, doll. Do what you do best, whore.” he remarked, grabbing your hand, and placing it against his achingly hard cock.

Your hands scrambled to unzip it as fast as you could without your vision. The rush consumed you as you successfully unzipped his pants, sliding your hand inside his boxers, earning a groan from the blonde boy. You pulled his pants down slightly, completely freeing his hard cock. Your hands flailed in front of you until you found it, gripping it firmly. You let the tip of his cock into your salivating mouth. You spat on it mercilessly, stroking it with both your hands. You placed his top against the flat of your tongue, running it against it in circles. Coriolanus choked back moans, refusing to feed your ego.

Your lips puckered around his tip, sucking on it, the pre cum now on your tongue. You began to take his dick into your throat, deeper with every head movement. You felt his cock slide in and out of your mouth, moving graciously against your tongue. Your hands moved to massage the base of his cock, alternating between his massaging his balls, and flowing the movement of your mouth. Coriolanus’s chest heaved as he moaned shamelessly, not caring about your ego anymore.

His hand moved to grab a chunk of your hair, forcing his cock deeper into your throat as you mercilessly sucked his dick. Your head moved vivaciously as his cock thrusted in and out of your mouth. Coriolanus pulled his cock out of your frantically, not wanting to cum inside your mouth. He rested his tip against your open mouth. You sat there, tongue out and eager. He slapped the tip of his cock against your tongue a few times before stepping away.

“Get up, pretty.” he purred, helping you off the floor and onto your feet. He began removing your clothes piece by piece, throwing them to the side without struggle, he’d done this before.

You stood completely bare, blindfolded, solely relying on the same boy who swore he was going to kill you. Coriolanus led you towards your bed as you followed him blindly, silently instructing you to position yourself in the center of the bed, which you did without saying. He pried your legs open, revealing your glistening pussy.

“Did Sejanus get you this wet?” he asked, you shook your head frantically in reply. “I know, darling, what a shame.”

He traced a finger towards your heat and then started running it through your folds, causing soft moans to escape from your lifts. His finger traveled up and down your wet folds, pressing against your clit with each movement. Coriolanus watched your body react as you arched your back towards him, he sat beside you, his hand between your legs, studying every bit of you. He moved two digits towards your entrance and pushed inside slightly, he watched your lips open to let out a staggered moan, your hair caught under the blindfold. His fingers went deeper within you a second time, causing you to gasp, and then the boy didn’t wait to pick up a rhythm.

His fingers slid in and out of you, your wet vagina aching, as its own lube, you began to moan out for the boy with your sight still completely covered. “Fuck, Snow.”

“You like this, don’t you?” he asked, lowering his mouth to your nipple, lapping at it before you could answer.

His fingers still pumped in and out of you, “I do, you’re so good.”

He raised himself to look at your face again, he figured you weren’t in the state he wanted you to be in. His pace began to pick up, but instead, he used the flat of his palm to rub and press on your slit. The friction catches you off guard. His palm slid up and against both your folds and clit, sliding back to push his fingers further into you. His pace sped up, your back arched itself so your hips raised towards his hand. He watched your facial expression change as he mercilessly fucked your pussy with his hand. “Wait, Coriolanus!”

“No, I won’t. Now shut up and take it like you took Plinth’s dick, whore.” he snapped, breathing against your neck as his hand fucked you. He tapped on your side and without saying you flipped over, knowing what he meant without him having to say a word.

He snatched the thick ribbon from your chest and slid it around your neck, the two ends of the ribbon in his grip as it pressed against your neck. Pushing his cock into you, he smiled. “Does that feel good?"

You nodded through your moans as his cock slid in and out of you. He yanked on the ribbon suddenly, thrusting your head back towards him. You struggled as he restricted you from breathing while he fucked you. You didn’t know how you could be so helpless with him, how you let him do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted but he got you regardless. Coriolanus’s cock thrusted into you mercilessly, watching your ass bouncing against him. The door creaked open causing the boy to snap his head.

Plinth stood in horror, not being able to register the scene in front of him. Sejanus stood with his mouth open, Coriolanus briefly stopped thrusting and glared back at him. A smile crept up on the blonde boy’s face as he picked his pace up again you moaned beneath him completely oblivious, Coriolanus still glaring at Sejanus who began to close the door. You smiled to yourself as his cock filled you with every movement, completely satisfied, in complete bliss.

“Plinth could never fuck you like I do, okay?” he remarked through his moans, his cock still plowing into you.

“I know, I’m, I’m so sorry, Daddy. I’m so sorry. You’re just so good,” you cried out, his hand pulling on the ribbon this time forcing you to look back at him, “Do what you want to me, I’m gonna cum, please!”

He watched your body retract against his cock, shaking. You fell onto your chest, the boy continued to fuck you.

“You’re so pretty but so stupid,” he stated, his pace not slowing down, “don’t know how to keep your legs closed.”

His free hand landed against your ass. “Now, you’re gonna sit here and swallow Daddy’s cum, okay?”

“Yes, I will, please.” He pulled his cock out of you as you turned around to face him, not hesitating to place his cock on the flat of your tongue.

You stroked it slowly, watching his eyes roll, “Fuck, you’re so eager for me,”

“Always.” you breathed against his cock, his cum spilling against your tongue, cheeks, and forehead.

He fell onto his back, your eyebrows cocked upwards. “Can I tell you something?”

“Of course, Mrs Capitol, tell me,” he replied as you lowered yourself next to him.

“I never fucked Sejanus.”

#young coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow #the hunger games #coriolanus x reader #ballads of songbirds and snakes #smut #coriolanus smut #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x oc #coriolanus x sejanus #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus x you

1K notes · View notes

duckuwu · 2 years

Text

ngl i kinda wish aubrey plaza's character was the big bad of the season(s), because i really enjoyed all of her scenes.

#emily and jj finally talked it was great. and it just confirmed my thoughts from last night #the reason we werent getting any moments between them re: reid was because they were on the same level #like from a narrative standpoint having a moment between two characters who are sharing a brain doesn't really progress the narrative #but from a characterization standpoint just a brief moment where we get to see them sharing a brain is *chefs kiss*#which again is something... a lot of good plot furthering scenes get deleted as is from tv shows / films #so i GET it. but that doesn't make the lack of a single moment between the two about reid less frustrating #listen we both know emily and jj would raze the world for reid (and each other)#which was why all i was asking for was one single moment where we got to SEE that #and honestly i really enjoyed the execution of it like TRULY #'take me off speaker' 'are you KIDDING ME?!' like that is ALL i needed #just that brief moment where the show reconfirms them being on the same brainwave still after all this time #anywhomst ah that was nice #criminal duck minds

0 notes

lazycats-stuff · 7 months

Note

Could you do a batfam x batbro reader? Where reader is the 2nd youngest and they all accidentally forget his birthday, and they see him all teary eyed and they all feel really guilty and go to apologize to him except plot twist, batbro also forgot that it was his birthday and was teary eyed because he saw a really emotional scene in a video game he was playing and it made him tear up

Oh no... So much chaos... And short... AHHHHH.

Summary: (Y/N) and the family forget (Y/N)'s birthday.

Warnings: (Y/N) forgets his birthday, so do the others, recipe for disaster and chaos

Today is a one special occasion for the Wayne family? Which one, I can hear you asking? Well, it's (Y/N)'s birthday today! It's a reason to be happy, right? Well, it seems that today, everyone has forgotten about (Y/N)'s birthday.

Even (Y/N) himself has forgotten about it. So everyone went on about their day, doing the things that they wanted. (Y/N) had plans to play God of War and finish up the game.

He absolutely loved the said game and Kratos kind of remined him of Bruce. Atreus kind of represented all of them and (Y/N) loved Atreus with everything in him.

This game was a gift for his last birthday and it was from Bruce too. After promising to Bruce that he would get good grades in school, Bruce hinted that he might buy the game for his son.

And what does (Y/N) do?

He studies and tries very hard in school and thankfully Bruce doesn't expect him to get straight As. He just wanted (Y/N) to do his best in school. That's something that he wants for all of his children. He doesn't want to kill any of them with with studying.

All of them are intelligent in their on their way in Bruce's eyes and he would nurture that. Which parent wouldn't, if they have the means of course.

(Y/N) was playing the game in his room, just enjoying the game. He was sad that the game was over, but hey, he didn't mind it. Be happy that it happened, right?

(Y/N) watched in silence, just crying softly at the ending. Oh he was going to buy himself Ragnarok, even if it was the last thing he has ever done. He needs to see Atreus and Kratos in another adventure. He put his controller down, crying at the end.

It touched him in the feels. Bruce and him have a similar type of relationship. There was, at first, some emotional reservations, but as the time has passed, the two have grown more closer. (Y/N) had to lay on the bed and hug his pillow to calm himself down.

As (Y/N) was crying upstairs, everyone was downstairs, just lazing around. It was silent, except from the TV where Jason was watching a TV show. It was all fine and dandy until Tim sat up out of nowhere, looking at his phone like he has seen a ghost.

" Tim? " Bruce prompted and the others looked at Tim. " What's wrong? "

" We forgot (Y/N)'s birthday! " Tim said, becoming paler and paler with every second that has passed. Oh no, oh no... Shit!

" No, it's not- " Jason stopped, looking at his phone. Oh no.

They have actually and ever so royally fucked up. Oh God.

" Oh no! " Dick said and Damian put his face into his hands. Bruce felt like shit. Oh God...

" Oh no. " Bruce said, rubbing his forehead.

" What are we going to do? " Jason asked, pushing his hair back.

" We are going to go upstairs, apologize with everything in us and then buy so many presents that it will look like Christmas. " Bruce announced, standing up from the couch.

" You are going to be first Bruce. " Jason said and Bruce just went upstairs, shaking his head.

" This is the reason why he didn't come down, he is too sad to come down. Angry at us too. " Dick said as they walked up to the door. Bruce couldn't disagree with that.

The question as to what was going to happen when they enter? (Y/N) could either explode at them or he could be too heartbroken to even talk to them. There was no in between with (Y/N).

Bruce opened the door and everyone has seen (Y/N) on the bed, crying.

" Oh (Y/N), we are so sorry. " Bruce has started, walking up to the bed and hugging his son tightly. " We didn't mean to forget. " Bruce said and (Y/N) stopped crying.

" What did you forget? " (Y/N) asked through the hiccups. What did they mean about that?

" We forgot your birthday and we are so sorry. " Dick jumped in and (Y/N) frowned, confused beyond belief.

" It's my birthday today? " (Y/N) asked, looking at his family members. What was the date today?

" Hang on. " Jason now, jumped in. " Hold up. Did you forgot your birthday? " Jason asked and (Y/N) nodded. Jason frowned and now Damian had to jump in.

" Then what are you crying about? " Damian asked, tilting his head. (Y/N) confuses him so much sometimes.

" I finished the God of War... And it hit me so hard in the feels. " (Y/N) said, breaking down into sobs once more. He buried his head into Bruce's chest and Bruce just rocked him back and forth.

The brothers looked at each in shock. Oh my God. He is the most human one in the family. No, Alfred is in the mix too. Alfred is also the most human member of the family.

" Would buying God of War Ragnarök be okay? " Jason asked, knowing that (Y/N) loves the game and Ragnarök came out a while ago. (Y/N)'s head perked up at the sound of it.

" Oh you are buying it. I don't care the fact that it's my birthday, if you don't buy it, I won't talk to any of you. " (Y/N) said, not caring that he was sounding like a spoiled brat.

Is it wrong to just want Atreus and Kratos to go through adventures? To get closer? And he wanted more of Brok. If something is to happen to him, he will die.

" Sure thing, how about we do that now? " Bruce proposed, making everyone a little confused. " We can buy it and then we can stop by to find you some cheesecakes. " Bruce said and everyone has agreed with the idea.

" Now, everyone get ready, you (Y/N) wash your face and we are going to meet in 20 minutes downstairs. " Bruce said and everyone shuffled out.

" Now, are you sure that game has bothered you? " Bruce pressed once they were alone. (Y/N) nodded, hugging his dad back.

