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moonlit-jeno · 4 years

Text

secrets | n.jm

genre/ warnings: vampire au, explicit sexual content, angst, way too much blood/ blood drinking, b i t i n g, character death (kind of), references to drugs, religion

word count: 9.5k

summary:

“I’m not scared.”

“No?” The sharp points of his fangs graze your skin and you swallow down your whimper, head falling back against the wall. You’re not scared of what Jaemin could do to you.

You’re scared of what you want him to do to you.

notes: big thanks to @jaemallow for pushing the jaemin agenda and helping to keep me sane

“Come on, we’re going to be late.” Mark grumbles at you, throwing an agitated glance over his shoulder. You roll your eyes and slow down even more just to spite him. “Dude, my dad’s going to kill me.” “He’ll be fine. Murder’s against the word of God, y’know.” You speed up despite your words, laughing at the way Mark glares at you.

There’s a crack in the sidewalk that he trips over and you laugh good naturedly. The street leading up to the church is in less than optimal shape, littered with cracks in the sidewalk and missing chunks of cement. Mark’s dad had tried to raise money to fix the street, but it hasn’t happened yet.

Mark starts walking slower all of a sudden and you grumble, glaring at him when he grabs your wrist to yank you backwards. You’re about to ask what his problem is when you see the three figures at the end of the road, moving closer towards you two.

“You’re kidding me.” They hear it, they must, with their superhuman senses. It only makes them smile brighter. You glance at Mark. “Wanna turn around?”

“Too late.” Mark breathes, staring straight ahead of him with wide eyes. You look away from him to find the three vampires standing directly in front of you, blocking your way.

A groan leaves you and you cross your arms, raising your eyebrows expectantly. “Can we help you?”

The ringleader of the bunch, Jaemin, smiles. “Well, since you’re offering, I suppose I am feeling a little hungry.”

The church is only one block down but if they don’t want to let you pass, you’re not going to get there. Mark shifts nervously next to you, shaking his head when you open your mouth to make a remark. That doesn’t stop you from saying it. “You realize that just because you’re from the 1200’s doesn’t mean that you have to talk like you’re from the 1200’s.”

“I resent that.” Jaemin frowns, clutching his hands to his chest likes he’s been stabbed. “I was born in 1706. It’s almost like you don’t care about me at all.”

“Is it? Must be because I don’t.” The other two vampires are silent, though one of them- Jeno- watches with amusement. The other one is unfamiliar and looks like he’s trying to figure out to pair you with white or red wine. You shudder and turn your attention to Jeno. “Nice cross. I thought shit like that burned your skin? You know, because you’re a demon and all that.”

Jeno’s eyes smile with him and it’s hard to remember that he’s a monster. He brushes his thumb against the small mark under his eye, shrugging. “Nah, only the blessed ones. Or, y’know, the silver ones. But this one? I just wanted to piss off the church daddy who told me that I deserved to rot in worse places than the sewer.“

You snort before you can stop yourself. “Church daddy?”

He waves a dismissive hand. “Church daddy, father, same thing.” A pause. “Hey, Mark, isn’t that your dad?”

Mark avoids eye contact and nods. “Yeah, but I like, I don’t like, speak for him, y’know?” He laughs nervously.

“You don’t have to.” That’s the one you don’t recognize, glaring at Mark. “We can tell it’s what you’re thinking. You don’t even have the decency to look at us?”

“And who are you? Their vampire bitch or something?” You snap to Mark’s defense, not wanting the vampires to prey on Mark’s nerves.

The boy lunges like he’s going to attack you but Jeno grabs him by the neck. Jaemin laughs. “Careful princess, that hits a little too close to home for our little Renjun over here.” To clarify, he leans a little closer and lowers his voice. Not like it matters, the other two can hear him just fine. “Jeno got carried away while feeding the other day and turned him.”

Your eyes widen in surprise and this time you don’t have a witty comeback. Vampires are monsters, yes, but they have laws. And it is very, very illegal to turn a human. “That’s-”

“Against the law?” Jeno finishes. “Yeah. It was an accident though, plus he’s from out of town! So I can’t technically get in trouble.”

“Technically.” You mock, rolling your eyes. “Whatever, we’ve got places to be so if we could speed this conversation up?”

Jaemin pouts. “So soon? You’re already late for church, why even bother going?”

You stand your ground. “Good bye, Jaemin. Make sure you do a better job of training your new puppy.” Renjun snarls at you.

“What, like how you trained your puppy?” Jaemin nods over at Mark and the boys face turns red. “Bye, y/n, Mark. I’d ask you to say hello to God for me but he doesn’t exist!”

He walks off with that as a goodbye, Renjun and Jeno on his heels. Jeno at least has the decency to smile at you and tell you to have a good rest of your day.

They’re right about one thing: going to church when you‘re already late sucks. A few people glance back at you and Mark when you sneak in, sitting in the last row. You spot your parents sitting in the front row along with Mark’s brother. Luckily none of them notice you slipping in, so they won’t know just how late you were.

Mark seems on edge and you pat his knee, frowning at how violently he flinches. You raise an eyebrow, silently asking if he’s okay. He just gives you a tight smile. Mark’s always been a nervous kid, so you figure it has to do with the little vampire interaction you just had. Or fear that his dad will yell at him for being late. They’re both pretty scary.

It’s not until after the service that you talk to your parents- your mother taking the time to hug Mark and pinch his cheeks before she even looks at you- and your father asks where you were.

“It was my fault, sir.” Mark speaks up, knowing that your parents adore him and won’t be upset. “I couldn’t find my church clothes, I forgot that they were in the wash and had to sort through all of my laundry. Y/n was an angel and stayed with me to help.”

“Huh,” Your father says, looking Mark up and down. “Well, your shoes could use a good polishing, but you look sharp, kid. Good man.” He pats Mark’s shoulder and walks off to talk to a friend. Your mother raises an eyebrow and shrugs, loading you up with tasks to take care of when you get home.

Do the dishes, fold the laundry, remember to take the store bought pie out of the container and pop it onto a plate so that it looks homemade. “Oh, and one last thing.” She stops you, turning away from her conversation about her book club meeting with some lady that she can’t stand. “I don’t want you walking through the city. Those vampires are getting braver and braver, attacking in broad daylight.”

“Okay, I’ll take the long way.” You promise her. She nods, and satisfied that you won’t die, turns back to her friends. You say goodbye to Mark and a handful of other people- most of whom you don’t like- and head home.

You have absolutely no intention of taking the long way home. It adds an extra half an hour to your walk and you swear you always get attacked by bugs. Besides, vampires might be dangerous, but it’s not like you have a high chance of encountering one. The three you’d talked to earlier were harmless, two of them attending your same university.

Jeno did medical research, occasionally stepping in to teach if the professors needed help. He’s technically a doctor, but he finds ways to multitask. The benefits of being immortal, you suppose, is that you learn a lot, especially if you’ve been alive since the 1100’s. He was nice enough by himself, though he would never answer your questions about history. Not that he wouldn’t try, but the poor guy would just get so confused that he would end up rambling about a completely unrelated topic.

Jaemin was a little different. He took classes, though his goal was to learn about interesting topics and keep up with the culture, not to fit in like Edward Cullen and prey on teenage girls. For someone so old, he’s surprisingly good at the technology classes, learning how to use a camera faster than your much younger parents. Jaemin also holds tutoring sessions for struggling students, pretty much offering help for every subject. Sometimes he assists Jeno with his research, though he never says what they’re researching. It’s always the same vague answer: medicine.

You know them pretty well, and yet you wouldn’t say that you’re friends. Vampires and humans coexist, but it’s not always that peaceful. There’s a definite divide between the two, a definite feeling of “we’re better than them” coming from both sides. And you can see why that divide is there, you can understand why.

After all, it’s not like you’re too fond of vampires yourself.

Cursed to hell, is a phrase used too often by your parents, by the church. God’s reject’s is another. And when you look at them, it’s hard to disagree with those statements.

They don’t burn in the sun but they can’t touch silver, can’t say God’s name, can’t enter a building without explicit permission. They catch on fire when they enter holy places (they’re fine to enter the one across town, but that’s another story).

Similar insults are used to describe humans. “How can you call us God’s rejects when you die so easily?” One vampire had countered when you were in middle school, pointing out that vampires couldn’t get diseases or die of natural causes like a human. He’d called you weak. You’d thrown a cross at him. Both of you had been suspended.

Still, you don’t hate vampires. And you especially can’t hate vampires now, not when you’re failing your chemistry class and your only option for help is Na Jaemin.

Mark has a different opinion. “Y/n, you can’t go to his house! He’ll kill you!”

You laugh. “Mark, come on. It’s either he kills me, or my parents kill me when they find out I wasted my tuition on a class I failed. It’ll be fine.” He still looks unhappy. You wiggle your fingers at him. “Look! I have silver rings on. I’m wearing my cross. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not going to be the one telling your parents you were killed by a vampire, y/n.” He sounds dead serious and you raise your eyebrows.

