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smileysuh · 8 months

Text

ghostie

🌙 staring. Johnny x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. As one am rolls around, you start to realize that maybe tonight you won’t get a call. He is a frat boy, and this is Halloween weekend. You’re disappointed as you get into bed, frowning as you scroll on your phone, hoping that if you wait another five minutes, maybe he’ll catch you. Five minutes turns into ten, turns into fifteen, and you find your eyes beginning to shut. You’re starting to understand how much you truly have come to depend on Ghostie as part of your nightly ritual. It hurts not to get a call from your favourite voice-modulated anonymous frat boy.

tw/cw. yandere/stalker subthemes, unknown caller, weed use, multiple reader orgasms, big dick!Johnny, oral, pussy eating, blowjob, deep throating, spit as lube, fingering, hand riding, dacryphilia, praise, dirty talk, cum/fullness kink, unprotected sex, heavy grinding, dick bulge, creampie, rough groping, slight restraint, size kink, submissive reader, subspace, dumbification, hair pulling, finger sucking, etc… I pet names: (hers) Tiny, good girl, pretty girl. (his) Ghostie.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 15k

🍭 aus. uni/frat au, yandere subthemes, Halloween, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. this might just be the best John fic I've ever written, or maybe I just need therapy

Sunday

You pause your movie when your phone rings and you look down at the screen. The number is unknown, and you briefly consider not even answering it. However, you’ve had two job interviews in the past week, and you don’t want to miss any opportunities, so with a sigh, you bring your phone to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Tiny, how’s your night going?”

Definitely not a prospective employer. Your sorority gave you the name Tiny during first year, something to do with the ‘tiny’ shots you always want to take, and only those within the Greek system use it on you. On top of the Greek-specific term of endearment, the man on the other end of the line is using a voice modulator of some sort, and it makes it impossible for you to identify him.

Your curiosity is sparked.

“Who is this?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

You sigh, leaning back against your bed and setting your laptop to the side. “I get that Scream is having a comeback, but this whole ‘calling a girl and being mysterious’ thing won’t get you laid anytime soon.”

“Are you sure about that?” You can hear a hint of laughter in the man’s voice.

“If you’re not going to tell me who you are, I’ll hang up.”

“We wouldn’t want that, now would we?” There’s a pause then, “Let’s just say, a mutual friend gave me your number. They thought we’d hit it off.”

“Whoever this ungendered mutual friend is, I doubt they expected you to call me with a voice modulator and act out a Ghost Face fantasy. I get that Halloween is a week away, but come on… you can’t be serious about this.”

“I am serious. Come on Tiny, live a little.”

“You’re awfully sure of yourself, aren’t you, Mister Ghost Face.”

“I’ve got good reason to be, trust me on that.”

You let out a deep sigh, going through your roster of men who might think this sort of thing would be funny. “Yunho? Is this you getting high again?”

“Wrong frat, but good guess. I didn’t know Alpha Tappa Zeta’s star quarterback was a stoner, thanks for the info, Tiny.”

“Shit,” you mutter to yourself. You hadn’t meant to throw Yunho under the bus like that.

“It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone about his… habits. That would be hypocritical of me.”

You search your mind for the stoners you know. Ones who would have the balls to call you like this.

“Do you want to take another guess? I’ll give you three chances. You have two more.”

Aside from ATZ, you spend a lot of time with Sigma Veta Tau. Soonyoung is a well-known blunt roller in the fraternity system, but he wouldn’t do a charade like this. He’s very open about hitting on you any time you’re at one of his parties.

“Jeonghan?” you ask.

“Last guess, Tiny.”

He doesn’t confirm or deny if you’ve gotten the frat right, but you can’t really see any other SVT members who would fit this mysterious man’s profile.

Your mind wanders to Nu Chi Theta. They’ve got quite a few weed lovers there, and you’ve been invited into many closed-room smoke sessions with the dirty NCT boys.

There’s Yuta, and he’d definitely have the gall to entertain a flirtation like this. However, you don’t know of any mutual friends who would ever set you up with him. With another sigh of irritation, you throw out the last name on your shortlist of stoner acquaintances.

“Hyuck? Please tell me this isn’t you.”

“Close but no cigar.”

“I don’t like this game.”

“You’re not supposed to like it, but it is entertaining, don’t you think?”

“What’s your angle with all of this?” you question. “If you’re not going to tell me who you are, then what’s the point of calling?”

The line is silent for a few moments. “I guess… I just wanted to talk to you a little, is that so bad?”

Your heart softens, if only momentarily. “Then grow some balls and ask me out like a real man.”

“Where would be the fun in that?” The mystery man lets out a short chuckle, and your irritation only grows.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re really annoying?”

“A few times actually.”

“Well, you’re the most annoying person I’ve ever met and I haven’t even met you.”

“Yes, you have.”

“God, I’m tired of this. Goodnight.”

You don’t even wait for an answer, you simply hang up.

Despite trying to get back to your movie, you can’t get the mystery man out of your head. When you go to bed you can’t even sleep, your mind completely full of all the possibilities of who your caller could have been.

You’ll have to do some digging tomorrow. You can’t not figure out who this guy is- and you know just the fratboy to give you all the details you could need.

Monday

Mark Lee is always fifteen minutes early, even when it comes to an 8am class. You feel like shit after tossing and turning all night, so when you slide into the seat next to him in the back of the class, he gives you a once over and his lips part in shock.

“Are you okay?”

“No, Mark, I’m not okay,” you snap, regretting it a moment later- after all, Mark’s not the one doing this to you. “Someone called me from an unknown number last night. A frat guy, I’m not sure who. He was using this voice modulator-”

“That sounds hella sketchy.”

“Super sketchy,” you agree.

“I know it’s October and everything, but that’s a weird way to hit on a girl.”

“That’s what I said!” Mark always understands you. “He said a mutual friend gave him my number, thought we’d be cute together or something- whoever it was, I need to strangle them.”

“Is this friend a girl or a guy?”

“Mystery man wouldn’t tell me,” you groan.

“So… this dude could be literally anyone.”

“Not Yunho from Alpha Tappa Zeta, Jeonghan from Sigma Veta Tau, and not your roommate Hyuck. The guy gave me three guesses,” you explain, “the hint is that he’s a stoner.”

“Lots of frat guys are stoners.”

“Exactly,” you sigh, leaning back in your seat.

“What are you going to do if he calls you again?” Mark asks. “This kind of feels like stalker behavior.”

“It does,” you admit. “But at the same time, he calls me Tiny, and he says we’ve met before- when I asked what he even got out of the phonecall he said he just wanted to ‘talk to me a little,’ which, I don’t know, for some reason I feel like he’s not a stalker.”

Mark gives you a look that says ‘You’re crazy,’ and after listening to everything that just spewed out of your own mouth, maybe you kind of agree with him.

“So if he calls you again…” Mark reasks his earlier question, one you’d chosen to ignore.

But you can’t ignore it now, and you let out a deep breath.

“If he calls again… We’ll see what happens.”

“Tiny-”

“Mark,” you counter, knowing he’s about to chastise you. But you don’t want to hear it. If even he doesn’t have any idea of who your mystery caller could be, you simply can’t give up. If you never find out who this ‘Ghost Face’ dude is, you’ll feel unsolved for the rest of your life and you know it.

“Look, I’ll ask around a little,” Mark concedes.

You let out a squeal of delight, throwing your arms around your closet fratboy friend. He lets out a chuckle, gently squeezing you back.

Mark’s a good guy.

If only you were into good guys and not sleazy stoners calling you while getting a hard-on for being Ghost Face.

Monday pt 2

It’s nine o'clock and you’re starting to get tired while you study. You’re in need of a distraction, so when your phone rings with an unknown number, your heart practically jumps into your throat.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Tiny.”

“Wow, Mister Ghost Face,” you laugh, twirling in your spinny chair, “two nights in a row. You must really like me, huh?”

The laugh he lets out sounds genuine, even though his voice is obscured still. For some reason, the noise makes you grin, and you can’t believe you’re actually kind of having fun with this.

“I do like you,” the mystery man confirms. “Tell me about your day.”

“Tell you about my day?” You’re in shock.

“Uh huh.”

“No teasing or nothing? No three guesses about your identity?”

“I’ll tell you what,” he lets out a sigh, “like you said, Halloween is in a week. If you keep letting me call you until then, I’ll reveal myself when you come to the party.”

“The party?” you repeat. “You make it sound like there’s only one frat party on Halloween.”

“Only one worth going to.”

“Is that so?” He’s so cocky- why does that turn you on?

“Yup. In fact, I know you agree with me on this, because the past two Halloweens, you’ve come to my frat.”

Your body freezes. He’s just given you a massive hint-

“So you’re an NCT boy?”

“Wouldn’t call myself a boy, and neither would you if you saw what's in my pants.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, not sure how to even respond to the suggestive comment he’s just made.

The man on the other end of the line lets out a chuckle. “Sorry, I’m two blunts deep. I should watch what I say to you, that's why I asked about your day.”

“You don’t have to- watch what you say, I mean.”

“Yeah?” You can almost picture him leaning back in a chair, a large half-chub growing in his pants- “Are you getting horny from a mystery man on your phone? Dirty girl.”

“Dirty guy,” you counter, “trying to entice me by saying your dick is big.”

“Well, it worked, didn’t it?”

“I’m intrigued,” you admit, “but not only because of your cock.”

“It’s a nice cock.”

“Okay, I’ll tell you about my day,” you sidestep. “Had an early class with Mark Lee, you must know Mark.”

“Of course.”

“Well, he has no clue who you could be.”

“You talked about me.”

You can hear him smiling.

“I bet you couldn’t even sleep last night. Too busy trying to figure out who I am.”

Okay, maybe he is a bit of a stalker. Or maybe he just knows you well… who the fuck is this guy?

“Stop being so cocky,” you insist.

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

“Mark told me you’re probably a stalker, said I should maybe block your number.”

“I don’t have a number, if I did, that would be too easy for you. I’m an unknown caller… can you even block unknown callers?”

“I guess we’ll find out when I block you.”

“Won’t happen though. What did you do after your class with Mark?”

“Are you really that interested in my day?”

“I wouldn’t be asking if I wasn’t interested.”

He’s a cocky softy, who would have imagined.

You wonder what you ever did to make this guy so sweet on you- you’ve dated men who don’t even care to ask you how your day went, and this guy is out here doing it practically for free.

“Classes were okay, my sorority had a little fundraiser at lunch, we baked cupcakes.”

“They were good cupcakes.”

“Wait…” your stomach churns a little. “You stopped by?”

“I’m a sucker for cupcakes, and how cute your butt looks in blue jeans.”

You search your memory, counting how many NCT boys came through around lunch. You realize that there were far too many for it to do any good in deciphering which one is the man you’re currently talking to.

“Did we talk?”

“You talked to everyone who bought something. I’m not special.”

Except… he kind of is special, in a way you can’t truly explain… not yet anyways.

“Maybe you are a stalker,” you decide.

“I can promise you I’m not, but I bet you’d be kind of into it if I was.”

This guy makes you feel such conflicting emotions, you’re not sure how to even handle him.

“Look, I was studying when you called-”

“Right, you should get back to that.”

“I should.”

“Sleep tight, Tiny. It’s been nice talking to you.”

Part of you wants to return the sentiment, it feels second nature, but the words stop on your tongue. In all fairness, it hasn’t been particularly nice talking to the mystery Ghost Face guy.

Instead of saying anything else, you simply hit him with a “Bye,” and you hang up the phone.

However, you don’t get back to studying, you immediately call Mark.

He sounds groggy as he says “Hello?”

“Did I wake you?”

“No.”

“I just got a call from that guy again. He’s definitely one of your frat brothers, and he’s high right now.”

“That doesn’t narrow it down,” Mark sighs. “We sort of uh… all got high at the fire after dinner.”

“Mark Lee!” you screech.

“Sorry, sorry!” Mark groans. “I’ll uh… ask around some more. We’ll figure out who this dude is.”

“And if we don’t… he said he’d tell me who he is at your frat Halloween bash at the end of the week.”

It’s Monday now, and the party is on Saturday. That means you’ll only have to wait a few days… you can hold out for a few days… can’t you?

Tuesday

You read over the email a third time, but it doesn’t make anything better. The words ‘We regret to inform you that you have not been chosen for the position’ make your eyes begin to well with tears.

Quickly exiting your phone, you grab your things. You refuse to cry in the middle of the library-

The bathroom will have to do the trick, and you hurry to get there, holding back the choked sob that longs to slip out of you.

You’d thought for sure this interview would land you a job on campus. The interview had gone well, or so you’d thought.

You don’t even know why you’re getting so upset about this.

There’s just something so devastating about rejection.

You get to the bathroom quickly, shutting yourself into a stall before you allow the tears to fall again. You cradle your face in your hands, allowing the sadness to overwhelm you.

It’s important to have a good cry every now and again, and you definitely need this.

Your cries, however, are interrupted by your phone ringing in your pocket. Wiping at your face, you reach for the device, lifting it to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Are you okay?”

“I really don’t have time for this right now, Ghost-” you groan, closing your eyes at the familiar voice-modulated sound.

“You do have time,” he insists. “Tell me what happened.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just saw you running through the library. Looked like you were crying.”

“I wasn’t crying!” you nearly yell.

“Liar. Come on, Tiny, let Ghostie make you feel better.”

The affectionate-sounding nickname prompts you to wipe your eyes. “Are you sure you’re not a stalker?”

“I was in the library, don’t get your panties in a twist.”

“Was?”

“I’m gone now, can’t have you figuring out who I am before Halloween.”

“Would it really be so bad if I did?” you question. “It would make me feel better.”

“Look at you, using your bad experience to try to swindle me,” you hear him laugh, and there are more sounds now, as if he’s walking across campus. “Seriously, Tiny, tell me what’s going on.”

“Do you always walk around campus with a voice modulator?”

“It’s an app on my phone babe, now answer my question.”

“You didn’t ask a question, you commanded me to tell you what happened, and I’m not taking commands right now.”

He sighs. “Will you please tell me what’s making you cry?”

Your lower lip trembles. “It’s stupid.”

“Nothing that hurts you is stupid.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

“It looked like you needed a friend.”

“You’re not my friend. You’re some guy who got my number and gets hard by pretending to be Ghost Face from Scream.”

“I could be your friend. Could be more than your friend. And I’m not hard right now. Not after seeing you cry.”

You take a breath. “I applied for a job and I uh… they didn’t hire me.”

“Then they’re stupid.”

“Maybe I’m stupid.”

“Don’t say that.”

“I’m a girl who’s spent three days talking to a guy who keeps his identity a secret, and for some crazy reason, you’re actually making me feel better. That definitely makes me stupid.”

“No, it makes you soft. It’s one of the things I like about you.”

“Yeah?” you sniffle. “What else? And don’t say my ass in blue jeans.”

The man chuckles. “You’re soft, and kind. But you’re a fighter too. You’ve got a spark. Don’t even get me started on how smart you are-”

“And how would you know how smart I am?”

“For starters, you’re in the top-scoring sorority on campus,” he points out. “Whenever you come to trivia night, you wipe the floor with all of us. Mark talks constantly about how much you help him with his classes, which brings me to my next point, you care about charity. That’s a great sign of your character.”

“You do know a lot about me, don’t you, Ghostie?” His words have stopped your tears, and you cradle your phone close to your ear.

“Still not a stalker though.”

Now he even has you laughing. “Jury’s still out on that one.”

“You sound better already,” he muses. “Mark has a free block right now, I’m sure if you call him he’d take you for ice cream or something to distract you.”

“That’s a good idea,” you admit.

“I’m full of good ideas.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, Tiny.”

Tuesday pt 2

“This guy sounds like a full-on stalker,” Mark says for the sixth time as you grab ice cream and sit inside while a storm passes, rain splattering the windows.

“I mean, if he knew your schedule, I’m guessing he’s someone close to you.”

“He’s stalking us both, I don’t like it.”

“But he’s nice.”

“He’s stalking you, Tiny!”

“He’s not!” you insist. “A lot of people were at the library today… honestly, I think… I think Ghostie is kind of sweet.”

“Ghostie?!” Mark stares at you in shock. “You’re calling him Ghostie now?”

“It’s cute, right?”

“It’s crazy is what it is!” Mark leans back in his seat, frowning. “This is giving me the creeps.”

“Well, it’s spooky season.”

“If I’m being honest, I don’t think any of my frat brothers would pull crazy shit like this. They’re mostly pretty chill dudes.”

“So you think he’s lying about being in NCT?” you ask, cocking your head to the side.

“I think he’s definitely lying,” Mark confirms.

“Well, agree to disagree.”

Mark studies you for a moment. “Look, the only guy who’s a freak like this is Yuta and he swore up and down to me yesterday that he’s not calling you with a fucking voice modulator.”

“I don’t think this is Yuta.”

“Because you’re a Ghostie expert now, huh?” He scoffs loudly.

“Yuta’s not really a stoner,” you point out. “And besides, I can’t explain why I know it’s not him, I just have a feeling.”

“Yeah, is that feeling in your pussy by any chance?”

“Mark Lee!” you gasp, scandalized by his choice of words.

“Be real with me!” he insists. “You wouldn’t be entertaining this if it wasn’t… I don’t know, turning you on? Are you turned on by stalkers? Is this why you like Halloween so much?”

“Okay, maybe I am turned on, but that doesn’t make me a bad person.”

“It just makes you crazy,” Mark groans, running a hand through his hair. “I swear to God, when the dude reveals himself at the frat party, it better be one of my frat brothers and not a serial killer. And also, I’m going to fight him.”

“Something tells me he’d beat you,” you giggle.

“Now you’re trying to make me feel bad.”

“Says the guy who just called me crazy.” You grin, knowing that you’ve won.

“This whole thing is crazy.”

He has a point about that.

Wednesday

You’ve been waiting all day for a call from Ghostie, and it comes right before you’re about to head to bed. You practically launch yourself at your phone, putting it on speaker and saying “Hello?” as if you don’t know who’s on the other end of the line.

“Hey you, feeling better today?”

“You tell me, mister stalker.”

“I haven’t actually seen you today, it was a bit of a shame if I’m being honest.”

“Yeah?” God, this man has way too much power over you. “And why’s that, Ghostie?”

“Because I’ve been looking at your Instagram, but you’re cuter in person.”

“Do you follow me?”

“We’re mutuals.”

You’re mutuals with pretty much the entire NCT frat, it would have been more helpful if he’d said he’s not a follower, although, now that you think of it, that had always been unlikely.

“Still trying to figure out who I am, aren’t you, Tiny?”

“Of course.”

“Remember when I was listing your good qualities? Patience wasn’t one of them.”

“That’s so rude of you,” you say, although, you’re grinning at your phone.

“Here, I’ll make it better. I have an idea for you.”

“Let’s hear it then.” You get comfortable on your bed, wondering what he’s about to say.

“If you want a job, there’s this bar on campus, Skeets. Have you heard of it?”

“Who hasn’t heard of Skeets?” You roll your eyes.

“They let just about anyone work there. A few of the NCT guys are bartenders, I’m sure they’d put a good word in for you with the hiring manager, he’s also a member of the frat.”

You haven’t been to Skeets in ages, and you try to remember who you know amongst the staff. “Wait, you’re right- doesn’t Hyuck work there?”

“He does… This is the second time you’ve mentioned him, got something of a crush, Tiny?”

“Would that make you jealous?” you tease.

“I’m not the jealous type,” he states. “But yeah… it would.”

“Don’t get your Ghost Face mask in a knot, I don’t have a crush on Hyuck. In fact, if you turn out to be Hyuck and I find out you lied to me about your identity, I’m going to be really mad.”

“I’m not Hyuck.”

“Good.” You consider his proposition for a moment. “Do you really think they’d hire me?”

“It doesn’t hurt to try.”

“You know, on Sunday, if someone had told me you’d be helping me find a job not three days later, I would have said they were crazy.”

“Guess I like to keep you on your toes.”

“I think you just have a major soft spot for me. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“I can’t. I promised not to lie to you.”

God, he makes you so giddy it’s insane.

“Are you going to come stalk me at Skeets if they give me a job?”

“Goodnight, Tiny.” He’s avoiding the question, and you can hear him grinning through the phone.

“Night, Ghostie.”

It’s the first time he’s the one to hang up on you, and it leaves you wanting more.

Thursday

Ghostie had assured you that Skeets hires just about anyone, but that doesn’t help the anxiety building inside of you as you prepare to take your resume into the bar.

You even do a Wonderwoman pose outside while waiting for Skeets to open, breathing deeply to psych yourself up while you go over possible interview questions just in case the hiring manager wants a chit-chat today.

“I love working in a team environment,” you say quietly to yourself, closing your eyes and running through responses. “The most important thing is that the guests feel welcome.”

The sound of something dragging across the cement ground has you practically jumping, lids flashing open as your head whips toward the noise.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt your mantra,” the tall fratboy laughs, setting up the wooden sign with the daily drink menu just in front of the door to the bar.

“It’s fine,” you assure him, swallowing thickly.

The man in front of you is Johnny Suh. He’s two years older than you, and you know him through Mark. When guys join a frat, they’re assigned a ‘Big,’ an elder frat brother to guide them through the process. Johnny is Mark’s big, and he’s always been nice to you whenever you’ve crossed paths.

You would call Johnny an acquaintance, not a friend, but he’s still a friendlier face than you may have expected to see upon your first moments interacting with Skeets staff.

“You coming inside, Tiny?” Johnny asks.

“Yeah, sorry John, one sec, I just need another deep breath.” You wave your hand at him, turning your back and gulping down air while you hold your bag tight to your front, the resume within practically burning a hole in the leather.

The hot fratboy heads back inside and you finish calming yourself down.

You can do this. You can get this job.

As you enter the bar that’s just open, you realize there are only a few staff members kicking around so far. Kim Jungwoo is rearranging chairs, and Lee Donghyuck is sitting on a table looking at his phone. Johnny Suh is behind the bar, and you decide you should probably talk to him, so you try to act confident as you walk through the small establishment.

Johnny’s brown eyes raise as you approach, and he offers you a small smile. “Tough day?”

“What?” You blink at him, settling against the bartop.

“You looked kind of off outside, and most people don’t come in to day-drink this early.”

“Oh, uh… I’m not here to day-drink.” You let out a tiny laugh. “Actually, I came to see if you guys were looking to hire new staff members, I brought my resume.”

You reach into your bag to pull out the papers, and you hand them over to Johnny.

His eyes scan the first sheet. “Wow, a cover letter, I’ve actually never seen one of these.”

People don’t apply with cover letters? The idea is kind of shocking to you.

Johnny hardly looks at your resume, setting it down in front of him to address you instead. “What makes you want to work at Skeets?”

“In all honesty, I need a job. I’m dependable, and I’ve got a decent schedule to work in the food service industry. I like working as part of a team, and I’m already friends with a lot of the staff here, so I thought it might be a good fit.”

Johnny nods, assessing you. “Have you bartended before?”

“I’ve got my qualifications to serve alcohol, but I’ve mostly had waitressing jobs,” you admit.

“At Skeets, we all do a bit of everything. Would you be open to learning how to mix drinks?”

“I’d be very open to it,” you nod.

“Then let’s give it a shot,” Johnny smiles warmly at you. “You’ve got good timing, we actually just had to let go of someone for excessive drinking on the job. I was going to put a wanted ad up today, but looks like that won’t be necessary.”

“Are you…” you swallow thickly, “are you serious? I’m hired?”

“Yeah, why not?”

You can’t help the squeal of delight that rushes through you, and a massive grin makes its way onto your face. You even jump a little, and Johnny seems to enjoy your excitement, smiling from ear to ear while you celebrate.

“When can you start?” he asks next.

“I can start tomorrow! I mean, if you need me that soon.”

“Tomorrow is a big night here at Skeets, the Friday before Halloween. We could use the hands, but it will be a busy one, do you think you can handle that?”

You’re quick to nod. “Of course. But I uh… I should let you know, I can’t work Halloween, I promised a friend I’d meet them at your frat for the party.”

“Don’t worry about Saturday,” Johnny assures you. “Sigma Veta Tau has their frat party tonight, so it’s all us NCT guys working, and tomorrow we’ll switch. As much as Seungcheol is a good comanager, I don’t trust him to teach you how to mix drinks on Halloween.”

“So… you’re going to be the main person training me then?” you ask.

“If you want something done right, you gotta do it yourself,” he confirms.

You can’t help but beam up at the tall frat boy, overjoyed at this turn of events. As cute as Johnny is though, part of you is excited to tell Ghostie about this when he inevitably calls you tonight.

Your life is definitely a little crazy.

“So, how about you come in tomorrow at seven?” Johnny suggests. “The bar will be open past midnight, but I figure I can show you a few things before it gets busy around ten, and then I can let you go early.”

“I’ll be here at seven.”

“And when it comes to what you’re wearing, we’ll give you a Skeets t-shirt,” he pulls at the black fabric stretched tight across his broad chest. “Other than that, you can wear any color of jeans and some sneakers.”

“Perfect.”

“You’ll be paid for the training shift, I’ll tip you out in cash, and if it goes well, we’ll get your banking details at your next shift after that,” Johnny explains. “I’ve got your number here on your resume, so I’ll be in contact with you on Sunday, how’s that sound?”

“Sounds like a dream.” You literally can’t stop smiling.

“Tiny’s going to learn to mix,” Johnny says fondly, “Mark’s going to love this.”

You already feel close to Mark’s big, and the opportunity to work with him is a good one. Johnny is one of the more well-known nice guys at the frat. Sure, he’s got a little bit of a dangerous edge to him, just based on his massive stature alone, but he’s generally a big softy bear.

“Thanks again for this, Johnny,” you beam. “I won’t let you down.”

Thursday pt 2

“Hyuck said our favorite Tiny sorority princess got herself a job today.”

“Hello to you too, Ghostie.”

“I wanted to cut to the chase and congratulate you.”

“I wouldn’t have gotten the job without you,” you admit. “So… thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” your mystery man says, and you can hear that classic grin of his. “I’m sure you got it on your own merit.”

“Apparently no one’s ever brought a cover letter with their resume before.”

“They must have been impressed.”

“Hired me on the spot.”

“That’s my girl.”

Your insides flutter. You like the way it sounds when he calls you his girl. “How about your day, Ghostie? Stalk any new girls?”

He laughs. “Only one girl worth stalking, which, I don’t do, by the way.”

“Sure you don’t.”

“My day was long,” he says finally.

“Yeah, it’s nearly midnight, I was thinking about going to sleep but…”

“But you wanted me to call,” Ghostie finishes your sentence for you.

“When you say it like that it sounds kind of depressing.”

“It’s not depressing, Tiny, it’s cute.”

“Cute?”

“I like that you’re getting used to me.”

“You know… if you decided not to show up to the Halloween party- if you never called again, I think… I’d wonder who you are the rest of my life.” It’s a moment of vulnerability, and your heart races in your chest while you wait for his response.

“I wouldn’t do that to you, Tiny,” Ghostie promises. “I’ll find you on Saturday, and not in a stalker way.”

“What costume are you going to be wearing?”

“If I tell you, you’ll just show up and scour the whole place looking for me.”

“You know me too well, don’t you, Ghostie?”

“What are you going to wear, pretty girl?”

You literally kick your feet at the term of endearment, body buzzing. It takes a moment to collect yourself. “Honestly? I’ve got a Ghost Face mask hanging around somewhere.”

“And here I was being told I’m the one who gets hard pretending to be Ghost Face.”

“Well… even though I don’t know you, not really, I think I got that one pretty accurate, didn’t I?”

“Maybe a little.”

“I thought you said you were big,” you tease.

“Okay, maybe a lot.”

You bite at your lip. After the great day you’ve had, it’s difficult not to feel flirty. “Are you hard right now, big guy?”

He groans, and even under the voice modulator, something tells you the sounds he makes are sexy as fuck. You can feel your panties getting wet. It’s dirty, but in the best possible way.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” you grin.

“You’re being bad, Tiny.”

“Says the guy who’s literally hard right now.”

The other end of the line is silent for a moment. “Can I ask you something?”

“You can ask me anything.”

“What if… when we meet, you’re not interested in me?”

Well, this has just taken a turn. How did you go from horny thoughts to insecurity?

It’s a valid question though, one you should have asked yourself by now, but for some reason you haven’t. You think about it for a few seconds.

“I feel like… I know it’s been less than a week of talking but, you’re not like any other guy I’ve ever met. And not just because you’re calling with a voice modulator.” You let out a laugh. “You ask how my day is, and you care to hear my answer. You even helped me get a job, which is crazy to think about. For some weird reason, I think when I meet you, the emotional connection is already kind of there, so no matter what you look like, you’ll be more attractive to me.”

“You really think so?”

“I mean, NCT is known for having hot guys, so I’m not sure who you could be that would turn me off. There are only a few NCT guys I’d say a hard no to at the moment.”

“Yeah? Who?”

“Well, Doyoung and I have never gotten along, but I know you’re not him because he doesn’t touch weed. I dated Jeno for about a week, and I know enough about him to know I don’t want to do anything with him ever again, and also, that you’re not Jeno because he’d never ask me how my day was going-”

“What an asshole.”

You laugh. “All things considered, Ghostie, I think you’ll do just fine.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“Is this why you’ve been doing the whole voice modulator thing? You’re worried I won’t be interested in you?”

“It’s one of the reasons,” Ghostie admits. “I also worried that if I did hit on you, you might think I was only trying to get you into my bed, which, yeah, it would be nice, but… as perfect as your body is, it’s not the most interesting thing about you.”

What a scrumptious take; A guy calling you up and using anonymity to prove to you that this connection isn’t only about sex.

Your heart softens.

“Ghostie, you might be one of the sweetest guys I know,” you admit.

“More than your best friend Mark Lee?”

You laugh. “Maybe not, Mark would never do something like this. You’re a bit of a paradox that way, aren’t you?”

“If you say so, Tiny. As much as I’ve liked this talk, I think I should let you sleep. Halloween is two days away and I’m sure we’ve both got a lot to do before then.”

“What if I don’t want you to go just yet?”

“Then I’d remind you that patience is a virtue.”

“You’re such a tease.”

“Good thing we have an emotional connection so you’ll forgive me for it. Night, Tiny.”

“Night, Ghostie.”

Friday

Your first shift consists of shadowing Johnny. He’s a fabulous teacher. He’s calm, patient, and very encouraging. The first few hours are a breeze, but the bar gets increasingly packed as the night goes on.

It’s a little overwhelming, but Johnny helps keep you steady. He gives you the easy drink orders, things like beer and simple cocktails. While you’re filling a cup from the beer tap, he’s busy mixing five to ten different things into one glass for items on the Halloween special menu.

There’s something sexy about a diligent worker, and his beefy arms are all bulgy and hot in his tight Skeets shirt. You can tell that a lot of girls come up to the bar specifically to order from him. There are two other bartenders, but Johnny’s line is notably the longest.

You’ve had your own share of interested men pop over to say hi. There are very few frat boys here tonight, as there’s a party in full swing in the Greek village, so most of the guys coming up to grab a beer from you are people you don’t know.

Many of them are dressed up in costumes, and it’s interesting to try to guess some of the more obscure clothing choices.

Anytime you see a man in a ghost costume, your mind shifts to your mystery caller. You wonder if he’ll pop by tonight- but other than the men already working with you, no NCT boys walk through the front door.

No Ghostie.

There’s not one second of reprieve, but staff need breaks, and finally, just before midnight, Johnny pulls you both for a breather.

“Are you sure the others can keep up while we’re gone?” you ask, looking back at the swamped bartenders.

“They can manage,” he assures you, guiding you through the back staffroom to a door that leads to an alleyway behind the bar. “I know I’ve kept you on longer than I thought, but it’s just been so busy. How are you holding up?”

The cool night air is a drastic difference from the heat and humidity inside, and you take a deep breath, closing your eyes and enjoying it. “I’m doing alright,” you tell him. “You’re the one making the difficult drinks.”

“I’ve been mixing cocktails for years,” he brushes it off, reaching into his back pocket.

“Well, it shows.” You watch to see him pull out a rolled joint, and next comes a lighter.

“Want some?” he asks, lifting the joint to slot between his perfect lips.

“Are we allowed to smoke on the job?”

“Hyuck was prescribed Vyvanse last year, so he’s practically on coke all shift,” Johnny grins, lighting the end of the joint and taking a puff. “Besides,” he lets out a deep breath of smoke, “in the service industry, sometimes you need a little buffer.”

Skeets really is a chill place if the hiring manager smokes weed on breaks with subordinates.

“I didn’t realize you were a stoner,” you muse.

“Most of us frat boys are,” Johnny admits, pulling the joint from between his lips. It’s placed casually between two fingers, and his other hand ruffles through his pretty hair. “It’s a nice night.”

“It is,” you nod, looking up at the sky. Stars are twinkling in the dark

“I’m glad you joined the team, not sure we would have been doing so well without your extra set of hands.”

“I’m really grateful to have been given a trial shift,” you smile softly.

“Well, just so you know, it’s more than a trial shift. You’re hired.” He nudges your shoulder gently, and your grin only grows.

“Thank you.”

Johnny takes another drag from his joint. “Sure you don’t want a puff?”

“I really shouldn’t-”

“I’m going to let you go home pretty soon after this,” Johnny tells you. “So it won’t affect your performance that much.”

You wonder if this is a test, but… at the same time, you don’t think Johnny’s the type of guy to test you this way.

You give in, accepting the joint and bringing it to your lips. It’s been a while since you smoked one of these, and your first tiny hit leaves you coughing, passing the joint back to Johnny while you try to catch your breath.

He grins while watching you, and you get the sneaking suspicion that Johnny thinks you’re cute.

“Thank you,” you say, coughing again.

“You’ve got good manners, don’t ya, Tiny?”

You nod, wiping at the tears that have formed in your eyes from the smoke.

“Who... who do you usually smoke with?” you ask.

“Why? You a cop?” Johnny jokes.

“No, it’s just uh… God, I could tell you the whole story but you wouldn’t even believe me if I did,” you find yourself laughing. “Just… I didn’t know you smoked, so, I’m wondering if maybe there are a few other guys in your circle who do too.”

Johnny looks you up and down. “Like I said earlier, Tiny, almost all us frat boys partake in mari-ju-ana.”

It’s clear he’s not going to give you any information that could help you figure out who your Ghostie is. You suppose you really will just have to be patient.

In less than twenty-four hours, you’ll be finding out who your mystery caller is, and the suspense is absolutely killing you.

Friday pt 2

It’s twelve thirty when you finally get home, and you’re very tired. But at the same time, you’re awake. You take your time getting ready for bed, ignoring the loud party sounds outside and around the frat village while you wait for a call from Ghostie.

As one am rolls around, you start to realize that maybe tonight you won’t get a call.

He is a frat boy, and this is Halloween weekend.

You’re disappointed as you get into bed, frowning as you scroll on your phone, hoping that if you wait another five minutes, maybe he’ll catch you.

Five minutes turn into ten, turn into fifteen, and you find your eyes beginning to shut.

You’re starting to understand how much you truly have come to depend on Ghostie as part of your nightly ritual. It hurts not to get a call from your favourite voice-modulated anonymous frat boy.

You try to self-soothe by assuring yourself you’ll meet him tomorrow, but it doesn’t really help.

Tossing and turning, trying to get comfortable, you fall into a blissless sleep.

Saturday

You’re groggy when you open your eyes, but you still go to check your phone. There’s a missed call notification from an unknown number at three am, and suddenly you’re wide awake, bolting up in bed.

“Hey, Tiny, it’s me.”

As if it could be anyone else.

“Sorry I didn’t get a chance to call you last night. I was pretty swamped with Halloween stuff. But if it makes you feel any better, you were definitely on my mind.”

Here you are kicking your feet again.

“Probably won’t get a chance to talk to you until the party, I really do hope you come… in uh… more ways than one.”

God, he makes you wet.

“I get it if you’re a little mad at me for not calling earlier, and I promise to make it up to you when I see you, if you’ll let me.”

He’s so oddly respectful.

“But I get it if you don’t want to do anything at the party. I’ve enjoyed talking with you this week, and if that’s all it’s going to be then I won’t hold it against you. Anyways, goodnight, see you soon.”

Saturday pt 2

You feel cute tonight. You’d taken your Ghost Face mask off almost as soon as entering the frat, but the little black dress you’re wearing is enough to capture a lot of attention.

Every frat boy that comes up to you makes your heart race, but none of them reveal themselves as your Ghostie.

You’re actually beginning to get a little frustrated, and after two hours of floating around hoping to find your mystery man, you head with Mark to his room for a break.

Mark’s roommate, Hyuck, is sitting on his bed, bong already out and resting on one thigh while scrolls through his phone. He looks up when you enter, smirking. “Finally, smoking buddies.”

“You texted me like two minutes ago to come up here,” Mark rolls his eyes. “Have some patience.”

“Not in my nature,” Hyuck insists, setting his phone down and reaching for his lighter. “First hit is mine.”

As if you expected anything less.

You watch him inhale the thick cloud of smoke, holding it for a moment in his lungs before he lets out a deep exhale. “Fucking hell, he groans, that was a good hit.”

Mark takes the bong and Hyuck falls flat against the bed, closing his eyes and smiling.

“So have you found your stalker yet, Tiny?” Hyuck asks.

Your gaze flashes to Mark. “You told him?”

“He was curious why I was asking for a stoner list,” Mark defends himself.

“Whoever the dude is, he’s got balls,” Hyuck says wistfully.

There’s a knock on the door, and Jaehyun pokes his head inside. “Heard we’re smoking?”

“Yeah, come in!” Hyuck waves his hand, still collapsed on his bed.

The door is pushed open wider, and you catch sight of Johnny standing behind Jaehyun. Your new hiring manager flashes you a wink as they enter, and the door is shut firmly behind them. Jaehyun goes to sit with Hyuck, but Johnny approaches you, taking the seat next to you on Mark’s bed.

“How’s your night going?” Johnny asks.

“She’s waiting for her stalker to come kidnap her and fuck her brains out,” Hyuck says loudly.

“Your stalker?” Johnny laughs.

“Some guy has been calling her all week,” Mark tries to explain.

“It sounds worse than it is,” you insist, feeling the need to defend Ghostie. “He’s only a little perverted.”

“And you’re into that sort of thing?” Jaehyun questions, cocking his head while Mark takes a puff from the bong and hands it over.

“Not usually,” you admit. “But… this guy is different.”

“You don’t even know what he looks like,” Mark groans, collapsing in his desk chair and running an anxious hand through his hair.

“That doesn’t matter,” you insist.

“Fucking girls, dude,” Hyuck laughs, sitting up and watching Jaehyun smoke from the bong. “You know what we need?”

“More weed?” Mark suggests.

“Yes, but also, shots.” Hyuck’s eyes shift to Johnny. “Not the shit from downstairs. The good stuff.”

Johnny lets out a chuckle. “You want something from my secret stash?”

“The tequila you brought back from Mexico,” Hyuck nods.

Jaehyun lets out a puff of smoke, holding the bong out for Johnny, who shakes his head.

“You’re not taking a hit?” Jaehyun asks, staring at Johnny in hazy shock.

“Not tonight,” Johnny responds. Then he turns to you. “If neither of us are taking a crack at the bong, how about you come help me grab the tequila?”

“Careful, John,” Hyuck teases, “She’s not interested in you, she only has eyes for this Ghostie dude.”

Mark shoves Hyuck’s knee and Johnny simply grins. “Come on Tiny, you don’t want to get secondhand high on a night like this.”

He’s right about that, and you stand with him, heading to the door. Johnny’s so tall and broad, and you try not to stare at his shoulders, but it’s extremely difficult not to appreciate his large form.

“What’s your costume?” you ask.

“Oh, this?” He pulls casually at his black tshirt. “I’m a serial killer, they look like everyone else.”

“Very original,” you laugh, falling into step with the tall fratboy as you make your way down the crowded hall.

“My room is on the top floor,” he tells you, heading to the stairwell and holding the door open for you. “I like your dress, by the way.”

“Thanks, it goes with this.” You hold up the Ghost Face mask to show it to him, and his grin widens while you climb the stairs.

“You’re gonna have to let me try that on.”

“I’m uh… I’m actually saving it for Ghostie to try,” you admit, feeling a little silly with how loyal you’re being to your mystery caller.

“He’s a lucky guy,” Johnny muses.

“Here’s to hoping it goes well,” you sigh.

Johnny doesn’t respond to your comment, and as you reach the top floor he guides you three rooms down, using a key to unlock the door before he holds it open for you. “After you, Tiny.”

The space is the same size as Hyuck and Mark’s, but it only has one bed. “I didn’t realize they had single rooms here,” you say, looking around.

“There’s only a few, and I’ve got seniority,” Johnny explains. He closes the door behind him, walking over to the large closet.

You take in the decorations. It’s unmistakably a frat boy's room, but much cleaner than you’re used to. There’s a gaming station, and a mini fridge that you’d guess is full of beer. A clothing rack shows off some of Johnny’s more sophisticated tastes.

You’re curious about what else he has in his stash, so you join him by the closet, peeking inside. “We’re looking for tequila right?”

God, he has a whole shelf full of expensive bottles of booze.

“Uh huh,” Johnny nods. “Should be in the back here somewhere.”

“Isn’t this tequila?” you ask, pointing to a bottle he’s brushed past.

“Close,” Johnny flashes a grin at you before continuing to rummage, “but no cigar.”

You freeze.

It’s been nearly a week since your first interaction with Ghostie, but you remember that interesting turn of phrase like it was yesterday.

But- it can’t be.

Johnny can’t be your mystery caller-

Can he?

“Found it,” Johnny announces, pulling an immaculate bottle of tequila out. His gaze lands on you. “You alright, Tiny? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I mean… have I?”

He cocks his head. “What do you mean?”

“You’re…” You swallow thickly. “Are you my Ghostie?”

Johnny meets your gaze with a steady look. “Does it upset you?”

It’s not a clear confirmation, but it’s a confirmation nonetheless.

You stare at him in absolute shock for a moment. He looks insanely gorgeous tonight, all broad, with his pretty lips- without even knowing what you’re doing, you find yourself throwing your arms around him and burying your face against his chest.

Johnny freezes, obviously startled by the sudden contact, but then he’s wrapping you in a tight embrace. One of his hands finds the back of your head, and he cradles you close.

Neither of you say anything, you simply hold each other while you come to terms with everything.

He’s so stupid for ever thinking you wouldn’t want him-

You do want him. You want him so bad-

Pulling away from his chest, you tilt your chip up, reaching for his face. You cup his cheek while you move on your tiptoes to press your lips against his.

He appears just as shocked at this movement as when you’d hugged him, but he eases into it all the same, kissing you back gently.

But you don’t want gentle, you want him.

You’re pent up from a week of teasing, and you shift in his embrace, wrapping both arms around the back of his neck while you glide your tongue against his lip.

Johnny lets out a groan, his mouth opening for you while his hands slip down to tug your waist closer.

The kiss deepens and now it’s your turn to release a moan, pressing your tits closer to his chest. He feels like heaven against you, and his lips are absolutely magic. His tongue glides gently against your own. You can taste beer, but it’s not unpleasant, in fact, it turns you on even more.

You thread your fingers through his hair, dragging your nails against his scalp-

“Fuck,” Johnny mutters against your mouth.

Then he’s bending down, hands grabbing at your ass and prompting you to jump. You wrap your legs around his hips and he carries you effortlessly, closing the distance to his bed.

Instead of tossing you down, he sits on the mattress and suddenly your knees are digging into his charcoal duvet. You’re on top, fingers in his hair, your tongue licking at his lip, and you’ve never felt so powerful.

It gives you the confidence to wiggle your hips a little, and you’re pleased to find he’s already growing hard in his jeans. God, he feels big- and your pussy throbs at the idea of what you’re going to do to him tonight.

You’re in a dress, and your panty-clad core feels delightful against bulging denim. Johnny’s grabbing at your bare thigh, kneading your flesh, and it makes you moan desperately. Not only is he skilled with his tongue, but his hands seem to know what they’re doing too.

Suddenly he’s grabbing at your hair, tugging you so you arch your head back, giving him access to your throat. His mouth feels amazing as he begins to lick and suck on your neck, finding your sweet spot way too easily-

“Who-” You swallow thickly. “Who gave you my number?”

Johnny laughs against your skin, pulling away to look up at you with dark eyes. “Mark did.”

“Mark?!” You’re in absolute shock now.

“Gave it to me during finals last year,” Johnny explains. “But… we both had busy summers and…” one of his hands sneaks down to guide your hips, helping you grind against him, “I guess I wasn’t sure how you felt about me.”

“You’re crazy!”

“Maybe a little,” he admits. “I’m also Mark’s big, and it’s not like you and I have ever been close.”

“But you’ve liked me for a while, haven’t you, Ghostie?”

He groans at the nickname, looking up at you with eyes full of wonder. “Longer than you know.”

You wish you could say you’ve felt the same- but in all honesty, you have always seen him as Mark’s big. As an older fratboy dad type-

The way he’s acted with you this week has inklings of that protective daddy personality you know and enjoy, but… he’s not been particularly dad-like. He’s shown you a new side of himself, and you’re so fucking happy he did.

“You know, when Mark finds out you’re my stalker he’s going to flip.”

“I wasn’t stalking you,” Johnny insists, grinning up at you as he applies more pressure to your hips, making you grind against him harder.

“God, you even hired me for a job-”

He laughs. “It wasn’t favoritism, you had a cover letter, the bar owner was even impressed.”

“You’re so bad- this whole time you’ve been mind fucking me. I would have never guessed my Ghostie worked at Skeets.”

“Well, I do have a minor in psychology,” he admits. “Figured the best place to hide is in plain sight.”

“You even smoked a joint in front of me and I never guessed-”

“Yeah, I was playing with fire with that one,” Johnny laughs.

“It’s funny. I was so busy thinking about being loyal to Ghostie that I was trying not to check you out last night.”

“And I’m so lucky to have you. You wouldn’t even let me put on your Ghost Face mask, so busy saving it for Ghostie.”

“Saving myself too,” you note, grinning down at him.

“Yeah?”

“We’ve talked every night since Sunday- I haven’t cum in over a week.”

“Fuck, Tiny,” Johnny groans. “I guess I better help you out then.”

“Really? How are you going to do that?”

“I’ll let you stay on top for a while, let you grind against me until you’re begging for me to tear your dress off.” He pulls at the strap on your shoulder. “Then, I’ll flip you over, get on my knees, and eat you out like the good girl you are, stretching you open with my fingers.”

“And then?”

“When you’re shaking and delirious from cumming, I’ll fuck you right. Bet you’ve never really been fucked right before.”

God, you definitely haven’t. At least- you know you’ve never been fucked the way Johnny is about to fuck you.

“What if I already want you to tear my dress off?” you ask, grinding down against his cock.

Johnny lets out a low groan, grinning at you. “Tiny, you’re nowhere near begging yet.”

“I’m not?” You lean forward, pressing a kiss to his throat before your teeth drag against his earlobe. “Please, Ghostie, I’m already so fucking wet, you wouldn’t believe it-”

He laughs, hand finding your hair again. He tugs you away from his neck, pressing his lips to your own and kissing you hard.

He takes your breath away. His tongue is perfect, licking and tasting- making you moan loudly while you work your hips, swiveling on his denim-covered cock.

“Fuck, Ghostie, you’re so fucking big-”

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” he promises, grabbing a fistful of your ass and squeezing so hard it almost hurts. But the pain is wonderful, and you cry out in ecstasy, working yourself harder against him.

If it wasn’t for his enticing cock, you think you could make out with him like this forever.

You just want to be naked, so you grab at your dress, intent on lifting it off-

Johnny stops you. “I’ve told you patience is a virtue, haven’t I, Tiny?”

You groan in annoyance. “John, please-”

“Ghostie,” he corrects you.