" Yes B. I was sad about the ending, not about the birthday. " (Y/N) said, wiping the tears away. " Okay, I'm happy to hear it. Now get ready. "

#dc x male reader #dc comics #x male reader #batfamily #bruce wayne x male reader #jason todd x male reader #batkids #batman x male reader #red hood x male reader #tim drake x male reader #red robin x male reader #damian wayne x male reader #robin x male reader #dick grayson x male reader #nightwing x male reader

631 notes · View notes

graceshouldwrite · 10 months

Text

The Most Powerful Hack to Make Your Readers Cry

You’ve seen it all: show, don’t tell, plant a visceral image in the reader’s brain of the environment/character, write a complex character arc with lots of growth and setbacks, establish deep relationships, high stakes, etc.

All the advice for making readers cry I’ve seen so far is basically that list. But, while those things are absolutely important, I find that the thing that always does the trick, whether as a tipping point or in and of itself, is this:

THE CALLBACK!

Before we move on, this is an ANALYSIS heavy post, so all the book + show examples contain spoilers!!

So, what do I mean by a “callback?” Think of Chekhov’s gun, but, here, you use the gun to pierce your reader’s heart. As a refresher for anyone who needs it, Chekhov’s gun is just a rule in writing that anything you introduce in the book should play some role in the plot.

Specifically, the name comes from the example that if a reader introduces a gun in the first act, it MUST go off later, (maybe, say, in the third act). For example, in the TV show Breaking Bad, the protagonist Walter White prepares a vial of poison (ricin) that he wanted to use to eliminate an opponent early on in the series. After the assassination attempt falls through, the ricin makes an appearance again in the very last episode of the show, when Walt finally uses it to kill another opponent.

Got that? Alright, onto the examples of successful, tearjerking callbacks:

1. The Last Olympian (Rick Riordan); “Family, Luke, you promised.”

Context: The character Annabeth says this line. Years ago, Annabeth had run away from home, and Luke had effectively adopted her into a found family with another kid named Thalia. Common reason for leaving home = parental trauma! Yay! He promised Annabeth that they would be each other’s “family” from now on.

Now: Kronos, the antagonist titan, has possessed the demigod Luke and uses his body to strike Annabeth, injuring her. She’s also holding a dagger that Luke had given her when she joined his “family.”

Significance: her words + the dagger are a mental + physical reminder to Luke of his promise. They force him to recognize the sheer degree of his current betrayal by bringing him back to a different time. The fact that their found family only happened because of parental trauma bringing them together makes it worse—Luke felt abandoned by his Olympian father, Hermes. Now, he realizes that he basically did the equivalent to Annabeth by joining the titans.

2. Les Miserables (Victor Hugo); Jean Valjean’s death

Context: At the beginning of the book, the bishop had caught Valjean trying to steal candlesticks to sell. Instead of handing him over to the police, the bishop told the police that he had given them to Valjean, saving him from arrest and showing him mercy. This changed his life forever, kickstarting his character redemption arc.

Now: Jean Valjean dies surrounded by his loved ones, remembered as a benevolent man who bettered thousands of lives. He’s surrounded by light from candlesticks that once belonged to a bishop.

Context: Valjean had once taken in an impoverished woman named Fantine, showing her mercy and promising to take care of her daughter, Cosette, after Fantine died. Valjean then rescued Cosette from abusive quasi-foster parents (it’s a long story), raising her as his own daughter. This furthered his arc by allowing him to finally understand how unconditionally loving someone feels.

Now: Valjean describes Fantine to Cosette, who never knew her mother.

Significance: Both examples throw readers back to much earlier points in the story before the completion of Valjean’s character arc. In a way, this final scene feels like an external manifestation of his kindness paying off; both he and the reader feels a sense of accomplishment, relief, and just a general “OMG WE MADE IT.” Readers don’t feel cheated, because they were with Valjean every step of his 1,400 page arc. The weight of it all just crashes down on you...

3. Your Lie in April (anime); Kaori’s letter after she dies

Context: Kaori’s entire plot significance is that she helps Kousei, a piano prodigy who can’t play piano anymore due to traumatic parental memories associated with it, play again—but also, just to help him enjoy life again after a turbulent upbringing. She meets him a year before she dies of a medical condition, and her free spirit + confidence influences him to find beauty in life and music again. They basically do a crap ton of crazy funny stuff together lol

Now: Kaori has died, and she leaves a letter to him. Among other general confessions and thoughts, she references things they did and memories they shared: she says, “sorry we couldn’t eat all those canelés,” reminisces about jumping with him off a small bridge into the stream below, “racing each other alongside the train,” singing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star as they rode the bike together, etc.

Significance: Yes, the nature of the letter is just sad because she’s revealing that she loved him all along, apologizing for not being able to spend more time with him, lying that she didn’t like him (to spare his feelings b/c she knew she would die soon), etc. BUT, these small details highlight exactly how many experiences they shared, and the depth of their relationship. Thus, they emphasize the significance of her death and the emptiness it leaves behind.

4. Arcane (show); “I thought, maybe you could love me like you used to, even though I’m different.”

Context: Character Jinx says this in the last episode to her now estranged older sister, Vi. Without going into the crazy complex plot, basically, orphans Vi and Jinx used to care for each other before a bunch of crap went down that got them separated. They then grew up on opposite political sides; Jinx grows up on the side of the underbelly city rebellion, and Vi grows up working on the side of the richer city that essentially oppresses the undercity. Thus begins the development of their opposing viewpoints and work environments, to the point where they always meet on opposite sides of a political battle, never able to come together as a family or understand each other again.

Now: After a super dramatic confrontation, Jinx reveals that although she wants Vi to love her like she did before their separation, she knows it’s not possible because “[Vi] changed too.” She finishes with, “so, here’s to the new us” before blowing up a political council meeting a few blocks down filled with people Vi sides with. Oops! This cleanly seals the fate of their relationship as something basically irreparable.

Significance: This callback isn’t through literal flashbacks or items like in the previous examples. Jinx’ lines are enough to bring back images of their childhood to the audience’s mind. Now, the audience subconsciously places this image of: 1) two sisters so different, hurt, and torn apart, right next to 2) the image of two sisters as innocent children who loved each other and would care for each other no matter what.

Why do callbacks work so well?

If you’ve noticed something in common with all of them, you’re right: they remind audience of a time BEFORE the characters have come so far on their arcs, developed, and put on so much more emotional baggage.

Callbacks force the audience to SUDDENLY and IMMEDIATELY feel the weight of everything that’s happened. The character’s anguish and overwhelming emotions become the audience’s in this moment. Callbacks are a vehicle for the juxtaposition of worlds, before and after significant development.

This works because we, as mortals, fear IMPERMANENCE the most. We fear LOSS. For us, time gone is time we will never get back; callbacks make us face that exact fact through a fictional character. A lost moment, time period, or even part of oneself may hurt as much as losing a loved one, and nothing makes humans grieve more than the realization of a loss. A callback slaps the audience in the face with the fact that something was lost; loss hurts so much because almost 99% of the time, what’s gone is gone forever.

Of course, a good callback requires good previous character development, stakes, imagery, and all that jazz, but I thought I’d highlight this specifically because of how under covered it is.

∘₊✧────── ☾☼☽ ──────✧₊∘

instagram: @ grace_should_write

I’ve been binging general media lately: I finished Death Note, Your Lie in April, and Tokyo Ghoul all within like a month (FIRST ANIMES I”VE EVER WATCHED!!), reread lots of Les Miserables, analyzed a bunch of past shows like Breaking Bad, watched a bunch of My Little Pony, worked to fix up my old writing... and that’s not even all! The amount of times I’ve CRIED while enjoying the above media and so much more honestly just inspired this post.

Like, no joke, my eyes were almost always swollen during this period whenever I hung out with my friends and it was so embarrassing help

Personally, I just find that this method works super well for me, and I watched a bunch of reaction videos to these above scenes (and read book reviews on the book scenes I mentioned), and it seemed that just about everyone cried during these parts. That’s when I realizes that the callback might also just be a universal thing.

Anyway, this post is long and dense enough as is. SORRY! As always, hope this was helpful, and let me know if you have any questions by commenting, re-blogging, or DMing me on IG. Any and all engagement is appreciated <3333

Happy writing, and have a great day,

- grace <3

675 notes · View notes

omartinyosef · 27 days

Text

ST5 POTENTIAL SPOILERS!!!

GUYS I FOUND THIS ON REDDIT AND ACTUALLY IT'S QUITE INTERESTING

ST5 Leaks/Fleaks

Gen Plot

Season picks up briefly where we left off in 1986 before jumping into either late 1987 or early 1988. The season is contained entirely in apocalyptic Hawkins. Things with the government are shaky. Owens doesn't appear in the beginning of the season and it's unclear if he's returning, but Ellen Stinson is the new Owens. Hawkins is like a combination of the UD and Kamchatka.

Labyrinths/Mazes being important to both the supernatural plot and the interpersonal relationships. They're inherently linked.

Two songs to be featured are 'Listen to Your Heart' and 'Alone,' both of which were apparently foreshadowed in a previous conversation between Hopper and Joyce, similar to how Hopper's "I'm the puppet, you're the master" to Joyce in S3 basically foreshadowed Eddie's 'Master of Puppets' in S4.

S1 and 2 scenes being referenced are "Nancy and Mike's conversation in the bathtub" and "Hopper + Lando Calrissian"

Lots of importance in COLOR CODING and blocking from the final shot of S4, and a good chunk is told in the costuming—like passing the torch from one character to another as their arcs overlap. For example, Hopper and Will share the "am I the curse and therefore putting my loved ones at risk by being near them?" sentiment for S5, therefore their wardrobe in the final shot of S4 is similar. Joyce/Jonathan and Nancy/Mike's costuming also similar for the same reason, whereas Eleven stands out because she's the first one coming into her own this season. The white for her represents shedding of false skins.

Character duos this season will be primarily dressed in colors of blue/green and yellow/red.

There's lots of symbolism and foreshadowing for every character in S5 from the moment Will touches his neck in the last sequence of S4.

S4 focused on themes of lies and miscommunication, and everyone is going to have to work through these lies before they can defeat Vecna.

Murray and Argyle are both back. Dimitri and Yuri don't seem to be in the beginning of the season.

One thing left unresolved with the Russian plot. Something important will happen involving the machine and the green liquid from the Starcourt bunker. Reference of Dustin vowing to die with Steve when they initially discovered it.

Hopper, Joyce, Mike, Will, and El had to be away from Hawkins, otherwise Vecna wouldn't have won.

An important death that they're nervous about given the reception to Eddie (not Joyce or Jonathan—see details below).

Eleven

We'll see her unlike we've seen her before. A badass who doesn't take shit from anyone. Not a Monster, not a Hero, Jane. Think: adult El could be headed for a Charles Xavier type role.

Erica, Lucas, and El will share scenes together.

El has significant blocking and development with many characters this season.

Max, Eleven & Max

The "kaleidoscope of colors" from a script the writers posted makes a feature in both the scene where young El remembers her mother's love in order to defeat Henry in the lab, as well as the scene where El revives Max. This is significant because it's the first time we see El using her powers on someone in a non-violent way.

El was able to revive Max because of she, herself, being revived in the bunker by Brenner and Co. It's a show, don't tell moment from the writers.

Max getting Vecna'd was foreshadowed in the beginning of 2x01.

Will, Henry/Vecna, The UD

Filming was supposed to commence mid-June, but Noah and Jamie were set to begin in May due to more complicated costuming. Will is going to require heavy prosthetics at some point.

Will's character design is blocked in three stages. The more the UD bleeds into Hawkins, the more connected to it he feels. The gates being open will physically influence him, especially when he's not as mentally strong.

He's kind of like "the card up Vecna's sleeve."

It appears they want to confuse the audience about Will.

Will wrestling with his own morality

Henry/Will mirrors. Will will sympathize with Henry because, unlike El, he knows how and what Henry thinks, and he can feel him.