“Mark, I’m helping with a research project. I’m not deciding to work for the food bank.” You point out. “This is the only way I can make up my grade, Mark. It’s generous of my professor to even let me do this.” He sighs, knowing there’s no arguing with you, and pulls his necklace off. Walking closer, he drapes the silver cross over your head. “Fine. Just, please be careful.” You smile and pat his cheek, tucking the charm under the collar of your shirt. “I always am.”

Jaemin lives in a pretty nice house on the top of the hill, which sucks because your calves are burning by the time you get up there. It has a pretty view, though, and it’s a decent distance away from his closest neighbor. You always joke that he could kill someone up here. Going up alone, that joke doesn’t seem as funny.

He’s got an old fashioned knocker on the wooden door that you only use because you’re not too fond of digging splinters out of your hands. It makes a pretty solid sound, and it barely takes five seconds before Jaemin answers the door. He looks good, wearing a dark blue button up with his hair pushed off of his forehead. Almost like he put some effort in. He obviously catches you giving him a once over and he grins.

“Eager to see me?” You tease, stepping past him into his house. He laughs, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, of course. The world revolves around you, I just had to get a glimpse.” Jaemin drawls.

“Alright, what’s the research project?” You ask, wanting to get straight to the point. “I’m only here because I need to pass my class, Jaemin.

He takes his time flipping through a book on his coffee table before glancing up at you, rolling his sleeves up to his forearms. “The effects of vampire blood in humans.”

Your eyebrows skyrocket. “If you say that you’re making me drink your blood, we’re going to have a problem.”

“Fucking hell, y/n. I know you humans have a problem with vampires, but I’m a researcher. I do research, and I do it just as responsibly and professionally as human researchers.” Jaemin snaps, and it’s probably the first time you’ve ever heard him not use a flirting or teasing tone. “And besides, we already know what that would do. It would only turn you.” You swallow thickly at the thought of being turned. “Then what do you need me here for?” “We just need a few of your cells and a tiny blood sample.” Jaemin says, moving to where you stand next to the counter. “We’re researching if vampire blood has an effect on strengthening human cells, or preventing undesirable circumstances that affect humans. You know, aging, disease, the like.” He hands you some paperwork and you glance over it briefly. There’s nothing about him draining you dry of blood, so you sign it. “Great. We won’t be taking the samples today considering we’re at my house, but I’ll walk you through the basics of what we’re doing. You know, assuming that you’re smart enough to understand it.” “I’m not fucking dumb, Jaemin.” You snap, glaring at him.

“No, of course not.” He sympathises, smiling down at you. “Just a little slow. Come on y/n, you’re failing one of the easiest courses at the university. You’re not exactly smart.”

You shove the papers over to Jaemin, purposely letting your silver rings graze his exposed skin. Jaemin flinches back from your touch, a sharp hiss leaving him as he grabs at his wrist. He glares at you. “You fucking serious?”

It’s mean, but what he said wasn’t exactly nice. You meet his gaze head on, eyebrow arched. “What’s the matter, leech? Can’t take the heat?” He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes to ground himself. It’s probably not smart to goad him, but that’s exactly what you do. “Aww, don’t ignore me, leech. It’s rude. Didn’t your parents ever teach you any manners?”

All the air in your body leaves you with a whoosh as Jaemin pins you up against the wall, wrists held over your head by one of his hands. A dull pain radiates through your body and you’re sure you’ll have bruises on your back from the impact, not that Jaemin seems to care. The boy stares down at you with dark eyes, standing way too close for comfort.

“My parents died 300 years ago.” Jaemin snarls. “But yours are still alive. Didn’t they teach you to respect your elders?”

“You’re not older than me.” The words are intended to be fierce, defiant. They come out shaky, timid. “You’re a dead man, Jaemin.”

That makes him laugh, though you don’t think he’s found your words funny. “Yeah? Do I seem dead to you?” He tightens his grip on your wrist and uses his free hand to tilt your chin up, make you look him in the eyes. “I can feel your heartbeat, little girl. You’re scared.”

“I’m not scared.” You are. He knows that.

“No?” He raises his eyebrows, cocking his head to the side before dipping down, letting his mouth hover over your neck. “Not even now?”

You shake your head, swallowing down a whimper. He’s right about your heartbeat, it’s fluttering so frantically that you can hear it in your ears, feel it under your skin. You’re scared, but not for the reasons he thinks you are.

Jaemin smiles at you, fangs on full display, and moves even closer to your neck. The sharp points of his fangs graze your skin and you swallow down your whimper, head falling back against the wall. You’re not scared of what Jaemin could do to you.

You’re scared of what you want him to do to you.

He scrapes his fangs along your neck, an action that’s painful in the most pleasurable way, but doesn’t break the skin. His tongue darts out instead, soothing over the pain before his lips press to your skin in an open mouthed kiss. Your fingers flex above your head and you ache to touch him, to fist your hand in his soft hair and pull him closer.

A moan leaves you and he pulls away, pressing his thumb to the area. Jaemin can feel your pulse from there and he smirks at how frantically your heart beats.

“You’re not scared?” Jaemin asks, the question condescending. He doesn’t believe you. “You do realize that I could sink my fangs into your pretty little neck and drain you dry, right?”

The mention of him biting you drags a keen out of your throat, and you find yourself whimpering out a “please” before you can help yourself. It has Jaemin pausing, eyes roaming over you as he reassesses the situation.

“Oh, you really aren’t scared.” Jaemin smirks. “Who knew that you were so fucking filthy?” He doesn’t wait for a response, dipping his head down and trailing the tip of his tongue up your throat. It feels nice, so, so nice, but it’s interrupted by a burning pain, a sob ripping from you at the intensity of it.

You thrash against his hold, but then the pain starts to get replaced with a pleasure unlike anything you’ve ever felt, and you slowly melt into his touch, arching against him to expose more of your throat.

Jaemin pulls away eventually, licking over your wound a few times before pulling back to give you a bloody grin. “Feels good, yeah?” You nod, and the bliss must be apparent on your face because Jaemin chuckles darkly before leaning back in. “You want more, don’t you?”

“Yeah, want it.” The words are breathless and slur together, your body thrumming with heat, begging for more. Jaemin does the opposite of what you want and steps away.

“Be a good girl and take those fucking rings off, then.” Jaemin commands, and you swear you’ve never moved faster than you’re moving now, carelessly dropping your jewelry to the floor. Mark’s necklace lands near his foot and he scowls at it, crushing the piece of metal beneath the heel of his shoe.

You immediately grab for him when you’re done, but Jaemin doesn’t let you pull him forward. He just scoops you up into his arms, carrying you to the sofa. You end up straddling his lap, his back pressing into the couch, and he wastes no time before sinking his fangs back into your neck.

“God,” You breathe out, winding your arms around his neck, pulling his head closer to you. “F-fuck, Jaem, that feels so good.”

He just hums against your throat, continuing to suck and lick at the wound. There’s a little bit of blood on his lips when he pulls away and you wipe at it with your thumb before letting the digit slip past his lips. He sucks on it slowly, gazing up at you with dark eyes, and lets his fangs graze the skin. Arousal jolts through you and you whimper, pulling your hand away and dragging him back to your neck.

“Baby wants more?” Jaemin teases, not waiting for an answer before sinking his fangs into you, this spot even more sensitive than the last. You whine loudly, tugging at his hair and feeling your eyes roll back in your head at the euphoria spreading through your body. Your head feels fuzzy and there’s so much heat coursing through you that you can barely function.

“Mhmm, yeah.” You pant out. “Want more. Oh my God Jaemin, I’m so fucking wet.”

Jaemin groans at your words, one of his hands sliding up your thigh before moving inwards, cupping your pussy over your clothes. He pulls his hand away when you try to grind down, grabbing onto your hip to stop your movements.

“No.” He growls, the simple word vibrating through your entire body and making you shake. “You come from this, nothing else.”

Tears slip down your cheeks as you hold onto him for dear life, your core clenching desperately around nothing. You hug him tighter, letting your head fall back on your shoulders to expose more of your throat, your lips parted to let Jaemin drag sound after sound of pleasure out of you. It feels good, way too good considering the action, and you lose yourself to the feeling.

The collar of your shirt is tugged down and then Jaemin’s lips are attaching to the top of your breast, fangs sinking into the delicate flesh. You keen and shove your chest further into his face, not knowing what else to do besides hold onto him for dear life. Your body feels heavy but your head feels light and it’s such a startling contrast to the euphoria coursing through your veins that it makes you dizzy. It’s hard to see straight, let alone think straight, and your pussy throbs with every little bit of blood that Jaemin takes from your body. Your hips rock against nothing but air, desperately searching for some sort of friction, something to fill your needy cunt, but you can’t find anything and it has you sobbing out in frustration.