You don’t even care- you simply grab his hand, guiding it between your legs. His fingertips brush over your soaked panties, and you gasp at the feeling of him, immediately grinding down, looking for relief.

“Fuck-” you moan, closing your eyes and throwing your head back.

He begins to circle your clit through your thong and you’re forced to grab at his shoulder to steady yourself, whimpering loudly.

“Shit, Tiny, you’re so fucking pretty,” he whispers.

“I need you,” you gasp, feeling an orgasm already bubbling in the pit of your stomach. “Please, move my panties to the side-”

Johnny doesn’t question you this time. He pulls your thong away, easily burying two large fingers into your wet, needy core.

Now you’re really gasping. You lean forward, wrapping both arms around his strong shoulders and burying your face against his throat. “Oh my God, Ghostie- don’t stop-”

“You’re going to cum from this, aren’t you, pretty girl?”

You nod desperately, swiveling your hips so your clit can rub against the palm of his hand while his fingers work you open.

“So good,” you whimper. “So fucking good-”

Johnny groans, curving his fingers and stroking your gspot.

You squeal in his lap, thigh muscles clenching while your pussy begins to throb around the foreign intrusions. You’re so close to the edge you can almost taste it.

“Want you to cum for me. Wanna hear your sounds while you drip down my hand.”

Fuck, he’s way too sexy, voice all low and seductive. He’s breathing hard, and you can tell you’re turning him on just from riding his fingers-

“Come on, Tiny, who’s my good girl?”

“I am-” you gasp, digging your nails into his shoulders as your orgasm hits you straight on.

You moan loudly, burying your face against Johnny’s neck. You’re panting against his skin, wiggling your hips while his fingers continue inside of you, driving you absolutely insane. Waves of pleasure are overtaking your form, and your mind is completely blank, overwhelmed by the feeling of ecstasy that Johnny provides for you.

“That’s it,” Johnny encourages you. “So fucking good for me.”

You’re shaking on his lap by the time your high is over, and you press wet kisses to his throat, earning groans from your Ghostie.

You reach down for your dress, lifting it up and off your body. Johnny pulls back, watching you with dark eyes. He takes his fingers out of your wet pussy, bringing them to his lips to clean. But he’s not done there, as you toss the fabric to the floor, Johnny offers you his digits next.

You lock eyes with him for a moment before leaning forward and accepting, taking his wet fingers into your mouth and helping suck them clean. You groa at the taste of yourself. Johnny watches the motion, his free hand finding your hip and forcing you to grind down against his cock.

“You’re so hot, Tiny,” he says, removing his fingers from your lips.

“Wait till you see me naked,” you grin, reaching behind yourself to undo your bra.

It falls away easily, and Johnny’s large hands cup your breasts almost immediately. His head dips, eyes taking in your newly exposed skin. “Fuck, how does a girl get this perfect?”

“How does a guy get a massive cock like yours?” you counter, rubbing yourself against the front of his jeans.

“Touche,” he chuckles, leaning down to lick your nipple.

You thread your fingers through his hair, guiding him to show more affection to your chest, which he’s more than happy to do. His large hand cups your right breast while he worships your other with his mouth, suckling on your nipple. His teeth drag gently against the sensitive bud and you moan loudly, rocking your hips all the while.

“As much as I’d love to keep sucking on your tits,” Johnny sighs, lips moving up your throat again, “I’d rather be between your legs.”

“Ghostie, do whatever you want to me,” you instruct, feeling delightfully submissive.

“You got it, Tiny.”

In one easy motion, he flips you so your back is on the bed. Johnny pulls away from you, sinking to his knees at the edge of the mattress before grabbing you and tugging you closer. He tears his own shirt off, giving you a great view of muscles that make you even wetter. Then he grabs your panties, sliding them down your legs so you’re completely bare for him now.

Johnny doesn’t say anything, he simply licks his lips and dives into you. His tongue parts your folds, dipping inside to taste your walls while your legs shake around his head. “Fuck, Ghostie-”

You reach down to grab his hair, applying enough pressure to his head to let him know you’re enjoying what he’s doing… if he can’t already tell from your desperately needy moans.

His lips move to suction on your clit and a squeal escapes you, your back arching slightly at the sensation.

You’re sensitive from having cum already, sensitive from having not cum all week only to be getting this much attention now. But you’re also probably sensitive because this is Johnny, because there’s been a build-up that’s left you ready to pop, and he seems intent on making you pop multiple times for him.

“Oh my God,” you whimper, eyes closed, abdominal muscles tensing with effort as his skilled tongue works you up again.

Johnny groans against your pussy and it’s one of the sexiest things that’s ever happened to you. Your grip on his hair tightens, your core throbbing with pleasure already.

When he adds two fingers into your dripping hole, you know you’re not going to last, but you don’t think he wants you to.

In fact, you’d bet that Johnny himself is just about ready to explode. You can’t believe he doesn’t have his cock out yet- can’t believe he’s so intent on making you cum twice before getting any satisfaction for himself.

“Fuck, Ghostie-” You want to tell him how close you are to cumming, but you can hardly get the words out between your moans. “I’m- holy shit-”

Johnny finger fucks you even harder, his mouth focusing on your clit, and you’re pretty sure he’s understood your garbled attempt to warn him, pretty sure he wants you to cum.

You allow yourself to find your release, your back arching again as you tug on Johnny’s hair, keeping his face between your legs. You grind down slightly, your body chasing your orgasm as it surges through you like fire in your veins.

Johnny lets out a low groan again, and your entire body twitches at the extra stimulation. You’re gasping now. Nothing has ever felt this good-

To his credit, Johnny tries to help you through your entire orgasm, but he pulls away before you’re truly finished. You can feel him panting against your pussy, and when you open your eyes to look down at him, you find Johnny staring at you with the horniest expression you’ve ever seen on a man.

“Ghostie-” you whimper, shifting against his duvet.

“Condoms,” he says, pulling his fingers out of your core and standing up.

“I’m on birth control,” you tell him quickly, making him freeze. “And if we’re both clean-”

Johnny practically moans at the idea, looking down at your body. “Does my Tiny want to be filled up all nice and good?”

Now it’s your turn to groan, and you nod, licking your lips. You sit up next, feeling your skin heat at the words you want to say, “I also… I wanna suck you off first.”

Johnny approaches the bed again, towering over you. It’s hard to focus on his eyes when his abs and strong biceps and veiny forearms are drawing your attention, but when he cups your jaw it makes things easier. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

“You pretty much stalked me for a week,” you tease, grinning.

Your Ghostie lets out a laugh. He doesn’t bother to check you on the word ‘stalking’ this time, even though he’s always been adamant that’s not what he was up to. It’s nice to have this little win, and as a reward for him biting his tongue, you reach out to undo his belt.

As the buckle unclasps and you move to his zipper, there’s a loud banging on the door.

Johnny looks over his shoulder and you can hear Hyuck screaming “Tequila!”

The frat boy in front of you lifts his finger to his lips, a shushing motion, and then he reaches into his back pocket for his phone. You bet he’s going to text Hyuck some lie about not being in the room, but you’re too horny to slow down.

You get his jeans undone and you bundle your hands up in all the fabric, roughly tugging them down.

Johnny lets out a groan when his large cock slaps up against his abdomen, and he moves his phone to the side to give himself a better view, holding it with one hand while raising a brow at you.

You’re on your knees at the foot of the bed now while Johnny stands there, and you steady yourself, grabbing the base of his cock. With one last wink at Ghostie, you lean forward, kitten licking his length from balls to tip.

The man above you quickly types in the text, then tosses his phone to the side, his large hand coming down to cup your cheek. You take this as a sign to accept him into your mouth, so you do exactly that.

He’s so large and thick- you haven’t sucked cock in a while, and you’ve never sucked a cock as big as his. You know you can take your time, Johnny’s always been patient with you.

You start by paying attention to the head, swirling your tongue around him and getting used to his size. Your eyes close, mind focused completely on your task. You’re already drooling from this, and you can feel your saliva dripping down his shaft. You smooth your thumb along the new trail of spit, helping lube your hand so you can begin to pump his cock.

“Fuck,” Johnny groans, tightening his grip in your hair.

You try to sink your mouth further onto his cock, but it’s difficult. He’s just so huge-

Your pussy throbs knowing that soon, this monster dick is going to be inside of you-

Without any lube that you’ve seen so far, you want to make him as slicked up as possible, and it helps that you’re drooling from how sexy all of this is.

His cock hits the back of your throat and you gag slightly, powering through the uncomfortable feeling as you glide your tongue along his shaft. You’re not a quitter.

“Holy fuck, Tiny-” Johnny praises you. “You don’t have to try to take more than you can handle-”

But you want to. You want to pleasure him the way he’s pleasured you, and his words only prompt you to suck harder, earning more groans from the man above you.

“You’re so good at this,” he continues his words of encouragement, and they do help you take him deeper. His voice is smooth, sexy, and thankfully not modulated in any way.

You’ve never realized how nice John’s voice really is.

You apply more pressure with your hand, pumping him faster-

“Okay, okay-” Johnny tugs gently on your hair, prompting you to pull off of his cock and blink up at him in confusion. “I have to fuck you now. I’m done waiting.”

You let out a tiny mewl, nodding.

Johnny kicks off his jeans completely, pressing a knee onto the bed. He leans down to kiss you, and then he’s grabbing your body. In one easy motion, he tosses you a few feet up the mattress, so your head can land against the pillows.

God, he makes you feel truly Tiny- it’s one of the sexiest things ever.

He takes his place between your legs next, lips finding yours. One of his hands cups your cheek, and the kiss deepens, his tongue invading your mouth while your arms wrap around his strong shoulders.

You can feel his cock sliding between your pussy lips, and it’s almost embarrassing how wet you are, how much drool you’ve left on him.

“Please-” you whimper. You can’t wait another moment either, you have to know what he feels like. You reach your hand between your bodies, grabbing his cock so you can line him up with you properly. “Ghostie, I can’t-”

He kisses you, cutting you off. Something tells you Johnny understands, and the moment you have him properly situated, he begins to push into you.

You gasp against his lips, letting go of his cock so you can grab his shoulders. He’d worked you open with his fingers two times over, but nothing compares to this. You can feel your walls stretching to accommodate his impressive girth, and it leaves you practically brain-dead.

“Let me know if it’s too much,” Johnny tells you, lips moving to your throat so he can suck on your sweet spot while he continues to burry into your hot, wet core.

You wrap your legs tightly around his hips, closing your eyes while the feeling of him overtakes you. You’ve never moaned like this before, never felt anything like Johnny-

He groans loudly against your skin, gently thrusting, coating his cock in your juices to make things easier-

The moment his hips hit flush to yours, his full cock buried inside of you, you both gasp. Johnny grabs at your hands, interlocking your fingers and pinning them to the pillows on either side of your head.

“Fuck, you’re so big, you’re so-” You can’t even think, especially not when he takes another test thrust.

His cock drags against your inner walls and you cry out, body tingling.

“You take me so well, Tiny,” he praises you, mouth still hot on your throat. “The perfect fit.”

You can’t speak, not now, but you can squeeze his hands and tilt your head to the side, kissing his cheek. Johnny takes the cue to bring his lips back to yours, and you’re immediately lost in yet another breathtaking makeout session.

He’s moving slow, fucking into you at a gentle pace, allowing your body to get used to his massive size.

But you’re feeling particularly desperate, and greedy. “More.”

“More?” He laughs. “You sure about that?”

You nod, eager to be decimated by him. “Please, ruin me-”

Johnny groans, letting go of one of your hands so he can press his palm flat to the bed, giving himself more leverage. He begins to fuck you faster, and each meeting of his cock to your core has you whimpering like a whore in heat.

“You make the cutest fucking sounds,” Johnny breathes.

Only he - with his cock making you feral - would call your noises of pleasure cute.

He’s so stupidly endearing.

“Fuck, Tiny, you’re dripping- making this too fucking easy for me.”

It’s absolutely embarrassing how wet you are. He’s gliding into you with no issues now, and each movement is like heaven. The head of his cock hits a spot deep in your stomach- you can’t help but reach down, pressing your palm to your abdomen-

You can feel him rearranging your guts, and you both groan when you apply a bit of pressure.

“Deep, huh?” Johnny lets out a moaned chuckle.

“So deep-” you agree, words slightly garbled.

“I’ve just started with you and you can hardly speak,” Johnny muses. “Wonder what’s gonna happen when I make you cum again.”

You cry out desperately, removing your hand from your stomach so you can claw at his hair, bringing his lips back to your own.

You’re tired of thinking- all you want to do is experience this, experience him, at your fullest- and boy, are you fucking full.

Johnny lets go of your other hand, reaching for your thigh. He adjusts it higher on his hip and suddenly he’s driving into you even deeper.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head and you gasp loudly against his lips. Johnny traces his tongue along your teeth, and you can feel him smirking.

You love that he’s enjoying this- enjoying watching you come completely undone for him.

“You know,” he says, “if you keep squeezing me like that, I’m not going to last long.”

You don’t even care. You know this isn’t the only time you’ll be fucking this man- and after cumming twice already, your body is near its limit of pleasure, if that’s even possible. In fact, there’s something very sexy about making a man cum quicker than he’s used to, and your pussy clenches at the thought.

“Fuck,” Johnny groans again. “Can I flip you over?”

At this point, you’ll agree to any request, and you nod quickly, biting at your lip.

With one last kiss, Johnny pulls away from you. His cock slips out of your core and you whine at the loss, only for his two large hands to grab your waist and manually turn you onto your stomach. Then he adjusts your hips, pulling you up into doggy position.

“If you need to scream, use the pillows,” Johnny warns you, lining up with your pussy again.

The first thrust has you doing exactly that. You bury your face into the pillow, letting out a loud cry as his cock hits deeper than before.

This position might just kill you, but you don’t care.

His hands feel so good- so large and warm and steady on your hips as he finds an even rougher pace.

You can hear your ass smacking loudly against his front with each thrust and it only adds to your arousal.

Bunching your hands up in his duvet, you do your best not to be so loud that the whole frat will hear you. But it’s so difficult not to just melt under him-

You can feel your eyes welling with pleasure-fueled tears, and it drives you crazy.

“Fuck, you like this position, don’t you, pretty girl?”

“Yes, Ghostie!” you gasp, nodding while his cock continues to make you feel like absolute heaven.

“You look fucking perfect like this,” he tells you. “Face down, ass up. Pretty soon you’ll be begging for me to fill you up even more.”

His words flip a switch inside of you. “God, yes, please-” you cry out. “I want it so bad-”

“Want what?”

“Want your cum,” you whimper. “Wanna be so full-”

Johnny groans, grabbing rough fistfuls of your ass while he fucks you even harder.

“I need it, Ghostie, I need it-” You’re crying now, and Johnny notices.

He bends over your back, bracing an arm across your chest so he can lift you onto your knees. He cups your jaw, thumb stroking through a tear track. “Holy shit, Tiny,” he moans, mouth hot against your shoulder.

“Please, Ghostie, please-” you whimper, lower lip trembling-

You’re so close-

Johnny lets go of your jaw, and his hand slips down your front. You jolt when his fingers make contact with your clit, wriggling in his grasp.

“I’m almost there, Tiny,” he admits. “Watching you cum will tip me over the edge- you’ll be good and cum for me, right?”

All you can do is nod. Words are gone. Your mind is blank except for the pleasure that’s coursing through you.

Your noises are getting pitchier, and Johnny works you all the way to your peak. You gasp loudly as you topple over the edge, core clamping down hard on his cock.

Your legs feel like jelly, and Johnny releases you, allowing you to fall to the bed while your orgasm ravages your form. You’re clawing at the sheets, burying your face in his bed to muffle your screams-

His hands are bruising on your hips, and you hear him let out a loud groan. You can feel him filling you up, his motions faltering ever so slightly. His breath is hot against your shoulders and it’s added stimulus that makes you twitch, so completely overwhelmed that it almost feels like you’re about to black out.

But you don’t want to miss a second of this. His groans of pleasure keep you in the moment even as your mind is in a sex daze.

Johnny rides you through your high, thrusts slowing until he comes to a stop behind you.

You’re both breathing heavily now, and Johnny stays still for a moment, enjoying the last of your orgasm aftershocks. Then he flattens his chest to your back, hand falling to the bed next to your own.

“Holy shit,” he breathes.

You can’t help but let out a small laugh, and it makes Johnny groan as your core clenches again.

He kisses your shoulder, lips oddly tender in comparison to the way he just blew your back out.

“Ghostie-” you whimper, wanting to collapse on his bed from exhaustion.

“Stay still, I’ll get something to clean you up,” he assures you, pressing one last kiss to your skin before straightening from your back.

You miss his warmth as soon as he’s gone, and you especially miss his cock when it slides out of you.

You feel him get off the bed, and a moment later, something begins to drip down your inner thighs. He really filled you up, and it makes you twitch. You reach a hand between your legs, cupping your core and rolling onto your back on his bed, trying to breathe properly.

Johnny is back a second later, and you can feel his gaze on you.

“Spread these thighs for me, Tiny,” he says gently, touching your knee.

You open your eyes, and then you open your legs.

Johnny moves your hand out of the way, letting out a groan. “You have no idea how fucking hot this is-” he tells you, wiping your core clean of his cum.

You still don’t have it within yourself to speak, you can only watch him toss the tissue in the garbage before you’re making grabby hands at him.

Johnny laughs. He sits on the bed next to you, leaning against the headboard before scooping you into his lap. He’s so fucking big, and he makes you feel safe cuddled in his arms, your cheek pressed to his chest.

His heart is still racing, and it makes you feel better to know you’re not the only one who’s so affected by this.

Johnny’s fingers begin to thread through your hair, and he simply holds you while you come out of subspace.

The party is still in full swing outside, and it’s an interesting feeling to have such a private moment with Johnny in the middle of a frat on Halloween.

“Do you think anyone heard us?” you ask finally.

Johnny laughs. “Don’t worry about it,” he says soothingly.

You pull away from his chest, looking up at him. His hand moves to cup your face and you press your lips to his. It’s a much gentler kiss than he’d given you mid-fuck, and it eases your racing heart.

“Ghostie?”

“Yeah, Tiny?”

“I like you a lot.”

He lets out another chuckle. “I like you too.”

“We’ll do this again sometime, right?”

“Of course, Tiny.” His hand smooths up and down your back. “I’d also like to take you on dates, if you’ll let me.”

“I’d like that,” you nod, relaxing against his chest again. “And… and when you call me, no more voice modulator.”

“No?”

“I like your voice, your real voice.” God, you’re feeling so soft and mushy for him.

“I like your voice too.” For a second, it’s a sweet moment, and then Johnny continues, “Liked listening to your whimpers.”

He’s such a frat boy, but you kind of love him for it. “Did you like my tears too?”

“Only if they’re for a good reason,” Johnny says. “If anyone else ever makes you cry, I’ll have to fuck them up.”

“My protective Ghostie,” you grin, leaning up to kiss the underside of his jaw.

“As much as I’d love to stay cuddling you forever, I should probably bring the boys some tequila,” Johnny sighs.

“The boys,” you echo. “I feel like I’ve just fucked Mark and Hyuck’s dad.”

“Do you have a daddy kink, Tiny?”

“For you, I have any kink you want,” you laugh.

“I like the sound of that.”

“Just… kiss me again?” you ask. “We can bring tequila after.”

“Are you sure you want to come with? You can stay here and I’ll come back-”

“We should…” you lick your lips, “we should be social.”

“I just fucked your brains out and you want to go be social?” Johnny grins. “Maybe I didn’t work you over well enough.”

“You worked me over perfect,” you laugh, grabbing at his jaw so you can press your lips to his.

Johnny melts into the kiss, and there’s something in it that feels like coming home. You’ve never felt this safe with a guy before, and it’s kind of starting to scare you.

If you were to stay here- you think you might even fall in love with Johnny… that is, if you haven’t already.

You pull away from your Ghostie, letting out a sigh.

Getting out of his lap isn’t fun, and your legs are wobbly as you stand next to the bed, but Johnny’s hands go to your hips to steady you.

When he stands, he towers over you, and you’re overcome by your thirst for him all over again. You wrap your arms around the back of his neck, bringing him in for another kiss.

It’s so easy to get lost in making out with Johnny, but you have to tear yourself away, nodding, “Tequila.”

“Tequila,” he echoes. “Can you stand by yourself?”

“I’m okay,” you assure him, but it still hurts when he lets you go.

Johnny pulls on some sweatpants while you find your dress-

“You’re not putting that back on,” Johnny tells you, moving to his closet. “Let me give you some clothes.”

“Are you trying to announce to Mark and Hyuck that we’ve fucked?” you laugh, accepting the large t-shirt he throws your way.

“Trust me, Tiny, they’ll know.”

“Yeah? How’s that?”

“After this, I won’t be able to keep my hands to myself, and something tells me you won’t be able to either.” Johnny pulls on a hoodie, grabbing the tequila and turning to you. “I know you, remember?”

You grin, pulling on the pair of black boxer shorts he’d also sent your way. “Maybe a little too well.”

“Or not well enough,” Johnny suggests, approaching you again.

“You’re such a sweet talker.”

“Only for you,” he smirks, leaning down to kiss you again. “You look cute in my clothes.”

“Do I look like I just got fucked senseless?”

“Definitely.”

“Mark’s going to hate you,” you laugh.

“He’ll get over it,” Johnny brushes it off, reaching for your hand. “Ready to go?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“You can still stay here if you want.”

“No, let’s face this now.” You need to be firm, need to get out of this love den before you find yourself even more loved up.

The two of you head to his door and Johnny holds it open for you.

In the time you’ve been fucking, it looks like a lot of people have dispersed from the party, so walking through the hallway isn’t exactly a walk of shame. However, when you get down the stairs to Mark’s floor, you realize you still have to pull up your big girl panties to face him.

“I’m going to run to the bathroom,” you tell Johnny, “I’ll meet you in Mark’s.”

“You don’t want me to come with you?”

“To the bathroom?” you laugh. “I think I’m good.”

With one last kiss, you make your way to the frat bathroom at the end of the hall. It’s important to go pee after sex, for UTI reasons, your sorority big sister has drilled that into you since first year. When you’re done, you head to the sink, daring a look at yourself in the dirty mirror.

You look fucked, but you also look happy.

In fact, you can’t stop smiling.

After washing your hands, you dab some water on your throat, hoping it will calm you down. Once you feel good and ready, you exit the bathroom.

Mark’s door is open when you get to his room, and you poke your head inside.

Jaehyun and Hyuck are on one bed, Mark and Johnny on the other, and they’re all lifting shots to their mouths. As you step inside, Mark’s gaze shifts to you. He takes in your new outfit and his eyes widen, then he spits out his shot, coughing loudly.

Johnny’s hand finds Mark’s back while he practically coughs up a lung, and then Mark is leaping to his feet. “What-” His eyes dart between you and Johnny, and you can see the realization there.

“Jesus, Mark, learn how to handle a shot,” Hyuck scoffs.

Mark doesn’t even entertain Hyuck, he simply turns to his big, pointing an accusatory finger at Johnny’s chest. “You’re Ghostie!?”

Johnny stands up. “You’re the one who gave me her number last year.”

“I what?!” Mark’s eyes are practically bulging out of his head now.

Hyuck and Jaehyun exchange a look, and Hyuck reaches for the tequila to pour another shot.

“Mark, it could be worse-” you say, trying to de-escalate the situation while stepping further into the room.

“How could it be worse!?” Mark bellows. “My Big is a stalker!”

“He’s not a stalker,” you defend Johnny, coming to join your tall new lover, your hand reaching for his.

“You’re her new boss!” Mark insists.

“Hyuck fucked our last bar manager,” Johnny points out.

“Guilty,” Hyuck smirks over the rim of his new shot.

Mark’s still not having any of this situation. “This is fucked up.”

“Mark, I’ve told you a million times, it’s spooky season.” You can’t help but giggle. This has been such a turn of events, but you wouldn’t want it any other way.

“You better not hurt her,” Mark says next, trying to meet Johnny’s gaze even while substantially shorter.

“I won’t,” Johnny promises.

“This is just-” Mark shakes his head. “Fuck this, I need to sleep.”

“We can move the party to my room,” Jaehyun says, already grabbing the bottle of tequila while Hyuck reaches for his bong.

It’s clear Mark’s done talking, and he collapses onto his bed face first like a tantruming toddler. You’ll discuss this with him another day, but you know now is probably not the time to push him to accept that his Big has a whole different side to him that Mark’s never seen.

As you leave the room with Hyuck, Johnny and Jaehyun, Hyuck elbows you in the side. “I always knew you’d end up with one of us.”

“Yeah?” you laugh, gaze shifting to Johnny and Jaehyun who walk a few feet ahead of you.

“Once an NCT girl, always an NCT girl,” Hyuck nods. “And between us…” he leans closer, “Johnny is a good one.”

Your Ghostie looks over his shoulder at you, and you meet his gaze with a smile. “He is,” you agree. “Hey, John?”

“Yes, Tiny?” He stops at the door to the stairwell, holding it open and allowing you to catch up.

“I changed my mind, I think I am done with the party tonight.”

“Yeah?” Johnny smirks. “Gonna come back to my room?”

“If you invite me.”

“Tiny, my room has an open-door policy for you now.”

“Is that so?” you wrap your arms around his neck, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips.

“Uh huh,” Johnny grins. “And free cuddles, anytime you want them.”

“I like the sound of that,” you confess.

“Just get married already!” Hyuck shouts back at the two of you as he climbs the stairs with Jaehyun.

You and Johnny can only laugh at Hyuck. Your willpower is completely gone, and you allow your Ghostie to take you back to his room.

He cuddles you close as the party dies down outside, and you find yourself slipping into the best sleep of your life on Halloween night with your Ghostie by your side.

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! Halloween is my favourite Holiday, and there's something about Johnny and horror genre that makes me go feral

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🔮 preview. There’s no way he should be this fucking sexy. You’re outside in the cold, parkas on, a Santa hat on his head, a joint between his lips, both your jeans down to your knees, his hand over your mouth to stifle your moans, and he’s about to fuck you against a wall with his massive cock- you’ve decided that Johnny as a whole is simply illegal.

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, exhibitionism in an alley, weed use, slight temperature play, big dick Johnny, quickie, cum kink/filling panties with cum while at work, praise, dirty talk, size kink, hand over mouth silencing, choking, etc… I pet names: (hers) Tiny, pretty girl, good girl. (his) Ghostie.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.5k I teaser wc. 275

🌙 staring. Johnny x afab!reader

bonus

You’ve been dating Johnny for a month and a half and you still can’t get enough of him. Whenever you pop over to the frat, it’s not long before one of you is dragging the other to his room. There’s never been sexual chemistry like there is for you and your Ghostie.

You’d never thought your biggest hurdle in the workplace would be refraining from jumping your bar manager, but here you are, every shift, practically drooling over him. Each brush of his hands across your body as he moves behind you to grab something makes you want to tear his clothes off, and your patience is at an all-time low.

With Christmas fast approaching, the bar scene has substantially dwindled, and it’s making you even more needy. When Skeets only has a handful of customers, you fill drink orders while thinking about sucking on Johnny’s cock.

It doesn’t help that he’s started wearing a Santa hat- why does it make him even sexier?

As Johnny smiles and makes casual conversation with a pair of girls sitting at the bar, you do your best to calm yourself. At the end of the night, you’ll be the one in Johnny’s bed, you just have to get to closing.

You notice in the periphery of your vision that the girls are finishing up with their drinks. Johnny excuses himself to grab the card reader, and as he slips past your ass, you feel his hard cock in his jeans. It’s difficult to stifle a moan, and you do so by biting on your lip.

He loves teasing you, especially while you’re at work, and it drives you absolutely mental.

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ctrlhope · 30 days

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The Pitfalls of Silk (m)

synopsis: The winter gods are out to get you. That could be the only possible explanation for the series of bad luck tumbling before you— tropical vacation cancelled, snow locking you inside. Hell, even your shovel broken in half has got to be the gods playing some sort of trick on you. Pulling you along, making decisions for you as they guide you along the red string of fate. Guide you towards the very spider that found his way into your basement. Allowing him to fall into your heart all the same. -> apart of the rest, relax, reserve series

p.jimin x f.reader

⋆𐙚┊: wc: 20.0k

⋆𐙚┊: genre: hybrid au, soft yandere, soulmate au, romance, fluff, smut, v light angst

⋆𐙚┊: content: spider hybrid!jimin (cobalt blue tarantula), human!reader, soft yandere jimin, dom!jimin, power imbalances, blood, blood kink, injury, mates / mating, stupid misunderstandings, reader is rlly bad at feelings, heat/rut cycles, jealousy, biting/marking, jimin has fangs, brat taming, light subspace, bondage, fingering, breeding / breeding kink, unprotected sex, cumplay, overstimulation, manipulation, mentions of kidnapping, mentions of venom, honestly rlly soft- jimin is just a little off his rocker, so many mentions of the word silk, jimin is soft for reader but also a little perverted freak <\3

⋆𐙚┊: notes: AHHH it’s finally here!!! I’ve had such a bad crush on spider jimin for such a long time. Creating his character over the years in my head— how exactly this type of hybrid would function was so fun for me. This fic (& the others that follow) has been spurred on by my special interest in arthropods so I hope you end up loving this jimin as much as I do <33 mwah I kiss u guys

18+ -> minors / blank blogs dni

The weather has grown cold, too harsh for anyone to live outside— survive. Burly temperatures tumbling through the air in icicles, the entire world painted in white.

While the city was still busy, your quaint neighbourhood had gone completely quiet. Everyone huddled inside, trying to keep warm while they sipped on cocoa. The worst blizzard in generations deciding to tumble through on the exact weekend you were meant to go out of town. Meant to be enjoying a tropical beach with the best of your friends!

But nooo, all of the planes had to stay grounded and you had to be stuck in your house with nothing but chilly embers decorating your fireplace.

You were pissed about it all, to say the least. Annoyed that your vacation had to be cancelled, annoyed at the fact you couldn’t stay warm in the slightest, annoyed that you had to be shovelling snow out of your driveway right now.

Well, attempting to shovel snow would be a better way to put it. In theory it seemed like the right thing to do– try and get your car out just in case, start to clear a path for when you’d finally be able to greet the outside world, triumph over whatever winter gods are trying to keep you locked in your home.

In reality, you could hardly move– three layers of pants, two coats keeping all of your joints locked down. God, and the snow. It was coming down way too hard, piling up faster than you could brush it away. Hurting your cheeks with the freezing temperatures, making your bones throb with want to go back inside.

It is safe to say that you did not succeed. That was an easy enough conclusion to come to with the two halves of your snow shovel in your hands. Eyes staring blankly at the object with utter… you don’t even know the word.

Cheeks flushed red with cold, head lifting to the sky as you blink. What the fuck! How shitty can your shovel be! What the fuck is wrong with the snow!

Okay, maybe you did buy it at the dollar store. But that isn’t the point! Where has quality gone in our nation! Caring about the consumer! Yeah, that was never there to begin with! But still! You like to think that there's a point in that somewhere!

The snow falling on your skin feels like the sky is laughing at you, mocking you. It probably is. Cancelling your trip, forcing you to stay at home into the lonely confines of your small neighbourhood.

Yeah, the world is out to get you, you’ve decided it.

A grumble leaves your throat in annoyance, quiet cusses leaving your lips as your legs try to waddle themselves inside. Layers of clothing restricting every movement you make, joints feeling stiff and bones feeling cold. You are no more than a penguin, are you?

“Stupid fuckin’ shovel, stupid fuckin’ snow…” You huff, slamming the thick oak door behind you. Hoping, in a way, that you could pretend none of the frost was there in the first place.

It’s not that you hate snow– of course not. You don’t like to hate much of anything. But when it’s this deep, this thick, you can’t help the sour mood you fall into. Can’t help the sickly feeling in your gut that it has somehow wronged you simply for existing.

Whatever, not that it matters much. You aren’t mother nature. You can’t change it or your now cancelled– most likely non-refundable plans.

What you can change? A nice warm pizza in your tummy.

You hum to yourself, tapping off your boots before ridding yourself of them entirely. Soon follows your jackets, puddles of water quickly forming on the floor where it falls. Snow melting much too fast now that it is in the warmth of your home.

You stare at it in spite, another way mother nature has wronged you today.

You know what? No, not your problem right now. That is a problem for you later today! The wood would be fine. And if it isn’t?

…

You groan, throwing your head back as you move to the bathroom. The battle of opposing forces inside of your head has won again– being responsible, doing the right thing.

Your hand snatches a towel, “Stupid shovel… stupid snow…” You huff, kneeling on the ground to wipe away the liquid that pooled.

You hang the towel back in the bathroom for it to dry before finally making your way to the kitchen. To finally make the frozen pizza you want– no deserve! Yeah, you’ve had a hard day today, being an adult is too hard sometimes. You deserve a little treat don't you?

Feet scuffling against the floor, fluffy socks dragging along the surface allowing you to quickly slip against the tiled floor. Your hips sway, a quiet hum leaving your lips as your hands move diligently, efficiently. Placing the pizza in the oven, setting the timer, flipping the switch on on the kettle.

Everything happens with practised ease. With movements that leave no room for error. Careful, efficient, the way your parents always taught you. The right way.

If you do everything correctly, things will never go wrong. You’ll never have to worry. When everything is in your control, everything is perfect and content.

It’s too bad the right way never accounts for things out of your control. When the world causes you to tense and get annoyed– when it doesn’t behave the way it's supposed to, like you want it to. Just like stupid shovels and a winter storm no one predicted.

But hey, at least you still have power. Your backup generator is there if you need it. Can still watch your dramas and eat warm food. Keep yourself sane while the insane persits just outside of your door.

Lonely, lonely, lonely winter storm~ whatever shall you do~

Your head begins to sing to itself while you wait. Maybe you already were going insa–

Bang.

What the fuck was that?

Your eyes instantly dart to the basement door wide with fear– the source of the sound.

A crash, a quiet cry, a scurry all sound in quick succession. Too loud to miss. Too loud to ignore. Too distinct to place on anything else.

You know winter noises. The crash of shutters against the window, the influx of snow on glass. The beating of hail against the roof or the creaking of pipes chilled from the cold. The noises you just heard? None of the above. They couldn’t possibly be. They weren’t. They were too… too…

Human.

Shit, shit. Is someone in your basement?! Oh god, oh fuck.

The room, it freezes over.

Your pulse starts to race– hairs raise, stand on end. Breath filtering through your nose as you start to panic. Fingers grip the countertop as you try to ground yourself. Try to figure out a way to escape this.

If horror movies have taught you anything– it’s how to run. Grab everything you can, high tail it out before you become victim to the unknown lurking just below the surface of your floorboards. Before you can be possessed or worse, chased down by some mass murdering clown.

That would be the smart thing to do– the wise thing. To get out of your house as quickly as possible, call the police to investigate it for you before you have to become the ‘final girl’ of a movie franchise of your own.

But the storm, the storm would never allow for the right thing.

The police would never make it in time, the roads far too hazardous to truly reach you. If they did, you would already have frostbite from the cold outside by the time they made it. You might be worse off than before–

At least, that’s what you tell yourself. The reasoning formulated in your head as you grab a broom from the closet, slowly make your way to the basement door. Completely ignoring the nagging feeling in your gut, the one that tells you that you actually want to travel down the stairs. A string tugging you along a path predetermined, forcing you to forego anything you had thought before.

No, your line of reasoning had to be the object pulling you down those stairs, creaking with every slow, nagging step that you take. It could never be curiosity, a want to understand the unknown guide leading you astray from the dirt road you’ve taken time and time again.

The right road that would lead to the right solution is all but forgotten in this moment. Only adrenaline spurring you on, fingers clenching and unclenching around the broom handle in your grip. Fingers tied so tight around the metal that your knuckles may as well be white.

You're terrified– scared out of your mind. The only noise passing through the drums of your ears is your own pulse, the accelerated beat of your heart as you try to clear the fog that dances over your brain. Fear must be clouding your judgement, making you follow it blindly into the light; well, dark.

Your breath leaps from your chest in short pants, eyes haphazardly harding around your form as you make it to the bottom of the stairs. Something is keeping your legs moving when all your brain wants to do is turn back and run. Call the authorities like you should be doing instead of risking everything to satiate the incessant need pulling at the back of your skull. Acting on instincts alone, allowing the string of fate to tug you around the corner. The urge to investigate is stronger than anything you had ever felt before. Anything you’ve ever wanted to feel before.

He sees you before you see him.

“P-please..” The quiet, almost non-existent voice sends a chill down your spine. One you were not expecting in the slightest.

Terrified, panicked. Shaking like a leaf, eyes welled with tears. It’s almost like he knew you were coming down all along, just… didn’t know what to do about it. Too scared to move, too scared to hide. Too scared to do anything but sit there and wait.

Just as petrified as you.

Nothing about the scene before you is making much sense at all. Not to you, at least. Why is he so scared? Why is he in your home? Why isn’t he doing anything but sitting there with pleading, helpless eyes? You try to take everything in, try to fit the pieces of the picture together.

Basement window opened slightly, just enough to allow the man— was he a man? To climb inside. Pretty blonde hair completely dishevelled on his head, grime coating what you know would be such pretty locks. Eyes with double pupils brimmed with tears threatening to spill at any second. Pink plush lips quivering with worry, fangs biting into them so hard you fear they may bleed. No, they are bleeding.

He is definitely not a man. Nor is he a beast. An intoxicating swirl of the two combined into a species of hybrid you’ve never seen before.

The first thought in your head is one it shouldn’t be. One that makes your heart stop for entirely different reasons than before. Makes you drop the broom in your hands, allowing it to fall to the ground with a clatter. Defences dropped completely in the face of the stranger before you.

He only flinches at the noise, blood covered hands reaching in panic to cover his all too sensitive ears.

Any worries have left you– something seeded deep within your soul tells you he isn’t a threat in the slightest. Not to you, at least. Never to you. Maybe it is the same string as before pulling you along. Pulling you to what destiny has provided.

He is absolutely gorgeous. Even with the grime and his pale complexion from the cold you can tell that easily. He might just be the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen, and you find lost in yourself what to do about it.

What is anyone meant to do when a drop dead gorgeous hybrid enters their home in the middle of a blizzard? Just as scared as you were moments before? Looking like he might freeze to death if you don’t–

Holy shit he must be frozen solid.

It’s only then that you come to your senses, your eyes racking over him once more as you take in all of him for more than just the beauty he brings.

His clothes are thin– far too thin for this weather at least. Tattered on the edges, few stains spotting the fabric, though its clear effort was spent trying to get them out. Your mind wants to wonder why he would worry about that, worry about making himself appear presentable, but raking your vision down you know there is no time for it. Not with the blood on his palms or the red of his flesh.

Your body moves quicker than your brain can think, crouching down in front of him. Noticing the way he flinches once more, the fear in his eyes more palpable, hurting worse than a gunshot wound.

The constriction of your chest is dumb, or at least it should be. Feels almost benign, unfounded. You just met him, you're scaring him, but for an unexplainable reason you wish you could take all of his worry away just for that moment. Make him feel a little better, a little warm. A little safe.

“It’s okay… it’s okay…” Your voice mumbles, trying to soothe him or yourself, you’re not entirely sure.

“I-I’m sorry… pl-please don’t.. It’s just so cold… Please…” He begs, though neither of you are sure what for. Not to hurt him, not to send him back outside. All you know is the tears that now flow from his eyes, cresting along his cheeks, dripping to the floor.

“Not going anywhere…” You hope your voice sounds stronger than you feel, hope he can’t hear the way the strings of your heart break, hope he hears how much you care in your tone all along, “Trust me a little okay…?”

You know your words mean nothing, that it might have been an impossible task for him to do so. But you had to try. Had to hope.

It should be hard for you to trust him too, it should be hard to rectify your fear in the face of the one who had caused it. It isn’t the right thing– none of this is the right thing, but it all just comes too easily. Compassion, caring takes over the anxiety too easily. Too brilliantly to do anything else other than care for this hybrid that has wound up at your door.

He was just a scared hybrid doing whatever he needed to to survive. Terrified out of his mind that he would freeze or starve out there– probably had no burrow or… you’re not sure, honestly, what his home might be like. But no home nevertheless. You could never just send another person out there to die.

He stiffens as you reach out for him, gently take his hands in your own. They feel like ice, frozen solid. You don't want to acknowledge what could have happened to them if he was out there any longer.

Without thinking you raise them to your lips, blowing on them as best you can. Trying to do anything to get the blood flowing again before you take him upstairs. Warm him up properly. Make him feel like more than a snowman once again.

You don’t notice the way his form completely loses all stress as you touch him for the first time, speak to him the first time. He feels transfixed on your voice– it had to be too sweet to be real. But you were too focused on your mission. Too focused on making sure the man who has broken into your home is okay to notice the way his lips part slightly at your tone.

You don’t notice the way his breath hitches, the way all of his hair stands on edge as a current runs through his body, breathing life into every pore he possesses. Nor the way his eyes widen, losing their will to cry as he stares at you.

Don’t notice the recognition on his face.

You don’t notice a lot of things he does that day. Too focused on getting him into a warm shower– one he was very confused by, you might add. Too focused on getting a warm meal in his belly. Too focused on getting him in nice, clean clothes. A set that will properly keep him warm.

You could worry about other things later. But this felt right. This felt like something you were always meant to do. Or maybe that was just the size of your heart talking– you could never be too sure. But you liked to think it was the former. Liked to hope that Jimin, who you later learned was a spider hybrid, was always meant to come tumbling through your window, into your life for good.

The days that follow are easy– falling into a rhythm with him, taking care of him is just too simple. As basic as breathing, maybe.

Though, it hasn’t exactly been hard with how much he sleeps. How deep he’s nestled in your bed, blankets piled on top of him to drown out any chills that may attempt to slip into his bones. It’s almost like hibernation– if you could describe it. Re-building his energy, making himself feel strong again before he faces the world.

You can’t blame him, honestly. Not after everything he’s been through. Only god knows how long he had been out there. How long he had to brave the snowstorm, the cold weather that previewed it as well. You would probably do the same thing. Hide yourself from everything that hurt you.

Most days you wish you could be doing the exact same thing as him. Hide under a pile of blankets and forget the rest of the world exists. But the voice of your parents would always nag you out of it, force you to be human with the rest of society because it's the right thing.

You humph, gently placing a plate of food on the bedside table. Let him occupy your room for as long as he needs, preparing meals for him even though he never touches a bit of it. It’s the least you can do with his condition.

You don’t think you’ve ever wanted to stop someone's pain so badly. You hope you can by just doing small things like this. You sigh, heading for the door once again. Another day on the couch.

“Human…?” His voice is quiet, almost non-existent as he calls for you. Cracking slightly, the first time he's spoken in days.

You quickly turn to face him and almost want to fall to your knees at the sight. Fluffy blonde hair peeking from just below the covers, doll eyes peering at you while the rest of him stays hidden beneath the surface. Does he know how destructive he is?

Wait, no. Now isn’t the time to be thinking about this. He’s letting his defences down, actually talking to you. Stop it.

“Hmm?” You gently call back, glued to your spot in the doorway. You don’t know what he would do if you moved, how startled he may be because of it. You want to talk to him– to find answers.

“What time is it…?” He slowly asks, pacing his question. You notice a slight lisp behind his words– how much of an effort he puts to cover it up.

“Mmm.. about 1? I made myself some lunch so I was just stopping by.” You explain, trying to justify your presence in the room.

“Oh.” He looks beneath the blankets, eyes darting around the room, “Okay. Thank you.”

It seems neither of you are great conversationalists, awkward air passing between the space left between your bodies. You don’t blame him. You don’t know what you would be thinking, feeling if you were in the same place as him. If you didn’t really know what your fate was going to be.

“How are you feeling?” You ask quietly, playing with your fingers to distract from the nerves that you feel. As much as you want to jump, pin him down and ask every single thing your heart begs for, you know that isn't the right thing to do. You know you should be slow, careful with this. At least, that's what the articles online have told you.

“Better…” His voice comes out smoother this time, finally coming out of sleep as he sits up in the bed. Gently taking the plate into his lap, scrunching his nose. “It’s not cold in here like out there.”

You can’t help but smile to yourself. He seems so relaxed, so at ease. Not scared in the slightest of you or what you may do. You forget all about the fact that you should probably be scared of him too.

“Not really,” You smile gently, eyes glancing at the window as he starts to eat, “I was really worried about you, scared me bad.”

You don’t see the flush that covers his cheeks.

“I-I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to… your window was the first one I could get through and I knew I couldn’t take the storm anymore so I–”

“Hey, It’s fine.” You turn your attention back to him, “I’m just glad you’re okay, yeah? It must’ve been terrifying out there.”

“It was.” He doesn’t hesitate in answering in the slightest, eyes serious as they focus on you. They’re beautiful, really. His eyes.

“I’m sorry…”

He shakes his head, “Not your fault human, I left the reserve. My fault.” He tells you in earnest, wanting you to believe it with every piece of your soul that you could never do anything to hurt him, “Come sit?”

The question is quiet, but you oblige nonetheless. Legs moving you slowly, perching at the end of the bed to face him. Kicking your legs slightly as you stare at the pattern of your sweats.

“The reserve?” You ask, turning slightly to face him. His face is suddenly smiling, nodding at your question. He must like the place a lot, see it as home for him to become so excited.

“Yeah! Where I live,” He explains, continuing to shovel food into his mouth as he speaks, “They say humans can't hurt you there, you get to hunt like in the wild too.”

He hums, content in talking about the one place he has ever found comfort in, found friends in. You can’t help but smile as he speaks, too.

“Yeah? It sounds really nice.” He’s nodding his head once again, as quickly as he can.

“There are lots of other arthropods to play with there. Lot’s of food. Sometimes the humans that visit will give you some too, but they’re normally scared of me.” He suddenly looks serious, eyes coming to meet yours once again, “You’re not scared of me, right?”

You jerk your head back, brows furrowing together in confusion. How could someone be scared of someone like Jimin? You’ve only known him for a matter of days and you doubt that you could ever be.

“Of course not.” You tell him, gently reaching a hand over to place on his knee. He doesn’t flinch away like you expect him to. “You just needed some help, we all need help sometimes.”

He smiles, the serious demeanour retracting from his face in an instant. Back to smiling down at his food happily. The silence doesn’t feel as awkward anymore, at least you don't think it does. It makes you happy, stretching on as he continues to eat like a man starved. He probably is, days of not eating and only sleeping.

“Why did you leave it?” You tilt your head, staring out the window once more. Few snowflakes trickle against the blue sky, “I mean, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. But I figure if we’re going to be together through the storm–”

“You’re not gonna kick me out?” His face is awestruck, fork dropping to the plate in surprise. What is he talking about? Kick him out? In this weather?

You quickly shake your head, hand slowly pulling itself back from your knee. He whines in protest, quickly trying to force himself back under your heat. The touch of your hand warmed him up more than anything else in this room– more than the blankets, more than the heater or the warm towels.

His hand tangles itself with your own, pulls you back to his covered knee. Keeps your hand in place with his own while he uses the other to eat. Good. This is better. He likes it when you touch him. The way your small hand feels wrapped in his own.

Makes the tips of his fingers tingle, warmth spread throughout his skin. This is right. This is good.

“Why would I kick you out?” You ask in disbelief, either unnoticing or uncaring to the way he holds your hand– he’s unsure. Not that it matters much! “It’s too cold for anyone out there. I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

He smiles, the pit of his stomach only warming more at your words, “Good.”

“We have to wait for the snow to melt to drive you ba–” He cuts you off once again, not wanting to think about going back. At least not without you.

“My friend Taehyung leaves a lot,” He begins to explain, fingers squeezing your own as his palm lays heavy against the back of your hand, “He always talks about how fun it is. All the cool things he gets to see, you know?”