Vecna and Will are very similar, but the difference is Will is made stronger by love not hate. They will play into that duality.

Vecna was nerfed in S4 compared to how we see him in S5. He'll be much stronger.

At the beginning, he'll be taking a hiatus while he plans how to divide and conquer now that everyone's back together in Hawkins.

Soteria will be the key to saving Will. If they want Will to be untraceable to Henry, they'll have to insert it into his neck and it'll be painful. Vecna not having access to Will fucks up his ability to leave the UD.

Byler/Mileven Triangle

Apparently, it's complicated and up in the air as of now.

Mike dealing with guilt this season. He feels guilty/responsibility for El. He feels stuck in a loop that keeps him from a truth he's scared to face.

Will and Mike to spend a good chunk of the season together based on character designs and blocking.

Will telling El that Mike won't like being lied to comes back with the painting. During a pre-time jump scene in 5x01, while everyone's together plotting how to defeat Vecna and brainstorming how to save Max, Mike brings up the painting El commissioned for a D&D analogy. Will has to pull Mike aside and confess he lied about El commissioning the painting. Mike gets angry, because he doesn't know about Will's feelings and feels embarrassed that Will thought he was that pathetic he needed to be given a pep talk. Their own version of a "fight you can't come back from." Immediately after their fight, we get the time skip.

Mike's character motivations are unclear and seem to be kept under wraps. After the time jump, he and El won't be talking as much because he's keeping the details about Will's painting from her. She's gonna ask what's wrong between him and Will, and he lies/is very vague.

Joyce, Hopper, Jopper

Joyce feels immense guilt/responsible over Bob's death since she's the one that asked him to help in S2, which is why she pushed Hopper away at first.

Hopper has a secret from S1 that was never addressed, and it comes back to haunt him.

Joyce sustains an injury in S5 that is reminiscent of the way someone was injured in S3, but it isn't critical and she'll be okay.

Jopper are the most established couple after the time jump. Lots of bickering still, but Hopper trusts Joyce more than he ever has.

Jonathan, Nancy, Jancy

So far, does not seem like a breakup is happening.

Jonathan's still lying about the college letter and distant because of it, and Nancy thinks he's not as into the relationship and that there might be someone else. She confronts him, which leads to a talk. She's touched by the lengths he would go to try and protect her and any of their future children even from himself.

A moment where we're led to believe Jonathan dies but doesn't, like Hopper in S3.

Hopper-Byers Family

These five characters slowly unraveling their arcs together and have always been closely linked. Their perfect endings are together.

We see the family combining, especially in relation to El.

Joyce gets to witness Hopper being paternal and tender towards the boys.

Scenes with Joyce, Jonathan, and Will

Hopper being back lifts a weight off Jonathan's shoulders.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

So, now time to shine.

''(...) sentiment for S5, therefore their wardrobe in the final shot of S4 is similar. Joyce/Jonathan and Nancy/Mike's costuming also similar for the same reason, (...)''

Okay. How did we see Nancy in S4? Confused. Confused with the love triangle between Jonathan, her and Steve. Jonathan is her actual boyfriend. And Steve is her posible love interest again.

So, putting this in byler language: Nancy = Mike Jonathan = Eleven Will = Steve

If Mike's and Nancy's character's clothing is important at this point of the time line and that means they feel similar feelings, this could mean that byler has a chance. BUT then we read this: ''(...) He (Mike) feels stuck in a loop that keeps him from a truth he's scared to face.'' And

''Mike's character motivations are unclear and seem to be kept under wraps.''

THIS LITERALLY MEANS BYLER. FOR REAL. Like byler could be endgame. Also, remember Eleven's injury in S3? Do you remember the leak of a shoe covered in blood?

It's Joyce. ALSO YOU CAN READ THAT WE'LL HAVE SCENES BEFORE THE TIME JUMP. And here it comes. Look at this freaking hair:

Does this look more like this

or this?

The season 4 bowl cut right? So maybe this is right in some part? I dont know. But that could make sense why Will is wearing Mike's pants, because his clothes were in California by that moment. But i really do think that the pic that was leaked a few days ago is before the time jump.

Im so late with this info haha :) but i kinda think some things here make sense. Even if this is too well explained to be a leak.

#stranger things s5 #st5 spoilers #stranger things 5 #st5 #stranger things #st5 speculation #st5 leaks #st5 production #will byers #stranger things season 5 #will byers is gay #byler tumblr #william byers #byler is endgame #byler endgame #byler nation #byler #mike wheeler is gay

369 notes · View notes

bro-atz · 2 months

Text

don't cross that line

in which: once you cross that line, there's no going back, and you just happened to cross that line with your best friend, choi jongho.

pair: uni student!jongho/uni student!afab!reader

word count: 7.3k

content: light fluff?, smut, friends to lovers au, suuuuuuper plot heavy, drunken kisses, sober sex, bedroom sex, completely consensual!

rated: R | nsfw — minors do not interact

author's note: for the lovely @yourlocaljonghoe who asked for a jongho friends to lovers au and bada bing bada boom here it is mwah also may or may not be based off true events also i desperately wanted to include a cuddle scene because of this so you're welcome...? AND HUGE THANKS TO @yunhoszn FOR BETA-ING FOR ME YOU'RE A DOLL BABES MWAH

network: @cromernet

taglist: @k-hotchoisan @eyeryis @sinnarols @aaasia111 @sunshineangel-reads @hwallazia @dazzlingstarrs @dutchessskarma @/yourlocaljonghoe @st4rhwa @frobin4ever @sanhwajjong @certifiedmoa @therealcuppicake @yuyubeans @hyunukitty @startlinglyoongi @hyukssunflower @chewyhotteoks @alexwritesfics apply for the permanent taglist here!

“Listen, all I can really say is that if she wanted to do well on the project, she would’ve pulled her weight,” Jongho grumbled.

You and Jongho were getting lunch in between classes. The two of you usually talked about classes during your break, and that day, you decided to bring up the last group project that you worked on. Jongho had to carry his team while you ended up having a blast with your own, making him all the more salty.

“Yeah, but that’s no reason to make her cry,” you pointed out.

“It’s her fault for not doing the work.”

“Jongho, she was your girlfriend. You didn’t have to be so mean.”

“Was, thank God,” Jongho let out a sigh of relief. “Honestly this whole dating thing is such bullshit— I just want to get my degree and get out of here.”

“Wow. How romantic,” you said sarcastically and rolled your eyes.

“Shut up,” Jongho retorted while throwing a fry at your face. “It’s your fault I was dating her in the first place.”

“I said go on one date with her. No one told you to ask her to be your girlfriend.”

“Yeah, well… Shut up.”

You shrugged, a smug smile appearing on your face as you realized that you won that argument. Jongho took a bite of his burger, annoyance written all over his face as you rubbed your smug smile. Jongho chose to fully ignore you at that point, making you turn to your phone to see that you were going to be late for your next class if you didn’t haul your ass out of there.

“Hey, I gotta go. I’ll see you tonight?” you asked him.

“Yeah. See ya,” Jongho responded with a nod and a light wave.

There was a Tuesday night tradition you, Jongho, and a couple other friends from school had— Trivia Night. One of your other friends worked at the bar that hosted the trivia, which is how you came to know of it in the first place.

That being said, even though you went for trivia, you guys never actually played. It was more of an excuse to go drinking in the middle of the week than anything, which meant every Tuesday, you and your friends were drinking way too much and screwing yourselves over for classes the next day.

“Hey, Joong!” you said, your words staring to slur together. “Let’s do a shot together.”

“Yeah! All of us!” your friend, Mingi, added as he hugged you from behind.

“Fine, last round, and then I’m sending you home,” Hongjoong replied while rolling his eyes, a playful smile on his face.

“Good idea. Y/N’s been getting a little handsy with me,” another friend, Yunho, said as he brushed your straying hand off his thigh— you couldn’t help it; you were an affectionate drunk.

The five of you clinked glasses and took your shots, Yunho and Jongho doing it with ease while you and Mingi made faces as the liquor burned your throats.

“Hey, so did you guys look into your classes for next semester?” Jongho asked.

“Not yet,” Yunho shook his head. “I’m guessing you have?”

“Yeah. We have to take the senior colloquium, so why don’t we all try for the same time and recitation? Keep us sane in our last semester of college.”

“Alright, that sounds good,” you giggled and hugged Jongho. “It’ll be fun to have a final class together.”

Mingi settled for nodding while also giggling. Jongho wanted to talk about the matter further, but you and Mingi were just far too gone to have a proper conversation at that point, so he just settled for talking to the group about it when you all were sober.

You were still clinging to Jongho as he sat quietly and thought about classes while sipping his beer, your head on his shoulder, your arms wrapped tightly around his waist. You couldn’t help but stare at him as he was lost deep in thought, and your drunk self thought it was the perfect time to nuzzle your nose in his neck.

“Alright, we’re going home,” Jongho immediately declared.

“What? Why?” you complained as Jongho got out of your embrace and grabbed your arm to put over his shoulder.

“Because you’re done.”

“How do you figure?”

“Because I know. Let’s go home before you yak on the bar again,” Jongho shut you down and started dragging you out of the bar. “Yunho, let me know how much we owe you after you close the tab.”

“Will do!” Yunho responded cheerfully as he watched Jongho drag you away.

“Bye Yuyu, Mango, Joong!” you managed to say before leaving the establishment.

The walk home was atrocious for Jongho. You refused to walk in a straight line and kept trying to pull him towards any bar that you passed, and at some point, Jongho had enough and made you get on his back so he could piggyback you back to your apartment. His patience was wearing thinner as you started playing with his hair and tickling his neck, but you were his best friend, and you were drunk out of your fucking mind, so he was going to be there for you.

By the time Jongho got you home, you were practically falling asleep on his back— he had a very comfy back, not going to lie. He put you down right in front of your door, but instead of reaching for your keys, you slumped onto him, his chest catching you before you went tumbling down.

And then, you blacked out.

You woke up the next morning with a horrible hangover and absolutely no memory of how you got back from the bar in the first place— you remembered Jongho walking you home, but how you ended up in your bed was a complete mystery to you. There was a nagging feeling in the back of your mind, that you did something you shouldn’t have, but you couldn’t for the life of you figure out what it was, nor did you have the time to ponder it because you had to get your ass out of bed and onto campus.

Your first class was absolute torture, your headache intensifying as the lecture went on and on, and by the time the class was over, you were ready to fall over. You trudged out of the classroom to see your friends waiting for you— they usually waited for you after your Wednesday morning class so that all four of you could grab lunch— Yunho immediately pulling you in for a hug.

“You look like shit,” he commented while hugging you.

“Wow, really? I had no idea,” you responded with heavy sarcasm.

“What the fuck happened to you last night for you to look like this?” Mingi asked.

“I have no fucking clue,” you groaned. “All I remember is leaving the bar…”

But, your statement was drowned out by Mingi as he dramatically grabbed his chest and gasped, “Did you and Jongho go and drink more without us?!”

“Yeah, no. Y/N was too wasted for that,” Jongho shook his head. “I took her home directly.”

“I guess the hangover is only hitting so hard because I’m not as young as I used to be,” you sighed loudly.

“…We’re all in our early twenties. Shut up,” Yunho said while rolling his eyes.

“I dunno man, Jongho acts like an old man a lot,” Mingi said with a slight giggle. “I think he’s in his eighties.”

As the three boys bickered, your mind lingered on Jongho’s words. He took you home directly, and you remembered that, but… How the hell did you get into your apartment? And why was the weird feeling still lingering?

“Hey,” you pulled Jongho out of the argument and to the side, the two tall men still walking without realizing you and Jongho were no longer walking with them. “Can we talk?”

“Sure,” Jongho agreed, the two of you moving to the side of the hallway.

“Did… Did something happen last night?” you asked. “Because I have this nagging feeling that I did something, but I… I don’t know what.”

“Don’t worry about it, and just sleep it off,” Jongho replied. “Look, I gotta get to class. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Right, yeah, okay…” you trailed off as Jongho left you standing there more confused than ever.