More bite marks are left, more electricity shoots through your body, more wetness drips out of your pussy. You swear you’ve never felt this good in your life, and that’s only confirmed when Jaemin seals his lips over the first mark he left, licking and sucking at the wound until it opens all over again and you feel yourself falling, white flashing behind your eyes as the most intense orgasm of your life crashes over you. You grab at Jaemin as tightly as you can, screaming his name and babbling incoherently as he drags out your pleasure, lets you get high off all of his kisses and bites.

It lasts forever, and it takes even longer for you to come down to yourself, Jaemin stroking your hair and your back. You open your eyes to find him already looking at you, his face clean and dry of any blood. It takes you a while to notice that there’s an ice pack on your neck and a plate of food on the table in front of you, and you vaguely wonder how long you were out for if Jaemin had time to do all of this for you.

“Don’t move too fast, baby.” Jaemin cautions, noticing you struggling to sit up. “I took way more blood than I meant to, you’re gonna feel a little weak.” “A little?” Your muscles feel like jelly when you try to push yourself off of him and you collapse back onto Jaemin’s chest with a soft groan. Jaemin huffs a laugh and helps you sit up, turning you around on his lap so that your back is to his chest. He drops a soft kiss to your ear and your eyelids flutter.

“Here, take these.” Pills are dropped into your hand, a bottle of some energy drink you don’t recognize. “It’ll replace all the nutrients and stuff you lost.” Jaemin watches you down the drink in one go, tossing it across the room when you hand the empty bottle back to him. “How are you feeling?”

Your vision is much clearer than it was, though you still feel lethargic and would like to do nothing except lay down in a soft bed for the rest of your life. “My head hurts.” Jaemin hums. “Okay. I would rattle off some instructions for you to follow but I know it’ll just make your headache worse. I’ll write them down for you instead, how’s that.” “You’re so self aware.” Reality hits you when you feel the bruises on your throat, on your chest, and realize that yes, all of that did just happen. “Um. I didn’t know it could feel that-” You trail off, hand waving vaguely in the air. “Good?” Jaemin offers, laughing when you nod. “Mhmm, did they not tell you about that? I’m sure they make it sound like being bitten by a vampire is the worst thing imaginable at that fancy church you go to.” You look away, embarrassed, and Jaemin laughs. “You know that humans make drugs out of our saliva, right? That’s why there are hunters.” Your eyes shoot open in alarm. “Really? That’s awful.”

Jaemin hums, nodding. “Yeah, well, when it’s profitable...” He laughs bitterly. “Anyways, it’s an expensive drug. And you just got that shit for free.”

“I feel so honored.” You laugh, snuggling into him. He pushes you back.

“Y/n, I need you to understand something.” Jaemin says, tone suddenly serious. His eyes burn straight into your soul. “That was a mistake. I’m not- we can’t do that again.”

It shouldn’t hurt you. What you just did is considered shameful by many, you should be relieved that he’s telling you it can’t happen again. You shouldn’t want to spend more time with a vampire. “Oh. Yeah, yeah of course.” You nod, looking away from his intense gaze to blink back your tears. “Yeah, we just got carried away.” Jaemin looks like he wants to say something else, lips parting for a second before shaking his head, offering a tight smile instead. “We got everything done that we needed to get done. You should rest now.”

He doesn’t mean now as in right this second, which he made especially clear after telling you that it was a mistake, but you can’t help it. You’re asleep in seconds.

When you wake up for the second time, Jaemin is nowhere to be found. You’re in your own bed, tucked in nice and neatly, and you smile as you realize it meant that the vampire had carried you home. There’s the list of instructions that he’d promised you on your nightstand, signed with nearly illegible hand-writing. Your smile grows before promptly dropping off. Vampires can’t get into a house without being invited. You’ve never invited him in, which means that he must’ve either asked permission from Mark or your parents. Neither is good.

The gravity of the situation hits you when Mark walks into your room, jaw set, arms crossed. He blanches when he sees your neck, the sight clearly making him uncomfortable. “Holy- y/n, I told you that you couldn’t trust Jaemin. You’re lucky I was here when you brought you home because I can guarantee your parents would react way worse than me.”

“Jaemin was fine. He didn’t do anything I didn’t want him to.” You see the exact moment that those words process in Mark’s mind, his face going from worried to angry.

“You let him drink from you? What were you thinking? Y/n, you look like you got mauled.” Mark sounds disgusted and you try not to shrink into yourself.

The bruises ache when you press over one of them and an overwhelming sense of embarrassment washes over you at how it makes you shiver. “Relax, it’s not like I let him turn me. We just got caught up in the heat of the moment. Mark, it felt so good.” Your eyelids flutter shut at the memory, snapping back open when Mark scoffs.

“So what? You want to be their blood bag now?” Mark’s voice rises in pitch as he yells and the sound grates on your nerves. “Wanna be a vampire whore for the rest of your life? Live in a dusty ass attic and let whoever walks by have a go at you?” “Mark, what- do you hear yourself? What the fuck is your problem?” Mark’s been your best friend since you were five. Never, never, have you heard him talk like this. It hurts.

“Do I hear myself? Y/n, I should be the one asking you that. Here you are, creaming yourself while talking about letting some fucking, some bloodsucker tear your throat open! It’s disgusting.” Mark scoffs, shaking his head. “You’re just as bad as Do-” He cuts himself off suddenly, but you know what he was about to say. “Just as bad as who? Donghyuck?” You shake your head, feeling hot tears prick at the back of your eyes. “It must run in the family to become filthy disappointments, then.”

Mark’s eyes soften and he grabs your wrist, rubbing circles into your skin with his thumb. “It’s not too late for you. Let’s go to the church, you can pray for forgiveness.”

You feel numb when you nod, letting Mark wrap a scarf around your neck and lead you down the road. He sits next to you in the pews, rubbing your shoulder while you rest your forehead on your hands, pretending to pray. But you can’t focus, can’t stop thinking about your brother.

Donghyuck was Mark’s best friend before you were. The three of you would hang out a lot, though you only joined the two because as Donghyuck’s younger sister, he felt obligated to include you. The two boys were inseparable, and then one day, they weren’t.

Your parents say that he was tainted by the devil. Mark’s father says that he betrayed God. You think Donghyuck simply fell in love. And love is a beautiful thing, but not when it’s between a vampire and a human. Your brother was forced to choose between his family and his love.

In the end, he chose love.

That night, you toss and turn in bed, unable to stop thinking about your brother. If he’s alive, if he’s a vampire. If he’s dead. What you would do in his situation. Not that it matters, because you wouldn’t fall in love with a vampire, but you can’t help but wonder. Is it really that bad? They were once human, too.

The thought doesn’t leave your mind even when you go to the lab, meeting an uncharacteristically quiet Jaemin, and a very excited looking Jeno. “Y/n! Thank you so much for doing this!” “Yeah, well, gotta pass my classes somehow.” You laugh. Jaemin doesn’t meet your eyes when you look at him, keeping his gaze just a little too low and frowning.

“Seriously though, this is great. I’ve been trying to get permission for this experiment for ages, the fact that the administration finally caved is insane.” Jeno says, turning to ruffle through some papers on the desk. You shoot a curious glance at Jaemin, finally realizing that he’s staring at your neck. Or well, your covered neck. He’s trying to see the marks. With a glance towards Jeno, you carefully slide the fabric of your turtle neck down, laughing silently at how Jaemin inhales sharply, lips parting slightly. You yank it back up when Jeno turns around. “Jaemin informed you of the experiment, correct?” You shoot Jaemin a look. “Yeah! You just need to take a couple of blood samples, right?” Jeno shakes his head, tilting his head at Jaemin. “Not exactly. We’re going to need you to take microdoses of vampire blood.”

It takes a moment to register. “You want me to drink vampire blood?” You screech, eyes bulging. “That’s going to turn me!” Jeno shakes his head, laughing. “With the amount we’re giving you? No. It’ll only turn you if a vampire drinks your blood, and you die. You’ll be fine.” Next to you, Jaemin stiffens. You bite your lip. “Um. Like at the same time, or?” “It doesn’t have to be at the exact same time. If you’ve been bitten before, you can’t drink any blood or you’ll be turned. But again, that’s only if you die.” Jeno tilts his head. “Have you been bitten before?” “Jeno.” Jaemin draws his attention away before you can respond. “It’s just a microdose, right? Like, barely enough to have an effect?” He considers this. “Well, I mean, not enough to have negative effects.”

You and Jaemin share a long look. Jaemin had drunk your blood not even a week earlier. It's dangerous. But it’s a small amount. Jeno said there wouldn’t be any negative effects. And you can’t fail this class. You send Jaemin a pleading look. Jaemin swallows thickly and looks back to Jeno.

“She’ll be fine?” Jaemin’s voice is shaky.