He places his plate to the side while he talks, licking one of his fangs gently. You don’t want to think about how handsome he looks while he does such an action.

“So I wanted to try it out, but we’re not really supposed to leave, you know? ‘Cause then we’re not protected.” You nod along, “And I don’t really have wings to fly out so… I had to wait until they weren’t really paying attention.”

“And that just happened to line up right before the snowstorm was supposed to hit.” You finish for him and he nods, looking down at his lap, “That has gotta be such shitty luck, Jimin. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s really not, you just wanted to go out and experience new things and you almost ended up dead.” You frown at him, trying to get the man to understand the gravity of what may have happened. He simply shakes his head, plush lips tilted into a small smile just for you.

“I said it’s okay.” He tries to make you believe it, leaning closer. Feeling nothing like the stranger he was only days before. “I got to meet you, so it was all worth it.”

Mate. Mate. Mate.

Jimin has a mate that he’s going to be with someday. Someone he’s going to fall in love with. Someone he’s meant to be with, be happy with for the rest of his life. Someone that isn’t you. You really need to accept that and move on from this stupid fucking crush you’ve developed. One that will amount to nothing but heartbreak.

All hybrids have them– Jimin is not excluded from that. You know it’s true. Know it’s so true that you can hardly breathe but he just makes it so easy, too fucking easy to fall for him.

He takes care of the house, cleans it for you whenever there is a mess. Does the dishes after dinner. Takes out the trash. Tells the spiders in the yard not to mess with you– okay, you’re not entirely sure he does that last one. But he is adamant he can speak to them, and who are you to rain on his little spidey parade.

As the seasons change and the months pass, he only makes it easier and easier. Fitting into your life like he was the only piece missing. Filling in all of the bits and pieces you never knew you needed, wrapping silk around your heart and pulling it tight before you could ever think about letting him go.

Even as the months heat and his deep blue roots grow out from his bleached hair, he has no desire to the place he once called home. The reserve quickly pushed aside every time you try to bring it up. Saying he likes it better here, that this is now his home.

To be honest, nothing makes you more happy. Nothing in the world could possibly make you feel better than Jimin. His little webs he places in the corners, the soft way he clings to you when he becomes needy, the way he likes to show you any bugs he catches before he eats them. You’re not sure you could continue in your life without it.

Yet still, still. You’re not sure if this is right. The right thing, the right way to go about it all.

You often fear that you’re keeping him from what he really wants, if he actually wants to go back but feels indebted to you in some way. If that’s the only reason he actually sticks around.

You worry you’re being selfish in that regard. And then once again you find yourself spiralling into the void of questions you could never have answered. Feelings that will always be unaccounted for because Jimin has a mate.

Or at least, will have one. Someday. And you’re not sure if you could handle that day coming. Not in the warm heat of spring, flowers blooming alongside feelings for an arachnid that has entered your life.

One that has no intention of leaving your side anytime soon, if he has anything to say about it.

But nothing, nothing in the world could prepare you for this. What could prepare the thrum of your heart or the butterflies in your tummy? You never expected him to hold you this close, keep your body pressed against his own in the small space of the coat closet. Keep his face tucked away in your neck, whining in pain at something you could never think to discern.

So quickly you were pulled away, without a second to waste you were dragged onto his lap. One second kicking off your shoes, covered in mud from gardening, the next a hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you into the dark confines. Only Jimin there to cover up your scream, lips delicately pressed to your ear uttering a quiet please. Voiced laced with a whine so pained you couldn’t help but join him without a second to spare.

A thought to think– a debate on whether this is right to do or not, for yourself and your own heart.

“Min? Min, what’s wrong?” It’s the only thing you can think to ask, pulling him away from your neck, making his head face your own. Hands gently cupping either cheek as your eyes attempt to make out the features of his face.

It’s too dark, you can’t see anything. The only answer he gives is in the form of a pained groan, not even his eyes reaching you through the darkness. You start to panic, feel the nerves along your spine light up in trepidation.

He’s hurt. He has to be. What happened? Is he okay? He’s never acted like this before. Not with you. Never before has he seemed so hurt, so dishevelled save for the night you first met him.

Just before this the two of you were gardening, mid-morning sun shining bright overhead. A light breeze passing through the trees keeping the two of you cool. That was it! He only went inside a few minutes before you, a few minutes alone and he was already hurt this bad.

Oh god, you never want him to hurt. To be in pain. It hurts your heart just as bad as it hurts him, if not worse.

You’ve fallen a lot farther than you thought.

“Min, let me just turn on the lights okay? Let me see what’s wrong.” You try to coax him, try to kneel from his lap to reach the string above you. Panic flooding through you as he keeps you snug, keeps you from helping him.

You stop your struggle, veins running cold as he lets out a sharp, violent hiss. A sound he’s never made before, never dare uttered towards you– around you in general. It leaves you nervous, scared for entirely different reasons than before.

But one thing is clear from the way his fingers dig into the skin of your wrist almost painfully. The same wrist that was reaching for the string. He doesn’t want you to turn on the light.

“Okay…okay I won’t…” You tell the arachnid, slowly lowering yourself back onto his lap. Letting go of the struggle, letting go of the resistance. It isn’t what he needs right now, isn’t what he wants.

His grip loosens, arms returning to their place around your waist. Holding you close. Keeping you in his arms. His face nuzzles back into your neck, inhaling deeply with every breath he takes. Smelling you. Imprinting the memory of it in his brain.

“What if I use my flashlight…? Would that be okay?” Once again, the response is a much short, quieter hiss. A lot less defensive, angry than the first. Just a sign of dismissal.

“Okay…” You say quietly, bringing one arm behind him to gently run through his hair. Scratching his scalp in a way that always has him preening, “Can you please tell me what's wrong? So I can help…? Please…”

Your voice is quiet, almost a beg as you ask him. He squeezes your body tighter in response. Would’ve basked in the tone you gave him if not for the pounding behind his eyelids. Still, he knows if he’s going to get you to stay, he has to talk. No matter how much it hurts.

A whine leaves his lips, nose running along the column of your neck as he tries to scent you, “Hurts.”

He answered, his voice shaky and quiet, but it gives you nothing.

“I know Min, I know…” You hush quietly, trying to consol something that you do not have the answer to. Your other hand slowly starts to soothe up and down his back, trying to relax the poor boy enough to speak.

“The light. Hurt eyes. Head Hurts.” He gruffs out, burying his face into your skin to block out any other source that he could.

Your lips part in a soft ‘o’ as the picture becomes clear to you. Staying outside too long, helping you in the garden had come at a cost to the poor spider in the form of a splitting headache.

How could you have been so dumb to let him help you? The articles you’ve read, the pieces you’ve tried to put together to understand the man in your life– they told you as much. How delicate some species' eyes could be but… Jimin never seemed to have that issue before. Never mentioned it, anyway. He doesn’t mention a lot about himself.

You frown.

“Min, I’m so sorry…”

He only grumbles in reply, blunt nails digging into the back of your shirt to keep himself grounded. To keep his head from pounding any louder.

“Let me– Let me go get you some Ibuprofen, yeah?” You hope the sound of your voice isn’t making everything worse. If it does, he doesn’t say anything, only shaking his head, burrowing it further under your hair.

“Just… stay.” He sighs in defeat, shoulders relaxing as he holds you close. He doesn’t need medicine. He doesn’t need anything else. He just needs you. Why can’t you understand that?

“I’ll–” You breathe, trying to force the flush of your cheeks to disappear. He can see in the dark, you know that much. You wouldn’t want him seeing this. The effect he has over you. Doesn’t he know how dangerous he is?

“I’ll stay.”You sigh in defeat, unaware to the pride that blooms in his chest at the battle won. The quiet chirp from his throat that he has you here, with him. Where you’re meant to be.

Hours pass just like that, just the two of you wrapped in each other's arms. No words spoken but quiet requests to know the other is okay. That the other is safe. Even as your muscles begin to cramp, bones start to become sore you don’t dare to move. Don’t dare to do a thing when you are the only one that matters to him right now.

Jimin makes it so easy to pretend.

Especially as his migraine begins to lift, as the conversation between two souls becomes more frequent. As he moves your body to the side so your head can rest against his chest. As his fingers smoothe over the skin of your thigh, rubbing gentle, comforting circles into your flesh.

“And then Namjoon, you know how bad a flyer he is, ran straight into the director of the park. Made her spill her whole coffee all over.” He smiles to himself as he tells the story of the bee hybrid, eyes heavy as he looks down at your form. So cute and small, “and you know what he said?”

You shake your head, “what?”

“‘You need some honey?’” He recites, dipping his voice in a deeper octave to mimic what you can only assume to be Namjoon’s. His voice falling into quiet giggles, you quickly follow suit. Laughing at stories of friends, feeling at home in the dark closet.

You don’t care how long the two of you have been in there. Only that he isn’t in pain anymore.

“I’m glad you’re okay now.” You tell him, eyes feeling heavy, the soothing tremor of his voice vibrating in his chest making your head start to fog. Inklings of sleep slipping into your frame. Head lulling back against him, looking up at him with sleepy eyes.

He nods, his throat constricting at just how perfect you look there, fingers teetering on the brink of digging into your skin once more. “Feeling a lot better… my vision is still a little spotty but it's okay.”

You pout. He has to hold back a coo. Too cute. Do you even know how cute you are when you get like this? Probably not.

“No, it’s not okay. I should have known. Told you to go back inside so you don’t get hurt. I don’t like it when you get hurt.”

His heart pounds once, twice before he releases a shaky exhale. Do you know what you do to him when you talk like that? When you show him just how much you care?

The level of restraint he has, it has to be impressive. If he was Taehyung, he would have taken you right there. Wrapped your arms in webs so you couldn’t move. Mate you without a second thought.

Seriously, what did you think you were doing? Talking to him like that? Making him feel like he’s going insane, a few short strings from breaking free and just taking you to his nest. Keeping you there.

You can’t say things like that to him. Not with how innocent you look, with how terribly he already wants you.

A harsh breath comes out of his nose as he forces the thoughts away. He’s not Taehyung. He’s not going to take you for his own selfish desires alone. No, he’s going to keep lulling you into his web like he knows you want. Knows you need. Keep being a good little spider for you.

“I should have told you.” He says quietly, lips coming down to place a gentle kiss on your forehead, “Couldn’t have known my species is sensitive like that.”

You hum in quiet annoyance, “Still… read online about some glasses that can help some insects manage light… should have bought them.”

A courting gift? No no, you don’t know what that is. No matter what his spider screams he knows that isn’t true.

He sighs, he needs a distraction. Something to calm the voice in his head screaming at him to kiss you.

Your leg kicks out gently as he starts, feeling like nothing but a feather tickling across your skin. Gentle silks laying across the surface from his wrists, spinnerets hard at work to produce the webbing he places on your thigh.

He huffs quietly, a smirk of a laugh coming out as he moves your leg back, “Tickles?” He asks, an amused lilt present in his voice. Oh god, he’s going to start teasing you again. He loves teasing you.

“What are you doing?” You ask quietly, eyes glancing down to where his fingers move expertly. Thread after thread moving through his fingers, decorating your skin as he draws pictures. Paints flowers, sunsets, anything he can think of really across the canvas of your thigh.

“Just drawing… calms me down.” Marking you, claiming you. Showing every other arthropod that this one is his, this one is Jimins’. Well, at least for the next 3 days when the stick wears off. “Do you want me to stop?”

A tingle runs through your spine as he works, eyes not able to leave his hands for even a second. Your stomach swarms with what has to be a hive of bees, your core bubbling with something you don’t want to describe or think about.

You just hope he can’t smell you. Can’t hear the race of your heart, the increase in breath. The flush on your cheeks that travels all the way to your ears.

He can.

“N-no… It’s okay. I want you to feel better so… do what you need to do.” You mumble, trying to get your feelings to calm down before you fully lose it.

You have to buy those glasses.

Being a spider is just too difficult!

At least that’s what Jimin has told you time and time again over the past 8 months you’ve spent with him. Cold, icy months blossoming into the summer heat with him by your side. With him making residence in your home, cementing his place in your life without any regards for going back to his original home.

It’s too hard for him out there anyway! People at the park think you’re scary so they won’t give you any snacks, security removes your webs when they become too prominent around the landscape. Something about having to “give other spiders a chance” and them “taking up too much space.”

Can you believe them?! All the time and effort he put into his pretty webs, gone in a flash! The strain the sun caused his eyes, the pounding headaches he endured stringing up pieces of silk along the trees, creating a beautiful orchestra of white to claim his territory.

Thank god he doesn’t have to deal with that anymore, at least. Ever since you bought him those sunglasses, making webs outside has never been easier. Catching prey so much easier than ever before.

You don’t think you’ll ever get used to the sight of him eating the bugs he catches, but who are you to yuck his yum? You know all of the things he’s had to endure as a spider. Everything he’s convinced the world hates him for simply based on his breed alone. The least you can do is show kindness around his diet.

That’s how you end up rubbing his back in soothing circles time and time again, fangs piercing a stuffed animal or piece of fruit– anything he can get his hands on really, as he whines, flinches as he spits out all of his venom.

His venom is one of the worst things he’s had to deal with, you’ve learned. It builds up behind his teeth, waiting to be used on a waiting victim when there is no such thing. No exit point for the liquid to flow.

His fangs begin to ache, begging to pierce something just to release all of the pent up tension in his gums. It hurts too bad, too much to just keep it inside. So once a month, you find yourself in the same position, trying to help him relieve the aggression with soothing, gentle words as he spits the venom out in a way you can only imagine is unsatisfying. Leaving his fangs sensitive and achy for days to come.

In general, his fangs seem to be a point of special contention within the hybrid. They’re too pointy, cause too many issues. The extended canines digging into his plush lower lip just a little too hard making every movement just a little too uncomfortable. God, and he has to worry about brushing them to perfection– keep them pretty for his mate.

At least, that’s what he tells you.

The rest of the world hurts him. You don’t.

Today especially. At least that's what you can assume by the stretch of his arms, the whine bubbling from the back of his throat. His arms reaching for your form, beckoning you, calling you to join him on the couch. All worked up, acting like a wounded puppy that needs nursing just to get your attention.

It always works. Always will.

Some would say he’s become more pushy— more desperate for your attention, forcing it from your grasp without realizing it yourself. That’s what your friends have told you. How easily you fit into the palm of his hand with no more than a simple gesture coaxing you forward into his sweet embrace, never noticing the glares he sends others who enter your home.

No, you would deny all of it. Listen when he tells you that you don’t need your friends anyway. It just feels so good to be needed by him, wanted by him in a way you can never have him. In whatever way he’s willing to give.

r weakness than ever before. No matter how much you’ve tried to avoid it, how much you’ve tried to do the right thing and shove the stupid, pesky feelings down, he’s managed to twist himself into the confines of your heart. Filling a deep hole inside with his pretty silks and crooked little teeth. Takes up a lot more space then you’d ever be willing to admit. Not to him, anyway. Not when he could find his mate any day now.

You’ve been thinking about it more and more lately– the prospect of his mate. It’s difficult not to when he treats you so kindly. When he creeps in your bed at night to cold you, when he reaches out for your comfort alone. When he graces your neck with his fangs his lips–

You drop the dishes back in the sink, shoving your thoughts back into the deep dark recesses of your mind. Maybe if you can be his comfort for now, that will be enough. Even if it isn’t right.

Maybe that’s just how far you’ve fallen, how much he’s tangled you in his embrace. Not that it matters much, you smile all the same. Abandoning your task on only his third whine and fourth dramatic roll of the night. Giving in is so easy when it’s him.

But! It’s a new record for how long you’ve held out! Even got two stomps out of him. You should be proud of yourself.

Maybe you are, though it's for different reasons entirely as Jimin grabs at your wrists, pulling you down beside him. Nudging his face into the crook of your neck with a quiet, pained whine.

You like to ignore those other reasons. They’ll only hurt more if you face them head on. But it's hard to, so hard when he’s this close. When he’s holding you like you may just be the very thing from shattering his world apart.

Or maybe you’re over thinking things.

Yeah. It’s probably that.

“Y/n…” You feel his lips ghost your neck as he whines, wiggling slightly in discomfort.

His duality is always impressive, has been making your brain go a little haywire since he first moved in, since he became more comfortable in your presence. Letting you see him for what he really is. Always playing so cute, so pliant when he needs something– attention, food, for you to just give in and give him what he wants.

Other times he acts as if he could be the reincarnation of Arachne herself. Beautiful, deceptive. Terrifyingly aware of how attractive he is to the human eye. You think he does it on purpose. Likes to see your head spin as you try to keep up with which apparition of Jimin you will experience that day.

He doesn’t know how dangerous it can be, especially for you. How easy it can be to believe that it's real and not just the flirt of his personality. At least you have cute Jimin for now. It’s a little easier to manage.

“You okay Minnie? Something happen?” Your arm reaches up for where he clings to it, fingers gently petting through his fluffy blonde hair. The action seems to soothe him, make him almost pur from the feeling of your fingers alone. Make him feel the slightest bit better from whatever might be irritating him.

He forces his wrists onto your lap, nuzzles his face further into your neck. Inhale all the scents you have to offer. Let you see the issue of spiders.

The tiny holes of his spinnerets come into view, red and inflamed. Shit. They have to be hurting. The skin jutting out slightly more than it should be. Pretty strings of silk hanging in a messy manner. Clogged glands always hurt. Always make for issues.

You frown at the sight, delicately taking his wrist into your hand, looking at it closer. No, not too bad you have to take him to the doctor… you can handle it fine. But it won’t feel good, it never does. Dummy must’ve gotten too excited while webbing up the basement again, got his poor spinnerets working too hard. Overproducing silk to the point it has nowhere to go.

“Min!” You whine, already grabbing a pair of tweezers from the side-table– you’ve learned it’s always good to have a pair on-hand. “I told you that you gotta be more careful!”

“I know!” He hisses almost pathetically, “Just got ahead of myself!”

His voice is no more than a grumble, turning his head away from you yet not pulling away in the slightest. Pretending he hates when you scold him, when you show just how much you care about him.

You pretend it isn’t cute in much the same way.

“Always end up getting ahead of yourself,” You sigh dramatically, acting as if having to take care of the arachnid bothers you more than it actually does. Truth be told, you don’t care in the slightest. Who knows, maybe it even makes you preen in delight.

Feeling wanted as your fingers try to be as gentle as possible while removing the silk. Pulling out the little pieces strand by strand, work out the knot it's made under the skin to try and bring him some relief.

Though, no matter how careful you may be, he still flinches in pain all the same. Trying to cover it up like it was nothing, like every poke and prod doesn’t hurt. Like he can be tough under your gentle hands and pained gaze. He knows it has to be done and no matter how much you hate to see him in pain, you do too.

The dull ache will grow worse and worse, could even turn into an infection if you don't handle it as fast as possible. Worst case? He may have to have his spinnerets removed completely. A fate that feels worse than death to a spider hybrid– or so you’ve read at least.

Soon after he came into your life you did everything in your power to learn as much about his species as possible. Scoured webpage upon webpage, blog post on blog post, youtube video after youtube video. Even went down the sticky threads of a reddit rabbithole to try and learn everything about him.

The only thing you found: how horrible arthropod hybrids are treated in your society. Either sold at auction for absurd prices or cast aside completely depending on how “inhuman” they look. How they are used as tools to show wealth or are discarded from the rest of the world completely. The notion alone had pissed you off to no end.

Jimin was a member of the latter group– or at least that’s what you assumed. From behind no one would be able to tell he was any less than human. His lack of multiple limbs or fluttering wings left him to the devices of the reserve. Probably cast aside, dropped off by the people that raised him for not providing anything that went along with their definition of ‘value’.

Your eyes pinch into a quiet glare. They’re just fucking stupid. Anyone could see that Jimin is perfect. Anyone could see that he did not deserve the treatment he's received, nor deserved to be in the state he was in when you first found him.

And while you’re glad he didn’t end up with anyone else, still didn’t end up in an auction house like many others had, you hate them for thinking they could define his value. That they could define him for more than what he lacked. He still has beautiful fangs. Still has beautiful eyes and his natural cobalt-blue hair. He is still perfect to you.

A sharp hiss leaves his lips, arm attempting to jerk back from your hold as your grip tightens just a hair too hard. As you accidentally tug on a far too sensitive part of the knot. Getting a little too lost in your head while your fingers pick away diligently. Trying to ease the pain as fast as you can.

“Human!” He whines, quickly shushed by a flurry of apologies leaving your mouth. Face flushed, panic in your eyes as he admonishes you.

Once again you’re reminded all too well of how far you’ve fallen for him. Heart racing, brain yelling at itself for hurting him.

It’s dumb, you know that. Everything about the schoolgirl crush you’ve formed on him is. But it doesn’t stop the frown on your lips, the gentle rub of your fingers into his skin as you try to make it up to him.

A quiet grumble leaves his lips, heart hurting at the little dejected expression you wear. He forgives better than he forgets, moving his arms back to the pillow propped on your lap, allowing you to continue your work.

A pout stays on his lips as he watches your hands move. Watches the way the tweezers move under the thin layer of skin. Watches the way you move softer now, taking your time with him. Trying your utmost to not hurt him again.

To you it feels far too intimate. To him, it leaves him almost feral.

“Been working really hard on them lately, haven’t you?” Your voice sounds, trying to distract him or yourself from wandering thoughts– you’re not sure. He’s almost clean– almost all better so you can stop playing nurse. Get a warm washcloth to soothe the skin, take away any ache that lasts from the overused glands.

He nods, “Autumn is coming up…” He mumbles, the words leaving his lips in almost a shy fashion. Like it’s a secret that isn’t a secret at all in the coy fashion he knows you adore.

He knows all too well all of the things that make your stomach flutter. Listens to your heart beat like it’s his favourite song, the flush of your cheeks his favourite painting. Every little twitch of your lip or tap of your feet he catches with ease. You are his favourite everything.

You’ve become far more interesting than any book, far more gorgeous than any actress. Learned to read you better than yourself.But he supposes that would happen to any hybrid who had to wait as long as him, endure as much as he has.

Humans are tricky things, you know? You have to wait and wait and wait just for them to finally give into what they really want. Play the long game to win a prize at the end like he wants, deserves.

He’ll win it soon. August.

“Mmm? Having a contest with the house spiders or something?” You giggle, an effort to try and keep the atmosphere as light as possible. Try to distract from any pain he may be feeling at the moment.

Jimin is convinced he can speak to them– the house spiders that you allow to stay in the corners of your house. Another one of Jimin’s pitfalls that you couldn’t help but wonder into. He claims that they’re his friends, that he talks to them all the time. You, on the other hand, are unconvinced. They probably just use him for food!

“How did you know?! Who told you!” He gasps in mock surprise, head dipping low to rest on your shoulder before he continues, “No, not this time…they all know I would win anyway.”

“I know you would,” He doesn’t allow you in the basement to look at them, at least he hasn’t in the last month, but you’ve seen plenty strung around the house. Dotted in the corners of each room, his way of claiming territory. “You’ve always got such pretty silk.”

His face flushes– he knows you can’t see it. It’s good if you don’t, better if you have no clue how much your words affect him. Exactly how much those words mean to him.

Hopefully you will soon enough. Hopefully, if things go according to plan, you’ll know a lot of things. But right now you just need to stay a little clueless. Just for a little longer.

That’s what he promises to himself.

“What’s happening in autumn then?” You ask, finally pulling the last bit of silk from his left wrist. Both finally clean, finally working like they should be.

Taking each wrist into one of your hands, your thumbs find the openings to the spinnerets. Fingers rubbing gentle, soothing circles into the flesh. Your version of a little makeshift massage. One that always causes him to fall apart under. Spine slumping, mouth parting slightly as he watches your fingers work. His brain going a little empty along with the soothing motion of your fingertips.

Another thing that you don’t understand the intimacy of. The extent of what your touch means to him. How terribly it makes him want to bite you.

His voice is a pitch lower than before. You can’t help but notice the way his breath stutters in his throat at the gentle movement of your thumbs. The way his pupils expand ever so slightly. The way he leans into your touch, avoids eye contact at all costs.

You can’t help the blush that dusts your cheeks, the flutter of your ribcage. The way you keep going just because you know it’s making him feel good.

Stop it! You’re thinking in a bad way again! It isn't right! It’s just from the massage, the relief after his spinnerets are cleared! God, you can’t think about him like this. Can’t do this to yourself! Calm down, seriously. None of this is a big deal.

You know he can hear fast your heart is beating regardless of the argument going on inside of your brain.

“Autumn is mating season.” Your thumbs stutter.

Oh. That is something all of the articles definitely neglected to tell you. They didn’t tell you anything about… that aspect of spiders. Not that they explained much to begin with but certainly nothing about breeding.

You can’t help the way your grip tightens, trying to find purchase– stability at the revelation. Heart thrumming in your chest faster, more aggravated than before. The chill that travels down your spine with the hum of his voice so close to your ear.

Can’t help the sinch of jealousy that finds you either.

Fuck, you hate that he’s smirking– without even looking at his face you can tell! You know he can hear the exact pitter-patter of your heart, any little sound or smell you let out he can easily pick up. Knows your exact emotions before you know them yourself.

“Ah… I see.” This topic really shouldn’t make you so embarrassed! Pull yourself together!

You know that all hybrids have a cycle they go through. Heats, ruts, anything in between. You knew that when Jimin came into your life he would be the same! Knew there would be a time when he’d have to lock himself in the basement, body flooded with hormones. The pretty sounds you’d have to block out filling the house.

But still, because it’s him, you can’t help the nerves that arise from your core. The realisation that it would be coming sometime soon.

If you’re going to make it through you’d have to invest in some soundproof headphones. For your own sanity.

“Mmm?” He smiles, voice sweet and saccharine. Away with the pain of existing also left cute Jimin, leaving a deadly predator in its wake. One that likes to taunt and tease you while acting as innocent as an angel.

Leaves your brain confused, floundering trying to keep up with his deceptively sweet tongue. Doing it all just to get a cute little reaction out of you.

Guess he picked up on the exact little whirlwind of your mind, “You’re so cute when you’re embarrassed…”

“Shut up!” You whine, trying to stand from the couch so you can retrieve a washcloth. Try to avoid the way your heart is going to pound out of your chest, the way you know you’ll fall farther into his clutches.

His arms lock on firm, face nuzzling into the crook of your neck to rub his cheeks against your skin. Scent you just like he does a million times a day claiming that it's necessary. Spiders smell so much less than other hybrids– he has to do it or else.

Or at least that’s what he says– you think that it’s another lie.

“What!” He laughs, “Not like I’m saying anything dirty, it’s only natural.” He chides, sliding back against the couch, pulling you into his side with ease. Slotting you in like you’re meant to fit there, not whatever mate he meets in the future.

Your brain yells at itself. You know how dangerous that line of thinking is.

“Unless you want me to be dirty? I could if I wanted, you know.” He smiles as innocently as a wolf, fangs oozing with confidence behind them.

“Oh my god!” You sigh dramatically, putting on the front you always do when your heart feels like it may just explode. When you feel like digging an early grave because Jimin knows exactly what he’s doing.

You simply roll your eyes, “And I could punch you in the dick if I wanted to, you know?”

His laugh is always so pretty, boisterous yet still as light as air. Head tilting back, his neck on display as he chastises you for the empty threat. One you both know won’t come true, at least not right now.

He smiles, a gentle kiss being placed on your forehead as he urges you to stay. Promising he’ll be a ‘good little spider’ so you don’t have to worry about him. The implication of snacks and movies making you stay. The way he pouts when you tell him you’re not buying anymore BugBitez™ until the end of the week confirming that this is where you need to be right now. That it’s right.

It’s almost too easy for him too. Everything is too easy for you when it comes to Jimin. He claims the exact same.

Or at least, that’s what he mumbles in your ear now. Arms wrapped around you as tight as he can manage. Movie nearing its end with Jimin on the cusp of consciousness, you having lost the plot of it a long time ago.

Something about Aliens? Cowboys? Mothman? You couldn’t even hope to guess. Not when his breath is in your ear.

It’s hard to focus when he’s so close like this. When he’s saying pretty words that could get you lost in your fantasy over and over again. Making him harder and harder to give him up every moment that passes you by.

“Got lucky with my human.” He mumbles, half asleep, face buried in your hair, “Really good human.”

His lips move so lazily when they speak. Fangs running across the surface your skin like they have a mind of their own. Never daring to pierce the surface. Never daring to bite you for real. No matter how bad he really, really wants to.

How bad he wants to mate you. Make you his pliant little prey– see if the rumours about what his venom does to humans is real.

Your breath stutters but you pay it no mind. Trying, begging your eyes to remain focused on the movie. To ignore how deceptive sleepy Jimin is. Tomorrow, he will act as normal. His words will carry no weight.

He isn’t your boyfriend. You aren’t his mate. You two are just friends sharing a house.

Feelings you have no right to have are forced down over and over again. It seems like it's become a daily occurrence– a pattern of habit you have no hope in breaking. The love piling behind your eyelids means nothing when the person he is meant to be with could be around any corner.

But it’s getting harder. Too hard to hold them back and restrain yourself. Especially on nights like this when it feels like fate that the two of you met.

Thinking back on that fateful day now, all of those months ago, you’re sure it had to have been. Maybe the winter gods (if such a thing existed) decided to shine their light on you; to make the blizzard a little less lonely. Make your life filled with long days and even longer nights just a little bit brighter.

Or maybe they hated you and wanted you to suffer.

Wanted you to live a life knowing your affections will never be reciprocated, knowing that Jimin has a fated one out there somewhere just waiting for him. Knowing that it isn’t you. Cursing you to a life of watching Jimin fall for another.

Thinking becomes so hard when it’s about Jimin. When it’s about the man who made you so far into the pits of hell that you don’t think you’ll ever crawl out.

So instead your fingers simply squeeze his hand. Rub gentle, soothing circles into the skin. Care for him like you’re meant to instead of thinking about what the future may hold. What will happen when he does find his mate. What they might be like, what they might dress like, if they’ll have to move in here, if you’ll have to watch him fall in love over and over again every single day.

You think you might hate them.

You sigh.

No, that wouldn’t be fair. Could never be fair to Min. He deserves happiness. He deserves the world whether or not you’re a part of it.

You hope he isn’t able to pick up on the changes in your scent.

“Mmm mm, got lucky with you Min.”

August 11th.

A beautiful dream shattered by the incoherent nightmare that is your spider pacing around your room. A pillow pulled to either side of your head, doing everything in their power to drown out the noise as an audible groan leaves your lips. His nervous prattling too early in the morning for your liking.

Any other day it would be fine, you would think that it’s cute. The way he worries his lip between his teeth. The way he gently bites down on the pad of his thumb, one arm crossed while the other soothes the skin of his chin.

Any other day you’d sit in bed, listen to him. Mock him slightly with how much worry runs through his body.

But he isn’t talking about his mate any other day, is he? No, it seems that the occasion has been saved for this morning. His head running a mile a minute, losing all composure he once had before. Losing his very sense of self as anxiety courses through his veins.

“What if it isn’t good enough? I need to present it to her soon. Need to make sure everything is perfect for her.” Apparently he had met her. When? You have not a single clue. Jimin hasn’t left the house in weeks other than to go hunt bugs and to go to the grocery store with you.

“What if the web isn’t big enough? She might not like the style either…” He grumbles, eyes locked on the carpet as he moves back and forth across your room, “God and what if she hates the food… No, no you know what she likes.”

“Jimin, she’ll like everything. It will be fine.” You groan, sitting up in bed to face him, voice gruff with morning air.. You don’t want him to be in here, talking about this. Talking to you about this. Shattering your heart every second that passes by.

You knew it would happen someday, you really did. You tried to do everything right. Tried to pretend reality wasn’t creeping through your windows with every second that passes by. Try to ignore the impending sense of doom that covered your skin.

Did everything right only to end up failing once again due to the rations of Park Jimin.

You try to look at him through the fuzz in your eyes, sleep still trying to force you back into its clutches with everything that it has. Try to see what he is doing– understand what he is saying. His voice continuing to speak yet not fluent enough for you to actually understand. His body twitches ever so slightly, head jerking as his teeth dig deeper and deeper into his thumb. It was almost like you weren’t even in the room– not to him at least. Lost within the tangles of his brain.

Pulling himself deeper and deeper into the recesses of his mind, spiralling out of control of everything that seems rational, everything that he is meant to do or meant to say. It’s almost like he isn’t in the room at all. Isn’t pacing along your floor, surrounded by your scent. Comforting his inner spider before it loses control entirely with the hormones that rush through his veins.

August 11th. The date was circled 5 times on his calendar– red exclamation points, doodles scattered across the stupid day. Yet now, for the life of him he can’t seem to remember why. He can’t seem to remember much of anything though, so that isn’t a surprise. Only his web. The gifts he’s prepared for this day. Yeah. Those are the only things he can seem to think about.

A hand lands on his shoulder– one that isn’t his own. Who’s touching him? He isn’t sure. Isn’t sure of much other than the smell combing through the room that becomes sweeter and sweeter by the second. Honey he is unable to resist.

Especially with how soft the hand is that touches him. How gentle it is on his shoulder, his pace back and forth falling just so he can revel in it. Understand it.

“Hey Min.” Oh. It’s you. Your voice coming through the fog. Your voice startling him from the dream.

Gorgeous, gorgeous you.

Mate.

“It’s gonna be okay, yeah?” Why do you sound sad? No, maybe it’s distressed. His face falls.

No, no, no. You shouldn’t be sad. You should never be sad. You should always be happy with him. You should love him. His love should make you whole. Your love makes him whole.

Wait, does he have your love yet?

Now he isn’t sure.

All he knows is that he should. You should. He should wrap you up in his nest, hold you close until you feel nothing but him. Don’t think about anybody else. Look at anybody else. You should always be happy and safe. Happy and safe with him just like he feels with you. Has always felt with you.

More than that stupid reserve. More than his webs back there. It was fate that brought the two of you together, right? Right? So he should be allowed to indulge just a little. He should be allowed to let go of this stupid, fucked up play he’s been putting on for so long. He should be allowed to do whatever he wants.

The reserve always taught him he was a wild spider, you know?

Wait, spider.

Spider.

His rut. That’s what’s coming today. That’s why the day was circled. That’s why Jimin isn’t acting like himself. That’s why his spider is itching, clawing to come out to play. Why he so desperately wants all of you to himself.

He hasn’t even presented his web yet.

He tilts his head at you, blank eyes staring down into bright ones. Ones that hold his entire world at your fingertips.

“There he is.” Your smile is almost blinding. Makes his head pound just like the sun's rays.

That’s right. That’s why he needs to keep his composure. To keep that smile on your lips. To keep you happy. To keep you falling in love with him slowly the human way. The way he knows you’d prefer. Knows you adore every second of.

He isn’t Taehyung. He isn’t Taehyung.

The human way is better. Better at keeping you pliant. Better at keeping you happy. Better at keeping you unafraid.

He hates when people are scared of him. Hates when people flinch with every movement he makes. Hates when people can’t just love him like he so craves. He’s still a hybrid. He still wants love. He was bred for it just like the rest of them.

So when you came into his life, so gentle and caring despite the palpable fear that scented the air– weighed it heavily, it sparked light behind his eyes. When he felt you touch him, felt the sparks dance across his flesh and allowed himself to inhale once more. When there were no traces of fear within you, only the scent of his mate. His eternity.

He knew he had to do the right thing. Had to make you love him the human way. Had to make you fall for him, endure the wait. Endure the daily struggles of his instincts just so you would never be afraid of him. The end would be worth it.

He would never let you fear him even at the cost of his own sanity.

Because he isn’t Taehyung. He’s Jimin. He’s a good spider.

“You need to be careful Min…” You tell him quietly. Your voice is the only anchor to his shaky world. The light brought him back from the edge over and over again today.

He needs to leave your room before all of his planning goes to waste. Calm himself down. Present to you his web and all of his gifts so you can accept him properly.

“Your thumb… it’s bleeding honey…” He tilts his head again, inspects your hands as they move closer. Tries to force lucid thought from behind his heavy eyelids as you touch his skin directly.

Tries to ignore the throb deep inside as you gently remove the finger from his lips. Pull it away from the fang that was piercing him. The sting of the bite.

He hadn’t even noticed it.

He watches as a single drop spills from the abrasion. Slipping down his finger. Feels the way your hands come up to cup his cheeks.

Leave. Leave. Leave.

The way your thumb comes to his lips, worry etched across your features as you swipe away any remaining blood from his lower lip.

Leave. He needs to leave.

He isn’t sure how your finger ends up in his mouth. His plush lips wrapping around the digit, tongue curling around your flesh as he licks away the red spilled. Sucking on it gently as heat curls in his stomach. His eyes half-lidded, staring into the recesses of your very soul.

A groan passes through him at the taste of your skin. How sweet you are against his tongue. Do you even know what a vixen you are? What a tease you’ve come to be over the past 9 months?

No. Of course you don’t. Not with the blush that rushes to your cheeks. The stutter of his name that passes through his lips. The questions that you ask– what are you doing? Wh-why?

He wants you to be quiet. To enjoy you for all it’s worth. Enjoy everything you have to offer.

The command is silent– no more than the press of his bleeding thumb to your lips. The demand that you part them for him. To clean that wound that you unknowingly caused.

A hand on your cheek directing your head back. He’s been a good little spider, you can be a good little girl too, can’t you?

You are.

“J-Jimi–” He slips it inside, resting the pad against your tongue. Holding it in place. Asking, begging for this one little thing from you. You don’t mind, do you? You’ve always made him feel better before. This is no different, is it?

And so you do.

He watches the way your eyelids fall, your lips close as you begin to gently suck against it like he so craves. Like he desires down to the very cells that make up his body.

To imagine it’s his cock instead. Gently fucking into you over and over again, teaching you how to take his it how he likes. How he knows you’ll like. You’ll love everything about him. You’re meant to. It’s in the fabric of your DNA and soon it will all be his. Right after he shows you his–

Shit.

He needs to leave.

Got carried away in his fantasy. In pretending again.

His rut is coming too fast, too strong now that he finally has his mate in his grasp. He needs to leave. He needs to calm down so he can go this properly.

He leaves you on the bed, more confused and distressed than when he first entered. Annoyance hovering over your entire wake in a blanket of unrest. One that you know will not ease your soul for the rest of the day.

The spider has locked himself away. Hiding from you. Keeping himself in the basement, door locked, shutters drawn to drown out any sense of you that may be persisting.

You, on the other hand, have had nothing to do but stew in your own emotions. Think about every little decrepit detail that occurred hours prior. Edicting yourself to only address him by spider even in your thoughts.

It’s spiteful, sure. But it’s the least he deserves, you know? After everything he’s put you though– pulling you along like a little puppet on a string. Making you sit idly by for him to give you any lick of affection he’s willing to part with. Making you feel special, like you're worth something every second that he gets only for him to remind you with too much familiarity that he isn’t yours to have.

He woke you up, told you about his mate, looked at you like he was going to fuck you, and made you suck on his finger only for him to leave? The sheer fucking audacity of this man.

You’re sick of it.

Sick of having to force everything down because you know it isn’t what he wants. Sick of falling in love with him every day. Sick of having to play house. Sick of not having him. Sick of being playing the lovesick fool.

So, into the novels you fall. Into alternate worlds that are far better than your own. Displacing yourself into new habitats, new environments to escape the confines of the four stuffy walls that surround your body, head, and heart.

Into a world where it’s okay to fall in love with whoever you want. Where it’s okay to feel wanted. Where reality can be shut away by your headphones and a good snack. Where you can ignore the body approaching behind you. The tap on your shoulder.

You try to, honestly. And a good attempt it was.

Keeping your grip firm on the pages, nails digging into the paper below. Breath in your lungs held as if doing so would keep him away. Eyes tracing the pages over and over again though reading nothing. Attempting to appear as if you didn’t notice him at all.

Maybe he would leave, that was your biggest hope. Take the headphones placed firmly over your ears as a loud, obnoxious hint. That he would see you’re not interested and retreat to his basement layer to plot on the next way to torture your heart.

He doesn’t. He never would.

His frame comes to kneel in front of you. To stare up at you with those big brown doe eyes that you know you could never escape. Placing a gentle hand on your knee, trying to get you to see that he is there. That he wants to see you.

You see his lips move, though ignore entirely what they say. Letting out a huff, turning your body away from his own. Continuing to mindlessly stare at the pages even though their contents holds no meaning in this moment. No real value.

His forehead drops to your leg, a sigh leaving his throat. Words mumbled from his lips you’re unable to make out– not that you would want to hear them anyway.

Maybe it’s a temper tantrum of sorts. Giving him a taste of his own medicine. To feel even a pinch of what you do. He probably never does.

Your fight is a good one. It truly is– at least you think so. But it all comes tumbling down the second his lips press against your knee. His hands reaching past your iron grip on the book to hold your own.

You will always fall to the likes of Jimin.

Especially when you see his lips mouth the word please. His brows crested with worry, his lower lip quivering in worry. Fangs biting the surface to try and soothe the nerves he feels.

Any sense of foreboding he held earlier, gone. The tick of his shoulders, the cold, blank stare of his eyes vanished. Your Jimin, the one you’re used to, in love with, rising to the surface again.

You’re unable to fight against the plea, no matter how much you want to. Unable to fight against him.

“What is it.” Your voice is harsh as you remove your headphones, setting the book to the side. Much more than it appears he’d like it to be if the flinch of his neck is anything to go by.

“I…” Words feel lost in his throat, but he forces himself to continue forward, “I have something I need to show you, human…”

Why is he acting so weird? Acting like earlier never happened? He seems nervous, almost petrified at your reaction. As if anything you say could break him entirely.

You don’t understand it at all. Anything about this situation, really.

“Okay…?” You watch his face carefully, trying to reason. To figure out why exactly the air seems so heavy. Why this situation feels so tense. “Show me then?”

“I…You have to come with me?” It sounds like a question, his face flinching at his own words. He’s meant to do this perfectly. Why can’t he seem to get it right? Why can’t his instincts help him with this? “Like, I can’t bring it up here… I need you to follow me?”

“Huh?” The quiet breath leaves your throat as your features pinch.

He quickly tries to explain further, trying to help you see through the worry on your face, “Not far I promise. Just to the basement, yeah?”

Your head jerks back in surprise, “You never let me go down there.”

“Yeah but…it’s special this time.” Oh.

It’s almost as if the pieces click together on their own. Your brain drawing conclusions, making decisions for you despite the obvious staring right in your face. His mate is probably down there. Wants you to meet her.

You can only sigh, accept your fate for what it is. Follow the boy with the string to the basement once again, just like the first night he came tumbling into your life.

“Okay.”

He holds your hand as you walk.

Holds it as if his life depends on it. As if it’s the red string of fate that has tied your two bodies together for the rest of eternity. As if he might die the second you two part. As if you might run away the second he lets go.

You never do, never try to run away from him. You’ve tried to run away from your feelings for so long. The least you can do is see through to the end of them, right? That would be the right thing to do. The dignified thing instead of trying to throw a tantrum on the floor.

The walk to the basement feels like the longest in your life. A marathon you have no training for, no experience with tugging you along. Silence extended for miles along each creak of the floorboards, each set of the dim stairs.

Jimin left the lights off, dusk settling along the horizon not long ago. Only distant flickers from the basement coming through as you make your way down. Candle light in the distance lighting the way.

He doesn’t say a thing as your feet reach the bottom of the stairs, toes cushioned by soft silk lining the floors. He doesn’t have to.

It’s beautiful. That’s the only way you can describe what he’s turned the basement into.

Beautiful silks cover every waking surface– the floors, the walls, the ceiling all lined in brilliant patterns of white dancing across the surface. Creating stories as if they were living themselves.

You wish you could stare at them. Admire them for the rest of your life. Decipher each piece laying, coating the surface. Envisioning the world through the eyes of Jimin. Through the world around him.

Webs cross from floor to ceiling, taking space over the room. Intricately laid in patterns you are more accustomed to with spiders. Webbed hatching sectioning off parts of the space, acting as furniture for the bug to rest on.

As your eyes scan the room, you finally find what you think has to be the most gorgeous web in the world. Sitting in the far right corner of the room stands a nest that takes up the entire corner. The effort it took to make it clear in its craft. So soft, so comfortable.

You almost want to curl up in it yourself.

Illuminated by only the glow of candle light, Jimin does nothing but watch as you take everything in. Watch as your face changes into that of euphoria. Mesmerised by everything he has worked so hard on, everything he’s done just to impress you.

You turn to face him, staring at him with nothing but wonder in your eyes.

“Jimin, this is– fuck this is incredible,” Your voice is breathless, cut off by how overwhelmed you are with everything. With him. “This must’ve taken you so long, it’s so beautiful. Oh my god, how did you–”

He can’t take it anymore. Can’t take it now that he has you here, has you in his web. Now that he can keep you in it forever. Complimenting him. Completing him. He needs to finish with the rest of this fast. Before he does something he’ll regret. Before he finishes showing you how good a mate he will be to you properly.

He tugs you forward, practically puzzling as he tugs you deeper into his room of webs. Expertly guiding you through each one without a second to spare.

Jittery, excited. Feeting rocking themselves back and forth as he sits you on a blanket placed on the ground.

He isn't going to last much longer. Not before his heat takes over. Before he loses his mind at you in the sight of his nest. His mate in his nest. Waiting to be bred. Waiting for–

No, no Jimin. Stop it. Stop acting like a spiderling that doesn’t know what to do with himself now that he has his mate in his nest.

“I…” He takes a deep breath, voice shaky as he tries to calm himself down, “I made us a picnic… I hope you like it.”

His spider hisses at the words, hating having to describe it as something stupid like a picnic. No, it's a nuptial gift. Evidence that he’s a good enough mate. That he’s good enough for you. That he deserves you.

You watch him, watch as he pushes the basket filled to the brim with food over to you. Watch as his frame shakes slightly as he stares at you, fingers tapping against strings of webs closest to your leg.

You can’t help but feel lost. Overwhelmed with affection, but utterly, entirely, hopelessly lost all the same. What is he doing? Why is he presenting all of this for you? Shouldn’t he be doing this for his mate? Isn’t all of this some type of courting ritual?

Oh.

It appears the puzzle you constructed– pieces matched together haphazardly stuck together with glue isn’t the solution after all. Isn’t the reality presented before you know.

You’re… you’re Jimin’s mate?

Your eyes widen, head jerking to meet Jimin’s gaze. His pupils shaky, not daring to leave the surface of the basket. Not daring to move an inch until you accept him.

You’re an idiot.

“J-Jimin a-are we…?” You hesitate to ask, hesitate to break the gentle balance residing over the entire basement.

His head snaps to face your own, eyes plagued with the same blank, predatory look as before.

“Mate.” Deep, harsh, scratchy. His voice makes you feel like he’s going to devour you whole. Like he is the monster waiting in the deepest recesses of your nightmares when that couldn’t be farther from the truth. When in reality he is the very being your soul yearns for stronger than any other.

The revelation, the– everything leaves you overwhelmed. Emotions strung up for the stars, casting aside any comets that tried to hurdle towards the perfect glass encasing this moment. This eternity you wish to live in forever as you finally understand that he wants you just as much as you want him.

You can’t help but grab his cheeks– ignore how venomous he looks, and press your lips against his own. Can’t help the explosion behind your eyelids, the sparks that travel across your skins in euphoric waves. The way your heart swells like a balloon, racing in your chest so fast you fear you may die.

Every emotion you’ve felt that day, every nagging, creeping sensation finding its way into the back of your skull vanishes in an instant. No going back. No orchestra or chorus reprise. No thoughts of not being his mate. You are his mate.

Only him.

Only Jimin.