Because what did he mean by “don’t worry about it”? What the fuck did you do last night?

You decided to take matters into your own hands. After you were done with classes for the day, you went straight to the bar because, Goddammit, you needed answers or at least some clarity.

“Joong!” you called loudly the second you got into the bar. “I have a question for you!”

You plopped yourself down on one of the bar stools and looked at the bartender, a determined glint in your eye, but a heavy sigh on your lips.

“Geez, you look like shit,” Hongjoong commented on your appearance the second he stood in front of you.

“That seems to be the general consensus today… Ugh, anyway. Did I do something wrong last night?”

“What?” Hongjoong’s face twisted in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Like… Okay, I feel like I did something I shouldn’t have done last night,” you explained. “And I’m trying to figure it out.”

“You were fine here— well, you were shit-faced, and Jongho took you home, and that’s about it,” the bartender recollected. “You didn’t do anything outta pocket.”

“Okay… I still feel like… I’m missing something,” you grumbled to yourself, but the man could still hear you.

“Why don’t you ask Jongho since he walked you home last night?”

“See, I tried doing that, but he told me “don’t worry about it”,” you said, exasperated, while using air quotes. “What the fuck does that mean— What should I not worry about?!”

“I don’t know!” Hongjoong held his arms up as if you were holding him at gunpoint and demanding answers. “The only thing I can say is ask him again, or maybe sleep on it, and it’ll come to you.”

“So helpful,” you couldn’t help but be sarcastic. “Fine, I’ll sleep on it. Thanks for the help, Joong.”

You got off the stool and were about to head for the exit when the bartender asked, “So you’re not going to get a drink?��

“Are you fucking kidding— No! Bye, Joong!”

“Hey, Jongho?”

The two of you were sitting on your couch— Jongho came over after he finished his classes for the day.

“What’s up?”

“Are you sure I didn’t do anything that night?” you asked him, your voice slightly wavering.

“I told you not to worry about it,” he responded with a sigh.

“No, but I’m going to worry about it because I want to know!” you exclaimed. “You being all vague and shit about it just makes me more concerned, and I just need you to tell me for my own sanity.”

Jongho let out yet another sigh. He looked straight at you, his eyes meeting yours. You never realized how pretty his eyes were until you made proper eye contact, and the bigger his eyes got, the prettier they became. Then, you realized that his eyes were not getting bigger, but he was moving closer to you. You leaned backwards, your back hitting the arm rest as he pinned you against it, his light exhale flitting past your cheek.

“You really want to know?” he asked, his voice lower and softer than usual.

“I… I do. I do want to know.”

Shocks ran through your body when he caressed your face lightly, his dainty fingertips rubbing lightly against your ear. He leaned in closer to you, making you squeeze your eyes shut since you assumed that he was going to kiss you. Instead, he whispered in your ear, “You told me you loved me.”

He leaned away, allowing you to look at him with complete and utter shock. You tried to brush off the tension building in the room and between your legs as you responded as light-heartedly as you could, “But I always tell you that I love you.”

“Yes, but…” Jongho placed his hand on your thigh and slowly moved it upwards, his voice dropping even lower. “Last night, you told me that you meant it, that you were in love with me.”

Your jaw dropped. Your eyes darted back and forth, and your heart rate picked up as you tried to make sense of the situation— his words, his actions, and your body’s reactions.

“I— I did?” you whispered.

“Yes, and then,” Jongho’s voice also hushed to a whisper as he leaned close to you once more, his hand going further along your thigh, nearing your crotch. “You kissed me.”

“I… I— I,” you stammered, not a single coherent thought left in your brain.

Your brain only got emptier when you felt his soft lips against yours, your body immediately melting into his comfortable touch. You reciprocated his kiss, your hands unconsciously moving from his shoulders to his neck, bringing you closer to him. Your body lurched towards his when you felt his hand move around to your ass, the man firmly cupping it while his other hand slipped under your shirt and traced the curve of your waist, a soft moan playing on your lips.

“Just admit it,” he said softly with his lips still pressed against yours. “You love me, and I love you, too.”

His teeth got a hold of your lower lip and tugged it upwards as his hand started kneading your breast, making you gasp. Then, his patience started wearing thin. He lifted your shirt and moved your bra up to reveal your breasts, his mouth immediately going right for your nipple, and as he sucked, his hands pulled your pants down to reveal your soaking cunt. You were moaning loudly at that point, Jongho’s name barely rolling off your tongue.

When Jongho slipped his slender fingers into you, your entire body reacted. Your back arched, your toes curled, and your hands ran through his hair and gripped it tightly, his fingers pleasuring you greatly. He kept curling them inside you, searching for your G-spot, and once he found it, you cried loudly and sat up in bed.

In bed?

You looked around. Jongho was nowhere to be found, and you were in bed, awake. What the fuck… was that? You blinked the sleep out of your eyes and shifted in bed, only to feel something wet between your legs. You lifted your duvet to see that you were sitting on clean sheets, but soaking up your panties was your arousal.

Did you seriously just have a sex dream about your best friend?

You were mortified with yourself. For the rest of that week, you avoided Jongho like the plague because every single time you saw him, guilt pricked at your skin, brain, and heart. How could you dream of your best friend like that and then see him in the same way ever again? How were you supposed to act normal around him?

And so, you avoided the shit out of him. Seriously. You made sure to use the other exit from your classroom so that you wouldn’t have to deal with the group walking with you, and you ditched all of your regular spots because, fuck, you had no idea how you were going to be normal around him when you couldn’t even be normal with yourself before sleeping.

Because, truth is, that dream did something to you. Any time Jongho popped into your mind, your cunt would clench, and your body would rush with heat; and if you thought about him at night, you desperately had to do something about it. So, basically, every night, you were touching yourself while thinking about your friend— your best friend. What the fuck was wrong with you?

You were forced to meet with the group on Tuesday— Yunho left you a very long, very angry, very drunk voicemail telling you that if you didn’t show up on Tuesday, he was going to murder you. You doubted him, but when you heard Jongho and Mingi try to hold him back in the voicemail, you decided it wasn’t worth risking it.

You and Mingi were the first ones there, the two of you sitting in awkward silence as Hongjoong served you your drinks.

“Okay, um, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Mingi asked after taking a solid sip of his beer.

“W-What do you mean?”

“You’ve been avoiding us all fucking week! Did we do something wrong, or like, do you hate us or—”

“Oh my God, Mingi, no,” you immediately assured the guy. “I wasn’t trying to avoid all of you! Just…”

“Just what?”

“I was avoiding Jongho…”

“What the fuck? Why?” Mingi’s tone went from accusatory to worried and sympathetic, making you relax a little bit.

“Okay, so, uh… The other night… I… I may or may not have had a sex dream about Jongho… And when I woke up, I just… I got super turned on.”

“Wait, was it a wet dream?”

“I don’t know… Can girls even have wet dreams?”

“Well… Sounds like a wet dream to me,” Mingi answered after pondering the idea for a little.

“Great. Either way, I can’t even look at him the same way anymore. Fucking kill me,” you groaned as you laid your head on the bar top.

“Wait, so why’d you even dream about it?”

“I don’t know, man! I’ve been friends with the guy for fucking years, and this is the first time I’ve ever dreamt about him like that— and what’s worse is that he was so fucking good in my dream! Ugh, I wanna die!”

Mingi, who found the whole ideal hysterical, was laughing his ass off as he watched you get more and more mortified by the second.

“Did you ever figure out what happened that night, Y/N?” Hongjoong entered the conversation, making Mingi’s laughter die down a little.

“No,” you sulked. “I never got the chance to ask him again… I asked him in that dream, though.”

That made Mingi laugh all over again. He was clutching his stomach and laughing until he started crying, and he continued to laugh his ass off even when Yunho arrived. Well, he was still laughing, but he was able to wheeze to Yunho, “Dude, listen to this—”

“Mango, shut the fuck up!” you kicked Mingi in the shin, although that did nothing to the guy.

“Y/N had a random sex dream about Jongho!” Mingi barely said before laughing all over again.

“Really?” Yunho asked— he didn’t seem surprised, though.

“Yeah,” you said sadly.

“Well, I guess it makes sense that you’d have a sex dream about him considering what you did,” Yunho pondered out loud.

Mingi stopped laughing, and you, Hongjoong, and Mingi all stared at the tall man, Hongjoong asking, “What the fuck did she do?”

“She kissed him.”

The three of you stared at Yunho with wide eyes and dropped jaws.

“What?!”

“Yeah, Jongho told me about it.”

Your brain, at that point, was erroring out as it tried to recollect the events of that night while Mingi, on the other hand, was so insulted.

“You knew about this and didn’t tell me?!” he asked, feigning injury.

“I thought he told you! What do you want me to do about it?”

“Just check in with me next time! We should share everything with each other, Yunho.”

Yunho and Mingi continued to bicker in the background as you finally, finally, remembered what happened that night.

“Y/N, you’re home,” he said quietly while standing you upright. “Where are your keys?”

“In my pocket," you said with a slight giggle— the jeans you had on actually had front pockets, so you usually stashed your keys in there so you wouldn’t have to wear a purse when you had those jeans on.

With a sigh, Jongho carefully dug into your pocket, his fingers lightly grazing your upper thigh. You couldn’t help but let out a little moan; his action was so minimal and unintentional, but it still felt fucking good. God, you were definitely wasted.

Then, a crazy thought entered your drunken brain. You realized that you needed to thank Jongho for getting you home safe. Granted, it was his job as your best friend (not really, but what are friends for?) to make sure you made it home, but you still had to thank him, right? So, right after Jongho unlocked your door and opened it for you, you grabbed him by the collar, and you thanked him by kissing him.

To be honest, it was the world’s most anti-climactic kiss. Your lips just pressed against his, and that was it. When you moved away, you could see that Jongho was in complete shock, his jaw dropped slightly. His eyes were darting back and forth as he tried to decipher what the fuck you just did. His hands, which were previously on your shoulders, dropped to the side, limp.

That’s when you made the situation worse. You pulled him towards you again and kissed him properly. It was a gentle kiss, your lips enveloping his upper lip, your hand moving from his collar to his neck to make the kiss the slightest bit more sensual. And, to your surprise, you felt his hands on your waist. He reciprocated the kiss, bringing his body closer to yours as he kissed you more passionately. You were practically melting in his arms the longer he kissed you, your brain officially erroring out as you lost yourself in him.

When the chain of kisses ended, you found yourself dazed. You truly didn’t know what to say or do, so you just patted his chest and whispered, “I… Uh… Good night, Jongho…”

Jongho seemed unfazed, as if he wasn’t just making out with you seconds prior. He nodded and patted your head while responding, “Good night, Y/N. Sleep well.”

“Yeah, you too…”

Brain fuzzy, you crashed in your bed, your face still rosy and your lips slightly sore from kissing your best friend. Your best fucking friend.

You buried your face in your hands when you realized what you did, your mind chanting “what the fuck?” over and over again. You felt someone’s hand on your shoulder, but there was no way you were going to be consoled so easily.

“Y/N, don’t worry about it. It was a tiny mistake,” Hongjoong said softly. “We all know that you’re not usually like that.”

“I’m sick and tired of people telling me not to worry about it,” you groaned. “And being drunk is not an excuse… I… What do I do?”

The four of you were silent until Yunho said quietly, “I think you should just talk to him.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, just talk it through. You guys are best friends, and I don’t like seeing the two of you avoiding each other.”

“Wait,” your head snapped up. “What do you mean each other? I thought I was avoiding him…”

“Why do you think he’s not here right now?” Yunho pointed out.

You gaped. Trivia was about to start soon, and Jongho was nowhere in sight.

“Where is he?”

All you did was kiss the guy, but you felt the guilt weighing on your shoulders not just because of the kiss but because of everything else you did following the kiss. The guy was your best friend for crying out loud. If it was just the kiss, you would’ve apologized immediately, and all would’ve been well, but the dreams just made it so much harder for you to do anything— even knocking on his apartment door was fucking difficult.