Jeno nods. “Caring for a human? That’s odd, coming from you. But yeah, she’ll be fine.”

You exhale heavily. “I’ll do it.”

There are more papers to be signed, more blood to be drawn. Though this time Jeno takes it in a much more professional manner, drawing it out and putting it into a test tube. Next to you, Jaemin squeezes his eyes shut and you watch his jaw clench. You want to tease him but you can’t, not in front of Jeno.

Despite Jeno’s reassurances, the worry doesn’t leave you. He doesn’t know what you and Jaemin did, doesn’t know that you’ve been bitten by a vampire. And maybe it doesn’t matter- it’s not like you’re going to die or anything, which is what needs to happen for you to turn- but you need some sort of comfort.

That’s how you end up bailing on your Friday night dinner with Mark’s family, saying that you need to finish a project that’s due that night. Your parents roll their eyes and scold you for not taking your studies seriously, but let you skip the dinner. Mark shakes his head at you, disapproving of you working with a vampire, but keeps his mouth shut.

If Jaemin’s surprised when you show up at his door, he doesn’t show it. He just smirks at you, leaning against the door frame. “Hey blood bag.” You scoff and shove past him into the house, dropping down onto the sofa you sat on last time. “When did you start calling me that, leech?”

“When you let me drink from you.” Jaemin says plainly, sitting next to you. “Is there a reason you’re here? I mean, I know I’m irresistible, but-” “But we didn’t tell Jeno you drank from me.” You interrupt. “We need to tell him. He’s been waiting forever for this, he’ll be devastated if we ruin it.”

Jaemin nods, considering it. “Y/n, you know you’ll get kicked off the project if we tell him, right?” You nod, biting your lip. “Look, Jeno’s been my best friend for hundreds of years. I hate keeping this from him more than you do.” “Then why are you?” It doesn’t make sense. You’re certainly not friends, or at least you weren’t before last week.

He doesn’t answer. His eyes are dark and it looks like there’s a war raging behind them, but he doesn’t elaborate on what’s bothering him. The sharp points of his teeth dig into his bottom lip as he bites it nervously, blood beading at the cut when he finally looks back at you.

You don’t think when you bring your thumb up to swipe at his lower lip, skin coming away red. Jaemin watches in fascination as you bring the digit up to your own mouth, sliding it past your lips, sucking the blood away. He swallows thickly.

“Does it feel as good for you as it does for me?” You ask, glancing from his lips to his face. He shakes his head gently.

“It feels good for you because of our saliva.” Jaemin explains. “But it doesn’t feel bad when you do it, it’s just-” He makes a vague gesture with his hand as if trying to pull the words out of thin air. “It’s very intimate.”

He licks his lips, then, digs his teeth back into his bottom lip. It’s a subconscious movement but you still lean in to press a kiss over where the blood pricks up, nipping just hard enough to have a growl rumbling in Jaemin’s chest before soothing the wound with your tongue. You pull away and smile, licking the blood off of your lips.

You don’t even have time to make a witty remark over how affected Jaemin looks because he’s pulling you onto his lap, crashing your lips together with enough force that you’re sure they’ll bruise. It draws a moan from you and Jaemin eagerly drinks it in, fisting his hand in your hair and deepening the kiss.

A gasp leaves you when he pulls away, trails his lips down your throat. You tense in anticipation, a whine getting trapped in your throat when his fangs just barely scrape the skin. He leaves a wet kiss there, pulling away to look up at you. “Want me to bite you, baby?”

“God, yeah.” You moan out, tilting your head to expose more of your neck.

“Ah, I’d rather you didn’t say that name in my house.” Jaemin laughs. He moves back to your throat, digging his fangs into the spot he’d marked. There’s less pain this time, pleasure coursing through you almost instantly. You whine and tighten your grip on his hair.

Electricity runs through your veins as Jaemin takes what he wants, marking up your body. You breathe out something along the lines of “want more” and Jaemin takes it to heart, scooping you up and carrying you to his room in record time. He tosses you onto the mattress, crawling over you not even a second later to press his lips to yours.

He fits himself easily between your legs, rocking his hips down in a rare show of desperation. You can feel exactly how affected he is, his hardness pressing deliciously against your core. Another plea of “more” is whispered against his lips and he doesn’t need any more encouragement, pulling away to move further down your body. He kisses and nips his way down your torso, pushing your shirt up to reveal more skin to him, dropping kiss after kiss to the sensitive skin just above the waistband of your pants. Your core throbs at the feeling of having him so close to you and you squirm, trying to spread your legs more, trying to articulate that you need something, anything.

“J-Jaemin, take them off.” You whine, pushing at the waistband. “I need you.”

The coldness of his hands brushing against your skin when he drags your pants down has you shivering, squirming. He tosses your clothing to the floor and wastes no time attaching his lips to the inside of your thigh, holding you down when you squirm.

“Is this okay?” Jaemin asks, concern mixing with his arousal. He brushes his index finger over your pussy, making your back arch in an effort to get him closer to where you need him.

“More than.” Despite your assurances, Jaemin doesn’t touch you. He moves his hand up to your abdomen, flattening his palm to keep you pinned down. You whine in annoyance, but the teeth dragging over your inner thigh has you shutting up. A gasp leaves you before he even sinks his fangs in, your pussy absolutely throbbing with need. He presses another gentle kiss to the skin and, raising his gaze to make eye contact with you, bites you.

It’s more intense than when he bit your neck or your chest. It sets your body on fire in the best of ways, leaves you writhing under his touch. Your eyes roll in your head and your hands flail in an effort to grab something, anything to ground yourself. It’s amazing, and just when you think you’ve reached heaven, he touches you.

You’re soaking wet and Jaemin’s fingers slide into you effortlessly, fill you up so well. It’s too much effort to keep your eyes open and so you let them drift shut, let yourself fall into the bliss. There’s pressure against your lips and you open your eyes to find Jaemin hovering over you, sliding two fingers past your lips. You didn’t even realize he’d stopped biting you.

“Suck.” He commands, and who are you to disobey? You wrap your lips around the digits and hum at the taste of yourself, at the weight of them in your mouth. “Taste good, baby?” “Mhmm, yeah.” Your words are slurred around the digits and you suck even harder around them, letting your tongue trace patterns around them. Jaemin swears softly and grinds down against your thigh.

He presses one more kiss to your lips before sliding down your body. “My turn to taste.”

Maybe there should be some sort of alarm going through your system when Jaemin lowers his mouth to your core. Some sort of reminder that he has some very sharp fangs, that he has just bit you in multiple places, and that his fangs are right in the place that fangs should never be. But it feels heavenly when he licks a stripe between your folds, when he fucks his tongue into your hole. His hands keep you pinned to the mattress, super strength coming in handy to control your squirming.

The pleasure consumes you and it’s so much, too much, and your eyes want to squeeze shut but Jaemin looks up at you and his gaze is magnetic, making it impossible to look away from him. Your body’s on fire, burning brighter with every flick of his tongue, every moan he lets out into your core. He pulls away to drop his head to the apex of your thigh, digging his fangs into the delicate skin there, and you can’t fight the scream that rips from your throat. You’re babbling, chanting incoherent words as you try to explain how good it feels, how you never want him to stop. His hair is soft in your grip and it’s the only thing keeping you anchored, the only thing preventing you from drowning in pleasure.

“You taste so good, baby.” Jaemin moans, pulling away momentarily to make a show of licking his lips. “Everything about you is so delicious.” He returns to your core, lapping at your hole before flicking his tongue over your clit, laughing at how your body jolts. There’s nothing but hunger in his eyes as he sucks your clit between his lips, fucking two fingers into your needy cunt. He does it again, hitting all of your sensitive spots, making you scream with bliss as you finally tip over the edge.

Wave after wave of euphoria crash into you and your lungs burn as your gasp for air. You’re drowning in the best way possible, surrounded by nothing but pleasure and Jaemin, Jaemin, Jaemin.

He works you through it with gentle flicks of his tongue, hands smoothing over your thighs to bring you back down. You manage to find enough strength to shove at his head when it gets to be too much, tiredly sinking into the mattress when he pulls away. Jaemin wipes at his mouth and bends down to kiss you lazily, nipping at your lip just to hear you whine. He smooths your hair down and brushes a few strands out of your face, smiling down at how fucked out you are. And you’d be content to lay wrapped in his arms, with Jaemin cooing softly at how pretty you are and petting your head, but you can feel how hard he is.

“Jaemin,” You murmur, shifting in his hold. “Jaem, wanna make you feel good.” “It’s alright, you don’t h- oh, shit baby- you don’t have to.” He has to fight to get the words out, a groan interrupting his sentence when you grab at his cock. You pout at him and manage to tug his pants down just enough for you to pull him out.

“But I want to.” You smile, leaning up for a kiss. Jaemin doesn’t bother replying, just presses his lips back to yours and melts into your touch. The way you jerk him off is lazy, your energy drained from how intense your orgasm was. Though with the way Jaemin groans against your lips and tightens his grip on your hip, you don’t think that he minds.