He doesn’t part with you, not for a second. Not when he finally has you against him. When you so easily rise into his lap. When his natural instincts finally stop screaming at him and take over completely. Kiss you with everything he’s worth. Devour you whole.

His hands find purchase on your hips, blunt nails digging into the skin. Mocking him for not doing this in the closet with you all those months ago. Allowing him to truly understand how good it would’ve felt then. How good it will feel every second that follows.

He thinks you have to be the prettiest thing in the world.

His spider thinks that you need to be bred full of his spiderlings. Fucked so hard that you wont be able to walk– wont be able to leave his nest. That he’ll be able to tie you up nice and pretty, stuff you with his cum over and over again until you’d never even think about leaving.

His spider is winning.

“Min…” Your voice is breathless, trying to keep up with the flurry of kisses he presses against your lips, your face– anywhere he can reach. It’s like he’s addicted to the feeling, like he’s making up for lost time.

“Min, I love you.” And just like that, any sanity he has left vanishes.

His spider has won.

Without a second thought you’re lifted from your place on his lap, thrown carelessly into his nest. His nest where you will stay. His nest where he’ll keep you. All thoughts vanished from that pretty little head of yours. Just like it should be.

His hands find the back of his collar, shirt discarded without a second thought on the floor. He doesn’t need it anymore. Not when he has you. When he wants to feel you fully.

You can only stare– fawn at his tan skin. The gentle muscles on display for you. For your eyes only while he crawls towards you. Stalks you just like they might a pretty little butterfly caught in their web. Wrapped in webs and killed without a second thought.

His lips find yours once again. Slotting together, filling the other to make them whole. Dazed in lust and passion, neither soul hoping there would ever be a way out for the other.

Well, there won’t be for you. But that’s okay. You’ll love it. Love every second of it.

He knows it as his fingers dance against your skin. Sliding beneath the hem of your shirt, running with skilled ease up your sides. The chill that racks through your body is evidence enough. The way you so easily allow him to draw your shirt over your head solidifies it. Your shorts follow, making it set in stone.

Your breath comes out in short pants, every slight touch, every little movement sends fire burning through your skin. Igniting you, setting your core ablaze with heat that only he can extinguish.

Fingers gently sliding over your ribs, thumbs coming just blow your breasts to rub circles into the skin while his fangs nip gently into your lower lip. He can’t bite you now. No, after he mates you he can bite you all he wants.

He groans at the thought, hips rocking themselves against your clothed cunt. Allowing you to feel all of him– the press of his cock, the motion of his need allowing you to fall higher and higher into a heaven you did not think possible.

You whine at him to do something, anything. Too impatient to wait any longer. Too impatient to live a second more without something, anything buried inside of you.

His smile is sick, twisted as he reclines back on his heels. Allows himself to get a good look at you.

“Shh, Shh…” His hand cups your cheek, smoothing his thumb against your lips. Pressing it inside with more ease than before. More compliance than before. There’s a good little girl.

“Poor thing is having a hard time, huh?” He mocks gently, hips pressed firm against your own allowing you to feel every inch of him, “Pretty lips all swollen, pussy a little mess from just kissing… mm mm…”

He groans, hand slipping between your legs. What he finds is no more than a mess of a girl. Hips bucking upwards. Slick dripping from your center, panties coated in arousal. Puffy little clit begging for any attention he’s willing to give it.

Without any hesitation his thumb finds your clit, pressing against it without any thought of reprieve. Without any thought to give you any of the relief you crave. You’ve made him wait this long, you can wait a second, no?

He groans high as you buck against his hand, mewl leaving your lips as some sort of plea. Ah~ how cute. Such a little thing so desperate for something, anything that you’re willing to give up your very head in return? How cute! How adorable!

His spider preens. Is almost so belated he doesn’t notice the hands that come down to grip his wrist. Hold him in place all so you can circle your hips against his thumb. Rub adorable little rings into your clit without any help from him. Use him to make yourself feel good.

A coo leaves his lips. Who is he to deny such a pretty little human?

“Ah pretty baby wants to feel good, does she?” He almost giggles at how pathetic you look. How adorably you cling to him. How hard you try.

His arm is ripped from your grasp, pulling back from the very place you desire him most. Where your arousal soaks the cotton of cotton, so palpable he can practically taste it in the air.

“It’s okay baby…” He sees the annoyance in your face, the battiness you hold in your heart coming to light. Excited to tame it. Excited to quell the pretty little devil in his web.

Tie you up. Breed full.

Breed you.

His fingers work fast. Arms are pulled over your head, silks quickly pinning them to the surface. Strings wrapping and wrapping until he’s sure you’re secure. Sure you can’t move.

His hips gently rock against your own, clothes cock pressing against your core. Watching as your hips buck, as you try to urge him closer with a pathetic whine.

See exactly how you struggle against the strings.

Perfect, perfect girl. How did he get so lucky, huh? Can never be sure.

You’re unable to stop the cry that leaves your throat as his hands pull your panties aside, finger thrusting into your wet heat. Filling you up, making you feel a little more whole.

“Min~” The moan of his name is shaky. Every sense you have in overdrive as he works his finger against your walls. Every push inside deeper, harder. Curling against your walls in the exact way you craved.

Pleasure coils in your stomach faster than you thought possible. A second finger joining the first, pumping in and out as he prepares you for his cock. Prepared you to take all of him and nothing less.

He knows you can do it. You can, can’t you?

“Mhmm baby, I know… head a little clearer now, huh?” He chuckles, chastising, “Can only think when you’re full. It’s so cute.”

You whimper at his words, head rolling back as the coil pulls tighter and tighter within your gut. Urging you to just let it snap, feel everything you’ve been waiting for.

“F-feels good…” You mutter quietly, unable to see the haze cloud his vision. The way his amused expression drops into that of a wild animal.

Without any warning his fingers pull out of your heat, body leaving your own entirely as he stands. Grabbing your hips, dragging them closer. Flipping your body over. Setting you pretty on your knees, arms uncomfortable crossed in front of you.

He quickly rids himself of his pants, allowing his cock to spring free from their confines. Head red and messy as it hits his stomach. Angry at how neglected you’ve left him. How desperately he wants this.

You have no way of preparing yourself for the drag of his cock through your lips. The gentle nudge against your clit. Thick head dragging through your folds, spreading your arousal. Mixing it with his pre-cum.

Making you messy. Making you dirty just for him. Making you belong to him.

“Gonna fill my mate.” All humour is gone from the man behind you, as if he is someone else entirely. It’s really too bad your head has a few too many screws loose to care. Care about anything other than the way his firm head presses against your hole. The way his blunt nails dig into your flesh.

“Gonna breed her. Mate her. Make her mine.” It’s almost as if his word is a command. The very sentences he utters become law.

You can only nod your head. Give yourself to the very man that fate led you to all those months ago. “Want~”

The thrust of his hips into your walls is almost too much to bear. A cry leaving your lips as he fucks himself inside in a single thrust. Forcing you to take him to the hilt, to feel all of him stretch your walls. No break. No waiting around.

You’ve both done enough waiting.

It hurts— the burn, as he stretches you full. Presses his cock against your walls making sure your cunt remembers no one but him.

The way he gives no reprieve, fucking into you like an animal starved. Pulling back until only the tip remains inside before fucking himself fully inside once more.

“Min!” You cry, waves of pain and pleasure boiling all the same within your bones. All the same inside of your blurred head, nothing but static and thoughts of him behind the line of your eyes. Slipping off into space as you let cunt clenched pathetically around his cock.

“Good mate, taking me so well. Such a good human.” He groans, hips pulling back and thrusting into you over and over again. Making you fall apart with his pace. Pumping his cock into your pathetic little hole fast and hard. Ruining you for any other man.

Making sure he will be the only one you allow to enter heaven.

Your moans come out wanton, pleaing. Hips start to move back against him, trying to keep up with his pace despite the burn you begin to feel in your tied arms. Desperate to let him know just how good he’s filling you. Just how good he’s making you feel.

“My mate.” His pants come out harsh, breath on your neck as he hovers close. The sound of skin and against skin is the only thing you’re able to hear. The pressure of Jimin’s lips against your neck makes you feel like you’re about to go insane.

He’s desperate to make you fall apart on his cock alone. Pleasure building and building, the coil tight. Ready to snap at any moment. Ready to fall apart at his command.

“Gonna make you mine forever pretty.” His voice is featherlight once more. The switches have you reeling, your brain spinning. “Want that, don’t you? For me to bite you? Mark you up? Breed you full of my spiderlings? Ruin that pretty little head for anything else.”

He sighs, nails digging into your hips where they’re sure to leave bruises. You nod your head in agreement, moans spilling past your lips as his hips change their angle. His cock hitting the spot that leaves you seeing stars on every thrust.

“Say the word and you’re mine.” You feel his fangs against your skin. The harsh drag across your delicate skin. “Forever.”

You can’t take it anymore, pleasure burning through you. Blinding you. Unable to think about anything else other than the rough thrusts of his cock against your walls.

“Please.” It’s no more than a whimper, but he swears it’s the loudest thing he’s ever heard.

His teeth clamp into your flesh— the final thing needed to push you over the edge into bliss. Your body stutters, walls a vice around his cock as the coil finally snaps. Heat flowing through every cell you possess. The only thing in your soul is Jimin.

Your back arches, eyes dotting with black as you allow it to overtake you. Jimin rocking you against him, groaning as he fills you with his cum, painting your walls white. Allowing you to ride out your high with him. Finally allowing the rut to rid his brain for only a moment.

He slowly pulls out of you, panting. Quickly moving to cover your center back up with your underwear. Make sure all of his cum stays tucked away in your pretty little pussy to get you nice and pregnant.

You can only whimper, body twitching at every movement he makes. Worn down your bones— energy sucked so dry you can’t even feel the throb of your neck. Don’t even notice the blood that drips from where he marked you— claimed you in the way only a hybrid can.

All you're sure of is the need to be close to him. Need to feel him.

Is this what he had been feeling all along? Marks were known to do that, to allow you to feel what your mate does. If he had to endure what you’re feeling right now, it had to have been hell for him.

“Min…” you calm his name. Pull him from where he stares between your legs. Where his fingers rub circles into the surface of your underwear, spreading any cum that leaks from your twitching hole.

Within a second he’s at attention, staring at you with all of the love in the world. You’re not sure how you missed it before. How you could have deluded yourself into believing any less.

He pouts as you wiggle at your restraints, silk holding your arms in place all this time. He gently shakes his head, slowly flipping your body back over onto its back. Crawling over you to look at your face properly. Take in your fucked out expression. Ruined his pretty little human. Made her perfect.

“Don’t want to.” His lower lip juts out at you, eyes wide just like a begging dog. “Look pretty tied up in my web. Should stay like this. Forever.”

“I don’t think my job would like that very much.” You giggle, lip pouting out to match his own. He leans down, quickly capturing your mouth in a quick kiss.

Something hard pressed against your leg once more. His hand comes down to guide it against your heat. Rub against you despite the oversensitivity and cum leaking from your hole.

“Then we move to the woods together… I’ll hunt for us…” He grumbles, pushing your underwear to the side once more. Collecting any cum that has spilled out with his cock, gently fucking it back into your cunt with the head.

A whine rips from your lips due to oversensitivity. Pussy sore, aching from what he just put you though. What you aptly begged for. Yet you can’t deny him. Don’t want to deny him with how good it feels to be filled. How addicted you’ve become. Cock drunk.

“Wh-what?” You try to breathe, walls fluttering around his length as he slowly thrusts back inside. Filling you to the brim once again. “W-we can’t do that, Minnie…”

His thrusts are slow, languid. Almost like he’s making love. Treating you with utmost care despite how wrecked your entire frame is.

He is entirely unaffected. His rut leaves him wanting for more and more until you have nothing left to give. Face twisting into confusion at your words.

“Why can’t we? Make you up a nice pretty web… keep you full all the time” He hums against your neck, gently licking at his mark, “treat you like a real good mate, yeah? Fill you up over and over. Will look so pretty with my spiderlings.”

He moans the words, hips speeding up ever so slightly at the thought. It dawns on you that this must be his rut talking. Filling his head with nonsense he knows can’t come true. In a few days when he wakes up from it, he’ll probably pretend he never said anything about taking you to the woods. Keeping you there.

No harm in agreeing, is there? Especially when he makes you feel so good. So happy and full. When it makes him feel just as good. When your head starts to feel fuzzy, the exhaustion weighs heavily on your consciousness. You’re on birth control anyway, it's fine.

“Mmhmm… sounds nice..” You moan quietly, already feeling your second orgasm approaching. Allowing yourself to become lost in the same dream as him. Allowing yourself to fall victim to pretty words and false promises. Ones that he intends to make true.

“Gonna take such good care of my mate.” He groans, face buried in your neck. He feels your walls clamp around him, pulling him in over and over again. Cunt never wanting him to leave.

His hand draws between your thighs, fingers rubbing quick circles into your clit. Neither of you are going to last long. Both too sensitive to do anything but fall into the pleasure of each other.

Pussy fluttering against his cock, head rolling back as your high runs through you once more. White clouding your vision, ears ringing as you are overcome with fire. Drowning in the feeling of his cock fucking you full of his cum once again.

He lets out a harsh groan as he fills you. Breeds you just like a good spider would. Makes you feel complete as he helps you through both of your highs.

Your eyes feel heavy— too heavy to stay open even a second longer. Too tired to stay awake as he pulls your underwear back over your center. As he pulls your body close to his own.

He doesn’t blame you, never could. It must be hard having to keep up with a hybrid during their rut. But he knows you can do it. Knows you’ll do it for him. Especially with the promises you made. The ones you made only to him.

The last words you hear before falling under the veil of consciousness is a simple declaration. One you’ve waited months to hear.

“I love you.”

“Y/n! Hurry up!”

The whine of Jimin’s voice is louder than any car, highway, hell— aeroplane you’ve ever heard, you’re sure of it. The grip of his hand around your own is like iron, tugging you along the worn trail path, trying to urge you faster than your feet will allow.

“I’m going! I’m goin!” You chide with him, giggle leaving your lips at his hurried nature. You don’t think you’ve ever seen the spider more excited. Maybe even more so than when he strokes the bite mark scarred into your shoulder– your permanent reminder that you are his and he is yours.

“Not fast enough!” He groans, head rolling back in annoyance, “The best spot is going to get taken!”

He’s told you about this spot time and time again– excitement palpable with every mention. A beautiful clearing back at the reserve, one that the trees shine perfectly through. The best spot for basking in the whole park, as well as for begging humans for snacks.

You smile at the thought. Following as close behind him as your feet will manage. Blanket and bags of food tight in your grip. After months of paperwork, he can finally return to this place without fear they’ll take you away from him. The mate licence in your wallet proof enough of it.

He finally gets to take you to the reserve– the place he called home for so long before he met you. The place where he first learned how to be a proper spider. The first place he learned to make friends. He’s most excited about the latter part, getting to show off his shiny new mate to all of his friends. The one he caught the human way.

He’s been talking about it for days, since you first brought up the idea of visiting. Of wanting to see where he lived before he met you. Prattling on and on about everything he’s going to show you, how he’s going to introduce you to Jungkook if he can. About the waterfall over the cove that you two can swim in without anyone finding out.

All of it is a dream come true for your little spider. Your mate.

You smile at the thought– how excited he is as he helps you set up the blanket on the ground. As he helps spread food all around you. Body jittery, head twitching at every little sound.

It’s clear he’s going a little crazy with joy. Entirely ecstatic to have you here with him. Sitting across from him on the ground in a way that almost mocks the picnic you had in his basement that night months ago.

Ah, sorry. Nuptial gift ceremony. He liked it a lot better when you called it that.

“Oh! And then, after we eat, I can introduce you to the head of the park! She’s Namjoon’s mate, but she doesn’t know it yet.” He talks to himself, chatting idly about nothing as he presses another strawberry to your lips. You eagerly take it, biting down on the fruit without a second thought.

You cover your mouth with your hand as you speak, “Really? It must be difficult to confess to her, then.”

He nods his head, overexcited as he looks past you into the trees. Nose twitching as he tries to pick up a scent. Yellow tinted sunglasses high on his nose to block any light from hurting his delicate pupils.

You can’t help but think about how beautiful he is. How lucky you are to have him.

His hair has grown out since that fateful day months ago, blonde replaced by a deep blue that puts the night sky to shame. How his frame has bulked out ever so slightly. Pretty tan skin looking more healthy than ever. His head off in the clouds, trying to ground himself so he doesn’t pick you up and drag you off into the woods.

The human way is never easy for him.

“Mhmm… he’s trying but he isn’t very good at it. Doesn’t understand how humans like it to be done…” He mumbles.

“Hybrid’s do it different?”

“Yeah,” He seems a little lost in space, nose twitching harsher as he tries to recognise the exact scent he knows will be coming soon. Jungkook can never hold himself back from a picnic, no matter how far. He just wishes his nose was stronger.

“Hybrids just take their mate right away. Prove they’re a good mate and then it’s done. But human’s you have to teach.” Your shoulders drop slightly, and maybe if it wasn’t for the love you felt for him or the mate mark pressing against your neck, you would have understood the severity of his words. Of teaching a human, tricking them into making them fall.

“Oh…” You pout, head coming down to rest against his shoulder. None the wiser to the meaning behind his words, “I’m sorry… it must’ve been hard for you.”

He only shakes his head, “It’s okay. I just didn’t want you to ever be scared.”

Suddenly, Jimin is standing. Eyes darting across the underbrush that surrounds the treeline. You follow his vision, squinting slightly to try and make out exactly what he is looking at when two antennae pop over the other side of a bush. Twitching, pointing in your direction. Hunting down food as they move closer.

The insect moves close, tilting his head as he finally moves within your line of vision. Mop of brown floppy hair on his head, wide bunny eyes. Twitching nose all the same. If it wasn’t for the lack of ears and black antennae jolting from his head, you would’ve thought he was a rodent.

“Kook!” Jimin’s voice is loud as he quickly run’s to meet the boy. The other looks just as excited, eyes lighting up with stars as his legs take off in the same direction. The two fall into a puddle of laughter and play fighting as they fall to the ground in greeting.

The infamous Jungkook, an ant hybrid– the biggest ant hybrid you’ve seen, mind you. Jimin’s best friend is finally revealed. And you have to say, seeing them together. Watching as your mate attempts to playfully tie him up silks has to be the prettiest sight you’ve ever laid eyes on.

“Oh my god, Min!” You laugh as Jimin struggles, the giant ant hybrid easily breaking free from the others strings. Instantly the attention is on you. Jimin leaning back to his heels, head thrown back as he whines.

“Shut up! He’s gotten stronger! My webs hold you good enough!” You continue to laugh, unaware of the ant sneaking closer. His antenna tickling your shoulder as he stares at the food in front of you. Begging for just a little taste to bring home to his colony, a little bit to make the queen happy.

You happily oblige, making room for the two of them to join you once again after their little scuffle. A reunion too cute to not try and remember forever. And just like that, conversation begins to flow easily between the three of you. Almost as if Jimin never left in the first place.

The two of them spend all afternoon catching up– Jimin reciting the story of how you two met, Jungkook opening up about the cute human that’s started to come by the park every saturday. Pulling his antennae down as he speaks, clearly embarrassed. Telling you all about how they met, about the reserve.

“Ah~ don’t mind him. Kookie’s just embarrassed cause he doesn’t know how to talk to girls.” Jimin teases, leaning over to ruffle Jungkook’s hair. His arm tightly wrapped around your frame, holding you close. “Not every day that an ant hybrid has a mate outside of their colony, you know?”

“Hyung! Shut up!” He quickly whines, eyes shooting a subtle glare towards the other. Legs kicking slightly underneath his frame. “You… know what it means… especially cause she’s human…”

“I know.” His fangs shimmer as his hand reaches out to ruffle his hair, “Don’t worry. She’ll wanna be your queen in no time.”

You nod your head in agreement, picking up another piece of fruit and popping it into your mouth. Nothing much to add to the conversation– you’ll never really understand the intricacy of hybrids and how they work. Especially those like Jungkook and Jimin.

Yet, you can’t help but feel at peace with that. At peace with them and this moment. Content with your life, content with your mate and the life you’ve built together. You hope that Jungkook can do the same with his own someday. Build a nice little colony or whatever it is that ants do.

“Mhmm, anyone would want someone as cute as you.” You smile, watching as the ant’s eyes go wide. Blush covering his cheek as he tries to pull his antenna down to cover them. Jimin instantly pounces on the other, starting a new round of play fighting. Laughing about having to defend his mates honour. That she isn’t allowed to look at any other hybrid. No one but him.

You giggle along with them, leaning back from your spot. Taking a mental picture of the scene in front of you. Jimin happy, playing. The sunset over the horizon as the three of you laugh in the woods. As Jimin no longer looks anything like that spider all those months ago.

And maybe he’s right. Maybe you did fall into his trap lined with silk. But you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Even when you wake up in the middle of the woods. When you wake up in a cabin decorated in pretty webbing. When you come to find society is far behind you. When you discover no one else other than Jimin telling you that this is exactly what you asked for.

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

⋆𐙚 if you enjoyed this fic, please consider buying me a kofi!

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waywardsummoner46 · 3 months

Text

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ Sink Into the Darkness, My Light | One | ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

──•~❉ ᯽ ❉~•──

"Join us, my Light."

Two centuries ago, the ruler of the Light disappeared, plunging the universe into chaos and disrupting the sacred, unspoken balance of the universe.

The eight rulers of the Darkness never stopped looking for her; their obsession never once waning since she vanished.

Recently, they've sensed something. Never around long enough to pinpoint but so euphoric that it sings within their veins. And since meeting you, well... slowly they begin to understand why.

"Sink into the darkness with us."

──•~❉ ᯽ ❉~•──

「✦」 PAIRING - yandere ot8!ateez x (?)reader

「✦」 GENRE - ancient gods!au, fantasy!au, magical powers!au

「✦」 WARNINGS - mind control, gaslighting, dom/sub, subspace (of a sort), temporary amnesia, manipulation, YANDERE AND DARK THEMES

「✦」 WORD COUNT - 4,343

「✦」 A/N - Long time no see, huh...

「✦」 TAGLIST - Let me know if you'd like to be added :)

──•~❉ ᯽ ❉~•──

• one • two • three • four •

──•~❉ ᯽ ❉~•──

“Oh, Ji-Ah! You really didn’t have to, you know.”

Holding your phone up to your ear, your eyes twinkled as they beheld the gifts your friend had gotten you.

“Of course I didn’t have to, but it’s your birthday and I… I wanted to.”

She quietened towards the end of her sentence, and your heart clenched at the sincerity of the gifts and her words.

“Ji-Ah…”

Whilst you were at work that day, she must’ve used her spare key to your apartment and placed all of these presents on your living room table. The book you had been raving over for the past few months was sitting in a brand new giant teddy bear’s lap, all decorated and styled with a bow. A now-opened card sat neatly to their side, a picture of you both from a few years ago on its cover and the sweetest message inside.

As much as you appreciated everything and made sure to verbalise that gratitude to her, you both knew that the book was what held your attention the most. You had spent literal months searching for it, ‘The Hidden War Within.’

When you’d first mentioned it to Ji-Ah, she’d laughed and asked if it was some sort of mindfulness, positive psychology type book. You’d dismissed her playfully, stating that she wasn’t necessarily incorrect but ignored the actual content of the book. ‘The Hidden War Within’ is a novel by a collection of authors over the course of centuries; it’s written from the first person perspective and tells the tale of a lady, every time, who aims to nurture the goodness in people and minimise the evil that could fester. The antagonist, a male whose origins vary, actively dismisses her aims, instead wishing to incite sin and discourse within the people of the land. The descriptions of the constant battle between the pure aims of the protagonist and the insidious intentions of the antagonist captivated you in an inexplicable way; the applications this has to the human race as a whole really piqued your interest.

Philosophical topics was something you dabbled in on occasion but the discussion between good and evil being a force out of the individual control of a person and, instead, determined by forces beyond comprehension did cause some discussion between you and Ji-Ah. Mainly, are people born evil or is it an environmental thing?

The fact that it had been written from numerous authors over the span of centuries was another aspect that only deepened your intrigue. How had authors, all from different parts of the globe and periods of time, collectively written something akin to a timeline of a novel? Realistically, the only thing the stories within the novel had in common was that they discussed the same topic in eerily similar detail just with different historical influences, but that only reinforced the entire philosophical debate of are people born evil.

Undeniably, ‘The Hidden War Within’ had wormed its way as a repetitive topic within your friendship and that enabled your obsession with the novel to grow until you were borderline desperate to possess it for yourself.

So, as you held it in your hands, tears of unfiltered happiness streamed down your face silently. “Thank-” “You are very, very welcome,” she cut you off. Then, there was a pause on her line. “To repay me, if you’re feeling oh-so indebted to me, you have to come out with us for a drink tonight.”

You knew that the tender moment wouldn’t last long, not with Ji-Ah’s aversion to lengthy emotional situations.

Still, you sighed.

“Ji-Ah, you know I don’t drink.” You’d had a few in the past, curious to try it out but it never became anything more than just that - a new experience. Alcohol was off-putting to you, it just never tickled your fancy and after seeing what it can lead to… well, fair to say you’d rather stay away from the stuff.

Ji-Ah, bless her, was very accommodating to this particularity of yours and always ensured that you were as comfortable as possible at any social event. Hence why her next words weren’t a surprise, “You don’t have to drink-drink, but I am going to have lots of drink-drinks… if that’s okay with you?”

You laughed softly, shaking your head lightly even though you knew she couldn’t see you. “I trust you, Ji-Ah. I know you’re responsible with it. It’s Jee-Won that I’m dreading, you know how she gets.”

Everyone knew how Jee-Won got after a few drinks, especially at a bar where there were plenty of young, ‘attractive’ men to scope out. Her fascination with picking out another guy at every social event was sad because she could quite easily find someone to truly love her and be loved by her. Alas, you might have to resign yourself to her drunken activities and pray that whoever she invited back to the table tonight would be decent and not equally as unhinged as she could be.

On the other end of the phone call, you could basically hear her thinking of how to convince you to go and as painful as it was to admit to yourself, her persistence was slowly grating at your resilience.

The teddy bear sitting on your living room table was practically begging you with its plastic, unseeing eyes. Ji-Ah had bought you all of those gifts and… it was only one night, wasn’t it? And it was your birthday? Surely, it couldn’t be that bad…

A heavy, resigned sigh escaped your lips and Ji-Ah practically squealed over the phone.

“See you at eight! You will not regret this, (Y/N).”

Somehow, you already did.

──•~❉ ᯽ ❉~•──

It was her fault really that you were in this situation, really. She couldn’t possibly have expected anything different, right?

Maybe she did, maybe she expected you to resist, to battle it off as much as you could but her optimism would be her downfall.

The urge was just too mighty, the temptation too unbearable to deny and you, too unfortunately stubborn for your own good.

Looking down at your tote bag, swimming with an array of different chocolates and a multitude of her favourite sweets, you grinned. She’d definitely kill you for buying these for her but words of thanks just weren’t satisfactory enough. Her gifts had quite literally made you cry; you needed to show her, rather than tell her, just how much you cherished her actions.

Deep down, you knew that she knew that. It was also just fun to see the outrage on her face when you presented her with chocolates or some flowers whenever she’d gone out of her way to spoil you.

Deep down, you also knew that she knew that you knew she secretly likes her efforts being appreciated so much and it always makes for a phenomenal movie night whenever you shower her with a myriad of sweet and sugary specials (not that she’d ever admit to that).

There was something missing from your horde of tradeable valuables and that was, in fact, a palette of different coloured flowers. With a subtle mischief to your stride, you made your way to your most trusted, dear florist ‘Life Rose On’.

The name never fails to make you chuckle.

On Jung-Hee owned the beautiful establishment and had been a friend of sorts since you moved to the area five years ago. When moving into your then-new apartment, you decided that the first step to making the space your own was to liven up each room with different colours and types of flowers.

Your idea worked like a charm and really helped to keep you motivated when unpacking. Jung-Hee very kindly took the time out of her day to help you hand select each individual flower (and entertained your ceaseless indecision); from that day, you always made sure to drop by whenever you were in town to say hello and to drop off some soju. The old lady was very open about her love for the stuff, even if you had no interest in it.

If it was for Jung-Hee, there’s not a lot you wouldn’t do. You loved the elderly lady like your own grandmother and would also lend a helping hand should she need it.

She was similar to you in the way that she always repaid you through gifts for your considerate actions - typically a free bouquet of your favourite flowers.

After a nice stroll through town, you reached the florist.

Unsurprisingly, the window display was stuffed to the brim with a myriad of floral beauties that looked like Mother Nature’s mosaic. Jung-Hee seriously knew how to capture an onlooker's attention and, judging from how many people you could see in the shop beyond the glazed window, she’d succeeded immensely.

You crossed the street, navigating the crowd of people on the pavements.

You got so caught up in the masses of people that you failed to notice the raised step at the entrance of ‘Life Rose On’ and, ultimately, began falling to your doom.

Letting out an embarrassing squeak of surprise, you braced yourself for the impact with the floor that… never came.

Peeling your eyes open in mild confusion, you barely suppressed your gasp of shock at the kind eyes of the stranger that had caught you. You both stayed in whatever position he’d caught you in - you were too out of it to process that properly - and took the opportunity to analyse each others’ face.

He had the warmest eyes you’d ever seen, a gorgeous galaxy of chocolatey velvet wrapped up in his irises. His lips, parted ever so slightly and downturned, were rosey red and were porcelain in their appearance, flawless and beautiful. Delicate waves of dark hair lined his forehead and it took all of your energy not to reach up and smooth a stray strand out.

It felt like hours had passed with you looking into his eyes and examining his face. You couldn’t get enough, there was something so captivating about him, something that made you want to know more-

Someone cleared their throat. Both you and the stranger were shocked out of your respective reveries and a light blush dusted your cheeks. The stranger seemed completely composed, in contrast. The person who’d cleared their throat was a customer trying to leave through the doorway but found it difficult with two humanoid obstacles in the way. You were happy to see that the lady wasn’t a regular, so she probably wouldn’t bump into her on another occasion.

Huffing at your distracted apology, the lady moved past you and the stranger and out of the florist. Now that you and the man were both standing by yourself and pointedly not tripping over some violent, unseen step, you struggled to maintain a neutral expression when you saw how tall he was compared to you.

He was easily six foot tall, and using the door as a substitute measuring tape you guessed that he might be slightly taller than that as well. You cursed yourself internally. Of all the people that had to see and catch you, why did it need to be this man?

“I am so sorry, are you alright?” You questioned with an apology written all over your face.

And, oh, if you thought his face was perfect, then his voice was enough to cause you to ascend. “I’m perfectly fine, are you alright?” how were you supposed to keep composed when his voice sounded like that.

Smiling self-deprecatingly, you responded, “I’m perfectly fine. Thank you for that.”

“Don’t worry about it.” And you didn’t, not really. Not when he assured you so confidently that there was absolutely nothing to trouble yourself with. “Tell me your name.”

Instinctually, you went to tell him but something held you back. Possibly the way he’d said it - a demand rather than a question. Possibly something else. Although, It struck you as odd that that was how he’d go about that topic but figuring it was largely irrelevant and most likely you were reading too much into things you gave him your name.

“(Y/N),” he repeated, your name sliding off his tongue so heavenly. “My, how interesting. I used to know someone with the same name.”

Your eyebrows raised in polite surprise. “Oh, really?”

He smiled down at you but there was a pinch of something unpleasant weaved into his expression, “Yes. A very compelling woman, was she.” His sudden emotion made you mildly uncomfortable, feeling as though you’d unintentionally uprooted some harsh forgotten memories.

Before you could say anything, though, the man bowed to you. “Lovely to make your acquaintance, (Y/N). My name is Yunho.”

Yunho.

You finally had a name to match his angelic face. It suited him perfectly.

Smiling, a genuine, light-hearted one this time, you mirrored his bow before you both straightened and simply stood there, on the doorway to the shop, and gazed at each other silently. There was something about this man that made you search his eyes, the very deepest, darkest parts of his pupils to find his soul. You didn’t know what it was, but something inside of you said that Yunho was very unique.

Very unique indeed.

──•~❉ ᯽ ❉~•──

Yunho and you had spoken for another twenty minutes before he’d had to leave.

The entire time, you were hanging off of his every word and couldn’t quite escape the magnetism of his irises. There was something so captivating with the way he spoke; the words he chose, the tone in which they were woven but also how calming his deep voice was. And, oh, his eyes.

You couldn’t stop thinking about them.

Glancing at your phone, the time read 13:26. That left you about six and a half hours before you had to be there, five hours before you had to get ready, four hours before you got some food and only two hours and a half before you went home.

Flowers were the last thing on your list, so once you’d picked out a personalised bouquet for Ji-Ah you’d be able to browse whatever other shops tickled your fancy and then go home, to get ready for your “night out”.

The more you thought about it, the more you regretted your decision to go. Realistically, you’d most likely have a phenomenal time if you allowed yourself to indulge in the experience. But sitting on your living room table was the one thing you’d wanted for months; it was finally in your grasp and you couldn’t even read it until tomorrow (because you weren’t stupid, you won’t be leaving the club until two in the morning).

Helplessly, you sighed. There was no way to escape your fate. It was inevitable. At least the flowers were pretty.

‘Life Rose On’ was, for lack of a better word, a labyrinth. The only reason you could get around as quick as you could was because you’d navigated its maze-like twists and turns for five years and, even then, when Jung-Hee decided that the shop was getting “too predictable”, she’d reorganise the entire shop so that any hope of save journey was futile. The woman loved to keep people on their toes, her distaste for monotony something you admired contrary to the perilous jungle that was her shop.

The shop was bigger than it appeared; the bleak outside of the shop didn’t do its magnificent interior any justice. As soon as you entered the florists, an archway made entirely of Japanese Wisteria, Mandevilla and Clematis enveloped you with their sweet smells. Each climbing plant twisting so delicately around the foundations of the archway and certain pieces dangling down in a still, flowery downfall; the occasional petal falling to the ground made walking into the shop feel like you were stepping into another realm with only nature’s best caressing you lightly on their way down to join those who fell before them.

After the winding walkway, there was the option to take a left or a right turn. Both laid out to be the start of a rainbow - the beginning of each row included dark red roses, amaryllis to name a few and continued down the line with plants including sunflowers, bluebells and lavender.

On Jung-Hee loved a spectacle. She was only just getting started.

The overall layout of the shop was circular. So, after making your choice of left or right, you would be brought to a turn that took you further towards the centre of the shop. Instead of beginning from red and going down the rainbow, Jung-Hee intricately places each and every flower on these stands to mirror the symbol of whatever season of the year it was. For example, for Valentine’s day, she had gathered the flowers and created a phenomenal display of plants made to look like a landscape of a couple sitting on a mountain, overlooking the horizon.

What made ‘Life Rose On’ so unique is that Jung-Hee’s life quite literally revolved around the shop and had dedicated her life to making the shop thrive. It was her family heirloom in a way. The building itself had been in her family for generations but she’s been the first to utilise it to its full potential and allow her family home to bloom to its fullest extent.

It was that same ideology that inspired her to make it a florist. Ever the poet, she said that every plant or flower sold was pollen and her customers were the bees, helplessly drawn to its beauty and coming to crave its offerings as sustenance.

“You will always be my favourite bee, my dear,” she always said.

“And you’ll always be my favourite flower,” you’d respond with an unrestrained smile on your face.

After the landscape aisles of the shop, you’d finally reach the centre where the cash register was. Dotted around it, however, were individual stands and displays of flowers that may not have been considered as suitable for the display chosen that month or were simply too big to be practical anywhere more confined.

And sitting at the cash register, looking effortlessly in her element would be Jung-Hee.

Except… she wasn’t there. A young man was sitting there instead, one you’d never heard of before, let alone seen. Jung-Hee had no children nor did she have any nephews of close relations to anyone of his description.

You hadn’t seen his face yet, having turned right after the archway you’d reached the centre from behind the cash register so his back was turned to serve the small line of customers there, but you found it slightly odd that Jung-Hee wasn’t at the register she seemed to be glued to six days a week (it used to be seven but you managed to convince her to take Sunday off to look after herself, rather than others for once).

Biting your lip slightly, you looked down at the collection of blue hyacinths and forget-me-nots you’d collected for Ji-Ah and contemplated coming back at a later date. There was nothing necessarily wrong with having a stranger in Jung-Hee’s place but you had brought along some small things you wanted to give her today and, evidently, you wouldn’t be able to do that. Ji-Ah would still have her flowers and chocolates and whatnot, but at a later date.

Thinking about it, it made more sense to kill two birds with one stone at a later date. You wouldn’t be able to give Ji-Ah the flowers until after they’d died anyway due to your schedules being unaligned after tonight and the florist you were looking for was nowhere to be seen.

Then again…

“Daisies would work wonderfully with those.”

You jolted and looked up to meet the eyes of one of the prettiest, most angelic people you’ve ever seen in your life. Internally, you were mildly shocked at how such a smooth, deep voice could match such an innocent face and yet, somehow the low baritone of his voice was as pleasurable to listen to as his eyes were to gaze into.

The irony of his rosy red lips wasn’t lost on you.

The man had a birthmark on his cheek, strands of parted black hair framed it like the most cherished picture. Because this man was a work of art, and he deserved to be framed for eternity.

Two men. Two heart-wrenchingly handsome men had crossed paths with you in less than twenty minutes. The first one you’d made a fool of yourself to. You’d be damned if you ruined this chance to redeem yourself, even if only to make yourself feel better,

Meeting his eyes, you took a subtle breath to steel your nerves. “Do you think so? I was debating between purple tulips or just buying them as they are, but I see where you’re coming from.”

Alright, a slight ramble perhaps but at least you didn’t stumble over your words (or your feet like with Yunho).

The way his eyes twinkled with sudden interest gave you a bit of confidence. “An interesting choice, but don’t you think the contrast of the daisy’s white petals against the darker purples and blues would only add to the beauty of them all?”

Contemplatively, you looked down at your hands and imagined the picture he’d painted in your hand. It did make sense, actually. As he said, the contrast between dark and light made a very balanced, very alluring image inside your head. “Ah, you know what? You’re right, that would look lovely.”

He leant back (you didn’t register when he’d closed a slight distance between you), and looked proud of himself. Dare you say it, the pleased expression he wore was adorable.

“I’m glad I could help. My name is Yeosang.”

Yeosang.

Just like when you learnt Yunho’s name, something felt so instinctively right about that. Not only did the name suit him perfectly but as though something thrumming underneath your skin calmed after learning his name.

“(Y/N), it’s nice to meet you. Thank you for your help, Yeosang-ssi,” you bow deeply so that he avoids seeing the blush dusted across your cheeks. You don’t know what it was, but there was something going on with you today. First Yunho, now Yeosang. Two complete strangers that had affected you more in two minutes than a lot of people had in two years.

“You’re very welcome, (Y/N).”

Yeosang helped you to find however many daisies you wanted (six) and walked you to the register, all while making small talk. It was only when you saw him stand behind the counter rather than in the queue did you make the connection between the mysterious new worker and this kind stranger.

Lips parting softly, you placed the flowers into his outstretched hand for him to place them into the bouquet wrapping. “How long have you worked here?”

His hands worked the ribbon around the patterned wrapping so expertly that you wondered how much practice he’d had at this. “I’ve been here for about two years this month.”

Two years? Impossible, you would’ve run into him at some point with how frequently you visit the shop. And even if by the very small chance that hadn’t occurred, Jung-Hee would’ve told you of such a development.

“How come Jung-Hee never mentioned you?”

At your question, his hands slowed momentarily but picked up from his slight hesitation as though nothing had happened. “You know Jung-Hee?”

“I’ve known her for nearly five years now. She’s always been wonderful company and an even better friend.”

He hummed thoughtfully, “I find it odd she never mentioned me, I must admit.” Finishing wrapping the flowers up, he made eye contact with you again and the sudden tenseness and mild hostility you found in them caught you off guard. “She and I have a very complicated relationship but one that I cherish, nonetheless.”

You waited for a few seconds for him to elaborate but once he remained silent for the same amount of time, it became clear he wasn’t going to answer further.

A part of you still wanted to know where Jung-Hee was today, and you were about to ask when he reached down to something on the shielded side of the counter, hidden from your view.

Bringing his hand up, you saw that he’d picked a singular purple rose. He twirled it in his hand for a bit, admiring its rare beauty, before making eye contact with you once again. Slowly, as though giving you the opportunity to step back should you wish, he raised the rose to your head and tucked it gently behind your ear.

His hand lingered by your cheek for a second longer than it should’ve, especially considering the short amount of time you’d known him… but, you’d be lying if you said that closeness, even the faintest amount of it, wasn’t the best thing you’d experienced in a long, long time.

Appearing reluctant, he pulled back. “Goodbye, (Y/N). I hope I’ll see you again soon.” His voice was a whisper but carried the weight of a winter wind.

You couldn’t help the blush that spread across your cheeks. If the slight twitching of his lips was anything to go by, he was well aware of the effect he had on you.

You met his eyes, the look he was giving you so tender it made saying this goodbye almost unbearable. “Goodbye, Yeosang.”

After leaving the innermost circle of the shop, you felt like a weight was settling off of your lungs. You didn’t even recognise how difficult it had become to breathe there, nor had you recognize how unexplainably painful it was to depart from Yeosang only after knowing him for fifteen minutes.

A rush of something euphoric had spread through you after he’d given you the flower, and coupled with the barest touch to your cheek your emotions had been sent tumbling. You stepped out of the shop and, for the first time in a long time, felt like there was something more to your life again. As though you’d found your purpose.

Oh, how little you knew.

──•~❉ ᯽ ❉~•──

#ateez x reader #ot8 x reader #ot8 ateez x reader #kim hongjoong x reader #park seonghwa x reader #jeong yunho x reader #kang yeosang x reader #choi san x reader #song mingi x reader #jung wooyoung x reader #choi jongho x reader #yandere ateez #yandere ateez x reader #dark ateez

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koqabear · 2 years

Text

Only You, Darling.

♡Playlist♡

Love is a sweet, fragile thing. Never a thing that should be forced or manipulated— but they just can’t help it. You’re so sweet and pliant, a perfect angel that falls into their every trick with ease. Love can never be forced— but it can be molded into the perfect puzzle piece, ready to fit into theirs with ease.

beomgyu, yeonjun x reader, ft. Soobin & Jaemin of NCT.

genre: yandere, f2l, s2l, psychological horror, thriller, slowburn, angst fluff...? smut

Word Count:43.8K

Warnings:cursing, mentions of food/alcohol, unrequited love, pining, possessiveness, overprotectiveness, jealousy, mc is oblivious/trusting, hacking, stalking/harassment, toxic relationships, infidelity, lying, manipulation, brief sickness, nausea, mc cries a lot (for good reasons…) tracking, panic attacks, mc gets super paranoid n stressed, threats, arguing, violence, weapons, blood, injuries, MCD, subspace (not explicitly named), unhealthy (and healthy…?) coping mechanisms, power imbalance, recurring nightmares, hallucinations, PTSD, forced isolation, Stockholm syndrome (?), guilt tripping, use of collars, brief starvation, choking, guns, vomiting. Smut warnings:fingering, protected sex, voyeurism (non-consensual), masturbation, use of blindfolds, oral (fem rec.) multiple orgasms, threesome, degradation, praise, teasing, unprotected sex, creampie, sloppy seconds, overstimulation, rough sex. Notes: give it up for the absolute failure that was me trying to release this yesterday. A special thank you to all my readers who remained patient with my bs, I love you all. (ps, the playlist songs are in order!)

This story contains dark themes. Read at your own discretion. This story is purely for entertainment purposes, and do not reflect the idols true morals or character.

No matter what they say— I’ll never meet another you.

Yeonjun was impossibly in love with you.

Simple old you, his childhood friend that managed to stick with him through all the ups and downs. Who put up with his antics, and always managed to trail behind him despite his intense popularity and the attention that was always on him— something that you’ve never been particularly fond of yourself. (At least, that’s what you said, despite your magnetic personality.)

It was a wonder to him, how you still allowed him to follow you around, sticking to you like glue, unable to keep his eyes off you. Just like now— you had yet to look up from your phone, oblivious to the world around you as you nodded along to whatever song was blasting in your headphones.

God, you were so cute. It was a thought Yeonjun always found himself thinking; yet, despite his longing glances and soft smiles that always remained plastered whenever he was around you, you never noticed a thing— and maybe that made him like you a little bit more.

“___,” he said, smiling softly as you had yet to notice him, still lost in whatever it was you had been looking at. He frowned, irked at your lack of attention as he leaned forward, chest pressing against the wood of the library’s table as he tried again. Your name slipped past him once more in a gentle voice, his eyes boring into your skin as he waited for you to respond.

Nothing.

“___.” He watched the way you jumped in your seat, eyes wide as you finally looked up at Yeonjun. The said boy leans back, huffing harshly as he watches you hastily pause your music, pulling your headphones out your ears as you sheepishly look at him.

“Sorry, I didn’t notice you,” you admit, gaze downcast from the way he narrows his eyes at you, annoyed at how long it took you to pay attention to him. He doesn’t believe you, and you can see it on his face as he raises a brow at you, arms crossed as he tilts his head.

“I’m serious, jun! I just thought it was another person who wanted to sit here,” you pout, fiddling nervously with your headphones as you try your best to meet his gaze. He can only scoff at that, rolling his eyes as he looks off into a random section of books— he’s afraid that he might give in if you look at him like that any longer.

“You need to be more aware of your surroundings,” Yeonjun warned, finally setting aside his anger as he looks back at you, the familiar teasing making you shake your head in amusement, “you could’ve been in danger.”

“Yeah right,” it’s your turn to scoff as you begin to put away your things that had been scattered all along the desk— you had been trying to take a break from studying, but the moment you reached for your phone, it had all been over for you.

“Like anything interesting would happen to me,” you mused, unaware of the way Yeonjun could only frown at the thought. Your head snapped up at the sound of him standing, the frown still etched on his features as he reached to take your bag from you, slinging it over his shoulders before you could complain. Taking your hand, he leads you out of the library, fingers laced tightly with yours as he scolds you on your way out.

“You never know,” he says, pulling you closer at the very thought. Rolling your eyes, you bump your shoulder with his, a silent reassurance as you allow him to lead you along the campus, probably leading you back to the small diner where the two of you had spent most of your life.

Yeonjun had been with you longer than you could remember— you were practically childhood friends. You had always found him by your side throughout all of middle and high school, always in the background of your memories despite you never really talking to him much. He was always entangled within your friend groups, and before you knew it, the large circle of people quickly dwindled to just the two of you as everyone went their separate ways— leaving the nice coincidence of you attending the same college as him.

With nothing left but the familiar face that was Yeonjun, it was inevitable that the two of you would end up so close; you had always found yourself coming back to him when in need of comfort, the itch to find a reminder of the small hometown you both moved away from leading straight to him— and he welcomed you with open arms each time.

To you, Yeonjun was like home. He was warm and comforting, a reminder that you always had something safe and protective to come back to. He was the greatest friend you could ask for.

And he hated it.

He resented the label silently, always being bitterly pushed aside whenever a new guy would find interest in you. He wishes for nothing more than for you to rid him of the chains you’ve trapped him in, restricting him from ever allowing you to see a future with him.

He wishes you could see him as something more than a friend, but he would never admit it to you; he could never imagine losing you— the very thought made him sick to his stomach.

So instead, he allowed himself to wallow in shame on the sidelines, left with nothing but a constant reminder that you would never see him in a different light.

-♡♡♡-

Beomgyu was also impossibly in love with you.

He loves everything about you, from the small ticks you get when you’ve been sitting for too long, to the way you twirl your hair in your fingers when you concentrate. You’re perfect in every way, a gorgeous angel put in his path to pull him away from the dark corners of his restless mind.