You somehow mustered the courage to do it, and after a couple of seconds, Jongho answered the door. He was wearing his standard class outfit: jeans, a hoodie, and a jean jacket; but he looked so fucking hot, so boyfriend material in them, that your heart actually skipped a beat or two.

“Hey,” Jongho spoke first, pulling you out of your head before you could spiral into a dizzy daydream.

“H-Hey, uh… Can I come in?”

Holding the door open, Jongho invited you in. You walked in hesitantly, awkwardly. You’d been in his apartment so many Goddamn times, so you shouldn’t have been so timid, but your anxiety truly got the better of you.

The two of you ended up taking a seat at his tiny dining table, the man sitting across from you. You fidgeted with the hem of your shirt as you looked down and tried to spit out something, anything.

“So…” you finally uttered. “I wanted to apologize.”

“For what?” Jongho genuinely sounded confused.

“I got really drunk the other night—”

“Y/N, it’s fine. I told you not to worry about it.”

“No! It’s not fine, Jongho,” you shook your head. “I— I came onto you, which was totally not cool of me, and I’m really sorry for that. I don’t like that you’re uncomfortable around me, which is totally valid considering what I did, but like… You’re my best friend, and it’s so weird that we’re avoiding each other like this…”

“Wait… Huh?”

“What?”

“I didn’t think you remembered, which is why I told you to not worry about it,” Jongho explained.

“I mean, I didn’t at first, but then it came rushing back to me like just now at the bar after Yunho told me what I did, and God, I feel awful for doing that to you,” you rambled.

“Why do you feel awful?”

“Because I kissed you without consent…? Isn’t that why you were avoiding me?”

“That… That wasn’t nonconsensual, Y/N…” Jongho started mumbling as the tips of his ears turned red.

“What… Um, what do you mean, Jongho?” you asked in a small voice.

“I mean…”

Jongho pressed his lips together and looked away, his ears turning redder as he ran his fingers through his hair. The guy was embarrassed as fuck, but he still managed to look so attractive that it made your heart, and your cunt, clench hard. He left his hand on the back of his head as he brought his gaze back to you.

“I kissed you back…”

Your jaw dropped slightly. Stammering, you asked, “S-So… What, uh.. What does that mean?”

“That I kissed you because I wanted to. Because I like you. And I was avoiding you because… Well, I didn’t want you to know that I, uh, had feelings… For you…”

Your face erupted into flames. You looked straight down at your lap, your eyes darting back and forth as you tried to make sense of the situation. The two of you were absolutely silent as clouds of embarrassment and slight tension filled the room.

“Wait…” Jongho broke the silence. “So, if you just remembered, then why were you avoiding me?”

“O-Oh… Because…” you forced yourself to get the words out— knowing him, he wouldn’t let you go without a proper explanation, and there was no way you were going to be able to lie to him at that point. Plus, even if you didn’t tell him, Mingi was going to, and it was definitely better that you told him than your dumbass friend.

“Spit it out, Y/N,” Jongho said, his voice breaking you out of your trance.

“Right.. Because I, uh… I had a sex dream about you… And now I can’t… Not see you… In… That… Way…”

And with that, you buried your face in your hands, trying to extinguish the red on your face; you could practically feel steam leaving your ears because of how embarrassed you were.

Jongho, meanwhile, was completely taken aback, but in the best way possible. If you were dreaming about him in that sense, did that mean you liked him back? That the feelings were mutual? That the kiss actually meant something whether you realized it or not?

While you were dying of embarrassment, Jongho hugged you— he thought he was reassuring you, but it only made you more shy and a little turned on feeling the way he hugged you securely to his surprisingly firm yet soft chest (you hugged him all the fucking time, so why you were only noticing it now was a mystery to you). You were so ready to let out a squeal— more like a dying dolphin noise— of embarrassment when you felt him choke down a chuckle and start petting your hair. Goddammit, was he trying to drive you insane?

Luckily, Jongho didn’t push the topic further (yet). The embarrassment slowly died down, and when you felt your heart unclench, you timidly hugged him back, and once you calmed down enough, he let go of you. Then, he fucking made your heart skip a million beats when he brushed your hair out of your face and looked at you with the softest eyes you had ever seen on him. You had seen him with plenty of girlfriends in the past, but this was the first time you had ever seen him display so much affection— and for you, of all people.

At some point, the two of you migrated to his sofa where you were sipping on water on one end of the long sofa and he was sitting in the arm chair next to the sofa like a fucking king. You had to keep your eyes on your water because if you got even the tiniest glimpse of his thighs and the way he was manspreading, you would fully combust.

“Y/N,” Jongho asked, his voice softer than ever.

“Yes!” you sat up attentively. “I-I mean, yeah…?”

You for sure thought Jongho was going to laugh at your actions, but he didn’t. He looked like everything was normal, but his ears were bright red once again.

“So…” he started. “In this dream… What happened?”

You choked on your water. You knew he was going to ask at some point, but you didn’t think he would actually ask you. You set the cup of water down on the coffee table in front of you and sighed softly before explaining the dream to him.

And as you explained your dream to him, Jongho’s face didn’t change in the slightest. He took all of your words in and just kept nodding, making it a little easier for you to tell him. Finally, after you finished retelling your dream— you only told him the dream that started all because God forbid he ever found out about you touching yourself while thinking about him in your dreams— he nodded and said, “Oh, wow… Hopefully, I live up to the way you dream made me out to be… Well, only if you’re okay with that.”

You blinked and froze, the words slowly starting to sink in. Was he asking for consent? Oh my God, did he want to fuck you?!

Without realizing it, you nodded slowly, your body taking over your mind. Then, you whispered, “I’d… I’d like to experience it for real…” giving him the verbal consent that he wanted.

Jongho held out his hand, willing you to hold it. He tugged your hand to make you get up and stand before him, and before you knew it, you were straddling him, your ass pressing against his knees. He was looking up at you with the softest, sparkliest eyes that you’d ever seen on him, making your heart skip a beat but in a way that was different from the way your wet dream version of him did.

With one hand on your back and the other weaving his fingers through your hair, Jongho led your head to meet his, his lips pressing against yours softly. He kissed you slowly, passionately. You were holding onto his shoulders at first, only for you to move your hand to his face and cup his cheek, the kisses deepening, your tongue slipping into his mouth as you felt your body slowly start to heat up.

His hands moved from your hair and back to your thighs, the palms of his hands rubbing against your clothed thighs so slowly and sensually that electricity zapped through all of your nerves. He let out little gasps and groans in between your kisses, his fingers pressing into your thighs when you tugged upwards on his lower lip.

Jongho was a lot more calculative with his actions in real life than in your dreams. His hands trailed from your thighs to around your butt, only to rest on the small of your back, his fingers teasing you by tugging at the waistband of your pants but not actually moving them down. You whined lightly against his lips, your hands gripping the collar of his jean jacket to get him to stop teasing you and start stripping both you and him down.

What sold him on moving faster was not the threat of your grip, but the way you were rolling your hips into him, the slightest movement making the bulge in his pants grow bigger and tighter; and it certainly did not help when you ran your fingers along his neck, one finger lingering on the little mole on his neck.

His intensity increased immediately. His hands went under your thighs and shifted you so that you were straddling only one of his thighs. He pushed down on your waist so that you were fully sitting on his thigh before running his hands up your shirt, his fingers brushing along the sensitive spots on your back.

The two of you only stopped kissing when you forced him to take off his jacket and when he helped you get out of your shirt, his eyes scanning your body as you tossed the shirt to the side.

“W-What? What is it?” you whispered, suddenly self-conscious and slightly reluctant to take your bra off.

“You’re stunning, Y/N,” he breathed out, his hands tracing the curve of your waist.

The compliment made you all sorts of shy all over again, making you bury your face in the nook of his neck. Jongho used that opportunity to unhook your bra, the straps slipping off your shoulders the second the band released. You ended up slipping the bra off, leaving your entire torso exposed. You felt the blush on your face get more intense when his hands and lips roamed your body, the man’s eyelashes fluttering as he left tiny, soft kisses along your skin.

Your hips resumed rolling, your clothed cunt rubbing along his thigh as his hands cupped and clutched your breasts. His hands kneaded your breasts continuously as he left little pink marks along your collarbone, chest, cleavage; and finally, when his mouth found your nipples, his hands moved back to your ass and held the underside of your ass securely as he sucked and nibbled on your tit.

“Jongho!” you cried as you flung your head back. “I— Angh— I—!”

You couldn’t form a single thought the second he started moving the waistband of your pants down. The only thing you could do was forcibly move his head up so that he was forced to look into your eyes, his dark hair covering his sparkling eyes slightly.

“I want you to fuck me already,” you whispered— more like whimpered— while grasping the collar of his shirt.

Wordlessly and effortlessly, Jongho stood up with you in his arms, your legs automatically wrapping around him as he carried you to his bedroom. He laid you down on his bed gently before starting to slowly remove his own clothes.

It was dark in his room, but thanks to the moonlight and the lights from the city, you were able to see his muscles and toned body reveal themselves as the clothes came off, and when he took off his pants, you saw that his cock, his girthy cock, was impatient and ready to go— you couldn’t even imagine the amount of self-restraint he was using if his cock was that red and angry.

Jongho turned to his nightstand and produced a condom. He tore the packet open and tossed it somewhere before rolling the condom on and getting on the bed next to you.

“C’mere,” he whispered as he laid down.

Soon, you were straddling him once more, your wet cunt hovering above his erect cock. At first, you thought he was going to ask you to ride him, but instead, he pulled your arms down so that you were essentially pinning him down, his lips making contact with yours as your chest pressed against his. His fingers ran through your hair and held the back of your head as he pushed your face closer to his, allowing his tongue to slip into your mouth.

You were so distracted by his tongue dancing with yours that you didn’t even realize his hands moved to your ass and his cock, lining up your entrance with the tip before pushing you down slowly, the girth of his cock spreading you so wide that you thought you were going to tear.

You cried against his mouth as he filled you up, your ass pressing against his thighs as he remained still inside you. Your walls clenched tightly around his fat cock, making him sharply inhale in between kisses, a little grunt escaping him shortly thereafter.

After a couple of seconds, you were able to relax your pussy just enough to start moving comfortably, your ass slapping his waist lightly as you moved your waist up and down. You moved slowly and gently at first as you moaned against Jongho’s lips, your chest rubbing against his, your nipples getting more sore by the second.

But, you were going a little too slow for the man underneath you. His hands, still on your ass, held onto you tightly as his waist jerked upwards. Your ass slapped against his waist so hard that the sound echoed in the room, and it felt so fucking good that your lips left Jongho’s so you could cry out in pleasure.

Jongho wanted to hear those cries more, so he continued to ram his waist upwards, and as he did so, he moved your ass so that he was continuously rubbing against your G-spot, making your orgasm arrive way sooner than you expected. You moaned loudly and dropped your head into the nook of his neck as you came, your cunt creaming around his dick.

You were panting heavily as Jongho sat up, his cock still deep inside you. Yet, he didn’t move. You remained seated on his lap as he gave you a second to recover and blink the stars out of your eyes as he moved his lips to your neck, peppering small kisses along your soft skin. His arms wrapped around you, his fingers pressing lightly into your waist and back, his nails tickling you ever so slightly. You rested your arms on his shoulders and let out euphoric sighs as he kissed you all over, leaving the occasional pink mark on your skin as he worked his way around the blank canvas of your body.

He started leaning into you the more he kissed you until he had you pinned to the bed. He was hovering above you when your back settled into the mattress, his hands laid flat right above your shoulders. The two of you just stared at each other, your mouths slightly open as you breathed in unison. Jongho’s hair was covering his eyes slightly, but you could still see them sparkle as he gazed into your eyes. His soft touch brushed against your temple as he moved your hair out of your face and tucked it behind your ear before cupping your face and kissing your lips lightly, a small smile appearing on his face.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and brought him closer to you, your lips yearning for him to kiss you more deeply, more passionately; and your waist shifted slightly and impatiently as you waited for him to fuck you. The second he locked lips with you again, his hips gyrated into yours, the light slaps of your waist meeting his filling the room.