He moans your name when he comes, a beautiful sound that has your stomach twisting with heat. White spills over your knuckles and onto his stomach and you bring your hand up to your mouth, licking at it curiously. Jaemin watches you with heavy lids before collapsing onto the mattress.

“Fuck,” He sighs, eyelids drifting shut. “Why’re you so good to me?” “Why are you so good to me?” You mumble back in response, curling up into him. “Thanks for not biting my pussy.” Something about that sets Jaemin off and his body shakes with the laughter running through him. A giggle leaves you. “What?” Jaemin shakes his head, still laughing. “Nothing. Come on, gotta get you some food.”

And that’s how it goes. You and Jaemin continue to hook up, although he does end up saying ‘fuck it’ and attempting to actually teach you chemistry. Despite Mark’s fears, he doesn’t end up killing you. He’s a lot of fun to be around, plus he keeps his pantry stocked with various snacks. Sometimes he even cooks for you, if he’s feeling nice.

“What’s a vampire doing with all this food?” You ask one day, watching him make fried rice. He doesn’t respond, just staring down at the pan and offering you a shrug, though you swear you see him blush.

Your professor raises your grade to a C. It’s not stellar but it also isn’t failing, which you will happily take. There’s only a little bit of guilt when she beams at you while telling you how happy Jeno is with your dedication to the project.

Jeno continues to take blood samples, and you continue to not tell him that you’ve been bitten. It eats you up inside, but Jaemin’s always there to reassure you. Whether he’s trying to comfort you or himself more is up for debate.

Everything stays the same except for Mark.

He gets more distant, grows a little more resentful. There’s no smiles or teasing jokes, except for the polite ones he flashes in front of your parents. He starts to make up lies, too, which is something you promised to never do. Excuses to get him out of plans, saying there’s nothing wrong. And your best friend, the most timid, nicest boy you’ve ever met, begins to pick petty fights with you.

You’re over it, and it bothers you even if you try not to let it show. Jaemin rubs your back and tells you it’ll be okay, but you know it won’t. Because Jaemin’s the reason that Mark’s distant. And you have no plans to stop seeing him.

Talking to Jaemin, you’re sure Mark would have liked him if the circumstances were different. If Mark didn’t hate vampires so much, or if Jaemin were just a regular human college student like you. But those aren’t the circumstances, and so you have to deal with Mark’s whiny ass showing up at your door to drag you to church.

“Mark, it’s Thursday night.” You groan, shaking your textbook at him. “I have work to do!”

“Yeah, you also have praying to do.” Mark snaps, grabbing the book out of your hands. “Not like you even understand this.”

Which, ouch, that kind of hurts. Especially when Mark knows that you’re frustrated that you can’t get the subject down even though you try. You glare at him and reach for the book. “Mark, give it back. And I actually do understand this, Jaemin’s been helping-” “Helping what? Taint you? Turn you into one of their blood whores?” Mark grabs the book back and throws it across the room. “Y/n, come on. I’m not letting this happen to you too.” He pulls you after him despite your grumbling, though he at least has the decency to let you put shoes on. Just because you go freely doesn’t mean you’re happy about it, complaining as Mark drags you through the city. “Jesus Christ Mark, has it ever occurred to you that Donghyuck had free will? That he willingly chose to be with her because he loved her?” You’re fed up with Mark, fed up with everyone. “God Mark, they’re not that bad!” Mark stares at you for a moment. “What, they’re brainwashing you too? How is it that both you and your brother are so dumb? I know you weren’t raised like this.”

“Well at least I wasn’t raised to be such an ignorant asshole.” You snap. “I have the ability to make my own decisions, something you apparently lack.” “Oh, so what’s that supposed to mean?” Mark stops walking suddenly, crossing his arms as he waits for an answer. You open your mouth to yell at him when a flash of movement catches your eyes. Squinting, you make out a group of guys, and they’re close enough that you can hear them laughing when one of them wipes… is that blood on his mouth? “Mark, we have to go.” You whisper. The vampires don’t see you and you’re hoping that you can get the two of you out of there safely. “Come on-” “No, tell me what you mean!” Mark yells, stubbornly standing in place. You groan and try to drag him away but he doesn’t budge. “Come on y/n, tell me what you fucking mean.” You shoot a worried glance over your shoulder, surprised when you don’t see the vampires. There’s a second of relief, lasting only until you turn around to find them standing right behind Mark. You squeak in surprise. Mark freezes too, one of the men having grabbed him by the shoulders. His face presses way too close to Mark’s neck and you jump when you feel hands on your own shoulders.

“Aww, lover’s spat?” The guy holding Mark laughs. “That’s okay, we’ve all been there, right guys?” The rest of his friends cackle in the creepiest way that you can imagine. “Come on, we can resolve this.” You and Mark look back and forth between each other worriedly. There’s no way out of this, you realize. No way to even try.

“Don’t you wanna know how we can resolve this?” This time the guy holding you speaks and it’s so close to your ear that you flinch, nearly jumping out of your skin. He laughs and his fangs graze your skin, but it doesn’t send pleasure through you like when Jaemin does it. It sends chills down your spine, makes you want to cry. “Answer me.” “N-no.” You stutter out, eyes squeezed shut in fear. “Please, just let us go.” The guy sighs and lets go of you. “Alright.” You and Mark share a look before bolting, adrenaline pumping through your veins. Freedom only lasts for a second before you’re being grabbed again, yanked backwards.

“Stupid girl. I don’t appreciate being told no.” You whimper and you can hear Mark screaming your name, screaming for help, screaming for anything.

It’s the last thing you hear.

“Jaemin, you’re an idiot. Literally the dumbest person I know.” There’s a familiar voice swimming through your head and you try to move towards it, finding your entire body feels drained.

“Yes, I’ve been told.” Is that Jaemin’s voice? It sounds a lot clearer, drags you out of the darkness. “But look, it ended up being good, right? She’s alive.” You finally manage to pry your eyes open and immediately regret it, slamming them shut and curling into yourself. A groan leaves you and the two stop talking. “Y/N? Baby, it’s me.” There’s a hand on your cheek, brushing against the skin gently, and you press into his touch. “How are you feeling?” “Bad.” You croak out through a dry throat, cringing at how dry it feels. Jaemin laughs softly and something presses to your lips. “Here, drink this.”

You didn’t realize how hungry you were until you get the first taste, and then suddenly you find the strength in your body to take gulp after gulp of the drink. It brings a little bit of warmth to your body, makes you feel less achy. You even manage to pry your eyelids open.

Jeno and Jaemin greet you, both men looking relieved. Jaemin beams at you, dipping down for a kiss. “Hey baby.” “What happened?” You frown, trying to remember how you got to Jaemin’s couch. “Did I- I was walking to the church and we were attacked.” Oh shit, you weren’t alone. You search frantically around the room. “Did Mark- is he okay?” The thought of your best friend- no matter how strained your relationship was at the end- dying is too much for you to handle.

Jaemin smiles. “He’s the one that brought you to me.”

“He’s okay?” Jeno nods in confirmation.

“They only wanted to kill for fun, guess you were enough.” Jeno says. “Speaking of killing, Jaemin has a lot of explaining to do. And since I don’t trust him to do a good job, I’m going to stay here!” You look between the two. “Kill? Am I- I’m dead?” Jaemin makes a face. “Fucking- I’m a vampire?” Your words come out shrill and the two boys cringe.

“Yeah, sorry.” Jaemin scratches the back of his neck. “My bad. But, um, I’ll take care of you! Don’t worry.” Then, to Jeno: “Come on man, can’t we have a second of peace? I literally never thought I was going to see her again.” Jeno sighs, glaring at his friend before walking away. “Dramatic.”

You’re in Jaemin’s arms in the next second, held close to his chest. “Fuck y/n, I’m so sorry.” His voice is shaky and he keeps his face pressed into your neck. “This is all my fault, I don’t know how I’m going to make it up to you.” “We’ll figure it out later.” You tug at his hair to get him to look you in the eyes. “I almost died, Jaemin. Give me a headache later. Right now…” You trail off, letting your lips stretch wide. “Kiss me.” It draws a snort from Jaemin. “You were dead like an hour ago and now you want to fuck?” “No!” You whine and smack his chest. “I just want a kiss, get your mind out of the gutter.” Jaemin teases you some more, making you laugh and smack him to stop before you finally say fuck it and pull him closer, smashing your lips together. He smiles into the kiss, wrapping his arms around your body. You have a lot to worry about, but you’ve also got all the time in the world to worry about it. It makes you sick to think about, and for now, you want to just relax. Not that Jaemin seems to mind, happily letting you curl into his chest, stroking your head. You’re not alone, you have Jaemin, and you know he’ll help you through this.