He knows exactly when it all began— unlike Yeonjun, who still seems to be in denial of his feelings. You were always so sweet to him, a regular at the library he worked at, the endless piles of books you would take back and forth allowing him to strike up small conversations with you whenever he would check your books out. You would go home, and it wouldn’t be long until Beomgyu would see you coming back in.

If he was lucky enough, you would spend hours in the library, pouring endlessly over essays and assignments that never seemed to end with you, your figure always hunched over your trusty computer— that was where Beomgyu got his first opening.

“No no no, this can’t be happening,” you’re muttering quietly to yourself, tucked away in a secluded corner of the library, hands frantically hovering over the keyboard as you try to fix your computer, which froze before you could save your essay. You’re practically on the verge of tears, the frustration building up inside you so intensely as you slide a finger hopelessly on the mousepad, the last inkling of hope fading inside you as a frozen screen is all you get in return.

Beomgyu is a witness to it all— what started as an innocent favor to reshelve books quickly became an excuse to see you, inevitably rooted to the spot as he watched you peacefully work all alone— he always saw you with other people on campus, so to be able to see you alone like this, was much more personal to him.

He frowned, watching the way you’re practically pulling your hair out—his heart is pounding against his chest, and before he can overthink things, he’s approaching you shyly.

“Hey, is everything okay?”

You’re caught off guard at the sudden question, your head snapping up as you’re met with the sight of the cute librarian that you always see here— well, this is embarrassing. You’re reluctant as you explain your situation, brushing it off with a laugh as you solemnly glance back at your computer— with a wince, you notice the way the screen turns black.

“I know my way around computers pretty well. Maybe I could fix it?”

Those words really shouldn’t have gotten your hopes up as much as they did, but you couldn’t help it, not with the way this cute worker is offering his services, his eyes that shine under his glasses shyly flitting away as you lean towards him eagerly.

“Really?” A part of you can’t help but be naive as he nods, but the stubborn skepticism inside you crawls back out as you lean back in your chair, eyeing him warily as you ask, “How much will you charge?”

“Ah, no— I won’t charge you, really…” you’re sold on his words— if it doesn’t work, then you’ll go to an actual professional. But for now, you’re motioning to the chair across from you, watching as he quickly glances around the area before he sits down, hesitant in his movements.

Slowly, you hand your laptop to him, watching his every move as you patiently wait for him to do his thing. You can’t understand what he’s doing, but you’re oddly convinced as his eyes narrow at the sight of your device, already focused on his task as he goes quiet. He doesn’t even spare you a glance.

But what you don’t see is Beomgyu’s shaky hands and stuttering breaths— he’s nervous. He can feel your stare on him, and it’s making this simple task seem impossible to him. Your eyes are curious as you watch him, and he can’t help but be endeared at the sight. He’s peeking at you from the corner of his eye, brain short-circuiting at the fact that he has all of your attention on him, and only him.

You're looking away at the sound of your phone buzzing on the table, and Beomgyu can’t help but frown at the way your face lights up entirely at the sight of the caller ID. He wishes he had more self-restraint, but he can’t help it as he listens to your hushed whispers on the phone, watching as you lean back in your chair and speak fondly into the phone.

“Hi junie,” you greet, your voice sweet and affectionate at the nickname. Yeonjun. Beomgyu frowns as he realizes who you were talking to.

The man was always with you— even when you would come into the library alone, it wouldn’t be long before Yeonjun would be walking in, eager eyes searching for your figure before he clung to you helplessly. It annoyed Beomgyu to no end— seeing him there, with you, allowing himself to be as touchy and as clingy as he pleased while you sat oblivious to it all.

On days when he came in to interrupt your studies, Beomgyu would quickly find himself in the back offices, doing boring paperwork to get away from the sight. He would grit his teeth and wouldn’t come out of the secluded space until half an hour passed; that was usually how much longer you would stay whenever the annoying man would appear.

And he would check out your books, as usual— but he would remain silent, lips pressed in a fine line as he would watch the way Yeonjun would try to consume all your attention, stealing any precious time he might have had with you.

“Yeah, I am,” you replied, your leg beginning to bounce softly as you spoke on the phone— one of your habits Beomgyu always took note of. “No, I didn’t see it. My computer froze, what’d you send?”

Beomgyu was on autopilot by now, your computer already restarting as he saw your account— you didn’t have a password set up.

So naive, he frowns, and before he can second guess his actions, he’s logging into your account.

This is wrong, Beomgyu thinks, the thought a small ripple in the grand expanse of his mind as he sidetracks from checking to see if you had any viruses— and goes straight to the notification that pops up.

He shouldn’t be doing this— you’re right there… he reminds himself, but a quick glance at you and he sees that you’re too distracted to see what he’s doing. You’re still on the phone, your voice barely making a sound as you stare out the window, seemingly searching for something.

Or rather, someone. Beomgyu realizes bitterly. And with that surge of anger, he clicks on the file that has been shared with you.

It’s nothing special— some pictures from a vacation you took, he assumes. But at that moment, Beomgyu is sitting so close to you, yet he feels as though you’re miles away from him, practically unreachable as you continue to smile sweetly at your conversation, your eyes crinkling cutely.

And as he scrolls through them slowly, he finds himself frowning at the sight. Most— if not all— of the pictures are riddled with Yeonjun. Truly, what could he have possibly expected? But something about seeing you, happy and energetic—your skin practically glowing as pictures of you on the beach and tropical areas riddle the folder— makes him seethe.

Because there’s no doubt that it was him alongside you all along. And all those pictures of you, dressed in flowy garments and revealing summer clothes, were taken by him. He’s in some of them, pulling you close in each one without fail. If Beomgyu hadn’t known any better, he would’ve even thought that you two were together.

“Oh, you’re here? I’m in the back of the library, by the historical section,” you say, and Beomgyu is quick to exit out of the folder, his fingers twitching as he catches sight of a picture of you and Yeonjun, your eyes shut tightly and a grin on your face as Yeonjun plants a firm kiss on your cheek, the setting sun behind you casting a glow on your figures.

He’s back to his task as he does a quick check through your computer— seeing if any sketchy files have been downloaded, or if you had any viruses. Sure enough, he finds some, but it’s nothing out of the ordinary as he takes quick care of it, placing protective measures on your computer as he tries to get the album of pictures out of his mind.

But for some reason, he can’t. And it becomes even harder to do so when he hears footsteps coming his way, your figure perking up as you wave him over happily. It’s hard to forget, and it’s even harder to ignore the burning stare that he feels on his back as the man walks closer. Beomgyu doesn’t bother looking up, but he knows that Yeonjun is looking down at him curiously, and he can practically hear the question that is running through the man’s mind.

Who was he? Why did he have your laptop?

“He’s fixing my laptop,” you grin, eyes shining under the lights of the building as you look up at Yeonjun from where you sit. It’s instant, the way Yeonjun’s face changes as his attention is brought onto you, a smile tugging at his lips as he nods in understanding.

“I see,” Yeonjun hums, but it’s a wonder how you don’t notice the blatant dislike in his eyes as they flick back to Beomgyu. Yeonjun shifts, now looking over Beomgyu’s shoulder as he watches his actions closely, not bothering to hide his skepticism as he asks, “So what’d you find?”

“Couple of viruses, nothing too harmful,” Beomgyu responds quickly, beginning to explain what happened to your laptop. He knows neither of you understands what he’s saying, his complex terms lost on your heads as he tries to not laugh at the way you feign complete understanding as you nod along politely.

“I’ve also installed some protection software and adblockers, so hopefully that should help,” he adds, glancing up to see you grinning happily at him— at him, for once. You’re looking straight into his eyes, and Beomgyu can’t help the way he feels a childlike bashfulness take over him, a shaky hand slowly closing the laptop before he’s sliding it back to you.

“You should really add a password to it, by the way. I’m sorry I got into your account, but I promise I didn’t look through anything,” you don’t even second guess his words, and Beomgyu wishes he could feel guilt for his actions. But when Yeonjun is already beginning to whisk you away, any remorse he may have felt is quickly swept away.

It happens so quickly, and Beomgyu is alone again before he knows it.

-♡♡♡-

“That guy from the library— do you know him?”

You currently stand in line at a boba shop as you stare up at the menu, snapped out of your daze at Yeonjun’s words. Reluctantly, you glance away from the endless options to meet your friend's eyes, sending him a confused look as you take in just how serious he was.

“Not really… We‘re not like, friends, I guess. But I always see him when I go to the library, and we’ve talked a couple of times. Why?”

Yeonjun wishes you would stop being so trusting of strangers— it was one of the things that always kept him on guard whenever you hung out together. He resists the urge to run a hand through his hair at your words, already feeling his stress spike up from your confession.

“So you just let that random guy go through your laptop like that?” Yeonjun says, unable to hide his frustration. You’re surprised, eyes widening as he suddenly snaps at you— why would he be so worked up about this? Sure, you took a risk trusting him like that, but it all turned out well in the end; free of charge, too.

“I mean, he fixed it, didn’t he?” You retaliate, stepping forward as another person finishes their order, “Plus, it’s not like I have anything worth seeing or stealing on there— and I was right there the whole time, watching him.”

You can tell he’s still irritated by the situation, but you’re quick to ignore him as you turn to the worker to give her your order, blocking out Yeonjun’s persistent stare.

He would never admit it, but the only thing that bothered him was the sight of you wholeheartedly trusting a stranger— plus, the sight of another man sitting across from you so comfortably spiked Yeonjun’s heart rate for a second. He can tell that you’re annoyed with him as you pay for your order, not even bothering to argue with his offer to pay for you as you go pick out a table to sit at.

He’s left alone for a moment, and as Yeonjun absentmindedly orders his usual, he can’t help but think back to the way the man sitting across from you seemed to be in awe of your very presence, his sweet gestures and shy demeanor telling Yeonjun everything he needed to know.

A sudden urge to visit you at the library more often hits him.

-♡♡♡-

Yeonjun has always been too ambitious for his own good— Beomgyu is quick to realize this.

He’s a selfish man, always wanting you for himself yet never really making a move in fear of losing you— he’s a coward. His hard work will chalk up to nothing if all he can bring himself to do is follow you around like an idiot.

The sight has always been quite funny to Beomgyu. The boy has never been secretive about his feelings for you, yet you’re still painfully oblivious— Beomgyu likes to think you’re only pretending, and you don’t like the boy back— but he knows it’s not an act; that’s just how you are.

You’re oblivious to the world around you; you have yet to become aware of the boy in your ten am class that always itches to sit near you— of course, you’re also painfully unaware of the way Beomgyu shares this class with you, and uses it as an advantage to be able to watch you peacefully, away from any interruptions as he sits a few rows behind you.

The boy in your ten am class is itching to sit near you again. But this time, something’s different; Beomgyu frowns deeply as he watches the boy approach you. Beomgyu watches from afar, watching the way the boy meekly points to the seat next to you— he grits his teeth when you nod happily.

Honestly, Beomgyu shouldn’t be one to judge— he can’t bring himself to come up to you either. But he still allows himself to be pissed as he watches the two of you begin to talk; it’s even worse when you laugh softly, beginning to get friendlier as you lean into him.

The class is ruined. Beomgyu can’t bring himself to process a word that’s said by his professor, his eyes inevitably trailing back to your figure as he feels another surge of annoyance go through him at the sight of the boy next to you leaning in to whisper something— you laugh softly at his words.

And even when class ends, Beomgyu is quick to notice the way the boy still lingers around you; Jaemin, his name was. The sudden memory of who he was hits him, and it isn’t long before he’s walking out of class, accidentally trailing the two of you as he watches you continue your conversations happily.

He’s surprised to find Jaemin still stuck by your side by the time he spots Yeonjun in the distance— and is even more surprised to find you warming up to the man beside you so quickly. You’re playful… flirtatious, even. And with that single thought, Beomgyu feels his stomach twist harshly.

And he knows he’s not the only one who feels this way; he’s fallen behind, watching from afar as Yeonjun’s body language shifts at the sight of you with yet another man— he’s stiff, rigid almost, his eyes hardening as he watches Jaemin input his number into your phone. But he’s left powerless, forced to watch as Jaemin takes a step closer to your heart than he ever will.

You’re slow to notice him; that’s the final nail in the coffin. You seem to be quite reluctant to leave Jaemin, Yeonjun notes bitterly. He can almost taste the bitterness on his tongue as he watches the way you smile sweetly to your classmate, waving him goodbye before you’re turning back to him, the dreamy look in your eye rooting Yeonjun to the spot.

A look that you’ll never direct to him.

“He seems nice,” Yeonjun offhandedly comments, and he watches with regret as you curl up shyly at his words, your eyes sparkling as you bat at his arm playfully.

“Yeah, I’ve had a crush on him since forever,” you’re whispering the words, but it all sounds deafening to him as he watches the way you giggle at your own sentence. “I can’t believe he came up to me. And he gave me his number!”

Even from a distance, Beomgyu can tell that you’ve said something that has broken the boy beside you— but oddly enough, it only serves to brighten up his day a little.

“Are we still on to try out that new restaurant tomorrow?” A small part of Yeonjun hopes that you’ll still have him as a priority in his heart. But when he sees you throw him an apologetic smile, he can’t bring himself to be surprised.

“He asked me out on a date,” you say, sincerely apologetic as you watch the way your friend slumps down at your words. You’re quick to console him, grabbing onto his hand as you hold it tightly between your own, looking into his eyes as you say, “I promise I’ll make it up to you. Rain check?”

“Rain check,” Yeonjun reluctantly grits out, unable to ignore the way his heart softens at the way you happily thank him, continuing your ramblings on how excited you are to finally have a shot with the cute boy in your ten am class.

Beomgyu was right— because even now, as you go on about what outfits you could wear tomorrow, all Yeonjun can think of is how he can turn all your attention back on him.

-♡♡♡-

Yeonjun always thought of himself as a patient man.

Hell, he’s had to deal with his love for you for years— and he’s still hopeful for a happy ending.

Yet, he’s not sure if he can go on playing the long game. Countless attempts to woo you have always failed, so to see you wrapped around Jaemin’s finger so quickly makes him blinded with rage. It’s pathetic; Yeonjun knows this. Yet he’s unable to move on— it’s impossible for him, and despite his past attempts to get you out of his head, it’s plain to see that he’ll always come back to you.

Even now, when you spot Yeonjun as you pass along the sidewalk, and can only shoot him a bright smile as Jaemin pulls you along to the restaurant you mentioned the boy would take you to yesterday.

You’re too oblivious for your own good, Yeonjun thinks sadly, shaking his head at the fact that you didn’t even bother questioning why he might be in the area, most likely chalking it all up to coincidence— it wasn’t as if he had any malicious intentions, right?

That’s what he’d like to think, but as he lingers in front of the restaurant, able to spot your figure easily as you’re finally seated, he can’t seem to ignore the anger and jealousy that’s directed towards the man across from you.

And that would make two.

Because Beomgyu has spotted Yeonjun, the shopping bag from the bookstore crinkling tightly in his hand as he finally spots what the man might be looking at— the anger only rises more when he takes in the audacity Yeonjun has to continue to follow you around.

His walk home is ruined. His steps are brisk and his jaw ticks with every thought that sends him back to the scene.

What a brute, Beomgyu thinks to himself, tossing his bag aside roughly as he enters his apartment. His whole mood has been ruined, because now he realized that he has not one, but two obstacles in the way of you.

There is never a moment when you’re alone. It’s a thought that sours Beomgyu’s thoughts, pacing back and forth in his room as he tries to cool down. What he would give to be able to see you, alone and at peace, for just a moment.

He paces along his desk, past his computer. Once, twice, three times, before he finally slows down his steps, hands that were restlessly running through his hair now frozen as an idea comes to him, like the gentle whisper begging him to give in to his desires.

He could watch you all he wanted.

Alone.

Beomgyu pushes the thought away— it was beyond disgusting. You trusted him wholeheartedly yesterday at the library, so for him to invade your privacy— to invade your life, was just cruel.

But he just couldn’t get the thought out of his head.

The whisper was consistent, a sweet voice that ate through his doubts. It opened his darkest secrets, indulging in his every hidden desire as he thought back to you. As he thought back to every memory, every interaction, every smile that you sent him.

He found himself hovering over his keyboard, mind on autopilot as he typed away.

It wasn’t easy. His stomach would twist and his mind would swim with nausea every time he was reminded of what he was doing, but it wasn’t long before the whispers in his mind overtook every doubt he had left.

The guilt was temporary. And before he knew it, he was met with a sight that wouldn’t be able to leave his mind for the next few nights; your room.

His hands were shaking and a shiver ran down his spine as he sat back, exhaling slowly as he took in the peaceful emptiness of it all. He took in every detail— the posters on the wall, the pattern of your curtains, the stuffed animals on your bed— it was all ingrained in his head in an instant.

He’s not sure how long he sat there, staring at your room with a dumbstruck look on his face. But it seems like it must’ve been an obscene amount of time, because he’s quickly snapping out of his daze at the sound of a door slamming.

It’s you, he quickly realizes, the sounds of your happy giggles sending flashes of hot nerves down his spine, his body stiffening with anticipation. He can hear the soft thumps of you stumbling around, your words slurred as you finally appear in the frame.

And so does Jaemin.

Beomgyu can feel his blood freeze as he watches it all unfold. You’re tipsy, uncoordinated, and clumsy as you allow Jaemin to push you onto the bed, laughing softly as he takes in your small squeal. He’s quick to get back on you, lips fervently attached to your skin as he sucks, tastes, and bites.

He can practically see the marks bloom already. Beomgyu is unsure of how he feels— and is surprised to find that rage is beginning to overwhelm him. Many emotions are swirling rampantly inside, ranging from jealousy to an undeniable want that shakes him.

It’s hard to look away. Even when he wants nothing more than to tear that man away from you, it’s hard. His throat is dry and his eyes are stuck on your figure, from the way you arch and lean into his every touch, to the way you shakily thread a hand into the man’s hair.

He can feel his hands shake as they rub against his thighs uneasily, his heart jumping as he listens to the surprised moan you loudly let out when Jaemin slips a hand under your waistband. Beomgyu can’t even bring himself to blink as he watches your every movement closely, taking in the way your hips roll and buck up into the man’s hands, his lips still on your skin as a trail of marks is left in his wake.

It’s hard to watch— but it’s even harder to look away. Especially when your brows twitch with concentration, your mouth falling open as you allow the man above you to roughly finger you, your soft pants and moans falling from your lips and putting Beomgyu in a trance.

You’re perfect, Beomgyu finds himself thinking, and without realizing it, his hand has found the outline of his hardened cock. He’s concentrated, eyes pinned on your hips to watch the sight of Jaemin’s fingers pounding into you so harshly.

The longer he watches, the longer he lets his imagination run astray— and it’s no longer Jaemin above you— it’s him. He’s the one who’s got you pinned, drinking up every moan and whimper that leaves your lips, teeth sinking into every possible place where you could be claimed as his.

Beomgyu’s pace on his cock is brutal, following along with the pace set, brows furrowed as his imagination runs wild. He’s the one who’s laughing at you cruelly, taking in the way your legs shut harshly against his hand, the other being used to pry you back open as he watches your face be overtaken by ecstasy.

Beomgyu’s hips are bucking up into his hand as he watches, slowing back down to nothing more than a teasing pace as he watches Jaemin kiss you roughly, your legs wrapping around his waist and pulling him in as you lose yourself in his lips. Beomgyu’s lip is caught in his teeth as Jaemin rolls on a condom, positioning himself between your legs as he allows himself to tease you, a grin on his face as he listens to your soft pleading.

And once more, it’s Beomgyu that finally enters you, taking no time to let you adjust— it’s rough, your yelp drowned out by the rest of your sounds that slip out uncontrollably, the pace that he set for you too much for you to keep up with. And he’s the one to whisper into your ear, only it’s nothing but praise that rolls off his tongue, sweet and never-ending as he brings you to end, allowing himself to indulge in you even as you slump with bliss.

Beomgyu’s eyes are screwed shut; his stomach feels heavy— this is wrong. So, so so wrong. It’s what his mind screams at him, the last sane part repeating the prayer over and over again in hopes to steer him away from this rabbit hole. His chest heaves, and as your sweet whimpers echo in his ears, he can feel the way that the last sane part of his mind is slowly shut down.

It’s hard to ignore how badly he wants you. Because in the end, when Beomgyu opens his eyes again, it’s just him, and you’re nowhere in sight.

-♡♡♡-

Beomgyu has fallen deeply into the rabbit hole.

He swears he didn’t intend it to turn this way— just watching you from the sidelines was more than enough. But now, because of his careless actions, he couldn’t bring himself to look in your direction without feeling a myriad of emotions.

It’s hard to continue the casual banter you have when you check out books; how was Beomgyu supposed to get your pretty sounds out of his head? He always tried his hardest to not stare at you too hard, but he swears his eyes just keep wandering down to your lips. Yet you’re here, smiling at him, not a care in the world as you check out the next book in the series you’re reading.

His hands are shaking— what would you think of him? If you knew what he had done, what he thought of you…

Beomgyu’s reluctant to watch you go, but he knows it’s for the best. He’s not sure he could control his heart any longer, his hands trembling and fumbling with the computer keys as he pathetically pretends as though he wasn’t following your every movement.

Time passes, and he can’t keep you out of his thoughts for more than ten seconds.

He might go mad at this point— it’s been hours since his shift at the library, but it feels like years at this point. He finds himself in his room, unable to think straight as he glances back at his computer— he hasn’t touched it since that day. His mind scolds him; was he really thinking of reaching this new low?

Beomgyu feels as though he’s lost control of himself— his hands move on their own accord, his mind is blank, throat dry as he stares at his screen expectantly— he nearly falls out of his chair when your eyes stare back at him.

Oh…

It takes him a second before it finally clicks, a glance to see what you’re doing on your screen allowing him to slump back in relief. You’re absentmindedly watching a video, eyes glancing back at your screen ever so often as you touch up your eyebrows.

He frowns— were you going somewhere?

You’re all dressed up, as beautiful as ever as you anxiously check the time. The sound of buzzing reaches the computer’s microphone, and Beomgyu watches as you look at your phone, a grin overtaking your features as you recognize the contact.

He watched as you giggle happily, nervous to answer as you pause your video— it takes you a second before you accept the call.

“Hi,” you answer, voice soft and sweet as you stare off into space. You’re shy, even though the person on the line can’t see you; you’re fixing your hair nervously, listening to the other person intently.

“You can’t?”

Beomgyu finds himself leaning forward at those two words, as though getting closer to his computer would allow him to listen to your conversation better. He watches the way you slowly deflate, nodding softly as you sink back into your chair.

“But… we already got the tickets…”

Silence. You’re biting at your lip dejectedly, eyes downcast as you nod along to the words on the other side. You’re upset— Beomgyu can feel his heart rate increase at the realization.

“No, it’s okay— I’ll just go on my own since I already got it…” your voice is trailing off, unable to mask your disappointment as you try to reassure the man on the other side.

“Yeah, I heard the butterfly garden is supposed to be really pretty. Yeah, I’ll send you pictures…” you’re not fooling anyone; your pouty voice and airy tone gave away just how upset you were. But you continue to reassure the man anyway, even if doesn’t deserve it.

“Don’t worry about it, minnie. Yeah, see you,” you say, and Beomgyu can’t help the way he prickles at the nickname. You’re scoffing once you hang up on the man, throwing your phone at your desk, the irritation coursing through your body as you stand up suddenly.

“What’s the point of going to the Botanical Garden on my own? It was supposed to be a cute date together,” you huff, fixing your outfit in the mirror as you put on perfume. Beomgyu can’t help the way his mind immediately begins to run with ideas— you’d be going alone, after being stood up by your date; this might just be an opportunity for him.

He’s an uncoordinated mess as he fumbles around his room, doing his best to look put together as he glances back to his screen to check if you’ve left yet. His heart is practically beating out of his chest from the thought of going through with his plan, but he can’t bring himself to think about it when he sees you grab your keys, storm out of your room, and undoubtedly get ready to leave.

He shuts his computer down before he’s following suit, checking the address on his phone before he’s on his way, wondering just how long it might take for you to get there, hoping it’s the same location you’re going to.

Beomgyu is in too deep, but he can’t bring himself to care much.

-♡♡♡-

The gardens are beautiful.

It only leaves you in a worse mood as you take your time to walk around, looking at the carefully curated flowers and plants that cover the greenhouse. It was empty for a late fall night, and you’re sure it would have made for a perfect intimate mood.

But no, you think bitterly, turning on your heels as you spot a couple in the distance, Jaemin just couldn’t come. How convenient. You’re not sure if his words were truthful, and that only made things worse. You couldn’t help but keep him in your thoughts, trying your best to distract yourself only to fail miserably— he hasn’t been spending much time with you recently. Has he used you? Did he get his fill of you already, dumping you easily and leaving you to chase after him like a fool? You wish you could deny those assumptions, but honestly, you weren’t sure.

You’re not sure how long you spent wandering around the greenhouse, but as you’re finally approaching the butterfly room you had been putting off all night, you’re surprised to find it empty. You’re left in awe as you take in this new area, the anticipation of seeing the butterfly-filled room lifting your mood immediately.

All thoughts of Jaemin are forced out of your mind as you take pictures of the garden, deciding to take some of yourself as well when you finally make sure that no one else will be coming in.

It isn’t until you’re ready to leave that you see him.

“Beomgyu,” you don’t realize you’ve said his name aloud until he’s turning to you, his head tilting in confusion. Your body bubbles with shame and embarrassment— why did you do that?

“I— I’m sorry,” you stutter out, all confidence drained as you make eye contact with him. You’re avoiding his gaze, much too embarrassed about your slip-up as you try to explain yourself. “I just wanted to… thank you again… for fixing my computer.”

He’s dressed casually, the difference in the professional attire he usually wears taking an odd effect on you as he comes closer to you— you’re left in awe by how nice he smells. You can almost feel your heart stop at the way he smiles at you, placing his hands in the pockets of his oversized zip-up as he tilts his head again, amused at the way you continue to talk.

“I don’t know how you did it, but it’s almost running faster than it was before,” you say, trying your best to make sure you’re not being awkward. (It’s not working, obviously.) You’re rambling, hoping desperately that he gives in and talks to you, going further than the usual small talk you always have at the library.

“It wasn’t that hard, don’t worry about it.” Is all he says, unable to take his eyes off you even as you shrink shyly under his gaze. “What brings you here so late?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” you’re quick to deflect his question, but Beomgyu allows it to happen as watches the way you tense up.

“Just a nice place to destress,” his answer is simple and vague, and you’re wishing he would go more in-depth as he takes a moment to look around, staring at a butterfly that landed nearby. But he’s turning back to you, eyes glinting teasingly as he asks, “what about you?”

“Uh,” you maul his question through your mind for a second, and you’re surprised when you find yourself answering honestly. “It was supposed to be a date, but he blew me off.”

“Really? What a shame,” he says, eyebrows raising in surprise slightly at your words. “He doesn’t know what he’s missing out on.”

A satisfaction bubbles up in Beomgyu’s chest as he watches the way you turn shy at his words, a soft giggle leaving your lips as you turn away, shaking your head in denial. But he insists, and it isn’t long until he has you wrapped around his finger, the conversation flowing smoothly as you finally break through his shell.

It’s odd seeing this side of Beomgyu. Unlike the reserved, quiet worker at the library, the man who stands before you exudes confidence, his glasses discarded as he smiles teasingly at you, charismatic and magnetic as you quickly find your heart beating faster the longer you look at him. The garden that surrounds you almost fades away in your mind, and before you know it, time slips by and you allow Beomgyu to escort you out to your car.

And you’re not sure if you should be embarrassed, but you’re almost reluctant to see him go as he leaves you, the strange feeling of wanting to see him more often blooming in your mind— you wish you would’ve gotten his number.

-♡♡♡-

Everything went a little too well.

Beomgyu isn’t exactly counting on things to go easy for him— and he’s only proven right the next time he comes to class.

Jaemin is sitting next to you again; but to Beomgyu’s delight, you’re ignoring him. He watches Jaemin try to apologize to you, reassuring you that he didn’t mean to cancel on you at the last minute. But just as Beomgyu thinks you might actually stand your ground, he watches as Jaemin whispers lowly to you, his pleading eyes and seemingly sincere act finally winning you over as you finally turn to him.

It irks him, and he can’t even muster up a polite look when you finally see him out of the corner of your eye, turning around to send him a cute smile. It’s brief, and you’re turning back around the moment your professor begins to speak— unlike Jaemin, who takes a moment to look Beomgyu up and down, eyes narrowed and a scowl on his face as he makes eye contact with him.

Beomgyu expects nothing less when Jaemin sends a glare to him, turning around before he’s wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you in protectively— but it sure as hell does piss him off.

Jaemin won’t last, Beomgyu reassures himself, watching as you throw the boy next to you a confused look, only to shrug off his behavior.

He’ll make sure of that.

-♡♡♡-

Beomgyu finds his opening quickly.

Who else would be just as eager to get rid of Jaemin? The answer comes like second nature.

Yeonjun.

Beomgyu doubts he’ll have to do anything to get Yeonjun on board with him— he can practically see the gears grind on their own in Yeonjun’s head the moment you emerge from class, giggly and cute as you stick to Jaemin’s side. He’ll have no problem planting ideas in Yeonjun’s head; in fact, he thinks Yeonjun may end up with some of his own.

And he was correct, of course.

Because how did you succumb to Jaemin so easily? He’s irritated, standing in his usual spot as he waits for you to look his way. But you’re far too engrossed in what the man before you is saying, your eyes not leaving his once.

Just a few days ago, he had stayed up late on the phone with you, listening to your rant on how your date had been canceled at the last minute. Yeonjun had listened to you, reassuring your worries and insecurities through gritted teeth as he listened to the way you pondered giving him a second chance— he wanted nothing more than to tell you to open your eyes, that Jaemin would most likely use you.

“He’s nothing but bad news.”

Yeonjun practically jumped at the sound of this new voice— how long had he been there? Swiftly, he turns to face the man, eyes narrowing the moment he recognizes the man before him— the guy from the library.

“Do I know you?” Yeonjun scoffs, eyes involuntarily glancing back at the conversation you’re still sharing with Jaemin. The man before him only laughs at this question, shaking his head as he reaches a hand up to adjust his hair. Yeonjun watches him, oddly tense as the librarian offers his hand out to Yeonjun.

“Choi Beomgyu,” the librarian introduces, patiently watching as Yeonjun hesitates to accept his outstretched hand.

“Choi Yeonjun,” Yeonjun reluctantly replies, grasping the man’s hand in a firm handshake. He shivers, unable to look away from Beomgyu’s eyes; it feels as though they were piercing through him.

“I know,” Beomgyu says, and though Yeonjun expected this, he can’t help but be unnerved by the man before him. Pulling away, Yeonjun is quick to shove his hands back into his jacket’s pockets, pulling the coat tighter around his form as he tries to play it off as the cold breeze getting to him—when really, he can’t help but try to shield himself from Beomgyu.

“You’re always around ___.”

“Do— do you know her?” It’s almost amusing how quick Yeonjun is to become defensive, shoulders tense and eyes narrowed in suspicion at the sound of your name.

“Of course,” Beomgyu says, his words doing nothing to reassure Yeonjun as the two men turn to glance back at you, to the way you’re finally waving Jaemin goodbye; slowly, you turn around, spotting Yeonjun in the distance as you wave happily— you’re unable to hold back the way your head tilts in confusion at the sight of Beomgyu as well.

“I have a class with her— and also, she’s always at the library,” Beomgyu says, a soft smile overtaking his face as you shyly wave at him as well.

“Well, what do you want then?” Yeonjun hisses, eager to get the man before him to leave. Slowly, Beomgyu turns back to the man, reluctant to tear his eyes away from you for even a second. Yeonjun can’t help but shiver, the man’s intentions already beginning to show in his eyes.

“The same thing you do,” Beomgyu says, voice quiet as you stroll happily in the distance, taking your time to enjoy the scenery as you allow them to talk— you wouldn’t want to be rude and interrupt their conversation, after all.

“I want Jaemin gone.”

Beomgyu can see the way something clicks for Yeonjun, his eyes flicking back to him instantly as the words leave his mouth. There’s no hint of a joke in Beomgyu’s eyes, and the pause is tense as he waits for Yeonjun to say something.

“He’s no good— quite unfaithful, I heard,” Beomgyu says, watching as the words hook Yeonjun instantly. It’s hard to fight back a smile, but Beomgyu succeeds in doing so as he continues to elaborate, already knowing what the man’s response will be. “The boy has already ditched her once— It’s a good thing I was there to keep her company— but who’s to say he won’t do it again?”

The date, Yeonjun thinks, eyes widening as he recalls you mentioning someone keeping you company, it was him.

“What are you playing at,” Yeonjun’s heart is beating harshly against his chest, unable to hide the way he jumps at the sound of you calling his name. He turns, ignoring the way Beomgyu stares at him, his eerie aura sending shivers down his spine as he greets you cheerfully.

“Meet me at the library in an hour and you’ll see.”

The words echo in Yeonjun’s mind, even as you cheerfully grab onto his sleeve, pulling at it as you cling to him, the cold breeze sending shivers through your whole body. He hopes you can’t see through his facade, but he knows he won’t have to worry about a thing when you simply look at Beomgyu, eyes widening as a smile overtakes your face.

“Oh, hi,” you say, and Beomgyu can’t help but smile fondly at your antics. Pursing your lips, you look between the two men, brows furrowing as you say, “I didn’t know you two were friends.”

“We met recently,” Yeonjun can’t help but notice the way the man is quick to lie, the words easing out of his mouth so naturally that Yeonjun himself could have believed it. “When I fixed your laptop, he reached out to me.”

“Really?” It should be a bit worrisome how quick you are to believe his words, even when the memory of Yeonjun condemning you for being so trusting of strangers floats in the back of your mind, “I had no idea.”

“My laptop was acting weird, that’s all,” Yeonjun says, hating how he’s adding to the lie, how easily he’s deceiving you— if only you knew what they had spoken about, how those simple sentences that they exchanged had Yeonjun genuinely considering his offer; he shuddered at the realization.

What a creep, Yeonjun thought to himself, brushing off any curiosity that festered within him, refusing to believe that he would succumb to such lengths. But even as you walked next to him, Beomgyu parting ways as he sent Yeonjun a last look, he couldn’t deny the impact that the librarian’s words had on him.

“I don’t know, I’m probably being dumb. Probably overthinking things, as he said.” Your words are quick to bring Yeonjun back to where he was, his body returning to the long stretch of pavement as his mind finally allowed him to process your words. You couldn’t hold back the yelp of surprise that escaped you as Yeonjun snapped his head to look at you for the first time in a while, brows furrowed and a frown on his face as he truly took in your words.

“He said that?” Is all he can say, accusatory and bitter as he seethes those words. You shrink under his gaze, and he knows by the way that you grow quiet at his question that you weren’t truly expecting him to catch on so quickly. You’re embarrassed, words coming out in stutters as you uselessly try to defend yourself— and him, much to Yeonjun’s annoyance.

“Well, he’s not entirely wrong,” you begin, arms wrapped tightly around yourself as you avoid your friend’s gaze, “I probably was overthinking.”

Oh, thank god Yeonjun had no idea of the things that had happened after your first date— you don’t think he would believe a single word you said if he found out how distant Jaemin had been after you had allowed him in your home, the very first bud of doubt blooming from then on; you felt stupid, but could never bring yourself to admit this to anyone— the embarrassment was too grand.

Sometimes, Yeonjun felt more like a caretaker than a friend, you thought to yourself, your poor attempts to change the conversation not going over Yeonjun’s head as you try to lighten up the mood; you don’t realize this, but asking him about his relationship with Beomgyu made nothing better.

“You two seem close,” you conclude, biting back a smile at the thought of seeing the two men next to each other; you were oddly comforted by the sight. “Are you gonna meet up with him?”

“What?” Yeonjun wished he could’ve held his tongue better, because he can tell that you were quick to see the alarm on his face. “Why do you say that?”

“I dunno, I heard him say something like that earlier,” you’re sheepish again, kicking at a rock on the sidewalk as you try to avoid your friend’s eyes, “sorry for overhearing your conversation. That’s all I heard though, I swear.”

And with that last comment that leaves your mouth, Yeonjun sighs, body slacking with relief as he shakes his head, unable to hide his fondness for your tactics. Throwing an arm around your shoulder, he pulls you into his frame, ignoring your yelp of surprise and complaints as he laughs at you softly.

“I guess I am, so what?” Yeonjun says, trying to not think much of what this meeting will entail as he leads you toward your apartment, “Jealous?”

“What? Of who?” You’re quick to get defensive, and Yeonjun can’t help but wonder if your affinity for Beomgyu had turned into something stronger— his stomach churned at the thought. But if he was going to get your attention back on him, he had to deal with things one at a time.

“Beomgyu, duh,” Yeonjun jokes, cracking a smile at the way you’re shaking your head in denial, arms reaching deeply into your pockets as you pull out your keys, “You’re scared he’s going to steal me from you.”

“Yeah right!” You say, unable to hide the grin that freely stretches across your face. You’re pushing him away, lingering at your front door as you lean against it, smiling coyly as you add, “He can keep you, for all I care.”

“Have fun on your date,” you chirp, unlocking your door and disappearing before Yeonjun can refute your claims. With the final click of your lock, Yeonjun can’t help but be frozen to the spot, staring at the wood in front of him as if it would change anything he had done— anything he had agreed to.

Technically, no one was forcing him to go, his mind refuted, trying its best to persuade him not to go. But a small meeting couldn’t hurt.

With that final decision, Yeonjun turned on his heels, face sobered from any happiness as he thought back to the quiet librarian who seemed to know more than he let on— after all, anything was worth investigating if it pertained to you.

Yeonjun let his muscle memory take over, and he quickly found himself on the path to the library again.

-♡♡♡-

The library was, like always, mostly empty.

It was nothing new to see only a handful of patrons wander around inside, sitting far from each other as they sat nose-deep in a book. Yet, it only seemed to put Yeonjun more on edge; without you here, he felt oddly vulnerable— even more so when he spotted Beomgyu in a deserted area.

“You’re quite early,” Beomgyu muses, not bothering to turn around as he reshelves a book. Yeonjun says nothing, waiting patiently for Beomgyu to say anything that involved the conversation they shared earlier. But he remains silent, turning instead to his cart that contained books that he needed to put back; Yeonjun could feel his jaw tick in annoyance.

“Well? Are you going to explain to me why you asked me to come here?”

For a brief second, Beomgyu’s eyes flit to the man, meeting his narrowed eyes as Yeonjun fights back the shiver that threatens to wrack through him. Yet Beomgyu can only exhale at that, clearly amused at the man’s attempts to seem stern.

“It seems as though we have a common interest in mind,” Beomgyu mutters, his voice smooth and entrancing as he manages to hook Yeonjun with those simple words. He pauses, reaching for another book as he scans the aisle leisurely; slowly, he places the book into its empty slot, pausing as his index finger runs along the spine absentmindedly.

“___.”

Yeonjun sighed— he knew it. From the very first time he walked into this cursed building, he had already gained the suspicion that you had caught Beomgyu’s attention— his confession did nothing to calm his qualms.

“You can’t be serious,” Yeonjun says, allowing himself to complain as he rolls his eyes at Beomgyu’s words, “What does that have to do with you calling me here? Are you trying to threaten me to back off or something? ‘Cause if you are, then that’s just pathetic—”

“Not at all,” Beomgyu says, a smile hinting at his lips as he wheels the cart to the next aisle, Yeonjun following uselessly in his tracks. “If anything, I think it’s best if we work together.”

Work together? Yeonjun couldn’t help the way his brain froze at that, unable to fathom the offer Beomgyu was trying to pitch; how could they possibly…

“Jaemin,” Beomgyu continues, eyes focused on the labels on the books as he searches for the empty slot for his next book. He finds it immediately, sliding the book in smoothly as he continues. “He’s not going anywhere at this rate.”

“Come on Yeonjun, how long have you been in love with her?” Yeonjun’s name is icy and threatening when it comes from Beomgyu’s lips, and the sudden accusation leaves him speechless. “Months? Years? I can see it all over your face.”

“You won’t get anywhere if you continue to be such a pushover. She’ll never think anything more of you.” It’s almost like magic, the way Beomgyu is quick and efficient as he finds the empty slots of each book. The cart is quickly emptying, and it isn’t long before he only has a handful of books to put back.

“But we, we can fix that,” he says, not bothering to look at Yeonjun as he absentmindedly flips through the book in his hands, reading the spine before he quickly finds its place. “We could work together, make sure she only thinks of us.”

Yeonjun says nothing. How could he? The offer presented before him is something he has never even allowed himself to explore. His heart is racing, fingertips numb as he buries his hands deep in his jacket pockets. Beomgyu doesn’t bother to say anything more, moving flawlessly along the aisles as he puts each book away effortlessly— he doesn't bother looking back once; Yeonjun will follow.

The cart is empty now, the last book placed in his hands as he leisurely reads through the summary as if he were actually interested in the contents. Yeonjun chews at his lip— to have you look at him, think of him. Maybe even put him first, for once; his mind swirled with the possibilities.

Plus, he could always deal with the extra variables later.

“What did you have in mind?”

The words escape him before he can think twice, and he watches as Beomgyu quickly finds the last empty slot, an index finger reaching out to push the book back snugly on the shelf.

Beomgyu smiles.

And it all falls into place.

Oh baby baby, how was I supposed to know,

that something wasn’t right here?

-♡♡♡-

Yeonjun’s palms run over his jeans for the umpteenth time this hour.

He’s stiff, nervousness rendering him in this awkward posture as he looks around the small restaurant nervously— he can’t believe he’s going through with this.

Honestly, he had no reason to believe Beomgyu’s words; but the eagerness to find a reason to make you leave Jaemin allowed him to take a seat in the quiet, hole-in-the-wall restaurant, unsure of himself as he waited for the target to arrive. He had chosen his seat carefully, sliding into the corner booth that allowed him to get a full view of the dining area. And any moment now, the said man would walk in with someone that wasn’t you.

“___’s sick, hmm?” Beomgyu had asked, briefly looking up from the random book Yeonjun had checked out— you had asked him if he could return your book and check out a new one and, like always, Yeonjun was quick to accept.

“Yeah, why?” Yeonjun was already on edge, and the slow shake of Beomgyu’s head in disappointment only served to spike his nerves more.

“She shouldn’t be going out on dates if she’s sick; especially in such horrible weather…”

“What are you talking about?” Yeonjun knew exactly what the man was implying— you had been bedridden for days. But he couldn’t help but seethe the question through gritted teeth in hopes that his suspicions wouldn’t be confirmed.

“Oh no, just… overheard some things,” Beomgyu says, sliding the book back across the smooth wooden counter as he leans forward, a small smile on his face. “Jaemin seemed very excited to go on this date; a nice restaurant, I heard.”

“You don’t think…” Yeonjun trailed off, eyes glued to the hardcover to avoid the confrontation of it all; he knew what Beomgyu was implying— what he was being asked to do.

“Don’t know,” Beomgyu shrugs, nonchalant as he fixed his bangs casually, “but there’s truly only one way to find out.”

And that’s how Yeonjun found himself in the corner booth, surveilling the room with dread.

He left your place for this— the promise of a warm soup leaving you dazed and happy as you went back to sleeping through your fever— but Yeonjun couldn’t help but hope that it was all a hoax that Beomgyu made to mess with him.

Yes, he wanted Jaemin out of the picture— Beomgyu as well— but the last thing he wanted was to hurt you in the process too.

So, despite it all, he was hoping that Jaemin would be able to prove his innocence; or even better, not show up at all. He couldn’t help but curse at Beomgyu under his breath as he waited for his food— honestly, how did he manage to pick up on such a conversation, down to the last details? It was honestly unnerving, and the longer Yeonjun thought about it, the more he could feel the dread pool in his stomach.

The bell rang, signaling a new customer.

Yeonjun’s head snapped up at the sound, and to his dread, all of Beomgyu’s suspicions had been confirmed.

In walked Jaemin, hand in hand with someone that wasn’t you.

Yeonjun could feel his blood grow cold as he watched the scene before him, watching the way the girl attached to his arm blushed shyly at his compliments and leaned into his touch— Karina, of Yeonjun remembered correctly. It was a shameless display, and it only served to worsen Yeonjun’s mood as he was left to watch it all from afar— what should he do?

As if to answer his question, his phone buzzed.

“Hello?”

“So? I was right, wasn’t I?”

Yeonjun said nothing— but that was more than enough for Beomgyu.

“He doesn’t deserve her,” Beomgyu sighs out, the words like a quiet revelation that implants itself into Yeonjun’s brain. He grits his teeth, unable to take his eyes off the way Jaemin pulls the girl close to him, clearly unashamed to show such bold displays of affection.

“Poor ___, she’s all weak and sick, and this is how he repays her,” Beomgyu knows that he doesn’t need to continue, but he does so anyways as he plants the image into Yeonjun’s head; you were always so naive, so trusting, and to think of the ways that it’s gotten you hurt only twists Yeonjun’s heart more. “By going with another girl behind her back and treating her like an idiot.”

“He’s using her.”

“She’s not gonna handle this well,” is all Yeonjun can muster to say, watching the way a waitress finally comes around to his booth with his takeout orders. He thanks her, forcing himself to pretend that he wasn’t seconds away from punching Jaemin as he takes the bags into his hands.

“Of course she’s not. She really liked him,” Beomgyu’s words do nothing to calm Yeonjun, his nails digging into his palm as he watches the romantic scene before him.

“But she’ll have us.”

Those words repeated themselves in Yeonjun’s head; they swirled around his mind endlessly, as he took a picture of the scene, as he walked past the couple with gritted teeth, and as he made his way back to your apartment to figure out how to tell you the news.

She’ll have me. Yeonjun thought to himself as he drove back to you, knowing that he was about to shatter the rose-tinted image you had of the cute boy in your class. He would care for you, reassure you when you would begin to doubt yourself, and he would pick you back up and put you together, piece by piece. He would show you that his care was the only thing you really needed; that you should only have eyes for him.

After all, no one cares for you like he does.

-♡♡♡-

No one has ever stuck to you like Yeonjun.

It’s a thought that crosses your mind as you feel your head swirl with emotions, your stomach dipping violently as you clutch onto his bicep roughly— from fever-induced nausea or the picture on his phone, you weren’t exactly sure.

You’re sweaty and uncomfortable as you try to process your friend’s words; what he saw, what he heard, all while you were at home waiting to get better like a naive child.

You can’t believe you ever doubted Yeonjun— and you allowed yourself to tell him this, flushed and embarrassed as you lean into his chest, the boxes of takeout empty and discarded on the coffee table as you allow yourself to let out all your emotions; only because Yeonjun’s steady comfort gives you the confidence to do so.

“I‘ve always doubted if he really liked me,” you whispered, vision hazy and body tingly as you can feel your fever returning— you had tried to shoo Yeonjun away from getting too close, but his persistence only ended in you giving up any efforts to resist his coddling. “Sometimes I felt he was just using me for my body.”

Yeonjun’s hands stilled for a second. Briefly, he glanced down at you, eyes darkening as he took in the way your eyes were closed, already feeling yourself dozing away once more as the sleep allowed you to lower your barriers.

“Why do you say that?” It’s a cheap tactic, asking you these questions while your guard is down, but Yeonjun can’t help but want you to elaborate, hanging onto your every word as he listens to the way this man has hurt you— it makes his blood boil.

“I dunno, just felt like it,” you sighed, unable to stop the way you were cozying up against your friend, “every date would end the same… he would take me home, we would… then he’d just leave as quickly as he could.”