Jongho’s pace slowly started speeding up, and the intensity of his thrusts increased exponentially as your cunt started taking the shape of his cock. Your insides started heating up to the point where you thought the friction was going to start a fire within you, and every time his waist rammed into yours with a satisfying slap, you let out a gasp mixed with a moan, your head pushing back further into the mattress.

Your legs wrapped around his waist completely, allowing him to thrust even faster into you. Jongho kept gasping your name softly as his orgasm neared, the melodic sound of your name leaving his lips making your body tingle all over and your toes curl. You hugged him even closer to you so that his chest was against yours and his nose was rubbing against the crook of your neck, his hot breath tickling your skin.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” Jongho gasped as you clenched around him.

You bit your lower lip and nodded, stars reappearing in your vision. Just seeing you bite your lower lip was enough for him. Jongho snapped his hips into yours with such force that made you cum hard, your walls fluttering as your arousal squirted out. Jongho, meanwhile, also came, his cock twitching as his cum filled the condom.

As you recovered from your high, Jongho pulled out and removed the condom before stroking himself a couple more times, ropes of cum decorating your torso as he finished completely on you, a groan of pleasure and relief rumbling in his chest. Then, wordlessly, he got off the bed and disappeared into his apartment.

You were able to push yourself up by the time Jongho returned with towels and water. He handed you the glass, and you took tiny sips of the water as you watched him wipe you down.

“Tell me something,” he said to you. “Was that as good as your dream?”

Jongho looked up at you as he waited for you to respond. So, you cupped his face and led him towards you to leave a lingering kiss on his lips.

“No, it was better.”

You thought you would be waking up from another dream, but no. This time, when you woke up, you woke up to see your best friend’s sleeping face right in front of yours, his soft features relaxed and beautiful. He looked so peaceful, so pretty while sleeping that it kind of made you jealous that he could look like fucking Sleeping Beauty.

You shifted slightly, immediately making the sleeping man hug you closer to his bare chest, his soft skin making you shiver slightly. And when you felt his gentle exhale flit past your ear before he buried his nose in your hair, every single nerve in your body tingled happily.

As Jongho continued to sleep, you observed him, your eyes landing on the little freckle on his neck. You absentmindedly traced your nail along it lightly, tickling him and subsequently waking him up.

“Mmm, good morning,” he uttered, his low morning voice echoing in your ear.

You’d had many sleepovers with him in the past, and you’d heard his morning voice many, many times in the past, but having him talk right into your ear like that was too sexy, too stimulating for you that early in the morning, your heart and cunt fluttering.

“Good morning, Jongho,” you whispered back.

Hugging you even closer, Jongho let out a happy exhale before leaving the faintest of kisses on your temple, making your heart skip and making you realize that you were falling for him.

But he didn’t need to know that. Not yet, anyway.

#broatz #cromernet #ateez #choi jongho #jongho smut #jongho x reader #reader x jongho #ateez jongho #choi jongho ateez #jongho ateez #choi jongho smut #ateez choi jongho

325 notes · View notes

miinatozakiii · 8 months

Note

heyy loved the teacher fic!!! idk if u were open to writing a smut chapter but I’d love to read how sana’s a sweet kindergarten teacher by day, freak in the sheets by night ;) the kiss scene was so well written, so hot but so sweet!! Also loved the part about Sana admiring the tattoos

In any case, I’m excited to read more Sana fics from you, whatever the plot!

sweet nothings

wife!sana x fem!reader

summary: comfy, heated mornings are the best way to start the weekend.

wc: 1.9k

warnings: fluff ; smut ; cursing ; mentions of food

a/n: hi hi anons, thank you for your kind words! i was writing this little drabble for sana and it had smut and fluff, I figured it would fit both your requests. (also, to the second anon, I'm not too good with headcanons and whatnot so I hope this is alright with you.)

also, first time posting something more intimate, lmk how you guys like it.

sana is usually the first to wake up, it isn’t any different this morning.

she’s cuddled up against you, her arm draped across you and her hand on your waist. sana has one of your legs trapped between hers, as if you were one giant teddy bear, and your other free leg is sprawled out on the queen-sized bed. your hand rests on her forearm as you sleep, and sana has her head on your other arm near your shoulder while your hand rests on her own shoulder.

sana takes in the faint scent of vanilla and jasmine as she lazily breathes against your chest, it’s a refreshing smell and it really suits you, she thinks.

she lazily pulls herself closer to your body, trying to steal the warmth that you radiate, because it's unusually cold for some strange reason, but she's too lazy to turn off the fan that is spinning above on the lowest setting, or pull the blanket that sits messily on the two of you to cover her fully.

a small mumble escapes your lovers' lips, more like a faint hum as she nuzzles her nose into the crook of your neck, which seems to make you shift in your slumber a bit. your hand that's on sana's shoulder pushes the woman closer to you, and your other hand moves to her cheek, rubbing softly instinctively.

sana smiles at the feeling, and she's slowly waking up while you seem to be falling into a deeper sleep.

you two lay there for a bit longer – it's a saturday morning after all.

sana decides that it's time to get up fifteen minutes later, or at least when she's a little more awake.

she moves away a bit and a groan escapes your lips, sana giggles softly. she makes her way over to your cheek, trailing kisses down to where your pulse point is, and down to your collarbone with the tattoo that's exposed from your oversized t-shirt sana had gifted you for your birthday a couple months ago.

you roll over and your eyes stay shut,

"sana..." you mutter, "five... minutes...?"

"baby, it's almost eleven."

"it's saturday..." you sigh, blindly reaching for her as she lifts herself off of you.

sana looks at you, and she swears she falls a little more in love.

your cheek is mushed into the pillow after you had rolled over, and she thinks you're so damn cute she's going to lose it if she can't make out with you soon.

sana decides to give you a peck on the forehead, your cheek, and your lips – only to pull the blanket away from you after.

"sana!" you gasp. your eyes are open now, and you're rubbing at them while groaning dramatically, sana laughs at you with your disheveled hair, eyes squinted, and the sight of you in only the t-shirt and panties because you were too lazy to fully change back last night.

you pout and she just laughs at you again, "come on baby we gotta get up."

"how are you not tired? you came like, five times, at least," you say with annoyance, though you're pretty proud at how nice and pleasing it was to have her lose herself to you the night prior.

sana hits you with a pillow, "and I still have more energy to get up lazy bum! come on, I'm hungry!" she whines. you scoff lightheartedly and throw the pillow at her face, using that as a distraction and quickly pinning her down on the bed,

it's a swift movement, a short moment, but sana already feels the familiar aching feeling between her legs.

"mmm, me too," you mumble, looking down at her trapped between your hands, and your right leg is in between her legs just barely making contact with her sweet spot. you bite your lower lip slightly, and sana already pulls you closer.

you both smile into the kiss, even laughing in between.

it isn't long before you trail your kisses down to her jawline, to the crook of her neck, making sure to nibble at the spot that always has her gasping. she's already panting and you lick and nip at her neck a bit more, just before pulling away quickly to slip her shirt off.

the shirt she had been wearing belonged to you, it was easy to slip off and you already had access to all of her after it was off. the marks that you had given to her were still present all over her, damn... you marked her good.

"i thought you would've at least put your panties back on," you laugh,

"oh shut up," she responds.

you laugh again before getting back to work.

your first thought is to immediately make your way to her tits, and so you do. your lips land on her left nipple, and a sharp moan is heard from sana as soon as you do so. your right-hand plays with her other tit, groping it, squeezing it – just the touch of your hands and fingers on her chest is enough for her to lose herself in the moment.

she's gasping, she's groaning, and it's the best fucking way to start a saturday morning.

you toy with the right tit again, and then it feels right for you to go at it with your tongue. sana is whimpering at the feeling, gripping at your already messy hair, making it even worse, but it's worth it because the feeling is just so damn amazing.

your lips and hands work at her chest for a while, but now you're craving something sweeter. and so, your tongue makes its way down sana's tummy slowly, swirling around her sensitive areas that make her twitch in surprise, sucking and nipping at them to make her call out your name out of breath.

sana's body is like a monument, like a piece of art, something that takes time to really savor fully. it's something you admire, love, cherish, and devote your all to.

you make your way down the beauty that you're so glad to call your lovely wife of two years, and the familiar sight of her center is right in front of you. you plant slow, sensual kisses on the inside of her thighs, her back arches a bit and you smile.

"baby, please." she whines, "need your mouth."

"mhm."

your tongue comes into contact with her clit, and her hand shoots back to your hair, pushing you deeper her head sinks into the pillows, eyes closing. she's losing herself to you and you're losing yourself as you go down on her, just as it has always been.

you've been sucking on her clit for a bit now, and your fingers have been assisting by plunging into her as you lash your tongue against her pussy.

"god, fuck- oh my god... baby i'm-" sana can barely make out a proper sentence, she's trying to encourage you and it's really fucking difficult while you're going at her like that.

if the neighbors didn't hear the two of you fucking for hours last night, they're definitely going to notice the way sana sounds when she completely comes undone.

her hips are grinding into your mouth, bucking towards you, and by the way her breathing gets heavier and the way she repetitively mutters your name, she's about to cum soon.

your fingertips tighten around her thighs, and you lash your tongue against her walls, and give her that last feeling on her clit that makes her moan so loudly you might actually get a complaint from your neighbors; i mean, it wouldn't be the first time.

sana's whole body jerks a bit, and she's trembling the same way she had last night when she had reached her high. she lets her body relax into the bed, breathing heavily again and closing her eyes as you taste the rest of what she had offered from her climax.

you pull away and wipe your lip with your thumb, looking at your wife with admiration and care as her heavy breaths return to her normal breathing pace. she's lying on the bed and motioning for you to make your way back to her. she kisses you messily, and she hums as she tastes herself off your lips. sana hums in satisfaction.

"oh now you're tired?" you tease, looking at the beautiful, disheveled sana before you. she nods with a stupidly cute smile, and you can't help but plant another kiss on her lips.

sana wraps her arms around your neck, lazily deepening the kiss as your tongues explore the familiar setting they're in. you pull away for a brief moment to mumble against her lips, "let's wash up?"

"one more kiss," she whispers,

"anything for you, lovely."

sana does some persuading (she kisses you on the lips once) and manages to convince you to carry her to the living room.

you set her down so she can lean against the counter, and the high(s) from last night and twenty minutes ago seem to take a toll on her as her legs tremble slightly. you snicker and she hits your shoulder playfully.

"you need crutches?" you joke, looking at her with hearts in your eyes.

"yeah, and i'll poke you with them if you keep it up."

"sorry, sorry love." you chuckle, and you make your way over to put a hand on her cheek, the other hand just above her waist. "anything my lovely wife would like for breakfast?"

"mmm i think it's a little too late for breakfast." sana giggles, staring at your lips, "but~ maybe waffles?"

"anything for you." you smile.

it doesn't take you long to whip up some waffle batter, your signature mochi flour waffles – one of sana's favorites. you make four waffles, two for each of you. sana makes some tea and cuts up some bananas, apples, and takes out some of the honey from the fridge.

you put two of the waffles on one of the two plates that sana holds, and the other two on the other.

"thank you chef." sana says before pecking you on the cheek.

"mmm I think the chef deserves another."

"maybe at the table." she says, and you pout before she rolls her eyes and gets on her tip toes to peck your forehead.

you two sit at the table in your shared apartment after sana finishes putting the fruit in a seperate bowl and adding honey to the waffles – extra honey on your waffles, just how you like it.

you hum as you sit down with sana, reaching for the utensils and handing her some of her own before she kisses your cheek again.

"I love you." she murmurs.

"i love you more." you respond.

"never." sana argues.

"you wish."

sana rolls her eyes again before you poke at the waffles on her plate, cutting a piece for and feeding it to her. she melts as she chews on the piece, you laugh at her and you feel so content, there's a warmth in your heart as you watch her.

you two eat together, a few words exchanged while you devour the breakfast made, and moments like these remind you why you keep breathing and living – it's all for her.

sana's face is so bare, and theres something about her cozy state that makes you fall in love with her all over again.