+ You’re not expecting a welcome home party. You’re also not expecting to find all of your belongings scattered across the front yard, having very clearly been chucked from your bedroom window.

“Lovely.” You scoff, staring at the mess. The front door has the biggest cross you’ve ever seen nailed to it, complete with the silver door knob that you promptly burn yourself on. You stare at the door, wondering if you should knock. It swings open before you make your mind up.

Mark stares back at you with wide eyes and parted lips. “Y/n? You’re alive?”

“Hey, Mark.” You smile, tight lipped. “Jaemin told me you saved me.”

Mark looks like he’s about to say something but then his mouth closes and he shakes his head. “Y/n, you- you’re a vampire now. I can’t.” Mark doesn’t look you in the eye when he says it and you scoff, rolling your eyes. “I’m sorry.” “I’m sorry.” You mock, shaking your head. “No you’re not. If you were sorry, you would fucking look me in the eyes.” He doesn’t. “You know it’s your fault I’m like this, right?” That gets him to look up at you. There’s fire in his eyes this time. “No, it’s your fault for whoring around with vampires.” You shake your head. “Who made me go to church that night?” He looks away and doesn’t answer the question. “Good bye, Mark.”

#nct smut #nct dream smut #nct fic #nct dream fic #jaemin smut #jaemin fic #jaemin fanfiction #jaemin vampire #na jaemin smut #kpop smut #supernatural nct #dream smut #kpop scenario #nct scenario #nct dream scenario #jaemin scenario

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taetaespeaches · 4 years

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“Me? Jealous of your dance moves?”

jeongguk x reader genre: fluff word count: 1.7K

note: this piece was written by mads, @aurorassadprosee. This was the first piece she ever wrote and that makes me so soft :( a little bit into our friendship she told me she had written a drabble but didn’t think it was good enough to post, so I had her send it to me and this was the drabble. IMAGINE thinking this wasn’t good enough to post. Ha! Ok, Mads :) It’s still one of my favs. It’s adorable, playful, and just feels like Kookie. We both hope you all enjoy! xo

YOU were making your way around your apartment with swinging hips, beats blasting through your headphones, a hum on your lips.

You were meant to be tidying, cleaning up your small apartment, however, the boring task you started mid-morning was still not done.

You had caught yourself diverging from your set jobs more times that you could count, but no matter how many attempts you made at refocusing your attention back to clearing the clothes off the floor or wiping down surfaces, nearly every couple of minutes you involuntarily break into song and dance.

The clock that sat upon your side table had just clicked over to 3pm, but you just turned up the volume, the hum of tunes on your lips now becoming louder. With a dusting cloth in hand swinging above your head, and hips moving from side to side, you ‘grooved’ around your room, giving the empty space your all.

Although, so involved with your ‘cleaning’, the repeated knock at your door remained unnoticed, you didn’t hear it open, nor do you hear your name being called.

Jeongguk peered his head around the entryway and took one step into your apartment, dumping his bag on the polished floorboards, expecting to be met with your wide smile.

However, he found himself alone in the open space that was your lounge.

Confused at first, believing the apartment to be unoccupied, his gaze fell on clothes strewn over the couch, a plate with half eaten toast and a tea stained cup resting on your wooden coffee table, and a glowing TV, the muffled voice of a news anchor filling the room.

However, it was the hallow squawk that sounded from down the corridor that let him know you were home.

As he slowly made his way closer to the noise, a wince appeared on his face, and it stayed there.

Palms rising to protect his ears from the sound of your unrelenting, off-pitch screeching, he made his way to the doorway of your room.

There he saw you.

You with your back to him, hair half out of your high bun, violently moving to a beat he couldn’t hear.

Leaning against the arch of the entryway, he removed his palms from his ears and brought them to cross his chest.

A smile broke out across his face, an involuntary giggle coming out of his mouth.

You stayed unaware however, tunes too loud, too immersed, going hard.

It wasn’t until mid-twirl you noticed him standing there, laughing.

Frozen, you quickly snatch the headphones off your head, arms dropping limp and face immediately reddening.

“Guk!” you gasp, “what are you doing here?!”

You had not expected him for another three hours, you had plans for those three hours!

Some of those plans had been a possible shower, getting changed in something other than your pajama top and sweatpants, or hell, maybe even brushing your hair?!

“Oh! nice to see you too, baby,” he said, a smile from ear-to-ear. “Those are some real moves you’ve got there!”

Oh my god, you wanted the floor to open up and swallow you whole.

It wasn’t like Jeongguk hadn’t seen you dancing before in the two years you had been together, he has witnessed your numerous drunken shenanigans, especially when an 80s shuffle came on.

For goodness sake, you both jam out regularly together - rap battles included.

But there is something different, and completely embarrassing about being caught in the act.

“Shut up! How long have you been standi-wait, I don’t want to know how long you’ve been standing there,” you say, face still red, embarrassed to the core. “You haven’t answered my question, why are you home so early?”

“Well, we had sort of finished up for the day so I really didn’t have any reason to stay back,” he said. “Plus, I wanted to see you!” a smile still encompassing his entire face, “is that not reason enough? You’ve been busy with work and study all week, and I’ve been held up with rehearsals and recording, I just thought we could grab a bite to eat?”

You toss your phone and headphones onto your bed, and cross your arms tightly across your body, “well some prior notice would have been nice, I’ve been working all day and now I won’t have any time to get ready,” you say with a pout.

“Oh really?” he drawls, still beaming, “working hard, all day?”

“Yes really!” you say, eyes narrowing, “why is that so hard to believe?”

Still laughing, Jeongguk slowly made his way over to you, mimicking your dance moves as he went along.

Your face becomes redder, if that’s even possible, skin and ears burning.

You smack him lightly in the chest when he gets close enough, but he just continues to giggle.

Wrapping his arms around your frame, he looks down his chin at you, his warm brown eyes scrunched by his wide smile.

“Hmmm…yeah um, seems as though you have been really busy,” he said sarcastically, eyes widening in false sincereness.

He looks away, gaze roaming around the small space, pausing and pointedly looking at your unmade bed.

You cocked your head to the side, eyebrow rising.

“Excuse you! what are you insinuating?” you huff in false exasperation, “I am a hardworking individual!”

He looks back to you, eyes crinkled in humour, bangs slightly pushed to the side, skin bare.

He throws his head back with a chuckle, your eyes falling to the scattered and occasional light freckles that cover his jaw and neck, appearing like stars on a clear night.

Your heart thumps.

“I think you know exactly what I mean,” his arms squeeze tighter as he rests his forehead against yours lightly, the echo of faint music still making its way out of the headphones laying on your bed.

You’re struggling for excuses now, you’re struggling to even breathe, his gaze intensely meeting yours, waiting for your rebuttal.

“Well the thing is, not like you’d know anyway, but cleaning is a time-consuming task!” you say with the same determined tone, your eyes moving down to your fingers that were playing with the strings of his hoodie.

But your voice wavers toward the end of the sentence, fading as you look back up to him and see a smile creep back onto his face, eyes sparkling.

He scoffs.

You gulp.

“Okay whatever, shut up!” you finally cave with a whine, “hey! It’s not my fault my Spotify playlist is full of bops!”

His boyish giggle fills the room once more.

Waiting for his response you lift your gaze to meet his expecting a witty remark, you instead get his lips.

Your mind goes instantly blank.

Your senses are consumed by him.

His hands moving to your hips, sliding to the cotton waistband of your sweats, the pressure of his thumbs on your hip-bones.

He pulls away, bringing his lips close to your ear, you shiver at his breath.

“God you’re an idiot.”

You can hear the smile on his words as his lips make their way along your neck and jaw.

“You’re just jealous of my dance moves,” you mumble back, eyes half closed, one hand pulling at his cotton jumper, the other to the nape of his neck, fingers tangled in his soft hair, trying to bring him back down to your mouth once more.

“Me?” his eyes come back into line with yours quickly, eyebrow raised, “jealous of your dance moves?”

“Well, why wouldn’t you be?” you say with a cheeky grin, “I mean look at this!”

You push away from him, twirl on the spot, hand on hip as you stop abruptly, looking over your shoulder dramatically, wiggling your eyebrows.

Jeongguk almost doubles over, stumbling back and landing on your bed, clasping his stomach.

Once he catches his breath, he hoists himself back to a sitting position, shoulders curved, chin in hands.

“Oh my god, you really are an idiot!” he chuckles. “A cute idiot though! a very cute idiot!” he quickly adds in response to your furrowed brows. “Hmmm, maybe I am jealous,” he smirks, “you might have to teach me some of these moves?”

With you now further away, he is able to see you completely, shamelessly scanning up and down your body.

With a small smile and a knowing expression, you make your way back over to him, slowly taking a seat on his lap.

“Yeah maybe,” you sigh, shaking your head, “but, I’ve got to warn you, if you want to learn these moves, it’s going to take rigorous and intense training. My technique is hard to master.”