“He would ghost me sometimes— he was kinda inconsiderate, too…” you mumbled, the soothing feeling of Yeonjun’s arms around you allowing the words to spill from you without a second thought. “Cancelling, making me feel bad for being too clingy…”

“I was so stupid for trusting him.” Your breathing has evened out, your warm body leaning against Yeonjun as you fall asleep, your last comment pulling a frown into Yeonjun’s features. Yet, the more he thought back to all that you confessed to him, the more he felt a quiet rage build inside him. Slowly, he laid you back on the couch, pulling the blanket that had fallen off you back onto your frame as he stood back, watching the utter peace manifest itself onto your face. Glancing back at the messy coffee table, he reached for his phone, clearing his throat before he pressed it against his ear.

“You heard that?”

“Yeah. What a prick…” Beomgyu’s irritation practically bled through the speakers as he grumbled those words. His mind raced to grasp new ideas, contemplating what to do with the boy as a heavy pause filled the line. Yeonjun took this moment to clean around your house, tidying up any mess he found and leaving the leftover soup for you for when you woke back up—he had placed a damp cloth on your forehead, and was happy to see your fever was slowly going down.

“Yeonjun,” Beomgyu finally spoke, the sudden utterance of the man’s name causing him to flinch in surprise, “we need to get Jaemin out of the picture.”

Get him out of the picture— the same phrase had been on Yeonjun’s mind since the first time they had met.

“How are we supposed to do that?” Yeonjun asked, throwing on his coat as he looked back at you; peaceful, still fast asleep.

“All she needs is a little push in the right direction,” the words did nothing to reassure Yeonjun, a frown pulling at his features as he waited for the man on the other side of the line to elaborate, “just leave it to me.”

He promptly hung up afterward.

Yeonjun’s ride back home was tense— his mind was filled with worry, unsure of what the other man might pull. But the thought of him worrying so much over Beomgyu's words was ridiculous— honestly, what was the worst he could do? He didn’t seem to pose much of a threat. But there was something about him that still managed to unnerve Yeonjun; it seemed as though he were always two steps ahead. And for someone who didn’t know you for half as long as Yeonjun did, he sure was attuned to you perfectly.

It unsettled Yeonjun— and maybe it was because Beomgyu might have a chance of taking you away from him.

You have to work together, his mind told him, thinking back to the way Beomgyu seemed to confide in him, you’ll choose him in the end, anyway.

After all, no one cares for you like he does— and no one will ever come close.

-♡♡♡-

You’re a little shaky as you walk to class— whether it’s from anger or anxiety, you’re not entirely sure.

Having yet to confront Jaemin about what he did, you were left to pore over the little details of your fleeting relationship; of the things he did, said, and made you feel. And with each passing memory, with each dismissive word about your feelings, you could only be left with a buildup of shame in your stomach— had you really let him treat you like this all along?

There was a reason as to why you had let all those grievances go— they were all small actions that, if you truly hadn’t paid too much attention, could have been justified quickly; and you were so in love with the boy that you had done just that.

It’s embarrassing, but you’ve always been like this; quick to fall in love, and hard. Your track record of exes consisted of nothing but wasted potential, and Jaemin would just be another name on the list. So, as you walk into your small class, you prepare yourself for the worst— denial, embarrassment, or more dismissive comments at your expense. Or maybe, if you decided to confront him, you would be forced to deal with his pathetic pleading; the very thought seemed to drain you.

“___,” your thoughts were interrupted by the call of your name, halting in your steps as you turn towards the sound; you let out a weak smile as you watch Beomgyu approach you.

“How are you feeling? Yeonjun told me you were sick all weekend,” he says, and you try to not indulge yourself in his coddling as you watch the way he tilts his head curiously, eyes filled with genuine worry.

The last thing you need is to interest yourself in someone new, your mind tells you, forcing down any slight attraction you may have found towards the man before you; you were on guard, and Beomgyu was quick to notice with the way you seemed much more distant towards him.

“Um, better…” you say simply, tugging at the straps of your bookbag stupidly. You don’t leave much room for conversation, because you’re already walking inside your class before Beomgyu could respond. Yet, to your surprise, Beomgyu follows along steadily, and you’re afraid to look up at him as he lingers near your seat.

“Do you… mind if I sit next to you today?” You’re surprised by his sudden request, unable to hide it from your face as you look at him. You take a second, hesitating to answer before you finally give in.

“Sure… if you want,” you’re oddly meek as you finally answer, sitting in your seat as you refuse to look up from your laptop— or more specifically, at Beomgyu.

You’re shy, Beomgyu realizes, the conclusion bringing about a wave of satisfaction within him as he watches you try to peek at him, only to catch him staring; yet you’re the only one who seems embarrassed as you look away.

Beomgyu watches as you slowly warm up to his presence— your body relaxes from its stiff posture, and you seem to be itching to make conversation as you glance at him again; this time, without any fear of being caught.

Yet within seconds, you return to your alarmed posture— and it doesn’t take much for Beomgyu to realize why.

In walks Jaemin, walking sluggishly to his seat as he stares down at his phone, unaware of the way Beomgyu throws an arm behind your seat instinctively, ignoring the surprised look you send him. Briefly, the boy glances up from his phone, and his expression drops as he takes in the way Beomgyu has made himself comfortable in his usual seat next to you.

“Could you move please,” it’s not a question as the words drip from Jaemin’s mouth, laced with such hostility that you’re quick to look away from his narrowed eyes. Beomgyu isn’t phased— at least not with the way the boy is trying to be intimidating, using the height difference to his advantage as he towers over Beomgyu.

“Why should I?” Is all Beomgyu says, tilting his head casually as he watches the way Jaemin’s jaw clenches with annoyance— his eyes flit to you before they’re back on Beomgyu, and he’s quick to decipher what the boy is trying to imply as he gives him a soft smile.

“Ah, I see,” Beomgyu says, allowing himself to lean closer to you— you seem to be on edge from his actions. “Well, she doesn’t mind me being here. Why don’t you find somewhere else to sit for today?”

“Because that’s my girlfriend,” Jaemin grits out. By now, the small exchange has caught the attention of the other students, and you’re buzzing with embarrassment as they all send curious glances at the three of you. “I’d really appreciate it if you took your hands off her.”

“What about Karina, hmm? Are you done with her?” Beomgyu says, the sudden drop of the girl’s name leaving the two of you to gape at him in surprise.

“What, you thought no one would find out? You didn’t even try to hide it,” He says, taking in the way Jaemin’s ears have turned red; he’s no longer looking at Beomgyu, but at you instead— his eyes are pleading for you to hear his explanation, apologetic crocodile tears filling his eyes as you refuse to look at him— the scene is almost laughable.

“The lectures starting,” Beomgyu adds, enjoying the way Jaemin glances to the front of the room to confirm this— his eyes meet with the professor’s who only gives him an unamused look as he begins to talk.

You hear a few soft laughs as Jaemin sulks to his seat— and you’re afraid the embarrassment might eat you alive as you melt into your chair, the interaction leaving you hot and ashamed as you zone out, replaying their words back in your head.

“How did you know about Karina?” You whisper to him, the sudden memory of the confrontation leaving you uneasy— there’s only one other person who knows about this.

“What do you think?” His words do nothing but confirm your suspicion; Yeonjun told him. That only leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, a frown overtaking your face at the thought of Yeonjun telling others about what happened to you; granted, it helped you keep Jaemin away for a bit, but it still left you upset to think about.

“Yeonjun told you,” you say bitterly, crossing your arms in annoyance. Beomgyu simply lets out a soft chuckle, and you send him a look of confusion as you watch him sit up, his arm disappearing from behind you.

“All Yeonjun did was confirm my suspicions, Beomgyu admits, watching as you throw him a curious look, sitting up in your chair as you wait for him to elaborate. “I overheard him on the phone, that’s all; I knew it wasn’t you because Yeonjun had told me you were sick.”

And because he watched over you, his mind adds, unable to let him forget his actions of doting on you, watching from afar as he watched your state closely; by the first couple of hours, he was ready to send Yeonjun to check on you, but the man was clingy enough that he found out on his own later on.

“Oh,” you say softly, processing the information as you pause, staring down at your lap before you’re finally glancing back at Beomgyu, sending him a sheepish smile as you add a small, “Thanks.”

“Any time,” Beomgyu says, unable to control the smile on his face as he watches you become more comfortable with him— and slowly, give your trust to him more.

-♡♡♡-

“You know, I’m glad I actually listened to you this time.”

Two men sit in the small booth of a restaurant across from a cafe, watching intently through the window as you sit across Jaemin, a steeled expression on your face— you’re sliding your phone across the table to him, allowing him to take a look at the contents on the screen as you cross your arms firmly.

“This time? Why do you say that?” Beomgyu asks, an amused smile on his face as he leans his face on his hand, watching the way Jaemin can only stare up at you with guilt, mouth agape as he attempts to defend himself.

“Because you creep me out,” Yeonjun is shameless as he admits this, uncaring of the way the man across from him only lets out a laugh at his words. It was nothing but the truth; there was something about Beomgyu that impeded Yeonjun from fully confiding in him— and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to find out what it was.

“Creep you out?” Beomgyu echoes, raising a brow as he looks away from where you sit— you’re arguing now, your voices hushed as you lean into each other, trying your best to not cause a scene in a public place.

Yeonjun doesn’t elaborate— he doesn’t want to, especially now that he’s become more invested in the way you’re trying your best to be firm; he can already see the way Jaemin is begging for a second chance, reaching out for your hands and undoubtedly promising that he’ll change; the decisive shake of your head is all Yeonjun needs to know that you’re not going back to him.

“Hmm, we should probably get going,” Beomgyu says, standing up before Yeonjun can inquire why. He hesitates, glancing back at where you sit before he’s rushing to follow behind Beomgyu, who has already paid the bill, and is waiting at the exit for Yeonjun.

“We could’ve just split it,” Yeonjun mumbles bitterly, pulling out his wallet to try to pay the man back. But Beomgyu only shakes his head, refusing the older’s money as they make their way out of the restaurant. The air is chilly and the sun is beginning to set, the two men pulling their coats tighter on their figures as a cold breeze passes by.

“No need, I don’t mind,” Beomgyu says, taking a path to a nearby park; one you went to every day, Yeonjun realizes, “think of it as a thank you, for opening ___’s eyes.”

“How do you know so much about her?”

The question is quick to slice through the pleasant mood Beomgyu had built up, their steps slowing on the path as they come to a stop. The air is tense, the rustling leaves and Yeonjun’s quickening breaths the only sound heard as Beomgyu ponders his question.

“You haven’t known her for that long,” Yeonjun says, eyes narrowing at the way Beomgyu does nothing to refute his accusations— he’s calm, eerily so as he listens to the older’s words, an amused smile threatening to show.

“No, I haven’t,” Beomgyu admits, looking away from Yeonjun’s searing gaze and at a much more interesting target instead. Yeonjun follows his line of sight, his stomach dropping at the way you’re already walking their way, having yet to notice them as you’re lost in your own world; your steps are hasty, frustration laced in your body language as you frown, hands shoved deep in your jacket pockets as you murmur incoherently to yourself.

“But you’d be surprised by how much she tells me.”

There it is again. That nagging insecurity that makes alarms blare in Yeonjun’s head, sending a hot strike of anger through him as the very thought of you confiding in Beomgyu instead of him comes into his mind. Just how much does this stranger know about you already?

He’s eager to get your attention as he leaves Beomgyu’s side, calling out your name and waving to you happily the moment you make eye contact with him. He can see the surprise on your features, and you’re confused as to how you’ve managed to run into both of them again at such a low point in your life.

“Hi jun,” you say softly, hoping that he can’t see your teary eyes as you approach him. The sun has set and all that’s left are the streetlamps above you, and even then, you’re hoping foolishly that he isn't as attentive to you as he always is— your hopes are crushed immediately.

“___, what’s wrong?” His words are quiet, the question meant to be heard by only the two of you as he cradles your face, staring into your eyes so intently you can’t help but fluster. You’re stuttering out excuses, not wanting to break the news to your friend in front of someone else. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch Beomgyu approach the two of you, watching the scene quietly before he finally speaks.

“Did you two break up?” There’s no context to his words, but none is needed as he sends you a knowing look; you nod solemnly in response.

“Huh? You and Jaemin?” Yeonjun is quick to bring your attention back to him as your eyes begin to shine under the streetlamps, much too embarrassed to be seen like this as you nod again; you’re prying his hands from your face in an attempt to hide the sudden influx of emotions.

“I feel so stupid,” is all you can say, back turned to them as you try to recompose yourself, “I can’t believe I let him treat me like that for so long.”

“Hey, don’t say that,” Yeonjun reassures you, getting a hold of your arm as he pulls you close to him, a soft smile on his face as he reaches to wipe the tear that slips from your eye— you really wish you weren’t crying over such a worthless relationship, but you were nonetheless; at least you had Yeonjun by your side.

“Do you mind if we walk you home? It’s dark out,” Beomgyu is quick to offer, his words sincere as he looks at you intently. You know there’s no room to argue, and you can see it on their faces that they refuse to let you walk alone— Yeonjun always made an effort to walk with you, always saying that he “didn’t like your apartment— it was too secluded”. Yet you still hesitate for a second, unsure if you want them to see you in such a state any longer.

“I don’t want to bother,” you say quietly, looking away from the intense gaze of your friend— you can already see him getting ready to argue.

“You won’t, I promise,” Beomgyu’s soft reassurance is all you need to agree, sending them an unsure nod as you allow them to walk on either side of you; they allow you to lead them, and you’re glad that they let you walk a few steps ahead, the space giving you a break from their constant worrying.

Behind you, Yeonjun can’t help but throw Beomgyu a cautious glance— the last thing he would want Beomgyu to find out is where you live. It’s irrational, but it’s a fear nonetheless as he keeps a close eye on Beomgyu, observing quietly as the man makes conversation with you.

Wordlessly, Yeonjun appears at your side; he links his hands with yours, staring straight ahead even when you only spare him a confused glance. Yet he can’t help the way a small smile breaks onto his face as you lean into his touch, fingers lacing tightly with his on instinct as you continue your conversation with Beomgyu.

Honestly, it was laughable if Beomgyu thought he would take you so easily— for as long as Yeonjun had a heart that beat for you, he would make sure to never leave your side. And to think that this man thought he might be on the same level as Yeonjun; it almost felt like an insult.

Beomgyu didn’t deserve you.

What you deserved was someone who would be able to protect you, someone that knew you better than you knew yourself; someone who’s been through the good and bad, who wouldn’t leave your side so easily— someone like Yeonjun.

“It’s getting late,” Yeonjun mutters, the two of you glancing at him as the suddenness of his words catches you off guard, “Beomgyu, you should probably go home. I can walk ___ home, we live near each other.”

Beomgyu has nothing to say, but he’s sure that the look he sends Yeonjun is enough to communicate his thoughts— You prick.

There was not much he could say to refute that, especially when you join in to reassure him that you’ll be alright. But he tries anyway, insisting that he wouldn’t mind walking home late if it means seeing you get home safe— your worried argument is the only thing that allows him to give in.

“It’s supposed to rain in a bit, Gyu,” you say, the nickname slipping past your lips so naturally he almost doesn’t notice— but when he does, he’s ready to do whatever you ask of him in an instant.

“Gyu?” He repeats teasingly, watching the way you fluster in realization, stuttering apologies and trying to justify yourself.

“Sorry, I do that with all my friends,” You say, unaware of the way Yeonjun sends Beomgyu a glare behind you, “sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I didn’t mean to— “

“It’s alright, I don’t mind,” he says, interrupting you before you can continue. With a tilt of his head, he leans towards you, enjoying the way you look at him in anticipation as he purrs, “I think it’s cute.”

You’re quick to look away from him, flustered and embarrassed as you let out a small “oh” in response. Clearing your throat, you try to recompose yourself as you send him a smile, trying to push past the way he’s looking at you so fondly.

“Well, get home safe,” you say, smiling as you softly add, “Gyu.”

He’s unable to put up a fight at your request— especially not with the way your cute nickname leaves your lips. He chuckles, bidding you goodbye before he looks up at Yeonjun— his expression sobers immediately.

“Bye, Yeonjun,” he says, careful to not sound too cold in front of you. The man only narrows his eyes at him, clearly eager to see him go as he bids him goodbye as well.

“Goodbye,” he says, the small smile irritating Beomgyu as he says, “get home safe.”

With one last wave goodbye, you watch him turn and head the opposite way— you’re glad that you insisted on letting him go home. But now it was just you and Yeonjun, and you couldn’t help but be on edge, afraid that he might try to get you to talk about what happened with you and Jaemin.

“We should get going,” is all your friend says, lacing his fingers with yours and pulling you along without a second thought. You let out a soft hum of surprise, allowing him to take you to your apartment as you wait tensely for his upcoming scolding— but it never comes.

Instead, he keeps you close to his side, bringing you closer to him as the wind picks up and a shiver wracks through you. The sky above you is clouding and gray, the looming weather giving you the motive to walk faster. It isn’t until you’re two blocks away from your apartment that the sudden rumble of thunder rolls throughout the city, the droplets of rain falling onto the two of you harshly.

“Shit,” you gasp, the rain quickly becoming more severe as you glance at Yeonjun. Linking his arm with yours, he says nothing, eyes squinting ahead as the two of you make a run for it instead.

You’re quick to pull your hood over your head, but you’re sure it won’t do much as you can already feel the rain soak through your clothes. Your legs are sore and you’re panting by the time you spot your house in the distance, the adrenaline that soars through your heart only increasing at the loud boom that strikes the city. Unable to contain your yelp of surprise, Yeonjun glances back at you, his laughter contagious as you finally rush to the steps of your front door.

“Come on,” you grunt, frustrated at the way you can’t seem to unlock your door. Yeonjun hovers over you, covering you with his jacket as he patiently waits. Your face lights up as you finally hear the click of the door, and you’re quick to push the door open as the two of you stumble inside roughly— you’re winded and soaked, and can only manage to let out a weak laugh as you make eye contact with your friend.

“I didn’t think it was gonna storm,” you say, peeking back out your window to see the raging winds and the rain that pours down, “I hope Beomgyu made it home safe.”

“I’m sure he did,” Yeonjun quickly pipes up, grabbing your hand and pulling you to your room, “but you should probably change before you catch a cold.”

“So should you,” you refute, already going through your clothes to find something to wear. Turning around, you hand Yeonjun some of his old clothes he’s left in the past to change into, heading out of your room as you say, “gonna go shower, you can go after me.”

Yeonjun’s small “m’kay,” is all you hear before you disappear into the bathroom, shutting the door behind you as you leave him alone in your room.

It’s been a while since he’s last been in here— memories of taking care of you when you were sick pop up in his mind, and he smiles fondly at the memories as he sits on your bed; the same spot he sat in as you begged him not to go, tugging at his sleeves weakly until his promise of returning with food allowed you to let go.

Then he returned with the news that broke your heart.

He then coddled you endlessly, enjoying how dependent you had become as you clung to him, making him promise you to stay by your side forever— a promise he gladly made.

Your bed is cute; filled with stuffed animals and made neatly, Yeonjun resists the urge to lay down, but if not for his soaked figure, he would’ve allowed himself to indulge in the scent that coated your sheets— the soft coconut and the subtle eucalyptus that came from the stress relief perfume you often used; it had been a staple in your life for years, and Yeonjun wanted it to stay that way. His gaze drifted around the space, from your unorganized closet to the pictures that decorate your walls, and he was elated to see himself in most of them. They surrounded your workspace, his eyes stopping at each one until he found a new interesting target.

Your laptop remained open, left to charge as the black screen was left to face him.

He always wondered why you left it open, often joking that “you should put something on the camera; you never know who’s watching.” You would be quick to brush him off, rolling your eyes as you would refute “who would want to watch me?”

The very thought sent shivers down his spine— the camera left the perfect view of your entire space; giving perfect access to watch you, alone and at peace.

He stands up to shut it.

“Jun, you got my bed wet,” your whiny voice is what snaps him out of his daze, and he’s glad for the diversion as he looks back at you, embarrassed to have caught himself thinking such things. You stand at the doorway, staring at him with your arms crossed and a cute pout that he wishes he could kiss away.

“Is that mine?” Is all he responds with, and it’s your turn to send him a sheepish glance as you pathetically try to cover the hoodie you wear, as if doing so would make him think otherwise.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t notice,” you sulk, hands dropping to your sides as you go to your closet to hand him a clean towel. Moving away from your desk, Yeonjun grimaces at the feeling of his wet clothes rubbing against his skin, glad to take the towel from your hands as makes his way to your bathroom.

“It’s my favorite hoodie,” he argues, but he can’t bring himself to be angry with the way you shrug carelessly at that, sending him a sly smile as you follow behind.

“You said it looked better on me.”

And it’s not something he can argue with— especially not with the way the item hangs over your figure, already big enough on him as he enjoys the way it drapes over your thighs, covering the poor excuse of shorts that you usually slept with at night.

“Go shower, you’re sleeping over tonight,” you say, and as if to prove your point, a loud strike of thunder booms over you, the sound sudden as you flinch in response, “there’s no way you’re walking back in this weather.”

“If you insist,” he coos with a cheeky smile, letting out an obnoxious laugh as you shove him inside; you’re grumbling incoherently to yourself as you leave, but Yeonjun knows you don’t mean any of it as he finally strips himself of the clothes that stick stubbornly to his skin.

-♡♡♡-

Yeonjun swears he might just be in heaven— the room is dark and the rain is soothing as he lays in bed, unable to take his gaze away from your peaceful frame. You’re sleeping soundly, allowing Yeonjun to sleep in the same bed as you after you had drifted off while you were watching a movie together; the exhaustion from today had seemed to hit you hard.

Yet he itches to get closer— he wants to hold you, and his thoughts seem to take over as he scoots closer to you, unable to help himself as he gingerly wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you into his chest as he nuzzles into your hair— he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to get over your alluring scent.

But when you shift from your sleep, turning around to face him, he thinks his heart might just stop— that is, until your eyes meet his, dazed and sleepy as you scoot closer to him happily. You’re quick to seek his warmth as you throw your leg around his waist, practically wrapping yourself around him as you bury yourself into his neck, sighing happily as you do so.

“Y’smell so good, jun,” you softly slur out, barely able to keep your eyes open as Yeonjun’s hand reaches the hem of your hoodie, his touch innocent as he breaches past it, rubbing your back soothingly. You hum in appreciation at his touch, ignoring his teasing chuckle as you already feel yourself drifting back to sleep.

“Cause it’s your stuff I’m using,” he argues; he’s sure you’re saying something along the lines of “doesn’t matter,” but it doesn’t really come out right as you’re quick to fall back asleep, comfortable in his arms as your breathing evens out.

He doesn’t want to let go— he doesn’t want to fall asleep, either, fighting back the urge as he enjoys this moment, thoroughly indulging in the way your body is pressed firmly against his; it just feels right.

Choi Yeonjun is screwed. Because as he lays down with you, the serene and calm moment doing nothing to slow down the flustered beating of his heart, he knows that he’ll never be able to move on from you— which only gives him a new swell of determination to make you his.

-♡♡♡-

Yeonjun hasn’t heard from you today.

Which honestly shouldn’t be that alarming. Except, he didn’t hear from you yesterday either— or the day before that. The last time he saw you was when he stayed over during the storm, and it’s been too long for him to not worry. He’s unsure of what to do, the constant calling and text messages doing nothing for him as it's all left unanswered. He’s even called your parents, asking if you were there— he couldn’t bring himself to tell them why he was calling, not wanting to worry them unnecessarily.

But now he’s left pacing in the library, biting endlessly at his lip as Beomgyu’s eyes bore into him.

“What do you mean she hasn’t talked to you in three days?” The librarian seethes out, just as tense as the pacing man before him as he sits up from his seat. The library was closed now, but he couldn’t help but let the older man in the moment your name slipped past his lips in such a panicked tone.

“I don’t know, she hasn’t been answering my texts!” Yeonjun can’t quell the feeling of despair that ensnares him, the feeling suffocating as his voice rises in volume, “Or my calls.”

“Call her again,” is all Beomgyu says, racking his brain as he blocks out Yeonjun’s protests saying it won’t work, “Just fucking try it!”

Even as Yeonjun begrudgingly does so, he can’t stop the secret pleasure he gets from seeing Beomgyu finally break his perfect facade— he just wishes it wasn’t due to this situation. The phone rings out, and Yeonjun can already feel the grip on his phone tighten as he listens to it ring out, his mind softly pleading for you to answer.

“Jun?”

It’s a chain reaction, for as soon as Yeonjun slumps down in relief, Beomgyu sighs, running an angered hand through his hair as he watches Yeonjun scold you ruthlessly.

“What happened? Where are you?” Yeonjun asks, the feeling of relief subsiding as he remembers how you just disappeared on him, “You haven’t answered any of my messages, you didn’t say anything for three days.”

Silence. Yeonjun waits desperately for you to explain yourself, wondering what you could possibly be doing right now that ended in you going MIA like this.

“Shit, jun, did my texts not send?” You say, and almost mockingly, Yeonjun can feel his phone buzzing with notifications, “I went to visit my aunt— you know, the one that lives in the countryside? Her internet was down, I’m coming home right now.”

Of course— Your aunt, Yeonjun remembers, recalling the way you would take him with you to visit her, the summers spent when you were younger bringing back fond memories— at least he knew you weren’t lying.

“Fuck, don’t do that again,” Yeonjun sighs, running his hand restlessly through his hair as he takes a seat in defeat, “You had me worried, I thought something happened to you.”

Your frantic apologies don’t quite reach his ears, because he can still feel an ember of anger fighting to stay alight inside of him, spewing irrational thoughts and a deep secret he thought would never resurface. But even as he listens to your sincere and apologetic voice, he finds himself meeting eyes with Beomgyu— and suddenly, he doesn’t seem to be as unnerving as he once thought; all he sees now is a manifestation of all the things he wasn’t brave enough to do on his own.

“Please, just tell me you’ll get here safe,” is all Yeonjun can reply, his voice tense as you reassure him, telling him that your aunt was currently driving you back.

“She was in town when I ran into her, I just couldn’t resist going with her to the countryside for a bit,” you add sheepishly, as though you actually had to explain yourself in the first place, “But don’t worry, I’ll be home in like, twenty minutes. I’m bringing back some of her pie, you should come over.”

Yeonjun’s noncommittal hum brings about another apology from you, and he knows that you’ve picked up on his tense mood as you hang up, trying to quell his mood with a sweet coo of his name— it almost works for a second, your melodic voice allowing him to calm down for a moment.

But when he hangs up, he can feel the ember light into a fire inside him.

“Went to her aunt’s house,” is all Yeonjun does to explain, not bothering to elaborate any further before he’s moving on to his next thought— he’s careful to bring it up, unsure if the man before him would use this idea against him, using it as a way to scare you away from Yeonjun; so instead, he merely implies it.

“I don’t want this to happen again,” Yeonjun says, face somber as he stares down at the table, and at his phone which is finally showing the messages you had attempted to deliver. It’s a picture of you and your aunt in her truck, a happy grin plastered on your face as you texted him “Auntie kidnapped me, staying over at her place for a couple of days!”

“What do you mean?” Beomgyu is hooked on his words, hoping that his eagerness is hidden well as he waits for the older man to speak—he can see the thoughts fighting in his brain, his moral compass being torn and broken as he looks back at Beomgyu, uncertain in his words as he meets his eyes.

“I want to keep a closer eye on her.”

Yeonjun is aware that Beomgyu knows his way around technology well; even more so when the younger man frowns, leaning back in his chair as he stares down at Yeonjun’s phone— he knows the moment he has caught on.

“A closer eye on her…” Beomgyu mutters, hands slowly sliding across the table to grab Yeonjun’s phone— the said man watches, eyes narrowed as he takes in the way Beomgyu becomes deep in thought.

“How are we supposed to do that? A tracker?” His eyes flit up, looking through the frames of glasses and piercing into Yeonjun’s own eyes— he stares back, unbreaking as the building falls silent.

“Cameras?”

There is no planning on how Yeonjun will react; Beomgyu has taken a leap of faith as the word escapes him, the final test that will show just how far Yeonjun is willing to go to keep you close.

Yeonjun thinks back to the computer on your desk; Then back to you, so unaware of your fate as you eagerly make your way back home, always so trusting of your friend as you expect him to come over soon.

He shouldn’t be considering it.

But he does, and once the memory of the anguish that flooded him at your disappearance comes back to him, he can only give Beomgyu a single nod before he’s able to return to the last part of him that kept him sane; the last part that wasn’t devoted wholly to you.

But it was too late.

“She asked for me to come over,” wordlessly, Beomgyu watches as Yeonjun reaches into his pocket, sliding something across the table, his hand pulling away to reveal the small device— a tracker.

“I’m sure she wouldn’t mind your company.”

Beomgyu brings the small device into his hands, examining it carefully as he withheld a smile; Yeonjun seemed to be just as deep into the rabbit hole as he was— he only played the part of the saint to make himself feel better.

“How did you get this?” Beomgyu asks, voice quiet as he looks back up at Yeonjun. The said man doesn’t respond, but the way he looks away in shame tells Beomgyu all he needs to know, “You’ve thought of this before, haven’t you.”

“It was a stupid purchase,” Yeonjun snaps, pulling out his car keys as he gestures for Beomgyu to follow him. Turning off all the lights, Beomgyu makes sure to lock up and set up the alarm before he follows Yeonjun out, laughing mockingly at his attempt to justify himself, “Don’t act as if you’re innocent either.”

“You suggested it,” The withering glare does nothing to affect Beomgyu as he gets in the car, the bag thrown in the back making him raise a brow curiously, “What, you want me to hack into her computer too?”

“You can do that—?” Yeonjun pauses his actions as he turns to the other in disbelief; yet he can’t hide the darkness in his eyes as he mulls over the offer, turning his body pressed back to the seat as he shakes his head. “You sick fucker.”

“Didn’t hear a no.” Beomgyu quips, and he knows his words have gotten into his brain by the way Yeonjun’s grip tightens on the steering wheel, the heavy gulp giving away his deepest thoughts; he was definitely considering it.

“She never closes that stupid laptop,” Yeonjun mutters to himself, and before he can second guess himself, he’s nodding his head, cursing at himself internally as he sees the way Beomgyu is eager to get to work from the corner of his eye. The rest of the drive is silent, and Yeonjun is slow to pull into your street as he hears Beomgyu mutter something about almost being done.

“There,” Beomgyu says, aware of how tense Yeonjun has become, his form rigid as he finally parks in front of your apartment— he’s quick to recognize your car, and is relieved to find your lights on inside.

Hesitantly, Yeonjun turns to his laptop screen, stomach twisting violently at what he might find. Nails digging into his skin, he can already hear his mind fighting him to not look— to save the last bit of decency that he may have had left in him. But his curiosity is much stronger, and Yeonjun knows there is no going back when his eyes land on his laptop’s screen.

And you’re there, in your room, laying on your bed casually as you scroll on your phone, clearly waiting for Yeonjun to show up. You’re wearing Yeonjun’s favorite hoodie once more, and he almost thinks you might just be doing all this on purpose— especially with the way your small shorts seem to ride up your thighs effortlessly.

“Let’s go,” is all Yeonjun can say, hoping that the effect of seeing you like this is gone unnoticed by Beomgyu— his head feels dizzy, full of the images of you and all of the possibilities as he knocks on your door, trying helplessly to get the intrusive thoughts out of his head. Beomgyu’s mocking laugh next to him does nothing to help.

“Jun—!” Your happy exclamation is cut short as you finally notice the other person behind your friend, flushing with embarrassment at being seen in such clothing. You’re suddenly more self-aware of yourself as you greet him shyly, and Yeonjun tries to not let his irritation show as he clears his throat, your attention back on him.

“Hope you don’t mind the extra company,” your friend says, and you’re quick to reassure him as you step aside, gesturing for the two to come in happily.

“Nah, more people to enjoy my aunt’s pie,” you grin, leading them to the kitchen happily; it smells sweet, the pie still warm as you had already prepared two plates— you’re quick to grab an extra one, smiling cutely as you serve them each a slice.

And Yeonjun wishes otherwise, but he can’t help but get excited at the way you seem to be tired from your trip, still a bit groggy and slow with your every action as you suggest watching a movie or two— the look exchanged between the two men goes unnoticed by you, the small device suddenly weighing Beomgyu’s pocket a lot more than it did a few seconds ago.

You’re happy to have both of them seated at each of your sides, though you’d never admit it out loud— the sudden warmth and comfort of having the two men next to you only made you drowsier, the movie left unwatched as you inevitably fell asleep; your phone left on the coffee table in front of you as you nuzzle into Yeonjun, searching desperately for the scent that always seemed to remind you of home.

With one look towards Beomgyu, he watches as the younger is quick to grab your phone, sneaking off into the bathroom so you won’t be able to catch him implanting the tracker. Slinging the bookbag containing the laptop over his shoulder, he quickly disappears as he tries to get it all over with as soon as possible, your peaceful form on the couch remaining unaware of it all.

“Mmh, where’s gyu?” Yeonjun can feel you stirring against his figure minutes later, the suddenness of your voice startling the man as he wraps an arm around you in a panic. He’s pulling you closer to him, putting on an act of clinginess as he whines for you to not get up, much to your protests.

“He’s in the bathroom,” Yeonjun says, arms wrapped around you tightly as he pulls you back down, laying on the couch as he shamelessly brings you closer to him, “don’t, I’m comfortable like this.”

If it weren’t Yeonjun who was doing this to you, you would have immediately wondered why he was being so clingy to you suddenly— but you can’t bring yourself to fight against him, the drowsiness combating against your brain as you finally give in to his request; the feeling of you slumping against Yeonjun’s figure tiredly allows him to finally relax. He hopes desperately that you can’t feel the way his heart is practically pounding against his chest, or the way his hands have gone shaky as they attempt to steady themselves on your back— the idea of you finding out what the two were up to was enough to set Yeonjun off into a feeling of panic.

You would hate him; you would think he was disgusting, too. But the thoughts were quickly swept away the moment Beomgyu emerged from the hall, triumphantly sliding your phone back on the coffee table, your sleeping figure weighing Yeonjun down on the couch as he finally allowed himself to bask in the feeling of it— because now, you would never be out of their sight.

You would be safe.

-♡♡♡-

Well, this is new.

Yeonjun stands outside the small coffee shop you work at, a family-owned business that you dedicated yourself to because “it reminded you of the cafe back at home.”

Yet from the time you’ve been working there, Yeonjun has never seen this— as in, you talking to the tall boy that smiles cutely at you as you explain something to him. Yeonjun is more than happy to turn your attention over to him the moment he enters the shop, your face lighting up as you wave excitedly to your friend; the boy beside you attempts to keep his dimpled smile from slipping.

Soobin, his name tag reads— and according to you, he‘s been here for months. The friendly smiles and small talk that the man exchanges with Yeonjun mean nothing, because he knows well that you’ve managed to snag the tall man’s attention; the only thing that runs through his mind is how to get Soobin out of the picture; the last thing he needed was a repeat of Jaemin.

“Yeah, he’s really sweet,” you say to Yeonjun, telling him about the man that is currently back in the kitchen, “not that I’m interested or anything.”

Soobin was, at most, a good friend to you. You had trained him most days when he first started working with you, and he was easy to get along with. But what you failed to tell Yeonjun was just how sweet he was— to you, specifically. The lingering thoughts of him being interested in you began to plague your mind, and despite you telling yourself that there was just no way, you couldn’t help but begin to overthink his every action.

“Was he a friend of yours?” Soobin asked, reappearing at your side the moment Yeonjun finally bids you goodbye. You nod, telling him that you’d been friends with the man since you were children— Soobin smiles fondly at the thought.

“That’s nice— I’m glad he’s gone though,” he says, watching the way you frown at his words, “Cause now I get you to myself!”

“Oh, uhm,” you can’t fight the way your awkwardness peaks though, thoroughly caught off guard by his words as you try to sputter a coherent response—Soobin simply laughs at your reaction.

“Cause I need you to show me how to use the new coffee machine they installed,” he says, enjoying the way you shrink in embarrassment by your reaction. Soobin was quite the tease— you would find yourself in situations like these quite often, his bold words making you trip over yourself as he would smile, fully aware of his effect as he would backtrack instantly; he had your mind spinning by the time you went to clock out.

You really hope Soobin is nothing more than that— a tease. Because as you wave to him goodbye, shrugging your jacket on as you send him a small wave, you try to look past the way his eyes narrow fondly at you, feeling his eyes lingering on your form until you’re out of sight— you try to suppress the shiver that threatens to wrack through you.

The drive home allows you to clear your mind well; the stress from work and your endless assignments have left you in distress, the sudden moment of weakness only bringing about more unwanted distractions— as in, Jaemin. And while it felt nice to be able to lean on someone while you finally got rid of the nuisance in your life, you were looking forward to finally being able to spend a moment alone, at peace, with no one to constantly try to stick by your side— the failed attempt to do so by going to your aunt’s place only left a bitter taste in your mouth.

So, to say that you’re confused when you see the small bouquet by your door is an understatement—more so when you spot the pretty burgundy envelope tucked in neatly.

They’re roses; and from what you can tell, they’ve been sitting outside for quite a while—most likely since you’ve been at work. The flowers smell sweet, the petals spread beautifully and tinted a deep color that almost matches the envelope— you gulp as you attempt to calculate how much they might’ve cost.

But who would do this? You don’t know anyone that would be the type to give you flowers; maybe that’s why your hands are so shaky when you open your door.

You’re reluctant to make your way to your kitchen counter; there’s a heavy pit that has formed in your stomach. You’re unsure why, but your mind seems to tell you that something isn’t quite right about your sudden gift. The flowers are soft as silk— the arranger must have been quite the professional, because they still seem to be alive and fresh despite the countless hours they must have spent outside; but you brush those thoughts aside, taking a deep breath as you finally dislodge the small envelope from its hiding place.

There’s a wax seal on it— the image of a heart has been stamped into it, the wax a midnight blue so dark it almost passed off as black. Carefully, you took the seal off, surprised that someone would still communicate in such a manner, and opened the letter.

“What… the… fuck?”

My dearest ___,

I know it might seem surprising to have such a gesture delivered to you out of the blue, but I don’t think I can hold back any longer. I’m content simply watching from the sidelines, for now, so don’t worry too much about me; just know I mean well. I’m too scared to say any of this to you in person; I know that you don’t feel the same about me. But I’d hope to change your mind through these gifts that come from the heart— that come from my heart.

Did you like the flowers? I know that roses are quite the cliche flower, but I can think of no better way to start things off than with something as simple as this— something that can show you just how much I love you. Of course, if you don’t like them, then I’ll stop sending them; but then again, I’ll be sure to never send you the same thing more than once. You deserve to be spoiled.

You looked so beautiful today; you always do, honestly. I just wish I could get you on your own, at peace for one moment, but there’s always someone that wants to get in the way of us— it seems like you can never be alone for one second. Do you feel the same way? You know, I could help everyone go away, if you’d let me.

Then it’d be just us two.

Stay safe,

I’ll always watch over you.

The envelope slips from your hands, and it falls on your counter with a heavy thud. Out slide more small contents, and you can already feel your whole body go numb as you pick it up— there were three pictures inside.

And fuck— they were all of you.

Studying in the corner of the cafe you work at during your break, a frown on your face as you concentrate hard on your screen— a picture of you in the park, walking along your usual trail; only it’s been taken from behind, zoomed in so much that the picture has become a bit blurry. Shakily, you flip to the last picture, your mouth going dry as you drop the picture immediately— it’s you, standing in the kitchen, cooking something as the picture seems to have been taken from outside.

The pictures land gingerly on your counter, flipping over to the backside as you spot something else— more writing. You’re sick to your stomach as you pick them up, your other hand gripping the counter as you feel your knees threaten to give out under you— a sob threatens to escape you as you read the comments left behind each picture.

“You look so cute when you’re concentrated. I wish you would take a day off once in a while though.” the first one says, your fingers digging into the photo the longer you survey the writing. Reluctantly, you move on to the next one, eyes stinging as you read.

“Monthly visit— I’m glad to see you’re eating well.”

Oh god,you think, forehead hitting the counter roughly as you let out a shaky sigh, lips dry as you feel the way your skin has become clammy, monthly. Monthly visit.

And before you can stop yourself, you read the last one, the picture shaking so harshly that it takes you a second before you can properly read what has been written on the back— but once you do, you think you might just collapse on the floor.

“I love walking with you. I’ll keep you safe.”

Fuck.

“Fuck!” You seethe, racing to all your windows and closing all the blinds immediately, double checking all your locks as you tried to remain out of sight from the windows, much too afraid of what you might find outside. Your heart is pounding and your body is trembling, your breath labored as you finally stumble back to your kitchen— only to slide onto the floor, hiding in the corner and as far away from all windows as possible.

You’ve always enjoyed looking outside your windows— enjoyed the pretty scenery, the quiet neighborhood, and the sun that always brought light to filter into your kitchen beautifully with every sunset— your stomach twists roughly at the thought of your innocent actions being used against you in such a way.

The letter and the pictures are crushed in your hands; they’ve been typed neatly, the font practically mocking you as it impedes you from trying to identify the handwriting— even the comments on the pictures have been typed out, printed out on sticker paper as they stick neatly to the center, the cutesy comments doing nothing to calm you down.

Who were they? What did they want?

Where were they?

You can practically feel the sob explode from you as you begin to shake, your form curling up as you find yourself too afraid to move— too afraid to lift your head, to open your eyes, to do anything.

And for once, you really wish you weren’t alone.

Am I bad, am I bad, am I bad, am I really that bad?

-♡♡♡-

Beomgyu knows something is wrong the moment you walk into class.

You’re tired, sluggish even, as you spot the man sitting in his usual seat— he tries to hide his surprise as you beeline to him, setting your bag down as you scoot closer to him subtly. Your clothes are in disarray and your eyes are red, and it seems like you haven’t gotten any sleep at all; his heart twists seeing you in such a state.

“___,” Beomgyu says, turning to you as he observes you; you’re practically falling asleep in your seat, jumping up in alarm at the sound of the man calling your name— you feel a bit shaky as you meet his questioning gaze.

“What happened?” A part of you is grateful to see how quick to notice Beomgyu is; but you hesitate to answer nonetheless, unsure of what to tell him as you look around the class nervously.

“It’s, uhm…” you shift awkwardly, your hand reaching for your bag hesitantly; the letters you’ve been receiving inside— you had planned to meet with Yeonjun to show them to him. “Are you busy today?”

Beomgyu frowns; you’re restless, eyes darting around the room as if you were in search of something. Body stiff, he watched the way you flinch as your eyes dart back to him, almost as if you were afraid to see that he was already looking at you.

“I’m not,” he says slowly, carefully leaning in towards you. It’s as if you’re a wild animal, watching intently as he places a firm hand on top of yours; his heart sinks as he watches you flinch again.

“Are you okay?” He tries again, the warmth of his hand allowing you to ground yourself as you look into his eyes. You say nothing, and a moment passes before Beomgyu seems to realize that you won’t answer that. “Have you slept at all?”

You both already seemed to know the answer to that— of course not. You couldn’t help it, remaining huddled in your room night after night as you listened intently for any noises that could give you a sign of whether or not there was someone else home with you. Your body feels weak as you attempt to lie to him, to pretend as though you weren’t as much of a wreck as you seemed.

“I…” you hesitate again, pulling your hand away from Beomgyu as you turn away from him. “I’ll tell you later.”

You hear the man let out a soft “Okay,” the words bringing about an unexpected flood of relief in your system as you force yourself to stay awake. You can feel his stare on you for the rest of class, but you try to ignore it in hopes that he won’t question you anymore; to your luck, he seems to have taken the hint.

And even if you had only planned to tell Yeonjun about the sudden letters you’ve been receiving, you’re glad that you managed to bring Beomgyu along with you—you’ll feel safer this way.

-♡♡♡-

“What the fuck.”

You don’t know why you feel like this— embarrassed, self-conscious, anxious— you weren’t the one that wrote these letters; yet you can’t help but feel this way as you watch the two men across from you read your letters over and over, looking at the pictures with such rage and disgust that you’re shrinking down in your seat in anticipation.

You currently sat in a booth of a restaurant, hidden from view as you finally built up the courage to pull your letter out of your bag, explaining to them the events from yesterday as you silently hope that they’ll be able to help you— their shocked looks and speechless faces don’t seem to be very promising so far.

“I just don’t know what to do,” you admit, downcast as your trace shapes on the table absentmindedly, “I think we should take this to the police.”

“I think so too,” Beomgyu says, eyes filled with rage as he looks at the picture taken of you in your home, “but I don’t think they’ll be able to do anything just yet. We need to wait— get more evidence. Show that they’re serious trouble.”

“Wait? Are you fucking crazy?” Yeonjun is quick to shut the other man down, slamming the letter on the desk as he stares at the man in disbelief. Sitting up, you feel a rush of anxiety run through you at the sight of your friend getting so worked up. “___, you can’t stay there. It’s too dangerous.”

“What? No, no no,” you say, catching on to what your friend is implying as you shake your head, “Yeonjun, I don’t want to bother you— what if… what if I bring them to you, too?”

“I don’t care,” Yeonjun says, stubborn as ever even as he listens to your weak rebuttals, “I’ll stay at your place, then. You can’t be alone like this.”

He’s right— you know this, but you still can’t help but want to refuse his offer, much too afraid that you’ll inconvenience him— or worse, get him involved.

“I just…” you bite at your lip, fighting back the sudden lump that has formed in your throat, your eyes stinging as the lack of sleep comes back to bite you, “I’m scared. I don’t want to get you roped up in this too.”

“We’ll be here for you,” Beomgyu quickly says, reaching over to grab your hand once more. You look down, taking a deep breath as he squeezes your hand gently, “we’ll keep you safe.”

You know he means well, but you can’t help but shudder at his words— an eerie echo of the letter.

It’s okay, your mind tells you, attempting to calm down your nerves as you squeeze his hand back, they’ll protect you.

You’re safe.

-♡♡♡-

Yeonjun quickly offered to take you home.

After stopping at a pharmacy to get you some sleeping pills, he dropped you off, reassuring you that he would stay with you while you rest. Yet despite his promise to stick with you at all times, you currently found yourself home alone, waiting patiently for your friend to come back; he left to get an overnight bag, swearing up and down that he wouldn’t take long.

A part of you wished that Beomgyu was here with you now, but you had already declined his offer back at the restaurant— you didn’t want to inconvenience him, either. But now that you’re here, counting the seconds away as you listen carefully for any abnormal sounds, you can’t help but wish that you accepted his offer; maybe then you wouldn’t be pacing back and forth in front of your door, checking the time restlessly as you debated on calling your friend.

And when you hear the crinkling of paper under your foot, you could only feel the regret sink into you more, the feeling heavy as you slowly look down, taking a step back to see what you’ve stepped on.

Another letter.

Oh god, you think, sick to your stomach as you lean against the wall, how long has that been there?

You’re too afraid to pick it up, but you can tell that it’s been there for a while by the footprint of your shoe that tainted the paper— you probably didn’t notice it when you came in. But that doesn’t stop the overwhelming fear that rushes through you, your knees weak as you slowly bend down to grab the envelope; the same blue seal greets you as you turn it over.

Should you open it now? Should you wait? Your mind is racing as you stare down at the envelope, picking at the seal as you feel your heart pound against your chest. Sighing, you go back to your couch, shakily sitting down as you finally decide to open it, the curious itch inside you begging you to get it over with now.

___.

How could you? This letter was meant to be a connection between the two of us— so why would you show it to them? You know, I was willing to excuse just how much time you’ve been spending with them, but now that I’ve seen just how ungrateful you are, I’m not sure if I can.

Everyone makes mistakes— and that’s okay. I’ll be willing to forgive you, my love, but don’t show them anything I give you ever again. Everything I send to you is meant for your eyes only, so if I ever see you sharing my gifts with others, it won’t go well for you— or them.