– there's a sudden knock at the door that breaks you out of your little daydreaming, sana turns to you with her left cheek a bit puffed out due to the food she's been chewing. you shrug and tell her to wait there, making your way over to the door.

there's a familiar face, the annoying old guy that lives next to you – he looks pissed.

"sana," you start, "it's the neighbors."

"not again."

#twice x reader #anon asks #anon #sana x reader #kpop x reader #twice sana #twice imagines #sana imagines #sana smut #twice smut #twice fluff

491 notes · View notes

likeabxrdinflight · 2 months

Text

I want to talk more about the way the characters have been adapted for the live action adaptation, because character writing is the thing I care about the most and as a psychologist it's probably the aspect of any story that I'm most invested in. I can get around pretty much any plot contrivance or weird maguffin or even shitty pacing if the characters of a story are engaging enough. This is my bread and butter, so to speak.

And I want to start with Iroh, because I think he is by far the best adapted character from the original. But I suspect I think this for different reasons than other people might, because the beloved Saint Iroh from the animated show this man is not.

See the thing with animated Iroh is that he's just...a bit too perfect. We know he's been complicit in the war in the past. We know he laid siege to Ba Sing Se, we know he had a complicated past. But we never really see it, we only barely hear about it, and more often than not there are other aspects of Iroh's past that serve to further deify him. He was a general in the war, but then he goes on to protect the last dragons and learn the true meaning of firebending. He led a 600-day siege and lost his son but he came out of that experience Enlightened, having journeyed to and from the spirit world. He joins up with the White Lotus (at some point) and becomes the wise old sage we know and love.

Except most of that is revealed in later seasons and is inconsistent with his actions alongside Zuko in season one. Season one animated Iroh is kind of a passive character, largely existing for comic relief and as a support to Zuko. But there's very little to suggest he's disloyal to the Fire Nation or their cause. He says it himself- "I'm no traitor, Zhao!" Now you can certainly interpret that line in several different ways, but I suppose that's the point- there's a lot left up to interpretation with animated Iroh. We get a sense of who he is in relation to Zuko, but his own development largely happens off-screen. And because to Zuko he's a wise, caring uncle and mentor, that's largely how we, the audience, see Iroh. We love him because Zuko loves him. And that's fine for what it is, and clearly it was effective- Uncle Iroh is almost universally beloved. But it does leave a lot of questions about him up in the air.

Live action Iroh is a very different character. This Iroh is a deeply broken man who was been profoundly impacted by the war and what he has lost because of it. I do not get the sense that the loss of Lu Ten has led to any spiritual enlightenment for this Iroh- there's no indication that he can see spirits, for example, or that he has ever traveled to the spirit world himself (he does still oppose the killing the moon thing, though.)

Right out the gate, we get the sense that this Iroh has lost faith in what the Fire Nation is trying to achieve with the war. He explains to Aang fairly early on what the Fire Nation's goal and perspective is, and can rattle off this dogma quite easily. But when questioned by Aang if these beliefs are also his beliefs, he dodges them rather un-deftly. So you know immediately that this Iroh doesn't really support the war. Later you see him somewhat bluntly telling Zuko that the throne may not be all it's cracked up to be, and he's fairly openly critical of Ozai in other moments. So you know from the jump that Iroh's not really on Team Fire Nation.

And yet this is also not a truly repentant man. When he is captured in Omashu, Iroh gets another brief scene with Aang while they are both imprisoned there (this is before Aang meets with Bumi). And in this scene, Aang tries to convince Iroh to help Zuko stop being The Bad Guy. And Iroh defends Zuko to Aang and stresses the point that it is not Zuko who owes him any great debt, but he who owes Zuko. Later, when he is confronted (and hit several times) by an Earth Kingdom soldier who lost his brother during the siege, Iroh does not apologize. He does not flinch at the man's accusations, nor does he deny them. He defends himself, albeit weakly, by stating he was a soldier, and it was a war. He has the audacity to accuse this soldier (somewhat obliquely) of having been made dishonorable by the effects of war. It's kinda messed up, honestly.

But then this man accuses Iroh of knowing nothing of loss. He leaves the shot, and we saw Iroh's face just crumble, and the scene cuts directly to Lu Ten's funeral, where Zuko chooses to sit with his uncle and support him through what must have been the darkest moment of his life. Back in the present, it is only later, after Zuko has come to rescue Iroh, that he speaks more honestly to the Earth Kingdom soldier- he shows mercy and states that they've all "seen enough death."

So what we have here is an Iroh who is deeply disenchanted by the war and does not support it or the goals of the Fire Nation, but who has continued to stand alongside Zuko and support him in his goals. We have a man who doesn't necessarily regret his actions as a soldier in the war but who very much does regret what those actions have cost. We see a man who is profoundly impacted by loss and grief and has become emotionally reliant on his nephew as a source of support. Not that he's parentifying Zuko or anything, he's very much not, but he is rather obviously channeling all the love he once felt for his son into Zuko instead. Zuko is his lifeline, he needs Zuko and you get the sense that without him, Iroh would truly fall apart. I mean the man is on the verge of tears more often than not when Zuko is in even the slightest bit of danger in a way that animated Iroh was not.

This is what I think is different here. Animated Iroh seemed to turn against the war because it was morally wrong, it had thrown the world out of balance, and imperialism is bad. Live action Iroh seems against the war because it wasn't worth it. It wasn't worth the cost, or the death, or the grief. He couldn't see that until he lost Lu Ten, but now he sees it everywhere. I get the sense that this Iroh just wants it all to stop, and I'm not sure he cares how that happens.

The White Lotus is definitely hinted at, but I suspect that was his motivation for joining it. It's not about restoring balance to the world for this Iroh. It's about restoring peace, so that he won't have to lose Zuko like he lost Lu Ten. So that the death and destruction stops. So he can just live a quiet life and put the past behind him.

It's a different take. And it's not that he doesn't still have a lot of wisdom to him, that he's not still a gentle, caring person. But he's a much sadder person, and he's lost that sense of "enlightenment" that his animated counterpart had. There's a selfishness you can read into to this version of his character that's much more apparent than the animated version.

I think a lot of people are gonna hate this, because it's a darker take on a much loved character. But I love it. This Iroh is human, this Iroh is flawed, and this Iroh has a lot more growing left to do. And that's awesome. If we get to actually see more of a character arc for him too, if we get to see him also growing and changing alongside Zuko? Please. It's not like he needs a total redemption arc, per se, but if in his journey with Zuko throughout the Earth Kingdom we can see Iroh gain some of his fortitude back, we can see when he decides he needs to push Zuko down a certain path, to take a side in the war, to see that it's not just the death and destruction that makes it wrong? God there's so much potential with that.

Now, maybe this isn't what will happen with seasons two and three. Maybe they'll back track and try to make him more similar to the animated version. I don't know. But for now? Live action Iroh is fantastic, and Paul Sun-Hyung Lee is giving a hell of a performance. He's warm and tender when he needs to be, fierce when he has to, and just profoundly sad throughout it all. And I love him so much more for that.

I'll be controversial here and say it. So far, live action Iroh is a better character than animated Iroh.

#I never disliked animated Iroh to be clear but perfect can be boring #this Iroh is not perfect and that is so much more interesting to me #natla spoilers #natla #iroh

187 notes · View notes

xxblairexxss · 9 months

Text

Saving your bacon

Pairing : Charles Leclerc x medicstudent!reader

Theme : Light on angst, more heavy of fluff

Word count : 3.4k

I feel like something’s missing but I’m not sure what it is and I don’t wanna keep this in my draft so I’m just gonna drop and dip. Oh, and I wanted to switch up and play around with reader’s personality instead of sticking to one so this time around, reader is more (idk how to explain) but more bright????? And I also don’t want to write her as someone struggling with her studies just because I think I have seen the same plot a few times around so let’s just say she enjoyed doing what she did. I know you asked for more angry Charles but for some reason I found him more of a people pleaser so it’s hard to write him getting angry at the crowd. 😭

Warnings, inaccurate medical term and procedure, as usual.

Requested!

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

Charles was catching up to his favourite series, all sluggish and slothful on his day off when he heard your footsteps and humming got closer and closer to which he immediately took a cushion near him and laid down, pretending to sleep.

“Oh?” Your little skip stopped when you reached the living room. You were so, completely sure he was awake because you sworn you heard him laughed at one of the jokes on the television a few minutes ago. Stepping closer, you saw the way his lashes slightly fluttered as he bit the inside of his lip, holding his smile from exposing his little trick. “You are not sleeping!” You called out and chortled, quickly placing your medical files on the tea table before diving into his embrace, making him groaned from the sudden impact. “I caught you!”

“You got the wind knocked out of me, baby.” He moved a little so you could settle down by his side. “What do you need me to do today?”

“How do you know I was gonna ask for your help?” You cackled in his arm at the way he looked completely unfazed with your requests by now.

“Because this isn’t the first time. I just knew how your steps would sound like if you needed my help.”

“Yeah? How does it sound like?” You sat up and his hand snaked its way under your shirt instantly.

“Can’t explain it in words. Lay down or sit up?”

“Lay down! Wait,” You took back your medical files and scanned through your notes. “Oh, wait! No, no! Sit up and turn that way.”

“That way?”

“Yeah! And close your eyes! I’ll be right back.”

Charles had his eyes shut, sitting up straight facing the balcony of his apartment while trying to catch up with the dialogs coming from the tv series he was watching. “No way! I missed the important scene, did– ouch!” He jolted to the front when something cold was pressed on his neck, sending shiver up to her head. “Babe, what was that?!”

“Ice pack! Sit back down!” You pulled him back and placed the ice pack back on what you imagine the pain would be.

“It’s cold! Can’t we just pretend to use an ice pack instead of– cold! Babe, it’s cold! Instead of using actual ice pack?” You held him by his shirt to stop him from moving away while you repetitively went back to scan through your notes.

“Stay still! I’m trying to get these right! Oh, I need to move it in circular motion and never let it sit for more than 20 minutes on the same spot.” You leaned against his back and giggled. “I nearly gave you frostbite!”

“Are we done yet, babe?” He tilted his head to the side to catch your eyes, while still obeying every instructions.

“Wait, let me do one last check on the C1 and C2 first.”

Charles had always been your some sort of medical dummy ever since you started your medical school residency. You would always come to him whenever you needed to revise some of the notes that you had written as you went through different types of medical or surgical problems. Thought it looked more like you were trying to disturb your boyfriend’s peace, it actually helped you a lot. And though it looked like your boyfriend was trying to hide and ran away whenever you needed his help, he was actually excited to be apart of your dummy, claiming to be his some sort of contribution to your career.

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

“Oh, this is sour! Babe, give it a try.” His face was all wrinkled up as he tried to feed you the fruit to which you refused. “Try it.”

“I don’t like sour berries!”

“It’s good though.” He popped another one into his mouth and shivered when the sourness hit, causing you to laugh.

“Your face doesn’t seem like it. I think I picked the wrong batch, baby. We need to let it ripe a little longer.” You sprinkled some salt into the the pot before letting it stir. Charles was too busy chumbling on the berries to realise that you had been staring at him with your arms folded.

“So,” You spoke and he stopped chewing.

“Why? Do I have something on my face?”

“No, but let’s say you come in with your nose bleeding.” You moved closer, half leaning your body against his side with your head tilted up so you could admire his pretty face.

“Ah, so we are doing this?” He pushed the berries away and propped both hand on the kitchen counter. “Okay, let’s pretend my nose is bleeding. What’s next?”

“And I asked you how did your nose bleed. What would you say?”

“Babe, I’m completely lost with whatever topic or disease you are proposing right now.” He hummed, eyes wandered away to think of an answer. “I would say “How I would know, doctor. That’s your job to find out.””

“Charles!” You bursted out laughing and he chuckled along, casually left a soft pinch on your cheek.