His hands clasp at the small of your back, the last of his giggles fading away.

He lifts his chin, nose brushing against yours, his lips inches away.

“Hmmm, rigorous and intense training hey?” he hums. “That’s fine with me,” he says, roughly bringing his lips to yours.

He pulls you closer, hand shifting onto your hip, the other moving to the side of your cheek, deepening the kiss with every breath.

It was a few minutes before your brain re-activated, you bring your hands to his neck, and pull away, ignoring his mewls and attempts to pull you back

“If we’re going to go for something to eat, I need to get ready,” you murmur softly, starting to detach yourself from him.

He grumbles in response, gripping you tighter, his strength immediately outweighing yours.

You land with a thump back onto his lap, face-to-face with his pout.

“No, no we can order in,” his lips making their way back to the side of your neck. “I don’t really want to go out anyway.”

“Mmmmm, fine,” you say with a false hufff, smile on your lips. “But at least let me make my bed!”

Jeongguk smirks, shifting his weight, your back now suddenly against the blankets.

Hovering over you on his forearms, Jeongguk’s eyes meet yours shining, his skin hot.

“Oh sweetheart, there will be no need to do that.”

#fics by mads #jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook drabble #jungkook drabbles #jungkook fic #jungkook fics #jungkook imagine #jungkook imagines #jungkook scenario #jungkook scenarios #bts #bts jungkook #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts drabbles #bts fics #bts imagines #bts scenarios

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fuck-customers · 4 years

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BEAUTY SUPPLIES ARE NOT ESSENTIAL

The week of March 15th was the absolute week from hell at my job. I work at that one beauty supply store, ya’know the one with a lady’s name? First off the higher ups treat store level employees like fucking shit and I seriously feel like they screw us so far as pay and hours go, but that’s for another time. Anyways that was the week here in my home state (CT) that things with Covid-19 really got bad. It was also the week my boss happened to take off just so she could use some time before my 6 month pregnant coworker went out on leave. Mind you she took this week off months ago, not knowing the hell that was about to break loose.

Some background ,besides my boss and myself (only other full time besides my boss), I have 3 coworkers. A new girl who’s very nice, but a complete idiot, that my other coworkers and I agree my boss under trained before she put her with us. My coworker who’s pregnant, and has some mental health issues of her own. We can call her P. And my other coworker who’s been there a few years herself. I’ll call her H because she’s a hairdresser. I’ve been at my job nearly 7 years, and pretty much run the show when my boss isn’t around. Not like ordering my coworkers around, but paperwork and other tasks become my problem if the boss isn’t around. However I have really bad anxiety. It makes my skin condition flair up when my anxiety is bad. (And let’s face it this pandemic has got my anxiety through the roof) Oh and not to mention I was dealing with a freshly healed hand that I cut at work that required stitches, and this crazy whitehead I got on my forehead that kept my eye swollen half shut for half the week.

Sunday- it’s me and the new girl, who’s over confident but cannot keep up. Sundays are either busy or slow as all get out. It was super busy. I couldn’t get any of my normal Sunday stuff done. Customers looked at me funny because of my eye. Come to find out my boss later says she thought she put P on. Which would of been better because she’s more competent.

Monday- I walk into H telling me it’s been super busy, it continues that way. H and I try to keep the store somewhat sorted. We’re surprised with orders to close 30 mins before they wanted us close. We do what we have to do. I tell my manager who has me take a work iPad home so she or I can keep an eye on stuff if need be. I do not do the important tasks I had to do that day, there was just no time. Thankfully it saved me from having to close alone and be there 3 hours alone at night.

Tuesday- I’m off, but I drop the iPad off to my boss at her home. I hear it was crazy busy at work from P. They’ve cut our hours being open from 9-9 to 10-6.

Wednesday- I’m now working open to close the rest of the week. Wednesday our shipments come in and this is no different. It’s only the new girl and I today. It ends up being chaos. Everyone’s coming in exclaiming how happy they are we’re open. People apparently really can’t live without their hair dye. We’ve been told to disinfect every 2 hours. I try to keep up with that along with new directives from corporate. We get so many each day.

Thursday- shipment wasn’t finished yesterday. It still doesn’t get finished today. The store is small. A woman with a lung condition calls about 3 times to say she’s coming in and will be wearing a a mask so don’t think she’s contagious (amongst other things I don’t have the patience to type out) No one understands the concept of keeping 6 feet away. Corporate decides today we’re no longer going to take returns or exchanges. Nor will we take cash or checks. Customers continue to be rude and meaner. Everyone acts like having roots is going to kill them. I continue to try and keep order. When we finally close, P goes in back and cries. She can’t take the customers anymore. Neither could I. It was getting to be too much. In the mean time we’ve tried to tell our boss how stressful this whole thing is. She brushes it off. She’s not there so she just doesn’t get it. A customer asked if my skin condition was ringworm. Which was just rude. I end up going home and having a full blown panic attack.

Friday- my last day of work for however long this goes on. People are coming in like we’re having a massive sale. This whole week sales have been through the roof. We’re running out of things. I’ve heard every conspiracy in the book. I’ve been yelled at. I must of answered at least 100 “are you open” phone calls by this point. We finally get our shipment finished. I have to work with new girl again. She doesn’t seem to get the concept of no cash. I didn’t even put money in the drawers so even if someone had cash there would be no change to give, but she still attempts to take cash at least twice. Also had a customer ask for my name and when the manager would be in. Coworker and friend who was in couldn’t figure out why the fuck she’d do that. I only said I couldn’t remember what color she bought last time and that I was sorry. (It’s hard to remember everyone’s)Thankfully it was the last day for me.

Saturday- my boss finally decided to go into work herself. Corporate decided that would be the last day we’d be open till at least mid April. I move back into my own house after 4 months (another long stupid totally unrelated story) and silently thank whoever blessed me with not having to go in on Sunday.

All I can say is customers are fucking assholes. Hair dye isn’t essential. And everyone should learn some fucking manners. Oh and my boss is an asshole for making us deal with this shit without her. Everyone please fucking stay home unless it’s an absolute necessity. You’ll live without your makeup and nail polish remover. Fuck customers and fuck corporate. You all suck!

Anyways sorry if this is too long, I just had a lot to get off my chest. Thank you to the actual essential workers out there doing their job so we can stay safe and healthy!

#fuck retail #fuck co-workers #fuck managers #fuck coworkers #fuck customers #submission

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nomnomsik · 5 years

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In Sync | Pt. 2

Summary: The dance teacher and choreographer, Jung Hoseok, appears as a guest for UNDER 19, a judge for the showdown round, with only half of all the trainees qualifying for the next round. Despite his intimidating manner, his interest in you, a trainee, must mean he wants you to qualify to the end, right? What happens if he wants something else from you, completely unrelated to dance?

Pairing: Dance Teacher!Hoseok x Trainee/Idol Fem!Reader

Genre: Slow-burn, Idol!AU

Word Count: 4.4K

Trigger warnings: yandere-themes, manipulation, profanity, eating disorders, possessive tendencies, and overworking. Please read with caution.

[ Part 1 ]

≿————- ❈ ————-≾

All the same. We are all the same.

We have this person in the figment of our imagination, someone who is everything we could ever want in a person. Some people prefer having someone with a great personality, while some joke around with specific heights or style. Yet, these same people go against what they say. They always seem to settle with someone who doesn’t fit what they’ve always wanted. Are they happy like that?

Is it wrong that I’ll never be happy unless I have someone be exactly how I imagined them? Why is it that we cannot have a straight replica of our imagination? Why is it that when an art teacher tries to aid another person to draw, even if the outcome is completely different from the original, why are they happy with that?

If I was in that position, I would want the drawing to be exactly like the original. Why must I settle for close enough? If they aren’t the same as what I wanted, why would I want them? These people fantasize about their future lovers in life just like I do, but when I tell them I haven’t found the right one, they look at me like I’m asking for too much, that I’m greedy.

I, too, want to be happy. I want to spend the rest of my life with someone who’s just as devoted as I am. Is it so wrong to want to live out my fantasies? I always go back to these fragments of my dreams with my partner. We should be absolute perfection. We would be completely in sync.

≿————- ❈ ————-≾

“Pah, pah-”

Left, right foot, jump, both arms together, half turn-

“Faster, y/n!”

You grunted, spinning around quicker than normal as you stared at both of your reflections through the mirror. His piercing eyes watched every movement you put out, joining you in synchronized motions as he scrutinized over each detail. As the music died down, you collapsed onto the floor, your hair sprawled everywhere as you desperately panted while looking at the palm of your hands.

"Is that all you got in you? Do you think the industry will accept such mediocrity? Stand up. From the top."

Not even fifteen seconds of rest, you dragged yourself back up as you sat straight, rubbing each leg as you slowly stood back up. With your half-lidded eyes, your dance teacher sent a threatening stare, crossing the room to restart the title track.