And trust me, I will know.

I hate that it’s had to come to this, my love. But promise me you’ll be good and listen to me, okay? I’m sure you’d like to keep Yeonjun safe and sound, right? Oh, and Beomgyu too— it wouldn’t be right to have something happen to them because of your actions.

I still love you, my lovely, but know that this stunt of yours has cost you a bit of my trust; I guess I’ll have to keep a closer eye on you.

I trust that you’ll be smarter from now on.

Stay safe,

I’ll always watch over you.

The paper crumbles under your hold as you grip it tightly, tears staining the paper as you read the letter again— and again, unsure of what to do with the situation at hand. You didn’t know what this person was capable of, and you really didn’t want to find out— a chill ran through your body at the very thought.

It was as if the letter wasn’t enough to prove his words, because three more pictures seem to follow along with the message, your heart heavy as you finally gather enough courage to see what else this psycho has sent you.

The first is a picture of you and Beomgyu walking into the restaurant, your weary gaze looking around the area to see if anyone had been following you— yet despite that, you still weren’t able to notice the person who took this picture.

Why must you act this way? The back reads, the neat font a mocking reminder that there’s no way you can trace these to a person, I would never harm you.

The second picture is taken when you’re already sitting in the booth, the clear view of your face bringing about another wave of panic inside you as you realize that they were in there, with you, and you never even noticed.

You look distraught, tracing shapes on the table as Beomgyu’s shoulders barely come into the frame—just when you thought you would have thrown him off, they still manage to find you— and take pictures of you, too.

No matter where you try to go, I’ll always find you. The picture says, the words only leave a sick feeling inside you, with ease.

The last picture was taken at the pharmacy, your weary figure leaning against Yeonjun as he looks through the medications before him, his arm wrapped around your waist in support. You feel hesitant to read what’s on the back.

Are you kidding? How do you allow him to be this comfortable with you? Do you like him? There’s only one person meant for you, my love. I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to ignore his behavior.

You’re crying now, shoulders shaking and chest heaving as you struggle to keep your composure, the fear of someone following you and threatening the relationship with your friends bringing a horrible ache to your head. Your lungs burn as you try to calm down, but are unable to do so as you glance back at the letter before you; you put everything back in the envelope, shoving it into the crevice of your couch cushions as you try to rid the letter from your mind.

Your house is silent save for the sounds of your crying, yet you can’t help but freeze as you hear a sound resonate throughout the house; your breathing stops. Frozen, you carefully look up, surveying your house as you wait for another sound— you’re standing, ready to make a break for it at any moment.

At the sound of a soft creak, you’re sprinting to the door, all paranoid thoughts discarded as a new goal enters your head: get to safety. Swinging the door open, you can’t control the scream that erupts from you as you’re met with the sight of men at your door, your hands flying up instinctively as you stumble back— only to trip over your own feet, flying back as you collide with your hardwood floor roughly.

“___!” The voice is unfamiliar in your mind, your vision hazy as you struggle to breathe— you’re gasping for air, tears leaving your eyes rapidly as you try to back away from the approaching figure; but it’s useless, your weak body easily encased in the man’s arms as you attempt to push away from him, his soft reassurance falling on deaf ears as you become disoriented.

“She’s having a panic attack,” the other voice says, the man coming closer to you as he takes a seat on the floor. Firmly, he grabs your hands, fingers intertwined with yours as he speaks, “It’s us. Yeonjun and Beomgyu. You’re okay, I promise.”

His words break through your blurred mind, soft hiccups leaving you as your cries go quiet, eyes screwing shut as you shakily gasp for air. You can hear their soothing voices attempt to ground you, but it’s hard to focus on anything as the fear that paralyzed you still lingers in your system. It takes you a while, but by the moment you’re able to calm down, you’re grabbing onto Beomgyu, bringing him in closer as you whisper in a panic.

“There’s someone here,” you say, ignoring the way he frowns at your words, “there’s an intruder— please, we have to leave.”

“There’s no one,” Beomgyu reassures you, trying to calm your panicking mind even as you refuse his claims, “I promise you it’s just us— here, I’ll go check.”

Beomgyu ignores your quiet plea to stay as he goes to check every room, corner, and hiding place, looking for anything that may show signs of someone else’s presence. But when he returns, he can only shake his head as he tells you that you’re safe— that there was no one here.

“But I thought,” you whimper, your mind going back to the sounds you heard a moment ago— it all seemed so real. But one look back to Beomgyu tells you that he’s not lying, his soothing reassurance that you’re safe doing little to calm your restless mind.

Maybe you were imagining it.

For the rest of the night, you’re unable to get rid of the paranoia that clouded your mind, trying your best to avoid walking past windows as Yeonjun and Beomgyu stick by your side— their presence is the only comfort that allows you to sleep at night.

“We’ll sleep in the living room, I promise you’ll be safe,” Yeonjun says, kissing your forehead gently as he takes a look at your face— you’re still shaken from the events that transpired earlier, and he wishes he had never left your side as he remembers the fear that filled your teary eyes as you looked at them. Beomgyu stands next to you, nodding his head as he takes your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze as he sends you a reassuring smile. You say nothing, your mind panicking as you watch them turn to leave.

“Wait,” you’re meek as you grab onto their shirts, pulling them back weakly as they send you a curious look; the embarrassment from your actions floods your body quickly.

“I don‘t… I don’t want to be alone,” you say, flushing as you stare down at the floor, “Can you stay with me? Both of you?”

They say nothing, and you can already feel the regret creep up for asking, yet just as you’re about to take back your request, Yeonjun takes your hand, your head snapping back up as you look at him; your hopeful eyes give you away quickly.

“Of course,” Yeonjun says, smiling fondly at you, “whatever you want.”

It’s a bit awkward as you try to explain that you don’t want them to just be in the room with you, but you’d actually want them to be next to you as you sleep— you’re all flustered as you finally propose the idea. Yet in the end, they can never say no to you; so you’re finally able to sleep as they hold you close, Beomgyu’s hold on your hand and Yeonjun’s arm thrown over your waist, their promise to stick close to your side finally allowing you to calm down.

The letter in between the couch cushions is forgotten.

-♡♡♡-

It’s been a while since you’ve been able to enjoy your life.

Your days are filled with nothing but paranoia and fear, your skittish behavior not remaining unnoticed by your friends as they continue to ask what’s wrong— but you refuse to tell them anything.

“But the letters have stopped, right?” Yeonjun asks, sitting across from you at the library table as he watches the way you’re unable to look up from your laptop, afraid that one look at him will be all it takes for you to fold.

“Yes,” you say hesitantly, pretending to be busy as you pause, “but it’s just… hard to get over.”

Yeonjun is understanding of that— he thinks you’re doing better, ever since you decided to stop clinging onto them helplessly; but that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

The letters never stopped— if anything, they only got worse. They were filled with detailed words of this psycho proclaiming their love to you, followed by countless pictures of you— with your friends, alone, even in places you swore were practically empty— places that made someone pointing a camera at you easier to spot.

That had become your new strategy— when you weren’t at home or work, you resided in the loneliest, quiet public places; the library being one of the most common ones. It was unhealthy, but you kept every letter, gift, and picture, poring endlessly over every minuscule detail as you tried to find anything that could trace you back to them— whether that be the camera angle, speech patterns, or gift brands.

Yet, you couldn’t find anything— No two gifts were the same, the speech this person used was too formal for it to ever be used in real life, and every picture taken was different; even when they were taken in the same locations, the camera angles were always different and unpredictable.

In the end, you were just as obsessed with your stalker as they were with you.

Your life was no longer the same— every moment you stepped outside the house was a moment where you were being watched, a moment where you were left vulnerable to the eyes of your stalker; and sure enough, every second spent outside would be captured and sent back in the same, deep red envelope.

The letters piled up, your wariness of those around you growing as you wracked your mind of ways you could get rid of this mystery person— you’d give anything for them to leave you alone, even for a single day. It even got to the point where you ordered a bat online— for protection, you told yourself. You tried to set up cameras around your house too, but every time you thought the culprit was at your doorstep, it would just be the mailman, there to deliver the same packages that haunted your daily life.

At first, it was nothing special— generic flowers, jewelry, chocolates; random things that always ended up in the trash or your pile of evidence.

Then, it got specific.

The sweater you stopped to look at while you were walking around the mall— an album from your favorite artist, the item so rare that it must’ve cost a couple hundred— Today’s item came in a small velvet box.

Carefully, you open it, your hands shaking as you realize what this stalker has gifted you— a necklace. But not just any necklace; of course not, why would they gift you something generic when they can gift you something eerily specific instead? Yelling in disgust, you toss the necklace on the counter, left in disbelief by the item.

It was a diamond necklace you had been looking at, giddy at the fantasy of ever owning it; one that you had only looked at online. You’d never said a word about it to your friends, let alone looked at it in public.

I’ll give you the world, the note attached to the box reads, all you have to do is ask.

The velvet box was quickly tossed into your pile of evidence.

You’ll never be safe, you think, your body ready to shut down on you as you glance down at the pile of letters before you tiredly, not as long as they’re around.

-♡♡♡-

Your behavior change is noticeable to everyone— especially Soobin.

It was as if he noticed immediately—being extra kind to you, offering to do so many things for you as he tried to get you to rest as much as possible. It was sweet really, if his underlying crush didn’t make his motives so obvious.

His offers to eat together or hang out were swiftly declined; you couldn’t imagine having someone new come into your life at the moment. And when he hinted at having feelings for you, you were gentle to reject him, saying that you weren’t in a good place in your life to think about relationships. In the end, he was sweet nonetheless, comforting you when needed and allowing you to take small naps on your break— a small pastry would be left near you when you woke up. (Courtesy of the alarms Soobin would set up.)

You remember the first time you woke to the sweet gesture, confusion filling your mind as Soobin had left a note next to the pastry. “It’s not much, but take it as a token of my gratitude in return for what you did :)”

It took you a while to figure out what he meant by that— you chalked it up to the time you covered for his shift, not bothering to ask as you ate the pastry hungrily.

Then, it seemed as if something changed; suddenly, you didn’t mind his constant acts of kindness, the smile he flashed you as he complimented you shyly a lot cuter than it was before. You found yourself excited to see him when you went to work, eager to make conversation whenever you had a chance. He was quick to notice this change too— quick to pick up on your new view of him.

So he tried again, asking if you’d like to eat together outside of work; when you said yes, he broke out into the cutest dimpled grin. He was like a giddy child around you, your relationship strengthening as he stuck to you like glue— he felt safe, constantly checking up on you and your health when you weren’t at work, bringing you meals and buying gifts despite your constant reluctance to accept them.

With one last leap of faith, you finally decided to let Soobin into your life; the prospect of liking him didn’t seem so sour anymore. Maybe it was because of his caring nature, or maybe it was because of the way your letters seemed to have ceased, even if it would just be for a moment.

My dearest ___, the last letter you received read,

It pains me to say this, but my letters to you will cease briefly— I will be traveling for a bit, but I will be back. Maybe, once I get back, I’ll gather the courage to see you in person.

I know this letter is brief, but I have important business I must attend to; I trust that you’ll wait patiently for my return. In the meantime, I leave you this gift— I hope you’ll think of me as I will of you.

Stay safe,

I’ll miss you dearly.

The gift mentioned was another necklace— a golden chain with a heart pendant on it, the color the same red as the envelopes you received. The necklace was stored with the rest of your gifts quickly, a shiver running down your body as you read the note attached to it— I hope to see you wearing this when we meet— for I will have one to match yours.

So, as much as you wished to give into Soobin’s flirting and sweet gestures, you knew you couldn’t; what you needed was to plan for your stalker’s return.

-♡♡♡-

“It doesn’t make sense,” you whisper to yourself, staring at the pictures laid out before you as you go over them once more, “How were these pictures taken? I don’t remember anyone being there.”

In the end, your attempts to make sense of everything were futile; your stalker covered up their tracks nicely. You were obsessive, ignoring the outside world around you once more as you received a postcard in the mail today— a bitter reminder that you weren’t out of the woods yet. The small postcard had been waiting for you when you woke up, your throat drying as you carefully picked it up— there were no addresses or stamps on it.

I’m finally home. I missed you so much, it felt great to be in front of your home again. I hope you slept well, my lovely.

When you first read the postcard, a wave of nausea washed over you; you almost fainted on the spot. They had been at your house while you were sleeping— they could have broken in if they wanted to. A shaky sigh escapes you, your body sweaty as you make your way to your laptop; if they had been here, then surely the cameras you set up must have caught it.

Biting at your lip, you scroll through the footage impatiently, eyes wide open as you wait for the person to appear— but nothing comes. It isn’t until you’re checking the time and date that you notice it— there’s footage missing.

Your hands are shaky as you go to three am— the last time the cameras were working— and watch as the timestamp skips to four am swiftly.

A whole hour of footage. Missing.

How did they get access to your footage? How did they find out about your hidden cameras? You had made sure to put them up from the inside, angling them to look outside so your stalker wouldn’t have been able to see you put them up. And yet, it didn’t work. They still found a way to get around the protection you set up. Shuddering, you feel the heavy dread form in your chest as you fight back the tears that prick at your eyes.

You’re not sure if you want to leave your home at all anymore.

-♡♡♡-

In the end, you force yourself to continue with your life— the constant texts and calls from your friends asking if you were okay becoming a bit too much. You didn’t go to class, you called off work, and you couldn’t bring yourself to leave your home anymore; you weren’t sure of what to do.

But the reminders from your stalker to keep your letters a secret forced you to continue as if nothing was happening; if any of your friends continued to pry, you’re not sure if you would be able to hold on to the truth much longer. Yeonjun was particularly persistent; constantly asking if the stalker had returned, if you needed him to come over, or if you wanted to stay over at his place. You were quick to deny it all each time, the piercing fear of seeing him hurt impeding you from saying a word. And in the end, it was just you, ready to take action on your own.

Your current plan was to go to the police— you would take Yeonjun and Beomgyu with you, using them as extra protection as you finally revealed to them everything that has been going on.

You knew you had more than enough evidence by now, and with the countless letters filled with threats you would be able to claim that you were in danger— maybe that would put more urgency on your case. It was going to be hard to track your stalker down, but the prospect of visiting the police station after work tonight was the only thing giving you hope.

“Are you feeling alright?” You knew you looked a mess right now, your suspicions only being confirmed as Soobin approached you, his lips in a pout as he observed you in worry, “you look tired.”

“It’s nothing,” you quickly shrugged off his concern, flashing him a bright smile as you tried to put on the perfect facade you’d been cultivating for the past months, “don’t worry about it.”

But Soobin remained unconvinced; He didn’t try to hide it either, attempting to make your shift easier by taking any workload off your shoulders, despite your constant protests. His affection was persistent, an unnerved feeling forming in your stomach the longer time passed. Maybe it was your horrid paranoia, but even the customers that came in seemed to leave you on edge, any passing look becoming a lingering stare, every smile becoming something more sinister.

By the time you were ready to go home, you were practically running to your car, unable to feel apologetic for the brief goodbye you gave Soobin— you were more than ready to go to the police station.

More than ready to finally get this awful secret off your chest.

Instinctively, you reached out to the passenger’s seat, expecting to feel the small box filled with evidence; only to feel nothing.

Fuck, you realize, letting out a frustrated groan as you smack your steering wheel, you forgot it at home. With a text to your friends to meet you at your home, you change course.

You make your way back home bitterly, angry that you had been so rushed to get to work that you forgot about the most important thing that could help your case. The sun had set an hour ago, the sky dark as every street was illuminated with streetlamps— yet even then, you couldn’t help the way your grip on the steering wheel tightened nervously.

Your phone buzzed— it was a text message. You glanced at it briefly, seeing Soobin’s contact name appear on your screen. Ignoring it, you continue driving, listening as your phone buzzes again— then again, and again, and again.

By now your body is tingling with anxiety, your palms clammy as you finally get the view of your house. You’re not sure why, but you’re urgent as you make your way inside, legs shaky as you grab your phone, reading all the text messages Soobin sent you.

Soobin:

I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable tonight.

I really care about you, you know.

I would never do anything to harm you.

I love you so much.

My lovely.

This is just a coincidence, your brain told you, fumbling with your doorknob as you stumbled inside, don’t jump to any conclusions.

But how could you not? It was impossible, his speech patterns the exact same as the ones used in the letters— like the very one you seemed to step on now, you realize horribly; your breathing becomes staggered.

You practically ripped the envelope as you opened the letter, going to your bedroom as you read the letter; you were going to leave through the back door, praying silently that your stalker wasn’t around to see.

But it seemed as though life had other plans, because as you finish the small message, you feel yourself freeze with fear.

I miss seeing you happy. I’m sorry I let you down.

Please don’t go to the police, I promise I’ll do better.

I’ll make you happy— I’ll fix things! Everything will be as it was before.

Just wait for me, okay?

See you soon, my lovely.

The box of evidence wasn’t where you left it— it was gone.

No matter how much you trashed your room and looked through every nook and cranny, your mind concluded that he must have gotten to it first. He must have known about your plan for a while now.

The box of evidence was no longer on your list of priorities, you decided. Your main priority now was to get out of the house.

Yet just as you were exiting your bedroom, the front door bursts open, and in comes the very person you were dreading to see the most.

“Stay back!” You scream, tears pricking at your eyes as you stumble back, arm flailing behind you as you reach for anything to help you defend yourself.

“___!” Soobin steps forward, but stops as you yell at him once more, your throat raw from the force as you try to not fall from the fear that shakes you. You’re trembling violently, the sight of the man behind it all causing you to panic like never before— your lungs burn, unable to breathe properly as you try to think of any way that you can stall.

“Please, listen to me!” Soobin, you’ve realized, looks just as panicked as you— his eyes are teary, chest heaving as his hands remain stretched out towards you; he’s treating you like a wounded animal, slowly attempting to step toward you; but with every step forward, you take many more back, eyes stuck on him as the fear of him doing something unpredictable prevents you from running away.

“Leave,” you say, panting wildly as you attempt to muster as much courage inside you as you can, “leave me the fuck alone!”

Your voice booms around the small living room, the man before you flinching from the sheer force of the scream that left you— your throat stings, and you’re sure that you’re not getting enough oxygen in your system as you struggle to calm down.

“___, please,” he begs again, stepping back as he attempts to speak to you, “I’m not trying to harm you, I swear! It wasn’t, I’m not the one who—“

Before you can attempt to dispute his sad attempts to redeem himself, he’s tackled to the floor, your friends bursting through the door as they take him by surprise— you’ve never been more thankful for them in your life.

But, as you guessed, Soobin didn’t come empty-handed— a pocket knife is pulled out of his pocket, and before any of you can react, he swings blindly; and slices cleanly on Beomgyu’s shoulder. The man winces, grabbing onto his shoulder as he grabs onto the wound— you can already see the blood seeping through the cracks of his fingers.

“Stay back, you sick bastards!”

You’ve never seen Soobin like this— wild and violent, eyes blown out as he threatens Yeonjun and Beomgyu with the weapon. He’s taking a step away from them, and your eyes widen as you watch him come to you. And it seems as though Yeonjun notices, because before you can stop him, he’s diving to disarm Soobin.

“Yeonjun, no!”

You’re not sure what took over you— maybe it was panic, seeing the way that Soobin quickly kicked your friend away, straddling him as he brought a rough punch to his face. Or maybe it was fear, watching as the man brought the knife back, ready to hurt Yeonjun without a second thought.

Or maybe it was anger, your clammy hands gripping your steel baseball bat tightly as you used up the rest of your strength to swing at your intruder.

He drops instantly— the knife clattering on your floor as you watch him fall back, landing on top of Yeonjun’s legs as you pant harshly, your breathing labored and mixed in with your heavy sobs as your bat follows shortly, clanging onto the ground.

It rolls slowly, dipping into the puddle of blood that is forming around Soobin’s head.

“No…”

Your eyes glance back at Soobin’s figure, catching onto the necklace that peeks out of his sweater— a golden chain with a deep, midnight blue heart pendant hanging from it.

“I didn’t…”

Soobin is on the floor— Soobin isn’t breathing either, and the bat that you used on him is laying by his side.

“I didn’t mean to…”

But it doesn’t matter if you meant to or not. Because as you collapse onto the floor, your vision spotting as your legs give in, this simple fact won’t change.

Soobin is dead.

And you killed him.

My baby’s got a gun, I better run!

My baby’s got a gun, it goes—

-♡♡♡-

“Do you think we were too harsh on her?”

The car ride is silent, your unconscious body slumped in the backseat of Yeonjun’s car as they make their way away from your town— Yeonjun frowns, listening to your restless stirring behind him; but you didn’t wake, your body too exhausted from the past month’s events as it tries to compensate your lack of sleep.

“A bit,” Beomgyu sighs, leaning his head back to rest against the seat as he watches the autumn leaves fall around him. Pouting, he reached into his pocket, pulling out a golden chain as he thumbed absentmindedly at the pendant attached, “but it’s okay— she’ll have us around.”

Yeonjun can’t help the way he feels a strange serenity wash over him; there would be no one else where you were going, no one to distract or stress you out as you took this time to heal; took the time to put yourself back together as you leaned on them for support.

And he knows Beomgyu feels the same— from the corner of his eye, he sees the way Beomgyu has read over his work with a satisfied smile, the messages sent through Soobin’s phone becoming the final piece they needed to get away with things.

“We still need to get rid of that god-awful body,” Beomgyu sneers, going through his mental checklist as he groans. It’s been an hour since they’d been driving, and he could almost feel his nausea growing stronger at the reminder of what remained in the car’s trunk.

“Not it,” Yeonjun quips, suppressing a smile at the way Beomgyu gawks at him. He laughs, the younger man shaking his head in disapproval at his words.

“If my arm wasn’t fucked up I’d punch you,” Beomgyu mutters, glancing back at Yeonjun as he added, “Add another bruise to that face.”

“Hey man, I didn’t actually expect him to fight back.”

Soobin had simply been another step in their deluded plan to get you to rely solely on them. They had let him in on the letters that had been sent to you, taking him with them on their way home to you— they made him believe you were in danger.

“This is sick,” he said in the backseat of Yeonjun’s car, unaware of what was coming for him as they led him to his demise, “I can’t believe someone would do this to her.”

“Well, it’s quite easy really,” Beomgyu had said, turning in his seat as he cast Soobin a mischievous grin, the car parked as he sent him a wink, “especially when she doesn’t suspect the ones she trusts the most.”

Beomgyu still feels the tingle of excitement that ran through his spine at Soobin’s reaction, the slow realization that dawned on his face as his jaw dropped; followed by his wide eyes, pupils flooded with horror as he rushed to get out of the car— and ran straight to your home.

“Poor thing thinks he can save her,” Beomgyu pouted, watching the way Soobin bursts in your door roughly— the crazed image he made for himself was unintentional, but perfect nonetheless. They had waited outside for a second, listening to the powerful boom of your voice as you tried to defend yourself; he remembers how he shivered in delight at the sound, finding your willpower to survive quite pleasant.

They had never meant for you to be the one to kill him— no, not one bit. If anything, the dirty work was meant to be done by Yeonjun, staged as an accident the moment he dove to tackle Soobin— the glint of his pocket knife appeared under the street lamps as he drove. But in the end, your small kick of adrenaline and instinct only helped them more— because at least now they wouldn’t have to justify their murder to you.

But you would.

Their image would remain pristine, and you would have to cling desperately to them as you begged them to not see you in a different light— to not see you as a killer.

They can hear your turmoil now as your toss and turn in your seat, sweat gleaming on your forehead as you mumble incoherently. You’re frowning, catching their attention as you begin to thrash around, your body distraught as you fight against the seatbelt— you wake up with a cry.

“___!” Beomgyu says, slipping into his pleasant facade as he reaches back for you, wincing at the exertion as he grabs your hand gently. “It’s okay, you’re okay.”

Your teary gaze clears as you feel the hot trails run down your cheeks, your vision finally clearing as you feel the firm hold of Beomgyu’s fingers lacing with yours— he gives you a gentle squeeze, holding back a groan of pain as he did so; your head snapped up at the realization.

“Gyu!” You say, taking off your seatbelt and scooting forward despite his protests, “you’re hurt, don’t move.”

“This? It’s nothing, I promise.” Beomgyu says, turning in his seat as he faces you. Reaching out, he cups your face, a fond smile on his own as he caresses your tear-stained cheeks comfortingly. “What matters now is that you’re safe.”

He can see the stress that lingers in your eyes, the fear not yet subsided as you finally take a look at your surroundings— you’re surrounded by nothing but trees, the area unfamiliar as Yeonjun pulls into an unknown driveway.

“Where…” The house is at the top of a mountain, placed next to a cliff as it gives way to a view of a small town far off— a town you didn’t recognize. “Where are we?”

“We’ll explain everything to you later,” Yeonjun says, parking the car as he finally glances back at you— you gasp, taking in his busted lip and the bruise on his face. “But right now, you need to rest. Beomgyu will stay with you.”

“But what about you?” You ask, reaching out to touch his face— your touch is like a feather, cautiously grazing over his injuries as you pull back in a panic the moment he winces.

“Gonna go pick up some things from the store,” he says, gesturing to the town that seems distant from the rest of you. It seems as though he catches the worry in your eyes, because he pats your head softly, pulling you in as he gently kisses your forehead. “Beomgyu will explain everything. I promise.”

You’re hesitant as Beomgyu leads you into this new home, unable to stop yourself from glancing back to where Yeonjun remains, his soft smile and wave goodbye all you get before he drives off— solemnly, you continue to watch until his car is out of sight.

“Where are we?” Your voice feels unfamiliar to you; soft and vulnerable, your body still shaky as you cling onto Beomgyu— yet you can’t help it, your mind preventing you from being alone for a second as the image of Soobin’s lifeless body is burned into your mind.

“It’s a cabin my family would rent out for vacations, though we don’t use it at all anymore…” Beomgyu explained, refraining from cooing at the way you stuck to him, grabbing onto his good arm tightly as you looked around wearily. “We’ll stay here while everything cools down.”

While everything cools down.

It seems as though his words seemed to trigger something in you; you no longer felt like yourself, the memories of everything flooding your mind as tears began to flow from you endlessly.

The letters were gone. All your evidence that could have justified what you did, gone. All that would be left was Soobin’s body, and a murderer on the run; you.

You weren’t a killer. You were only trying to defend yourself, but now no one would believe you, and all your efforts to win this battle would be thrown down the drain.

“I’m not…” you mumble out, your brain slipping deeper into this strange space that leaves you vulnerable, seeking comfort as you attempt to wipe at your tears uselessly, “I’m not a killer.”

Beomgyu rushed to your side swiftly; he encases you, kissing the top of your head softly as he reassures you, soft words like “I know,” and “It’s okay.” escaping his lips repeatedly.

“I was just trying to defend myself!” You cry out, the image of Soobin’s lifeless eyes breaking you down as your body shakes, gripping Beomgyu’s shirt as you try to shake the vision from your mind.

“I know,” Beomgyu says, pulling away as he cups your cheek. Tilting your head up, he looks at you, smiling softly at the way your eyes sparkle under the dim moonlight. You’re perfect, and his mind practically spins at the way your pouty lips beg to be kissed. So he gives in, inching in slowly until your eyes are fluttering shut, the tears that cling to your lashes grazing your cheekbones like diamonds as he finally allows his lips to press against yours.

How long has he waited for this? Beomgyu has lost track, but all he knows is that no one will ever be able to compare to you. Your lips are chapped and bitten at, but it’s still perfect to him as you whimper, the comfort of his pillowy lips on yours a perfect distraction as you pull him in closer. He can feel you crying still, your mind weak and shaken as you desperately seek protection.

You’re divine. The perfect delicacy for him to indulge in, his hunger never satiating for as long as he’s alive.

Pulling away, he gently smooths out your hair, eyes lidded as he slowly takes in your face; his thumbs wipe at your eyes gently, sweeping your tears away before they slowly caress your cheeks. Finally, he allows himself to graze your bottom lip, laughing softly at the shaky breath you let out. He’s unable to resist the temptation, leaning back in as he gives you another firm kiss, his desire and love laced so deeply in it that he’s sure you’ll know just how much he means his next words.

“I believe you.”

And for now, that’s all you need.

-♡♡♡-

The first week is impossible to get through.

Yeonjun and Beomgyu try to make it more bearable, constantly distracting you and trying to keep your mood up, but it’s all in vain. You spend your days staring out into the small town, sitting near the edge of the cliff as you imagine a life where everything was normal— where your nights weren’t filled with the same recurring nightmares.

In your dreams, you relived the same night over and over— your mind filled with vivid images of Soobin reaching out to you, pleading to not let him die as you watched the life drain from his eyes. He always appeared as the same sweet guy from work, not the crazed stalker that ruined your life. Then there were nights when he wouldn’t die, taking the bat from your hands and forcing you to watch as he killed your friends instead; they would call for help, reaching out to you as you remained frozen in place, at fault for their deaths instead as Soobin left you with the aftermath.

It was especially bad the first night. You couldn’t sleep, and you remained a sobbing and broken mess as Yeonjun held you close— in the end, you simply slept from the exhaustion of all your crying, the comfort of Yeonjun’s arms wrapped around you allowing your mind to rest for a second.

But it wasn’t long before you woke up once more.

You still feel horrible for the way your friends had to deal with your distressed state, their reassurance never-ending as you would try to convince them that you were innocent— and would try to convince yourself that you didn’t see Soobin every time you close your eyes.

By the third day, it became a routine— the two boys would take turns sleeping next to you as they comforted you all night.

It was under the covers where Beomgyu would sneak his kisses— peppering them all over your face as he promised you that you were safe, that nothing would ever come to hurt you— that it wasn’t your fault.

Those seemed to be the only times where you truly believed his words; his hold on you was so secure, his lips soft and filled with such love and adoration as he failed to keep his hands off you, your body indulging in this new type of distraction, mind racing with possibilities the longer you felt his touch.

But you never caved in— much to both of your disappointment.

By the end of the first week, you almost felt yourself getting a bit better; the nightmares weren’t as strong anymore, and you felt your appetite returning for the first time in a while.

You found solace in the cookbooks that had been collecting dust in the kitchen— “they were my mother’s,” Beomgyu had told you, the solemn look on his face as he stared at the books preventing you from prying more about his family. You no longer had your phone; it was long forgotten back at your old home, the two boys reassuring you that having your phone would only stress you out more— and you wholeheartedly agreed. You couldn’t even bring yourself to watch the news channel, much too afraid of what you might find as you opted to watch random shows instead, spending your time cooped up inside as the fall air around you grew colder.

That’s how you spent your days— going from cookbook to cookbook, trying out new recipes as you lost yourself in this new comfort.

The boys still had to go on with their lives; much to your discomfort, they would leave you sometimes, whether that be to attend classes or go to their new jobs in the town nearby. “We can’t let them suspect us,” they would remind you as you would cling to them, begging them to stay as they tried with little effort to pry you off— sometimes they would allow you to try to convince them, the sight of you begging and needy just too cute for them to ignore.

But you? You had been dead to the world for months. Your disappearance would be nothing new; if anything, the two men assured you that they made an excuse for you.

“Here,” Yeonjun said one day, handing you something you hadn’t expected— your phone. “Your parents keep asking me about you because you haven’t talked to them in a while. You should call them.”

It was embarrassing, the way you panicked at the prospect of talking to someone who wasn’t them— someone who didn’t know of the horrible thing you had done.

“What do I say!” You asked, exasperated as your finger hovered over your mother’s contact, “what have you told them?”

“That you’ve been busy, mostly,” he explains, leaning against the counter as he glances down into the oven— you were in the process of making muffins before he interrupted you.

“Just tell them you’re alright,” Yeonjun says, gently taking the phone from your hands before he called the number for you; you gasped, stiffening up as the sound of ringing filled the room, “maybe even tell her you won’t be using your phone much anymore.”

There was no way your mom would be convinced by that— right? Biting your lip with uncertainty, you can already feel your mind flooding with many different lies you could tell your parents; anything to get them off your back. If they were to continue looking for you, you’re sure they would be able to spot the guilt all over your face immediately.

What would they think of you? Your family would be so disappointed; their child, a killer. Even if you spent day after day convincing yourself otherwise, you knew that your parents wouldn’t see you in any other light— and that’s why your voice shook as you spoke with your mother.

“I’m okay,” you say, huddled up in the corner as you lean against the counter, biting your nail nervously, “just been busy.”

“I know that you don’t really visit us often, but even this is a bit much,” your mother sighs, and you can hear the commotion of her cooking on the line, “why haven’t you called? I heard about the awful disappearance that happened in your town, I was so worried when I heard about it. Are you okay? Is something going on—?”

“I moved!” You blurt out, eyes widening as you look at Yeonjun, his face as equally as surprised as your own. “That’s why I’ve been so busy…”

You’re not sure why you did that; you panicked, surely. But the regret from saying that sinks into you immediately as you hear your mother’s excited chatter on the other line, your head spinning from its attempts to keep up with her.

“Ohh, I should come to visit then! It’d be so nice, I’ve never really liked that old apartment of yours, it was so secluded. Especially now with that boy that went—“

“Please don’t visit— yet…” you try your best to seem casual as you reject her, her questioning growing tenfold as she begins asking why, “I’m not done setting up! I want you to see it once it’s done. This was supposed to be a surprise.”

Her apologetic voice is heard through the phone, and Yeonjun watches with amusement as you stumble over your words, reassuring her that it was okay, that you’d let her visit soon.

“My service is really bad here though,” you say, sending Yeonjun a glare as he chuckles at your words, “so if I don’t talk to you for a while… that’s why. I haven’t been using my phone much anyways.”

It’s endearing, watching the way you try to insist that you’re not making excuses— even if you actually are. But Yeonjun knows that if your parents were to come and visit one day, you would be quick to give in and tell them everything— and he really can’t have that happening. So he gestures to you to wrap it up, pointing to the muffins as you jump in surprise, seeing that the timer is about to run out. Your voice is meek as you say goodbye to your mother, wishing her the best as you try to not choke up— you’re not sure when you’ll talk to her again without the fear of your guilt making you slip up clouding your mind.

And as you hand your phone back to Yeonjun, telling him that you “really don’t need it,” you try to avoid his gaze as much as you can, focusing more on the muffins before you as you hold back tears.

Yeonjun smiles, watching you as you slowly take the hot tray out of the oven. He can tell that it hurts you to be isolated so much, but the darker, greedier part of him is happy to see how easily you cut ties with everyone.

It was certain now— no one would come looking for you.

-♡♡♡-

He’s there.

In the corner of your room, watching you with blank eyes— you swear he’s there. You’re shaking like a leaf as you back up in your bed, eyes widening as he steps into the light— Soobin smiles down gently at you.

“My lovely,” he says, in that same voice he would use whenever he would tell you to rest during your breaks; the same voice he used to win you over, even if it was just for a moment.

“How could you?” He asks, and you’re frantically getting out of bed as he takes a step forward— you fall, your feet entangled in the sheets as you’re tripped. The air is practically knocked out of your lungs, but you don’t care much as he rounds over to where you are, his lips turned to a pout as he rubs the back of his head.

“Why would you do this to me?”

His hand comes around, and you gasp as you look at the red substance that coats him— blood. It streams endlessly out of him, you realize, leaving a trail behind him as he attempts to reach out to you.

“No no no no,” you gasp, crawling back as you stumble to your feet, bolting out the door. You can hear Soobin calling out for you, the sound of his heavy footsteps echoing throughout the house as you try to figure out what to do. Soobin is dead, you know that much— so what was it that you were seeing now?

You can’t hide— you’ll be a sitting duck. You can’t run; you’ve never stepped a foot out of this house, never going as far as the backyard where the cliff was— the only thing around you for miles was a thick forest; You didn’t even know how to get to the nearby town.

You were stuck.

“Please,” you cry, your voice breaking as you watch Soobin finally appear at the entrance of the kitchen. You grab a knife, unsure of what else to do as you watch him closely. His eyes are looking at you, yet they’re oddly empty. He looks like a shell of a person, skin pale and veins peeking through as if he were translucent. His hair is matted and the trail of blood continues, like an endless stream.

“I didn’t mean to,” you say, holding out your knife in threat as he takes a slow step towards you, “please, leave me alone!”

He freezes, and you can’t help yourself as you shut your eyes, your head pounding harshly against your skull as the same fear as before enters your system. Taking a shaky breath, you open your eyes, surprised when you find no one there— not even the trail of blood.

“My lovely.”

Shrieking, you drop the knife, making a run for it as Soobin’s voice appears right beside you— you practically collapse in relief as you notice Yeonjun entering through the front door.

“Jun!” You yell out, rushing into his arms as he takes in your broken expression. You refuse to let go, nuzzling your face deep into your chest as you wet his sweater, “please, make him go away!”

Your words are unsettling— him? A glance around the house tells him that there’s no one else here, but he knows that you think otherwise.

“But there’s no one here,” Yeonjun gently says, pulling you away as he forces you to turn around, firm hands on your shoulders as he whispers for you to open your eyes. “See?”

Cautiously, you open your eyes— only to spot Soobin in the kitchen, leaning on the counter as he stares at you with a blank expression.

“Jun!” You cry out, and you can feel yourself slipping away as you cling onto him roughly, your mind doing its best to help you cope. You’re pulling him back, face still buried in his chest as you’re directing him towards the couch, walking backward until your knees collide with the furniture. Pulling him down with you, you ignore the sound of surprise that leaves him as he towers over you, arms on each side of your head as he tries to not fall on top of you.

You thought you were doing better— you all did, your restless nights ceasing as you were finally starting to find yourself again. But it all seemed to go down the drain, the sight of Soobin staring at you much too realistic as you shut your eyes again.

“Please make him go away,” you beg, pulling Yeonjun closer to you, his body obscuring your view as the sight of Soobin goes away— yet you can still hear him, the sounds of his disapproval reaching your ears as you shake your head uselessly.

“Make him go away?” Yeonjun asks, cupping your face as he leans closer to you. You look so fragile, and he hopes you can’t feel how quickly his heart is pounding as you continue to grab onto his sweater, “how?”

How?

Yeonjun can’t see what you see— that much is clear. What you need now is a distraction, your mind involuntarily going back to the nights spent with Beomgyu, nights where his arms wrapped around you and the feeling of his lips on yours was enough.

But Beomgyu wasn’t here.

Instead, you stare up at Yeonjun, observing him as you feel your heart slowly pumping faster— his pouty lips, his piercing eyes that stare down at you with such care and love that you wished you had realized it sooner.

He was always there for you— when you were sick, through your bad relationships, always there to care for you and pick you back up when things didn’t go right— he saved you.

You think of that night, of the way Yeonjun had been quick to jump at Soobin the second he noticed the man coming towards you. All those times when he put you first, spending time with you and caring for you in ways no one else could. Even now, as he waited for you to give him an answer, you knew that he’d follow your every command because he loved you.

The realization makes your head spin.

You feel vulnerable again, your mind on autopilot as you tug him closer— then closer, your lips brushing against his as you feel the way your brain begs for comfort, for someone to take care of you and protect you.

Recklessly, you pull him in, lips crashing against his and teeth knocking together as you grip his sweater, hoping he doesn’t notice the violent shake of your hands or the way your eyes are shut tight with fear.

In the corner of the room, you can still hear him, hear his protests and whines as you kiss the man before you, attempting to get him out of his shocked state as you carefully thread your fingers through his hair. And that seems to do it, and you feel Yeonjun jump into action as he places a hand on your waist, the other coming to place itself on the back of your head, pulling you deeper into his body.

You feel so small against him— you curl up against him, your frame clinging to him as he feels you still shake with fear.

“What do you see, baby?” He whispers against your lips, hands roaming over your body wildly as he attempts to hold himself back; but he can’t, years of standing to the side and waiting patiently manifesting itself into this desperate mess, a gross part of him hoping desperately that you’re vulnerable enough to give yourself to him.

You’re seeking protection from him— he knows this, and he was well aware of the different ways Beomgyu helped you cope; the jealousy that burned inside him lighting up once more as he pulled away, looking at your pretty lips and shining eyes that never seem to run out of tears.

“Soobin,” your voice is weak, trembling as you mention the man’s name, as if saying it out loud would bring him back to life. You’re traumatized, the memory of killing him still so fresh in your mind that your guilt has manifested itself in a new form; hallucinations.

“He’s not real darling,” the pet names slip from him effortlessly, and it takes him a second as he almost slips up, the term “my lovely” almost escaping him— who knows what kind of reaction you would have had to that.

“But I am,” carefully, he places your hand atop his heart, allowing you to feel the rapid beating that comes from his chest. He watches the way you stare at him, clearly avoiding a certain corner of the house as you sniffle softly. “It’s okay. It’s just us.”

“Make him leave,” you whisper, and he leans towards you, angling his body so it covers the spot you seemed to keep avoiding. He watches as you relax a bit, your hand pressing firmly on his chest as you focus on his beating heart instead. “Distract me.”

“Distract you?” He echoes, placing soft kisses all along your face— tracing along your cheeks, going up to your forehead, and down the bridge of your nose as he stops at your Cupid’s bow, unable to hide his smile at the way you whimper softly.

“How do I do that?”

It’s strange— you’ve never felt like this before; you’ve never thought of Yeonjun like this. But you need him now more than ever, your muddled mind seeking protection that he’s more than happy to offer to you; your stomach flutters with every brush of his lips against yours, and you can’t help the way your thighs squeeze tightly, the teasing laugh he gives you doing nothing to help the sensation.

“Please….” You whine, your hand that remained entangled in his blonde hair slowly tracing down, dipping shyly at his sweater as you felt the warmth of his skin underneath. “Touch me.”

Yeonjun has never had a harder time holding back.

His lips are back on yours, pulling you in so close to the point where you forget where he ends and you begin. The kiss is desperate and messy, the pace he sets for you hard to keep up with as you let him guide you; he’s biting softly at your lips, tongue tracing along them as he allows himself to tease you. You’re a mess, falling apart in his hold as you wrap your arms around his shoulders, shivering at the way you feel his hands play with the hem of your sweater.

“You’re perfect,” he mumbles, forced to pull away for air as he takes in your face; your wide eyes, lips swollen and shiny as you pant, unable to look away from him as you find yourself pulling him in for more.

He’s addicted, pulling at your clothes as you allow him to undress you, eyes hungry as he takes everything in— you only seem to grow needier by the second, allow him to lay you on the couch as you stare up at him in anticipation.

Then Soobin appears again.

“Junnie,” you whimper, slapping your hands over your eyes at the horrible sight— Soobin smiled at you, turning his head as he allowed you to see the damage you had done to him; the wound in his head so graphic that your stomach lurched with fear instead of pleasure.

Yeonjun picks up on your distraught state immediately— hovering over you, he gently pries your hands away, kissing your face softly as he encourages you to open your eyes; the sight of Yeonjun’s comforting smile is all you’re met with.

“Come here,” he says, putting your sweater back on as he helps you stand— you don’t say much, allowing him to lead you away from the living room as you keep your face buried in Yeonjun’s arm— Soobin’s light whispers follow you from a distance.

It isn’t until you’re laying back in bed that you finally summon the courage to look at him, the weight on the bed disappearing as you watch him search for something in his closet; he turns back around, a scarf in his hands as he smiles at you.

“Do you trust me?”

You flushed in realization at his words, taking a second to think about it— but you gave in, watching the way his eyes darkened, your body shivering as he took slow steps towards you; the room finally fell silent. Gently, he takes your sweater off— you feel shy under his gaze, his eyes so intense as he takes you in once more, sweeping down to look at the shorts you wore; the same shorts that always tempted him, bunched at your thighs innocently.

Brushing your hair back, he plants a gentle kiss on your head, bringing the thin fabric up as he finally covers your eyes— it’s tight enough so that it won’t slip off, your vision taken away as the sounds around you are all that’s left.

You listen to the wind outside— the leaves that rustle, the sounds of the heater turning on as the room is slowly flooded with warmth. But most importantly, you pay attention to Yeonjun, on edge as you listen to his soft breaths— you’re not sure how close he is now, or what he might be doing as you wait patiently.

Goosebumps rise along your skin— Yeonjun gently caresses your arm. Slowly, he takes your hand, bringing it up until you feel the softness of his lips press along your skin, giving you a soft kiss. Then another. And another, trailing up your arm as you shiver, the feeling of his breath on your skin and the addicting feeling of his lips making you reach out to grab something— you jump as you feel his hand encase yours, fingers lacing as he keeps it close to him.

His hair brushes along your cheek— the hot trail his tongue leaves on your neck draws out a small whine from you, his actions mischievous as his teeth bite at you teasingly, lips sucking as he takes note of what makes you squirm under him.

You’re leaning back, your body coming in contact with the mattress as your legs are left hanging, the feeling of Yeonjun gently prying your thighs apart as he stands between them making you tense.

In the dark corners of your mind, you hear him again— hear his complaints, his insults, and questions that attempt to draw back the guilt that threatens to ruin you— but you refuse to give in.

“Yeonjun,” your whine is immediately silenced, Yeonjun’s breath fanning across your face as his pouty lips graze yours. He understands what you want to tell him, but he won’t let you dwell on it any longer as his fingertips play with the waistband of your shorts, his head dipping into the valley of your breasts as he leaves a trail of kisses.

“Think of me,” he says, hushing your cries as he slowly pulls down your shorts, your panties being dragged along with them as the material brushes against your skin, unable to stop the way you shift nervously.

His hands are running along your thighs— they’re soft and warm, your hips jumping as you feel his breath fan on your stomach, a teasing kiss left just above your mound before you feel him trail down more.

“Think only of me.”

Yeonjun’s tongue is hot against your pussy— he’s licking a stipe along your folds, circling your clit teasingly as an unabashed moan escapes him; the sound of your own follows shortly. You’re like his own ambrosia, addicting and sweet as he doesn’t bother slowing down for you— why would he, when you’re taking him so well?

The image of Yeonjun in between your thighs is all you can think about. The sound of his moans and the depraved wetness that escapes you is all you can hear, your mind filled with nothing but Yeonjun as his lips encase your clit, sucking softly as his tongue licks over the bundle of nerves.

You can think only of him.

Without realizing it, your hands fly down to grip his hair, hips jumping up as you push his face against you harder— his nose bumps against your clit, a groan escaping him as he lets you ride his tongue the way you please. His hair brushes against your inner thighs, the ticklish sensation only making you more sensitive as you feel his tongue lap at you; taking everything you provide him, sucking at your pussy like a starved man.

He’s eager to hear the sounds you make, amused at the way your thighs clamp against his head at the stimulation. It’s dirty, his saliva mixing with your arousal as the wet sounds of your cunt fill the room, his eagerness to bring you to your high evident in his actions. His tongue teases at your entrance, his fingers circling your clit slowly as you whine for more. With a gasp, you throw your head back as he finally breaches inside, nose rubbing against your pussy as he loses himself in you.

You then feel a kiss along the valley of your breasts.

“Did I scare you, darling?”

You can only let out a depraved whine as you recognize the voice, clenching around Yeonjun’s tongue as the realization that Beomgyu has been watching dawns on you. With one hand still laced deeply in Yeonjun’s hair, the other reaches out blindly towards the sound of Beomgyu’s voice, landing hesitantly on his cheek. He chuckles, placing his hand on top of yours as he turns to kiss your palm, his other hand running down your body slowly; you shiver, feeling his nails scratching gently along your skin, stopping just at your naval.

You hear Beomgyu hum in approval, your body burning as you feel the coil in your stomach grow tighter. Beomgyu is above you, and you can feel the mattress dip as Beomgyu hovers over your lips, his voice quiet and dangerous as he speaks to you.

“What’s wrong, darling?” He asks, taking in the way you moan as you feel his hand continue to travel— beginning to rub at your clit as Yeonjun continues to fuck you with his tongue. The pad of his fingers are rough, but it’s nothing you can bring yourself to care about as he traps your bottom lip in his teeth, pulling softly as he chuckles meanly at you.