“I don’t know, pretty. What should I say?”

“Let’s say you got into a mild accident a few hours ago but you refused to go to the hospital because you thought you were fine but then!” You dramatically gasped and Charles’s eyes widen in amusement. “Then you started feeling blockage in breathing. This is one of the symptoms for?”

His lips curved downwards as he shrugged. “I don’t know. Flu?”

“Wrong!”

“Dang it, that was my best shot. What is it then?”

You giggled and stood on your toes to kiss on his cheek. Charles would always try to answer your questions though he never got any of it right but you just found it adorable how he never gave up because he said he would get it right one day. “Septal hematoma! I need to drain it before it collapses your nasal bridge.”

“Really?! Wow, never knew that. How do you drain it?”

“You are gonna fall asleep before I even start explaining the first procedure. Oh, are we still going to the event tonight?”

“What event?” He raised his brow and his mouth went wide when he realised about it. He was talking about an event a few weeks ago and you decided to tag along. You were rarely seen attended any of his weekend events. Even more after you started your practical and though he never said anything about it, you still felt guilty about it, especially when you saw his pictures at any events that you didn’t attend, all alone while most of his friends would have their partners by their side.

He was a little dubious when you told him you wanted to attend his next event. He didn’t want to make it seems as if he was forcing you to do something that you didn’t want to because he knew both of you have different schedules and accountability as a student and an athlete, or public figure. You had to reassure him that it was something you wanted to do, not because you felt like he was forcing you in some sort of way. A fresh breath of air was the reason that you came up with, professing that you needed to get away from your cases this weekend.

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

“Are you sure you want to go?”

“I’m all dressed up!” You clipped on your left earrings and gave a little twirl. You had chosen a satin dress with crisscross backless as it would be the perfect dress considering the event was more leaning towards an informal night out vibe. “Why?You don’t… want me to go?”

“No, that’s not what I meant, babe.” He held your hand, wrapping both of his and your arms on your waist as he turned you around, making you faced the mirror. “You are literally the most beautiful doctor I have ever seen.” He stared at your reflection admiringly, giving a soft smile when he locked his eyes with yours in the mirror and pecked on your neck.

“Nice try, handsome but I’m not a qualified one yet.”

“But you will be.”

“Not if I fail my residency.” You spun your body to face him, hands on his shoulders as you found yourself getting butterflies from seeing his face up close, even after all these years.

“Did you forget how many times you made me suffer with all those on hand practices? It’s impossible for you to fail.” He stole a kiss on your newly applied gloss and left the room before you could scream at him.

“Stop kissing me when I got my lip gloss on!”

“Can’t help myself. Come on, we gotta go.”

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

“Is this normal?” You blinked as Charles made the final turn towards the entrance of the club. There were tons of people with cameras hung around their neck gathered in front of the building. They would congregate towards every cars regardless of who it was.

“No, not at all. It might have something to do with the other event that is happening at the casino, I think.” Charles saw you clasped your hands together on your lap and knew what you were feeling even when he didn’t see your face. “You okay, babe?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just a little surprised.”

“It’s okay. I’m not gonna leave you behind. Don’t let go of my hand okay?” He unbuckled his seatbelt and was going to unlock the door, when he stopped himself. “No, babe, hold on. Wait for me.” You retreated your hand from the shotgun door as he hopped off the car. Charles handed his car key to the valet staff who greeted him as he walked around to get to your side. You saw the flash went off, following your boyfriend all the way to your side. Though the front windscreen window was half tinted, you could still see how bright it was.

“Ready?” Charles leaned in, one hand gripped on the door seal and other arm at the end of his car roof to make sure you felt safe and had the people blocked before your could step out.

“Ready!”

He offered a hand, while keeping his other on still gripping of the weatherstrip so the door wouldn’t be opened too wide. “Don’t let go of my hand, okay?” He brushed his lips on your cheek before moving away so you could step out.

The first few interactions with the fans were fine. He was handed notebooks, caps, and shirts to be signed. Even a few selfies here and there. You were gripping on his jacket, a little uneasy when you heard a few men with cameras started shouting and scream. At first it sounded far, as if it came from the casino so it shouldn’t be a problem to you. Soon enough, the shouting went louder as if it was brought closer to you by a wave and the fans who were asking for Charles’s autographs and pictures began yelling out to stop the shove and push. Charles heard the commotion and intertwined his hand with yours before making his way to the building before it got any worse.

The flashes suddenly went off to your direction and you could barely see where you should placed your heels, your free hand immediately tried to shield your face. Even some of the fans from earlier started to get shoved around, some even used it as an opportunity to take closer pictures of both you and Charles.

“Charles..” You breathed out, feeling yourself getting pushed. You could feel the crowd getting closer as you tried go get out of the way. He didn’t reply but you could feel his grip on your hand getting more firm as he tried to step away from the crowd.

“Don’t push!”

“Give them space!”

You kept on hearing the words being shouted over and over amongst the crowd but you still felt all closed up with them getting closer and closer regardless of the orders. You let out a gasp when you lost your balance as the crowd started pushing one another, causing a few of them to accidentally inclined towards you.

He stopped and turned back, looking all worried. “You okay? Baby, here. Hold my arm.” You regained your composure and held, more like clinging on his arm while your other hand still fully secured in his. It felt like forever for you to pass your way through the throng, even with the help of the person in charged because none of them even bother to listen and kept on pushing one another towards you.

“Stop it!”

You heard another howl from one of the crowd when you stumbled back as few people were pushed in front of you, the impact caused your hand to slip away from Charles when you tried to move away from the pack of people, your arms were pressed on your chest while you swayed back and forth from constantly being pushed from every sides.

“Y/N– excuse me!” Charles tried to get back to you but he got pushed back by the crowd even more.

“I can’t– !” He heard you called out to him before your voice was swamped with voices amongst the number of people.

You tried to wrap your arms around your body, feeling as if you taking up the space was the reason why you felt suffocating and squeezed up but a sudden shove caused you to jerk forward. You tried stop your fall with your hand but the impact sent a jolt of pain on your wrist. The pain made you wince as you tried to retract your hand but it was stepped on over and over by the number of feet around you.

“Charles, here.”

He was pulled out from the crowd and was being assisted, more like dragged towards the entrance of the building before he stepped back. “I need to get back to my girlfriend.”

“Leave it to us.”

“No.” He sprinted back out and tried to scan amongst the crowd. It got a little under control now that they had enforced more people in charge though the pushing and shoving was still going on.

“Please let me pass..” It took you a while to get back on your feet and tried to squeeze your way out when a camera was thumped on your face, causing your head to tilt. You couldn’t see anything else other than constant flash and light. You started choking back tears and dabbed on your philtrum when it felt like something warm trickled down your nose.

You tried to move away, hand kept on wiping your philtrum as the blood was still leaking down your nose when you felt a firm grip on your arm, yanking you away and out from the crowd. Charles had saw you in the midst and just grabbed on whatever he could get. The grip was harder that he had wished for but he needed to get you somewhere safe, regardless whatever force he had to use.

Your face was forcefully crashed against something hard but you were too beat to repudiate that you continued to cry against the embrace. It was when the familiar scent hit you when you finally realised it was your boyfriend.

“It’s okay, baby. I got you. I’m so, so, sorry.”

You refused to pull away, your whole body was aching but the stroke on your hair and the strong grip on your back made you feel safe, away from the furore. “I was– “ You sobbed. “I was so scared.”

He could feel you trembling in his hold, your head tried to look back to make sure you were really away from the people. “Y/N– Y/N, look at me. Baby, look at me. You’re okay. I got you. You’re okay.”

He leaned away but you could still feel his body latching against yours. “Fuck, you’re bleeding.” Holding your face in his hands, he started scanning through your pretty face. That was when he actually saw the bruise on your temple, your bloody nose and your flushed cheeks. When he caught you by your arm earlier, he was a little at eased as it felt like you weren’t harm but you were far from it. You kept on sobbing, your hand wiped on your tears that was threaten to fall from your chin. “Let’s go home, alright? I’m taking you home.”

Charles wrapped his arm on your waist as you leaned against him while he tried to get you to his just newly parked car.

“Y/N, a picture!” One of the paparazzi snatched on your sprained arm, causing you to shriek in pain.

“Hands off my girl.” He pushed the guy away, feeling so close to land a punch on that face but he had to hold himself from causing any scene that he knew would feed these people even more. Instead of placing his hand back to your waist, he lifted you up in his arms as you placed one arm across his neck, the sprained arm to your chest. He didn’t know you had any other injury because your hand was out of his sight the whole time.

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

“Is your nose still bleeding?”

“I think so…” You dabbed the tissue that Charles had given to you when he got in the car and still found a fresh, wet blood stained.

“Keep on pinching your nose, alright?”

“Where did you learn how to treat nosebleed?” You tilted your head to the side and stared at your boyfriend in surprise.

“From my doctor girlfriend.” He gave your hair a stroke and pressed on the pedal as the light turned green.

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

“Baby, stay there. I’m gonna get the first aid kit.” He left you and rummaged through the kitchen drawers. “Let’s treat your wrist first.”

You winced and pulled your arm away when he wanted to place it on his lap. “It hurts..” You didn’t think it was that bad but it still hurt. The tears started to fill your eyes again but you looked away so it wouldn’t roll down onto your already wet cheeks.

“Oh, was it too harsh? Sorry, baby.” He scooted closer and tried to place your hand on his lap more gentle this time. “Here. I’m gonna use– yeah, I’m gonna use the one with velcro.”

“Do you know how to do it?”

“Yeah, I have seen you did it to me before.”

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

flash

Charles groaned a little when he heard you placed all sort of stuffs in front of him. “Babe, can I borrow your hand?” He heard you whispered as you sat cross legged on the floor.

“Right now, baby? Let me sleep 5 more minutes.”

“You can just keep on laying down.” You replied as you pull his hand from under his head. He was laying on his stomach on the couch before you disturbed his peace with the first add kid and your notes with you. “I just need your hand.” He is still in the same position, just his arm dangling from the end of the couch.

“Like this,” He heard you kept on murmuring, as if you were chanting something whilst he was trying to get back to sleep. “and this,” He peered at you first with a frown and soon after a smile formed on his lips. “around the thumb,” You were completely focused on wrapping his hand with the compression bandage, completely unaware and thinking he was still sound asleep. He would always find the little wrinkles in between your brows whenever you were too focused on some things made you look so adorable so instead of dozing back, he was gazing at you with fondness.

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

“I thought you were asleep when I wrapped your hand!”

“I wasn’t. Your little mumble kept me awake.” He rolled the elastic compression bandage around your wrist one last time before securing it with the velcro. “There you go. Did I do I right?”

“Yeah!” You held your now fully wrapped wrist. “I think you did it better than me.”

Charles had left you again to get an ice pack and you leaned against the back pillows. You were expecting neon lights and loud music before you left the house, not coming back with bleeding nose, bruise, and a sprained wrist.

“You okay, baby?”

“Yeah, just a little overwhelm. Can we cuddle?” He then took a spot next to you, ice pack still in hand as as you leaned your head on his shoulder. His hand is on your back while you propped your legs on his laps.

“How did you get those bruise on your head?”

“One of the man accidentally hit me on the face but I don’t think it was on purpose.” You were playing with his necklace when dabbed the ice pack on your temple, causing you to move away. “It’s cold!”

“Oh, so now it’s cold? Was it warm when you dabbed it on my neck for no reason a few days ago?” He pulled you closer to dab the ice pack back on your bruise. “Baby, stay still!”

“I’m getting brain freeze! Stop it!” You giggled and pushed him away.

“You are overreacting! It’s not even 20 minutes yet.”

✧.* general tag list! @i83andrew @cltrlne @karmabyfernando @ohthemisssery @ru-kru @tastebaldwin @f1obessed @love4lando @shinrjj

if your usernames were crossed meaning I can’t tag you 😭 let me know if you would like to be removed or added to the taglist! or if I missed anyone!

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #f1 imagines #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagines #f1 imagine #f1 x reader

625 notes · View notes