“Were my kisses not enough? Does our needy baby want more?”

You’re nodding along to his words, hips riding against Yeonjun’s face as your grip on his hair tightens more— he hisses, the sting in his scalp doing nothing to hinder his actions as his hands find purchase on your hips; his nails dig into the plush skin, pulling you against him more as he enjoys the surprised yelp you let out.

“Greedy girl, not being able to live without us,” Beomgyu says, his breath ticklish against your neck as he continues to tease you. His mouth is slowly trailing down, leaving kisses and sucking softly as a trail of marks is left behind— the thought of making you his plagues him.

“What would you do without us?” He asks, watching the way you shake under him— he can tell your mind isn’t truly there, your voice becoming louder as the coil in your stomach tightens; you’re dangerously close, the man’s words only bringing you more to the edge.

“You need us.”

Your mind blanks, mouth falling open as the coil finally snaps— his words echo in your head, your brain dumbly agreeing with him as you ride out your orgasm, the feeling of Yeonjun’s tongue cleaning you up making you cry out softly.

“Tastes so good, you’re perfect,” Yeonjun says, his voice suddenly closer as his hands remain at your waist affectionately. Before you can react, his lips are against yours, tongue prying you open as you taste yourself, the kiss harsh and messy as you feel drool begin to gather along the corners of your lips.

Beomgyu seems quick to catch onto your stupefied state—you’re vulnerable, the result of your restless mind forcing you to find comfort in whatever you could as the guilt continues to eat you from the inside; without them there to distract you, you’d fall apart.

“I need you,” you whimper quietly, your mind straying as you feel the reality of your situation beginning to creep up on you once more; you push it away, sinking deeper into this vulnerable state of yours as you seek to rely on their touch to lead you to somewhere so, so much better.

Your words are like music to their ears— it takes all their willpower to not lose control and fuck you senseless— because for once, you are coming to them. You’re the one begging desperately for their attention.

Your thighs are quickly pushed apart; you’re not sure who it is that’s positioned in between your legs, your hands reaching out uncertainty before they’re locked together, raised above your head and pinned by another set of hands— the room is silent, save for the pleasured sighs and gasps that leave your lips.

They’re teasing you. The realization strikes you as you feel fingers teasing along your entrance, stretching you open once more as they wait for you to break and beg for more— you’re not entirely sure of who it might be.

His hands are rough— grabbing your hips with a tight grip, cock head poking at your entrance teasingly as he barely pushes in, thrusting inside just enough to feel you squeeze around him before he’s pulling back out— it barely takes a second before you’re crying for him to stop with the teasing.

His hips move like water; rolling into yours, exploring how you feel as he bottoms out, a small groan escaping him as you piece together who’s above you— Yeonjun. His hands are smooth and soft as they grip onto your skin, panting breaths fanning above you as you feel the way he struggles to remain patient, your soft whines and the tight way you squeeze around him driving him mad.

“Yeonjun.”

His patience breaks.

He’s fucking you deliciously, hips snapping against yours as you feel the weight of his arms cage your head, the bed dipping in as reckless moans and groans leave his mouth. You’re no better than him, calling out his name as you wish to touch him, legs wrapping around his waist as you’re pulling him in, pushing him in deeper as your hips begin to move on their own accord.

You’re better than any dream he’s had; any fantasy, the nights where he could only think of making you his, wanting to bend you over the counter whenever he watched you cook— all those dirty thoughts that plagued him with guilt, all those times where he felt disgusting after he could only come from dreaming of the day he would fuck the obliviousness out of you— nothing compared to this.

You lay under him, flushed and sweaty as your mouth hung open, lips bruised and bitten at as drool slightly escaped you— you were too fucked out to care or notice. Unable to resist himself, he leans down, capturing your lips once more as he feels the way you squeeze around him, pulling him in more as your body begins to become more sensitive to him— the feeling bringing out another groan from him.

It feels warm— Yeonjun’s breath on your neck as he slowly grinds into you, a breathless whimper the only thing you can muster as you feel your body tighten up, waves of pleasure crashing onto your as you clench on his cock; the feeling of him grinding against you, his hot cum spurting inside you makes you dizzy for a second.

He’s off of you instantly. You’re left in confusion, twitching pathetically as shocks of pleasure continue to ignite inside you— then, you’re being filled again.

“That was so mean of you,” Beomgyu pouts, leisurely thrusting against you as he listens to your cries; he’s not as long as Yeonjun, but he’s girthier, the stretch catching you by surprise as your walls clench around him. It’s messy, the room filling with wet sounds as Beomgyu continues to fuck Yeonjun’s cum into you, grinning wolfishly at the way you squirm under his ministrations. He leans down so he’s in front of your face, nose rubbing against yours as he speaks quietly.

“Making me watch another man fuck you,” his voice is low and cruel, his fingers finding your clit as you jump at the with stimulation— Yeonjun has your hands clasped tightly in his now, watching with amusement as you attempt to break free from his hold, only to hold on to him desperately in the end.

“You can take what I give you, right?”

Beomgyu’s pace is brutal. His finger rubbed in circles on your clit, hips snapping against yours as he drinks in the way your overstimulated cunt still seems to beg for more; as he drinks in your desperate calls of his name.

It’s insane, the way cum is leaking out of you as Beomgyu’s hips stutter, the feeling of him finishing inside of you bringing you to your climax soon after; you’re shaking, a fucked out mess as you cry out Beomgyu’s name, the said man pulling you in for a slow kiss as his hips press deeply against yours.

“Good girl. You’re perfect.”

Praise leaves their lips like a constant waterfall— it’s like they worship you.

Your mind panics for a second, getting reminded of the sick content of your letters— of the endless praise, the way you were described as a god in their eyes. But even if the thought is alarming, you’re too weak to do anything, your body limp as you have no other choice but to trust the two men to take care of you— the blindfold comes off slowly.

A wet rag is swiped across your legs, cleaning up the sticky mess of cum that continues to leak through— slowly, you open your eyes, coming face to face with the man you’ve considered a friend for half your life— Yeonjun smiles at you.

And your heart flutters.

You’re not sure how you’ll deal with these newfound feelings— especially when they can’t seem to keep their lips off yours for even a second, seemingly not minding the fact that they’ll have to share you. It’s overwhelming, but your tired body and stressed mind don’t want to dwell on it— you’d much rather focus on the way they treat you like a gem, coddling you as they help you fall asleep.

You sleep perfectly throughout the whole night, protected from all danger in the safety of their arms.

-♡♡♡-

It’s not fun to cook the same dishes over and over.

You’ve seen everything on television— your room feels so stuffy, and the books that the boys acquired are not interesting at all to you as you spend your days staring out the window, at the winter scenery and the mountain that separates you and the rest of the world.

It’s such a quaint town in the distance.

What are the people that live there like? Are they friendly, or were they more reserved? Did they have a strong sense of community? Were they kept up with current events? How far would you have to walk to get there?

“You don’t deserve to leave this place,” the same voice as always spits out, venom laced deeply in its tone as it mixes with the deep self-hatred you’ve come to acquire for yourself, “Killer.”

It’s like Soobin never died— if anything, he simply returned to haunt you, the visions of him appearing randomly as his voice rings out in your head; sometimes, if you were feeling extra guilty, he would appear in his cute and proper uniform, ever the gentleman as he reminded you of how good he was to you before you discovered the truth— of how caring he had been.

“Did you ever hear me admit to it?” His phantom would ask, tilting his head cutely at you as you would try to ignore him, stirring the mixture in your hands with more force, “don’t you ever wonder what I was trying to tell you? You’re so cruel.”

He wasn’t real. Those three words repeated themselves like a prayer in your mind every day, unable to even look up from what you were doing the moment you would hear his voice— it was like he froze you, the guilt and fear piercing as you remembered what it felt to strike him against the head, the memory of your floor being stained with blood seared into your mind.

You looked out the window whenever Soobin would appear.

In your mind, you weren’t in an isolated cabin, on the run as you avoided being seen as a killer— by your friends, by your family, everyone. No, instead of being trapped here, you were in a new town, free to explore and wander as you took in the sights, the winter chill creeping around as you took breaks in a coffee shop, drinking warm drinks as you stared outside— maybe even at the falling snow.

You glance at the time.

Yeonjun and Beomgyu would be in their classes right now— they wouldn’t be back for a few hours.

A trip down there couldn’t possibly be that long, right?

You’ve never brought up the idea of visiting the nearby town to them— much less on your own. But you can’t help the excitement that bubbles inside you, slipping on a warm winter jacket as you put on some boots— it had snowed a bit a couple of nights before.

“You don’t deserve to be happy,” Soobin sneers, the pure manifestation of your guilt as he appears behind you in the mirror. You avert your gaze, staring down at your feet as you say nothing— the sounds of his footsteps follow you to the entrance.

“They’ll realize it’s you,” he whispers, suddenly closer than he was before as you slip on your shoes, grabbing a mask for safety precautions— you’re shaky, unable to tie your laces as you attempt to block him out, “they’ll find out you’re a killer on the run.”

“I’m not a killer,” you whisper firmly to yourself, remembering the pain and fear he caused you— he ruined your life; you simply returned the favor. Opening the door, you inhale the frosty air entering your lungs as you block out Soobin’s cruel whispers. Exhaling, you close your eyes, stepping out as you feel the crunch of the snow under your feet.

“I’m not.”

-♡♡♡-

Okay, you think to yourself, hands clammy and stuffed in your pockets as you glance around your environment, throat drying from anxiety, this was a horrible idea.

Why did you think this was actually a good idea? Huffing, you watch your breath come out in a smokey fog, your body shaking as the air gets colder— you tried to follow the path that seemed to go down to the city, but at some point, it just… disappeared.

You’d think that with the way the two boys would go to and from with ease that a clear road would be put in place. But you were proved wrong, the many faded dirt trails leaving you to stand still with uncertainty as you wonder if you should just go back instead; if you knew where you came from, that is.

Maybe it was the way time bled together at this point, days dripping into weeks like molasses as you found it harder to concentrate on your surroundings, your brain going on autopilot as you daydreamed instead— and it seemed like this was one of those times.

Did you take a turn? You’re surrounded by nothing but trees, compact and looming over you as they hide the sun, the last rays of light peeking through the leaves and branches as a way to warn you to pick your path and go; maybe you would make it home okay.

Hastily, you turn around, assuming that you were making your way back in the direction you came in; your steps are hesitant as you take in the vast scenery in front of you. Moments later, you see your cabin in the distance— a very far distance. Gulping, you begin to shake as you see how dark the night has become; the idea of walking alone in such a secluded forest makes you shake.

This was a bad, bad idea.

Oh god, you think, anxiety flooding you cruelly as you begin to panic, why would you do something like this?

You should’ve just stayed at home with the boys— it’s the only place where you’re truly safe.

Shifting nervously, you begin to pace back and forth, biting at your lips as you try to find the courage to keep walking— but you simply can’t. It’s like you’re stuck in place, not wanting to venture further in fear of what you might encounter. Just when you begin to doubt whether you’re going in the right direction, you hear the sharp call of your name, freezing involuntarily as harsh footsteps make their way to you.

“___!”

Beomgyu grabs your arm roughly. Shocked, you attempt to pull away, only to be pulled closer as you quickly find Yeonjun next to him, staring down at you with an unfamiliar look— anger? Disapproval? Panic? You shiver, eyes flicking nervously between the two as they pull you along the dirt path.

“You had us so worried!” Beomgyu says, pulling you along in a panic— you realize that Yeonjun’s car is parked right there, bright headlights on and the doors left ajar as they lead you inside. You’re caught off guard by the sheer force they use on you, stumbling on the road as you land unceremoniously on the leather seat of the car. Clearing your throat, you attempt to apologize, but are quickly shut down as Yeonjun sends you a sharp look.

“You disappeared without a trace!” Yeonjun says, brows furrowed as he turned in the seat to look at you, “You were gone for hours! Didn’t even leave a single note! How could you?”

Your stomach lurches involuntarily.

“I just— I don’t know what I was thinking,” you feel small, the fear of being lost finally sinking in under the pressure of their sharp glares, “I wanted to go visit the town nearby.”

It feels stupid to say it out loud— even more so when they shoot you an incredulous look, locking the doors as they make their way along the path; you notice that you were about to go down the wrong one.

“The town? Are you crazy?” It hurts to hear Yeonjun say that to you, especially with the way rage seems to seep off his tone. You had him worried, afraid that you had been trying to escape— only to find out that you had become a bit too open to the thought of moving on with your life. “Remember why we’re here, ___.”

His words feel like a stab through your heart.

“Remember why you’re here,” Soobin’s voice whispers lowly to you, the trees all a blur as the road before you becomes unrecognizable— you still have no idea how to get back to your cabin, let alone leave it.

You dragged them into this, your mind tells you, blocking out the sounds of their worried scoldings— you’re not sure if you can handle more reminders of your situation— they’re just trying to protect you.

But it’s a headache, spending day after day cooped up in the cabin, the place you once saw as a sanctuary quickly becoming no better than a prison; you simply wished for nothing more than to spend a day feeling normal, as you had once before.

It isn’t long before you’re pulling into the cabin’s driveway, the tight hold that Beomgyu and Yeonjun have on each of your elbows almost reminding you of prison guards preventing a prisoner from escaping.

-♡♡♡-

“She looks so cute when she’s concentrating.”

Yeonjun hums in agreement, peeking over Beomgyu’s computer to watch the way you carefully decorate your cupcakes, a frown overtaking your face from time to time— it’s cute to watch you talk to yourself, pacing around the kitchen as if you were arguing with someone.

“I didn’t think his death would take such a toll on her,” Yeonjun comments, observing the way you clap your hands over your ears, eyes shut tight as you shake your head in denial, quickly stalking out of the kitchen and running back to your room— their hearts flutter sickly as they notice the way you curl up, the plushies they got you pressed tightly against your chest.

“She must be feeling so guilty,” Beomgyu breathes out, in awe at the way you nuzzle tiredly into his pillow, “such an angel.”

Watching you carefully, he wishes nothing more than to comfort you and fuck you stupid while you hug your stuffed animal for support— but he pushes the thought aside, looking away from the scene and at the television that was currently on the news channel.

Any search for Soobin had died down; with no evidence of his whereabouts, the police investigation quickly dwindled until it was no more— it was satisfying to watch the way the boy’s name slowly faded from everyone’s mouths, from everyone’s mind.

Soobin’s body currently resided in the woods by the cabin, decomposed and disfigured beyond recognition— Beomgyu watched with bored eyes as Yeonjun followed his every instruction the day it happened, the ugly scar on his skin and stitches he needed from the wound only adding more to the satisfaction of it all. It gave the two a sick sense of pleasure, knowing just how easily they were able to sabotage your life, turning it upside down in a matter of months as you learned to rely solely on them— as your heart turned to them for comfort.

Your little surge of courage brought about a realization between the two; one wrong move and everything falls apart. If you had been trying to escape that night they found you in the woods, they’re not sure what they would succumb to in order of keeping you with them— safe and sound, of course.

So, in favor of keeping an eye on you again, they installed cameras in the cabin while you were sleeping— so while they were away, making sure that no one would catch onto the way the two men no longer lived at their old town the moment Soobin disappeared, they could still keep a close eye on you.

Just to make sure you wouldn’t attempt anything stupid like that again— they didn’t want to lose you.

-♡♡♡-

The front door is mocking you. These windows are nothing but a pretty decoration— you’re like a bird in a cage, forbidden to go outside and be part of a normal world once more.

You’re not dumb— they’re watching you.

It was strange, the way your fear soon transformed into rage, angry at the way they were allowed to live their lives while you were forced to disappear from the face of the Earth— the cameras they set up only served as a further way to degrade you.

You’re not sure when you first noticed them— maybe it was instinct, glancing up to the high kitchen cabinets, looking past all the clutter and into the dark corner; straight into the lens of a camera. You’re sure this has to do with your attempt to leave days ago, because the very next day, you were told sternly by the two boys that you should never leave this cabin— under no circumstances.

At first, you justified it as them being afraid that you would leave again, getting lost and being left in the woods alone and in danger; another measure put in to protect you.

But it didn’t take long before you began to resent them— how dare they leave you alone every day, allowing themselves to indulge in the last bits of normalcy they had while you rotted in this cabin? Was it any better than being discovered as Soobin’s killer? All activities you once did to make the time pass quickly became a joke to you; it was like you were a child, being kept complacent while they left to live their lives as they pleased.

“Look at you, so ungrateful,” Soobin would mock you, the grotesque scene of his injured figure still accompanying you in your daily life as you were forced to cope with it on your own— another thing you would begin to resent the two boys for, “turning against the people who help you— what, will you kill them too?”

You would never do that.

Instead, you hid.

You hid from their sight throughout the few hours they decided to come back to you, annoying them to no end as you refused to make even a sound— not even their cameras could help them now, learning their blind spots as you snuck around.

“___!” Beomgyu’s frustration was evident in his voice, the light of every room in the cabin turning on as he continued his search for you— Yeonjun wandered outside, phone flashlight aiming around as he looked for a hint of where you might be. They knew you did this to spite them, your petty actions annoying them to no end as they tried to explain to you repeatedly that everything they did was for your own good— that everything would be back to normal soon.

But how long would that be? You’re not sure how much time has passed, your mind spiraled too long ago to keep track. Watching the two boys numbly from afar, hands shoved in your winter coat as you hide in behind the trees, your eyes narrowed as you listen to their desperate calls for your name.

“___, what are you doing there?” Yeonjun’s voice is defeated as the bright light of his phone is aimed directly at you, watching tiredly as you flinch under the sudden spotlight. It isn’t long before you’re being dragged back inside, your protests and pouts falling on deaf ears as the warmth of the cabin hits you full force.

“Can’t you see? All I want is to feel like a normal human being again! It’s like you’re holding me hostage here!” Your complaints quickly go quiet as you take in the way Beomgyu looks at you, leaning against the kitchen counter as his arms are crossed over his chest— he’s holding something, but you’re unsure of what it is as it’s tucked underneath his arm. It’s his stare that silences you— dangerous, a calm rage as he takes in what you just said with a slow nod.

“Everything we do is for you,” Beomgyu says quietly, your throat drying as you take in the way they both practically glare at you— they’re sick of you playing games with them, avoiding them despite their efforts to keep you safe, to keep you as theirs.

“Do you think it’s easy to leave you here alone? Hmm? To think that someone might catch on and figure out just who,” Beomgyu tilts his head, brows rising as he watches the way your lips quiver at the anticipation of his words, “Killed Soobin?”

“You know I never meant to—“

“Of course,” It’s Yeonjun that speaks this time, gaze cold as you meet his eyes, face devoid of any emotion as he gives you a light push towards Beomgyu, “but it happened anyway.”

It happened anyway.

Beomgyu straightens up, your gaze weary as you watch him drop his hands to his sides— a collar is revealed.

Your stomach twists in alarm at the sight, attempting to take a step back before you’re colliding with Yeonjun’s chest— looking back, he simply raises a brow as you, a mocking twitch of his lips all he shows before he’s snaking his arms around your own, pressing them down at your sides— you’re trapped flush against him.

“If you didn’t want to be alone, that’s all you had to say,” Beomgyu says quietly, eyes lidded as he slips the collar around your neck— it’s a simple silver band with a small ball hanging from it, the metal cold against your skin, your eyes widening as you hear a snap at the back— you realize with horror that he locked it— the mischievous smile he gives you only confirms your suspicions, followed by the special key that’s dangles mockingly in your face.

“One of us will stay with you darling,” Beomgyu grins, and you can’t hide the way his words only serve to enrage you, the peck he places on your lips doing nothing to wash away the humiliation you feel.

You’re walking away the moment Yeonjun lets go of you, only to come to a horrible realization as you tug uselessly at your collar. It wasn’t a ball hanging from your necklace— it was a bell.

Cooped up in your room for the rest of the night, you realize miserably that you’ve become nothing more than a pet to them, the decoration around your neck serving as a way for them to keep track of your whereabouts. It jingles as you shift restlessly on your bed, anger lighting in your veins as you begin to resent them for their behavior.

But unfortunately for them, you’ve only just begun to fight.

-♡♡♡-

Something has changed.

Since when did seeing Beomgyu resting on the couch fill you with such dread? Why do the walls around you seem to be closing in on you much more every time you look at him?

Maybe it was the fact that looking at him reminded you of the one thing you could never have again— a normal life. Because as much as he coddled you, reassuring you that everything would be okay and that no one would find out, you knew that nothing would ever go back to how it was before. It seems that your brain has finally caught up, the dense fog of fear that clouded your mind clearing up as you realize that no matter how much they told you that it was all in the past, you would never forget.

“Come here, darling.”

It was impossible to hide from them, the bell that hung delicately on your neck giving away your whereabouts with every movement you made; even when you clasped your hands tightly around it, when you remained quiet and found a new hiding spot, they always seemed to find you with ease— it began to unnerve you, keeping you on edge every time they would call for you.

Beomgyu takes your hands as you land on his lap, straddling him as your hands find themselves on his chest for support. He smiles fondly at you, his hair tickling your neck softly as he begins to trail kisses along the column of your neck, arms wrapping themselves around your waist as he pulls you in.

“You look bored,” he mumbled against your skin, noting the way you stay silent, refusing to give him a reaction as he nips softly at your neck, “we should do something about it, don’t you think?

“I want to visit the town nearby,” you blurt out, feeling the way his hands go rigid on your body. His breath that fans your skin is all you feel from him, lips withdrawn as he takes in your words, “It’s suffocating in here.”

You’ve hit a nerve, you realize, watching the way he slowly straightens up, eyes hardened as his brow quirks mockingly. Attempting to hold your ground, you don’t look away, unable to hold back the way you gulp from the tension that fills the room.

“Really? You’re still on this?” Beomgyu says, straightening up as he swiftly begins to loom over you; you shrink under his hard gaze. “I don’t think you understand, ___; there’s a reason why we don’t want you to go.”

“And why is that?” You ask, attempting to keep your voice stern as you frown at his words; it’s not working, your unfazed act falling apart the longer he looks at you. You can feel your resolve shaking, the need to back down and leave subtly itching at your mind.

“Do you really think you could handle something like that? Being surrounded by so many strangers? You can barely handle being alone.” It’s not what you expected, and it feels like a slap in the face to have him remind you of your weaknesses in such a way. Roughly, you push away from him and stand, unable to defend yourself as he watches quietly— the worst part is that he’s right. How could you handle going to public places when months ago you could barely step out your front door? Your brain still feels like it’s in danger, constantly on edge and only getting worse at this new change in behavior that the two men have exhibited; but that only makes you want to leave more.

It’s sick, but Beomgyu almost begins to enjoy the way you fight back tears; he thinks you look cute as you try to seem strong, to seem as if you’re not ready to fall apart at the seams. As he watches you walk away, biting back a smile at the small jingling that comes from your every step, he knows that it won’t be long before you try to do something reckless again. But this new curiosity you’ve gained, constantly asking to go out, to leave, only gives Beomgyu more motivation to try harder.

Maybe, if you’re broken again, he can make sure that when you’re put back together, you’re perfect.

-♡♡♡-

Yeonjun has been your friend for years; surely, he’ll have a soft spot for you— right?

“Yeonjunnie,” you mumble, sneaking up behind where he sits as you rest your chin on his shoulder, peeking at his computer screen to see what he’s working on. Your voice is sweet as candy, hands wandering down his shoulders and to the expanse of his chest as you feel him tense under you. You’re whiny, calling out his name until he finally gives in to you.

“I’m so bored,” you sigh out, burrowing your face in his neck and leaning onto him as you hear the smooth rumble of his chuckles underneath you. Going around the couch, you lay down, head landing on his lap as you interrupt his work— he sighs, putting his laptop to the side before he’s looking down at you, a fond smile on his face as he plays with your hair gently.

“Well, what do you want to do?” Your clinginess is welcomed, you notice, the drastic change from your usual bratty behavior not being a rare sight. You hate to admit it, but you can’t bring yourself to hold grudges against these two when they’re all you have.

“Could we go on a walk?” You ask, eyes full of hope as you look up at him, “Just us?… Please?”

Yeonjun simply rolls his eyes at your question. You’re stumped knowing that he’s getting ready to lecture you by the way he sits up, tugging you up with him as you pout solemnly. Running a hand through his hair, he shakes his head, a disappointed sigh escaping his lips as he looks at you.

“___, what’s going on?” He says, watching the way you’re fiddling with your hands nervously. He’s irritated, the way his eyes are filled with anger unnerving you as you glance at the door behind him. “You’ve been asking Beomgyu the same thing too. Can’t you see that you can’t leave?”

“Why?” You say, standing up abruptly as Yeonjun watches you closely. You’re shifting on your feet, mind racing as you try to remember if the door is locked; you try to not make your constant glances at the door obvious.

“You keep me trapped here, I can’t even step outside for a second!” You yell, stepping back the moment Yeonjun also stands.

“It’s like you’re keeping me trapped, I—“ you pause, gulping as you take in the way Yeonjun is looking at you— it’s unfamiliar, this glint in his eye that tells you that he knows something you don’t. That even if you continue to struggle it doesn’t matter— he’s already won.

“You’re hiding something,” you whisper, palms sweaty as he tilts his head curiously at your words, “There’s something else, isn’t there?”

Yeonjun hums, his voice low as he fights back a smile.

“Where were you the night Soobin ‘disappeared’?” Yeonjun asks, his tone mocking as he speaks. Snapping, his face lightens in realization, “oh, right!”

“You were the last person who saw him. You were working with him, so of course, there will be footage of that,” he frowns, placing a hand on his chin as he pouts, “Then he went missing. As a matter of fact, you did too. Those text messages you told me about wouldn’t help your case much either.”

You shake your head, eyes widening in disbelief as it all starts to click.

“They’re looking for you, ___,” Yeonjun says, watching the way you shake your head in denial,

“Soobin’s killer.”

Your mind is muddled and panicked as you push Yeonjun with all your might, catching him off guard as you bolt to the door; the only thing on your mind is the need to leave, to get fresh air for a second.

Yeonjun is quick to go after you— but it doesn’t matter, your clammy hands manage to open the door as you bolt outside, sock-clad feet coming in contact with the snow as you run out carelessly. You can hear Yeonjun calling after you, your adrenaline only causing you to push harder as you run into the woods, attempting to lose him as you take twists and turns.

Something’s wrong. This can’t be right, why are they acting like this? The bell on your neck jingles like an alarm, slamming against your neck as you pant heavily, the cold air biting your tear-stained cheeks. You can no longer hear Yeonjun behind you, an uncertain glance finally confirming your suspicions as you allow yourself to slow down— but you don’t dare to stop.

When did this all begin? They weren’t always like this, their eagerness to keep safe and happy a genuine priority when it all happened. Your chest heaves, lungs burning and head aching as you remember the first time you tried to leave— the first time they truly got mad at you.

After that, they didn’t dare to leave your side; the collar, the cameras, the constant watching, and the overbearing feeling as they didn’t even let you step out into the backyard. Your stomach sinks, and your feet begin to sting as they become soaked with snow.

They don’t want you to leave.

But why?

You don’t know how much longer you walk, but it’s enough to make you wary and paranoid once more by the time you’re found, unable to back away from Beomgyu and Yeonjun as the cold takes your strength quickly. It feels like there are needles attacking every inch of your skin, the feeling of Yeonjun and Beomgyu’s nails digging in only making things worse as you thrash around weakly in their grip.

“Let me go!” You cry out, your pleas falling on deaf ears as they echo throughout the endless woods. Your screaming is quickly cut short as Yeonjun slaps a hand over your mouth, fingers digging into your cheeks as he turns your head to face him roughly.

“Shut the fuck up,” he growls, face close to yours as his glare is enough to quiet you down, “you’ll only make shit worse for yourself.”

“Tch. Fucking crybaby,” you didn’t notice the moment tears began to run from your eyes again, but Beomgyu is quick to notice as he scoffs at your weak state— you’ve really angered them now.

Against your will, you feel your body slowly becoming weaker, slumping down in their grips as your vision begins to become spotted— you must’ve been out in the cold for too long. Your fight quickly dies down at their cruel words, your body too weak to resist as you let them take you back to the cabin; back to your personal cage.

-♡♡♡-

“She needs to be fucking punished.”

Beomgyu is first to suggest the idea, the anger inside him yet to quell down as he stares down at your sleeping form— you’re running a fever, your body shivering as you’re bundled safely under the covers of your bed. He doesn’t care how this comes across anymore; Yeonjun’s incredulous glance at him does nothing to deter his statement, watching you stir restlessly on the bed with cold eyes.

“I don’t think we need to go that far—“

“Really? Because it seems to me that the only reason she managed to pull that stupid stunt was because of you,” Beomgyu sneers, reaching out to play with the bell on your neck absentmindedly, “you’re lucky we managed to track her down with this.”

“You think I’m too soft on her?” Yeonjun says, running a hand through his hair as he listens to the bell— the tracker— jingle softly. Beomgyu nods immediately, not bothering to spare him another glance as you whimper softly in pain.

“What,” Yeonjun gulps, mind racing as he forces himself to get the words out, “what did you have in mind?”

-♡♡♡-

The door is locked.

As a matter of fact, the doorknob has been changed.

Your fever is long gone, and you stand in front of the door as you wiggle the doorknob curiously— but it won’t budge. There’s no way to unlock it, and you realize miserably that you’re locked inside.

Not even the window opens.

This must be because of what you did, you remember, falling back onto the bed with a huff. Staring at the ceiling, you try to listen for any activity outside when you spot it— the camera left in plain sight. It seems as though they want you to know they’re watching; the sight of it is enough of a warning for you as you wait for them to come in, to make you apologize so they can finally let you back out.

But nothing happens.

Minutes pass. Then an hour. Then another one— actually, you’re not sure how much time has passed, the room devoid of anything to entertain yourself with as you’re left to stare at the empty walls around you, the echoes of Soobin’s voice laughing at you appearing ever so often. How much time has passed? The sun is beginning to set, and you can feel your stomach growl for the umpteenth time as you conclude that they won’t be coming anytime soon— you have yet to eat anything, your body feeling nauseous as you curl up into a ball, the singular pillow and thin blanket you were left with your only comfort.

The thought of calling out for them crosses your mind— but you resist, not wanting to give into their games so easily as you stare at the camera dejectedly; on the other side, they watch you, laughing cruelly at the way you continue to seem strong.

Eventually, Yeonjun comes in to feed you; you don’t bother looking at him, refusing to eat until he walks up to you, grabbing your face roughly as he brings his face dangerously close.

“If you don’t eat, I’ll chain you to the bed and feed you myself.”

That seems to do the trick.

-♡♡♡-

You’re not sure how long you were left in there.

But by the time they let you out, you don’t seem to remember why you wanted to leave in the first place.

The cabin is so nice— it’s so nice to eat whenever you want, to watch shows and read as you curl up to Beomgyu’s side, his hand playing with your hair as you finally enjoy the touch of someone else again. It’s nice to have someone else lay next to you, after spending all that time alone in an empty bed and empty room. They seem nicer to you, constantly apologizing and telling you that “they had to do it” and that “they did it to keep you safe, to make you realize that leaving wouldn’t be worth it.”

And after a while their words became believable.

The thought of leaving seemed scary to you— though you didn’t realize why. But deep in your mind, you knew the truth.

It wasn’t because you were better off here, wrapped around their finger as you clung to them helplessly. No, it was because your mind knew the truth; you couldn’t escape, and any attempt to do so would only lead to punishment.

Unbeknownst to you, another month had passed— and instead of the scared, worried mess you had been when you had been brought here, you had been turned into a cute obedient pet for them, pleasing their every desire in the subconscious fear of being treated like nothing more than a prisoner again.

-♡♡♡-

Everything feels like it’s going back to normal again— they’re trusting you enough to leave you alone, the front door locked every day and cameras left installed to make sure you didn’t leave; “it’s your fault we had to come to this,” they would tell you, noticing the way you frowned as they were getting ready to leave, “you’ll just have to earn our trust back if you want them gone.”

Though they told you that, there was no chance that they would ever take the cameras down; if anything, they would only go back into hiding again, all whilst telling you that there was nothing left to surveille you anymore. How could they ever trust you again, when the inkling of doubt has already been planted?

The cameras were mostly for show; if anything, they only checked on you every once in a while, making sure that you were there before they continued with their inconspicuous lives; the threat of the police looking for you had been nothing but a lie— all footage with you and Soobin the night of or prior had been swiftly tampered with by Beomgyu, the said man spending hours to make sure that there was nothing there; even the records to your workplace were changed, stating that you had called off on your shift while Soobin spent the night working alone.

But it was a good tactic to keep you close to them— after all, your intentions were innocent. You were driven to that point, simply injuring the man on instinct as he threatened your precious friends. Though the two men had been worried about Soobin telling you the truth before they could prevent it, it seemed as though nothing had changed, your suspicions of them nonexistent as they allowed themselves to use your murder as an excuse to keep you chained to them.

And yet, they can’t predict everything— sometimes, even the smallest mistakes bloom into disasters.

-♡♡♡-

You think you’ve found a new place where you can hide— though, you don’t remember this room being in the house.

You had simply been searching for a place where you could be alone, doing your best to avoid all the cameras as you accidentally leaned against a bookshelf— and, like a scene of a movie, it slid to reveal a door behind it. Carefully, you moved it, eyes widening as you hesitantly twisted the doorknob— and to your luck, it opened.

With your heartbeat quickening, you quickly open the door, the curiosity getting the best of you as you step inside. Your hands are careful as they glide along the walls, blindly feeling around the dark as you feel around for a light switch— finally finding one, you flip the switch, squinting as the room is filled with bright, white light.

And you regret doing so immediately.

The room is empty, save for a desk with an elaborate computer set up against one of the walls— the multiple monitors are left unlocked as it allows you to see everything. Stepping slowly towards it, you feel your mouth dry as you notice more and more familiar items shoved into a box under the desk; you reach for that first.

Yet you’re distracted by the tabs that were left open on the computer, the items inside the box long forgotten as you squint, trying to decipher what the blinking red dot and strange floor plans in front of you may be— it doesn’t take you long before it finally clicks.

The collar you have on.

That wasn’t a bell hanging around your neck.

You think back to the day in the woods, how Yeonjun had been so quick to give up his chase on you; yet he had been just as quick to pinpoint the exact spot you ran to. The times when they would call out your name teasingly, finding you within seconds as a cruel smile ran across their face— you never knew how they found you so accurately and quickly. Next, you realize, is another surveillance camera— the screen is black, and you’re wondering what it might be until you read the label; your eyes drift down to the box in front of you in horror.

And just as suspected, your laptop is hidden in the box of items; opening it, you gasp as you find the camera on the computer immediately turning back on, showing you the mirror of your horrified face as you realize that they’ve been watching you— and for a while, too.

The botanical gardens, you think biting at your lip as you remember meeting Beomgyu there, the said boy allusive whenever you asked why he was there— it was no coincidence, that’s why.

Your phone is in there too, unable to find the energy to gasp once you notice that the device also has a tracker on it— digging around more, you find Soobin’s phone inside too. You drop it immediately, hissing as if the device had burned you. Why would they have Soobin’s phone?

“Those text messages you told me about wouldn’t help your case much either.”

You never told Yeonjun about the texts Soobin sent you.

Oh god. Oh god. Your hands are shaking violently as you empty out the box, your movements frantic as the items inside only get worse.

The same stationery your stalker used. The pendant. Copies of the pictures from your letters. Your fucking evidence box.

Everything was there and intact— your alibi, your only chance at proving your innocence, taken away from you and fucking hidden as you were left to be isolated and go insane instead.

All by the people who swore to protect you.

“It wasn’t, I’m not the one who—“

Soobin wasn’t the one behind this— they were.

They had lured you into their trap, leaving you in such a broken state that you had no other choice but to depend on them— Your whole life was in the palm of their hands.

Fuck, you realize, shoving everything back inside and making everything seem untouched as you stumble out of the room, these were the same people who swore up and down that they loved you. That they would never hurt you. These were the people you fell in love with.

You feel sick— you feel used, your emotions nothing but a carefully fabricated web of lies, all of the events in your life leading up to this; their big rescue, seeming like nothing but angels as you let yourself rely on them— broken, haunted you, forced to live with the fact that you killed a man.

You killed a man— and they let it happen.

How much of it had been fabricated by them? Was Jaemin a part of the plan too? How long had they been planning this? How far were they willing to take this?

You’re unsure of the answer to those questions, but there is one thing you know for sure— you need to leave.

And this time, you won’t stop fighting for a second.

“___, where are you?”

Speak of the devil.

Your heart is pounding erratically, blinded by rage as the need to leave, now, is overtaking your mind. You won’t take this anymore, you refuse to let them think they’ve gotten away with everything for even a second longer.

You reach for the first thing you see— a random vase— and quickly swing it at the man who enters the doorway, uncaring of who you hit, focused more on hitting either of them in general. The vase is fragile as it smashes into pieces, knocking the man back and hitting the doorway as well as it shatters in your hands. The noise is enough to alert the other culprit, the sound of their hurried steps giving you enough of a warning as you’re scrambling to grab another weapon.

“No—!” You’re cut off as you’re tackled to the ground, chin banging on the hardwood floor as you let out a yell in protest. You’re fighting the man above you, barely able to recognize him as Yeonjun as you thrash and kick under him. “Let me go! Let me go!”

“What the fuck has gotten into you?!” Yeonjun yells, using all his body weight to pin you down as you continue to fight him, throat raw as you spew insults and curses at them.

“Yeonjun, the bookshelf.”

They go silent as you continue to kick violently under them, the now strength of two men rendering your movements useless as they look at the bookshelf— at the way the door peeks behind it, usually not visible at all as they hide it meticulously.

There are drops of blood falling in front of you, and you realize they’re coming from Beomgyu as you look up, the wound on his forehead no joke as he grabs a fistful of your hair. He’s tugging your head up, the yelp of pain you let out doing nothing for him as he only grabs on tighter, moving your head violently as he talks down to you.

“You fucking idiot, you should know your place by now.” Beomgyu sneers, the blood dripping onto you as you beg him to let you go, “now we’ll isolate you again, but this time, don’t even think you’ll get any food.”

You’re sobbing hysterically at the painful way Beomgyu is handling you, the two men above you beyond furious as you continue to spew out insults to them, ever so persistent as you scream at them to let you go.

“I fucking hate you! Let go of me, you sick bastards! You’re sick! I hate you, I hate—!”

“Shhh,” Yeonjun is the one to speak up this time, hand covering your mouth like a habit at this point. His nails dig deep into your skin, the feeling bringing out a low groan from you as he forces you to look at him, the awkward angle hurting your neck.

“You’ll make things worse for yourself, darling. You don’t mean that, right?”

Letting go of your face, he waits for you to respond, watching tentatively as his eyes seem to warn you; but you ignore it, spitting at him as you proceed to sneer cruelly.

“I never loved you.”

The words are a message to both of them, but Beomgyu is first to act on it as he shoves Yeonjun off you, pulling you up with inhuman strength as his patience is snapped in half.

“Listen to me closely,” he says to you, shoving you against the wall harshly as he wraps a hand around your neck. Your eyes widen as he begins to squeeze, the man towering over you as he looks at you coldly— it’s almost as if all his love for you was long gone.

“Maybe, if you stop being such a fucking brat and apologize, I’ll let you go,” you’re clawing at his hands as he presses harder, your panicked eyes looking around for anything that can help you as you try to inflict more pain on the man above you— but it doesn’t work, the blood from his other wound dripping into his eye as he squints, a crazed smile breaking from his features as he watches you become helpless.

“You can die for all I care.”

The scariest part is that he means it. You know he does, if the way your vision spots and your gaping lips struggle for air is enough of a warning for you— eyes catching with Yeonjun’s, you gasp, whimpering out his name in a final hope that he’ll open his eyes and realize that you’ll die at any second.

“Yeonjun,” you gasp, reaching out to him as you make eye contact with him. You’re crying, the face of your best friend morphed into something darker as you he watches you silently. Your feet are kicking about underneath you, attempting to reach the man you once called your best friend as you cry out once more.

“Junnie!”

Beomgyu was never the one to deal with being put second— he was. Beomgyu didn’t have to deal with cruel and endless years of pining, but Yeonjun did. Every promise to stay by your side, to protect you, to put you first pops back up in his mind— and he shoots up from where he was seated, bolting towards Beomgyu as he reaches into his pocket.

Beomgyu didn’t deserve you. Neither did Jaemin. Nor Soobin.

What you deserved was someone who knew you better than you knew yourself— someone like Yeonjun.

Beomgyu’s fingers grow stiff on your neck.

One look into his eyes is all you need to know; his eyes are frozen, staring right back into yours as his mouth opens in disbelief. His lips move to utter your name, but all he can muster is a cough as Yeonjun steps back.

Blood splatters against your cheek.

And though Beomgyu falls back, although he groans as a pool of blood begins to form under him, you can only watch with horror as Yeonjun straddles the injured man, as he raises the pocketknife again, only for it descend back down, his body twitching and a small groan coming from him as the knife seeps into his skin.

Then Yeonjun does it again. And again. And again.

You’re not sure Yeonjun even remembers why he’s doing this. He’s hunched over Beomgyu’s body, head ducked down as he continues to stab every surface, every place he can find, Beomgyu’s cries quickly die down as blood continues to seep out and spread everywhere. It’s almost rhythmic as you slowly step around him, as you wait for him to look up and make you the next target— but he’s gone, lost in his own world as he continues to stab, and stab, and stab.

The squelching sound is too much for you as you make your way back to the front entrance, surprised to find Beomgyu’s coat and the door left ajar— you slip it on, feeling the heaviness of the material as you slip on a random pair of shoes.

It isn’t until you hear the wood creak that you take off running.

“___!” Yeonjun’s voice is harsh and raw as he yells for you, running after you as his footprints bleed from red to white, his shoes being cleaned as he continues to scream your name.

“___, listen to me! I don’t want to hurt you!”

His statement is a bit hard to believe as you glance back with uncertainty, following along the fresh tire tracks etched in the snow.

Yeonjun’s eyes are wide, and, much like you, he seems terrified; like he couldn’t believe what he had done. His hair is pushed back, the usual blonde now mixed with red as his face and clothes are splattered with the matching color. The path before you is too simple, too easy as Yeonjun quickly begins to catch up to you, his sudden speed giving you no other choice but to run back into the woods— you slip at the sharp turn, kicking up snow behind you as you hear him call out your name again.

“Please, listen to me!”

Lies. It was all lies. The man that chased after you was not the same man who took care of you when you were sick, who walked with you everywhere, who comforted you with ease when you missed your home— you refused to believe it.

The man who chased you, quickly gaining speed, was your stalker. He was the one who isolated you from your friends and family, who caused you to kill a man who, in the end, was innocent. Your life was ruined, and it was all his fault.

But it isn’t long before you’re growing tired, unable to continue to push yourself as the winter air stings your skin and burns your lungs. Even when you feel your legs going numb, you still attempt to run, stumbling and grabbing onto trees as the collar continues to jingle, almost as if it were mocking you as you feel yourself slow down involuntarily.

Even when the image of Beomgyu comes back into your mind to try to keep you going, the reminder of watching your lifelong friend continue to stab into him still seems to do nothing for you as your legs scream at you to stop. But you refuse to listen, the pitiful cries of Yeonjun slowly becoming louder and louder as you try to make as much distance as you can.

Unfortunately for you, your legs give out in protest.

Your knees sting as they dig into the jagged rocks and sticks hidden under the snow, unable to muster a reaction as you hear Yeonjun catch up to you. Slowly, you stand back up, the heavy jacket swinging around you as you wrap it tighter around you for protection.

“___, please,” he pants out, just as tired as you as he drops the knife in the snow. You shake your head, taking a step back as he reaches out to you, eyes filled with pain and regret as he takes in the fear that paints your face.

“How could you?!” You cry out, voice hoarse and thick with emotion as you let your arms fall to your sides. He shakes his head, attempting to grab your hand in comfort before you swat him away.

“Why?” You sob, your voice breaking off as you attempt to keep your composure. He says nothing, taking another step towards you instead, only to have you back away immediately.

“Why, god damn it?!” Your hands are wandering along the jacket in a sad attempt to soothe yourself, smoothing over the material and pockets as you demand an explanation. “You— you let me kill him! Why?!”

“Because I’m in love with you!” His excuse is ridiculous, even to him, but he has nothing else to lose as Yeonjun finally decides to tell the truth.

“I’m— fuck, I’m so in love with you,” he cries, voice breaking as he reaches down for the knife— you stumble back, breaths quickening as you watch him play with the blade. “I have been for years. I’ve watched you fall for others and push me aside. I tried to move on, I really did. But nothing ever worked, and Beomgyu was the one to suggest all this.”

He waves the knife around and you step back again, the hurt flashing across his face the least of your worries as he continues.

“I didn’t want it to happen this way, I really didn’t!” He looks sad as he tells you this, as if he genuinely believed he was innocent, “all this— this, this fucked up shit, it was not my idea!”

Bullshit. That’s a lie and you both know it, judging by the way his lips tremble and his eyes are flooded with tears as he hopes that you’re able to forgive him.

“Leave me the fuck alone,” you say quietly, hands digging into the jacket pockets as you walk backward, much too afraid to take your eyes away from him for even a second.

“No,” Yeonjun is exasperated as he begins to chase after you, hands reaching out as he shakes his head in denial, “you don’t mean this. Don’t.”

“Leave me alone! I don’t want to see you ever again!” Your steps are frantic as you keep your eyes on Yeonjun, unable to notice the tree root that your foot catches on, tripping on it and landing on your back harshly, the snow around you puffing up as you scramble to stand— but you hiss, your ankle twisted as it throbs in protest.

“Please!” Yeonjun gasps out, falling to his knees as he reaches out for your injury. You’re quick to tuck your leg back underneath you, shaking your head as you scoot back instead. He’s pathetic, crawling to you as he pleads for you to forgive him, clearly out of his mind as he babbles on and on about his love for you.

“I saved you!” He says, hands landing on your calves as he pulls you back to him. You shake your head, pushing against his chest as you scream at him to let you go. “Beomgyu— it was all him! He was horrible to you—!”

“YOU’RE JUST AS BAD!”

He seems to freeze at that, his eyes glazing over as the foreign concept dawns on him— you won’t forgive him. But he refuses to believe it— he saved your life.

“I saved your life…” he echoes, hand reaching back as you realize exactly what he’s reaching for.

“You’re so ungrateful…”

The bloodied knife greets you, looking for its new target as Yeonjun stares down at you, tears falling onto your face as he mumbles incoherently. His hand shakes, the hesitation in his motions your last opening as you let out a scream of terror.

And you pull the trigger.

The gunshot echoes throughout the woods, your brain mortified at the feeling of Yeonjun falling on top of you, wet, messy, dead.

There was a reason why Beomgyu’s jacket was so heavy.

Yeonjun’s body is cold and stiff by the time you gather the courage to push him off, his disfigured face bringing about a wave of nausea that you can’t control, your stomach lurching as you vomit into the snow. Tears and blood fall into the pure white substance as you pat his jacket, hands shaking as you finally find what you want— the keys to his car.

Limping, you make your way back, following the footprints in the snow, watching as they become redder and redder the closer you get to the cabin. The car comes into sight, and you feel a slight tinge of relief as the keys in your hand unlock the vehicle before you.

It hurts to drive, but as you slowly follow the tire tracks that were set beneath you, you know that there’s at least one police station in that quiet and quaint town. The rough path soon becomes a road, the empty road soon showing a welcome sign and streetlights.

Glancing into the mirror, you watch the cabin on the mountain become smaller and smaller;

It looks like you’re finally out of the woods.

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