This time, however, he watched from the sidelines as you danced in front of the mirror. You body screamed out in pain at each extension of your arm or when you had to squat down close to the floor. Despite the agony, you kept going until the music finally died down again. What was it? The 40th time today? Hoseok seemed more lenient today than normal.

“Angel,” Hoseok murmured, staring at your sprawled out body as you finished on the ground. “How do you think you did?”

Hoseok took a seat beside you, his legs crossed as he brushed your wet hair away from your forehead.

“N-not good… enough.” You choked, short of breath.

Hoseok smiled, happy with your answer as his fingers cascaded through your hair. “That’s right. It’s not good enough. Not to mention we haven’t even touched singing together today.”

You shuffled to the side, grumbling in annoyance. Hoseok found it endearing and cute, watching as you huddled your legs closer to your chest. “How much longer until I debut?” You whispered.

Hoseok sighed, knowing the sadness in that question. How long has it been since you trained under him? Two years? Almost three? Even though you couldn’t see his expression, he shook his head, not knowing himself. “Are you getting tired of dancing, y/n?”

“Sometimes.” You mumbled honestly, your back facing him.

"Even if there are days where you want to quit, you'll look back to see how everything was worth it,” Hoseok spoke, a chill running down your spine.

“It better.”

≿————- ❈ ————-≾

“Ms. Y/n, do you know why you’re here today?”

“No, sir.” You responded respectfully, bowing your head a little.

The man sat in front of you, his large desk spanning out in front of him. In the soft cushion of the seat, you shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, not exactly sure why you were called in by the CEO himself.

“A few trainees have come forward saying that Hos-, I mean, Mr. Jung has been keeping you much longer after practice. They've been suggesting extreme allegations against him. Has he ever made you uncomfortable?”

≿————- ❈ ————-≾

“I only want to debut a successful female artist. Our reputation towards female trainees is already bad, so I have to push her harder.”

“You do understand that even if you expose me, the news will spread and all the funds we spent into her training and solo career will be all for nothing, right?”

“That’s what I thought.”

“Don’t ever even try to cross me.”

≿————- ❈ ————-≾

Was it the 74th repeat? Maybe the 78th?

You sighed, not remembering the exact number as you lay on the floor. Hoseok clapped his hands as he entered the dance studio, your body shooting up.

“Sorry about that. I’m back now. Let’s start from the top, okay?”

You nodded, positioning your body from muscle memory. Every step and motion was burned into your body and soul, to where it was at the back of your mind. Your thoughts drifted to relaxation. From the softness of your bed to the wooden floors, you were dying to lay on anything and not have to stand up on your two feet. Nailing every move, you panted at the end, the music slowly dying out as looked up at your teacher.

You brought your arms back down to your side as you turned around to face him, your back towards the mirrors. Hoseok calmly tapped his foot on the wooden floors, tilting his head to the side as he took a few steps towards you.

“That was terrible.”

Your head shot up as Hoseok grabbed your chin, your back harshly slamming into the mirrors. Wincing in pain, Hoseok tightly held you with little to no resistance.

“You weren’t even thinking about the dance, were you?” Hoseok seethed. “Do you want to debut or not?”

“I do!” You grit out.

“Then act like it!” Hoseok countered, letting you go as you sagged onto the floor, smearing the polished glass. “That was pathetic! Terrible! If you don’t put everything into practice, then during the real thing, you're hopeless.”

Saying nothing in response, Hoseok squatted to the floor, staring at your dull eyes. He squinted at you, bringing your arm up to his fingers as he wrapped them around your wrist. He hummed but frowned, looking curiously at your body.

A silence overcame him as he stared at your arms and legs before continuing. “Do it over once more and that’s it for tonight.” Hoseok softly instructed, walking back over to the computer as you tiredly stood up. Your eyes widened a bit at Hoseok’s declaration.

He’d let you go? Already? It wasn’t even 1 am yet.

“Ready?” Hoseok called. “3, 2, 1!”

You jumped, this time dedicating yourself completely to the routine as Hoseok watched with his arms crossed.

Half turn-

Hoseok watched with no emotion in his face as he followed your reflection off the mirror. You picked up the speed on the turn and increased the pace in the second part of the chorus. Hoseok’s eyes widened as he slowly took an interest, subconsciously licking his lips as he watched your body stretch almost effortlessly.

Had you done that before? Definitely not.

Unable to suppress the delight in his face, his eyes twinkled as he watched your body flow like water, almost like a ritual right before his eyes. The bridge of the song, which contained more of the difficult moves, took a toll on your body as you predicted the slip up this time, quickly avoiding it and bending your knees together.

With the final note of the song, reminiscent of the time you were eliminated from Under 19, you pumped your arm in the air, satisfied. You stood up, snapping your head to see your teacher’s reaction. His expression was indescribable, from his widened eyes and parted lips, completely dumbfounded. When you registered him coming closer to you, you couldn’t even mutter a whisper, couldn’t even ask him what he thought. His face was too much of a shock. You had never seen him satisfied with your performance before.

Hoseok clapped loudly as the vibrations filled the studio, him softly whispering to you.

“That was beautiful, angel. It- I loved it.”

For the first time after becoming a BigHit trainee, you heard several compliments stream out of Hoseok’s mouth, flowing out like butter from his tongue. There was no snarkiness or hidden intention, but pure happiness that flooded from his face. His smile was wide and his cheeks, as if he was crying. Often, he would half-ass his compliments which were along the lines of ‘it was fine but-’ or ‘eh, better, I guess.’ But to hear him be proud of you when it seemed like nobody was, the feeling was unlike anything you could fathom.

“See? I knew you could do it, angel.”

As Hoseok stroked the top of your head, you still looked up at him as if he was a stranger. There’s no way this was the same man who lectured and forced you into the extremities of dance. It had been years, repeating the same routine over and over, only to hear every demoralizing remark thrown at you. It was his remarks that only increased your want for success. You had expected the day he would finally praise you would be when you retire, or maybe if you never debuted. Your body quivered under his soft touch as you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. Had his eyes always been that bright?

You arms trembled up to your mouth as you felt a warmth pool up in your face. Finally hearing the validation of your teacher broke you down to tears as you cried on your knees.

He truly did want for you to become a successful idol, to help you achieve your dreams. His harshness was extreme, but it was coming from good.

He’s the only one who sees potential in you.

He’s the only one who wants the best for you.

He’s the only one who’s rooting for you.

The feeling was better than winning the lottery, tears streaming from your eyes as you grabbed Hoseok in an embrace. He yelped as you pulled him down, wetting his shoulder from your cries. Hoseok let out a giggle as you let out a stream of words filled with gratitude, unable to decipher what you were actually saying.

“Why are you crying?” Hoseok whispered gently. The softness of his voice only made your cries worse as he actually laughed in the scenario. “Shh, don’t cry, y/n. A performance like that doesn’t deserve these tears.”

“Y-you think I’m a good dancer?” You whispered, teary-eyed as your voice quivered.

Hoseok’s stomach dropped upon hearing your broken words. Did you really think he thought you were never going to add up to anything? His hand came up to your back as he awkwardly stroked your back. Even with sweat riding down your skin, Hoseok held you until you calmed down, staring at both of your reflections from the now dirty mirror.

“C’mon,” Hoseok nudged, lifting you up to your feet. “Practice is over today.”

You nodded, walking over to collect your belongings with Hoseok waiting at the door. You passed through as Hoseok turned off the lights and locked the door. Before you could leave the building, Hoseok grabbed onto your hand as you visibly flinched, flustered at his sudden intrusion.

“Wha-” You started as you were harshly pulled out of the building and into the night sky.

“Follow me,” Hoseok instructed as you nervously, but obediently followed behind him.

“Where…where are we going?” You questioned worriedly, walking in the lit up city, cars passing by in the opposite direction on the busy streets.

“We’re going to eat,” Hoseok replied bluntly as you crossed the street with him.

“U-uh, I can eat by myself…?”

Hoseok scoffed, pushing through the door of the convenience store, heading straight for the prepared foods section. “No, your ‘eating’ is only making your body weaker. You’ve lost almost 7 kilos.”

Your stomach dropped as you visibly paled, snapping your head in the other direction to avoid his suffocating words. In a small whisper, you fidgeted with your fingers and the cuffs of your jacket.

“How’d you…?”

“Why are you surprised? You know I can tell the littlest mistakes when you dance. You think I can’t notice how your body is getting thinner?”

You gulped, your face burning from embarrassment at how easily your teacher put your struggles into words. Hoseok continued, his voice annoyed as he forcefully snatched a basket nearby. “How can I expect you to dance when you barely eat enough for it?” Hoseok huffed, placing several food containers into his basket.

“...Sorry.” You muttered, wrapping your arms around your stomach as if it could conceal your self-consciousness.

“I’m not blaming you,” Hoseok stated, his eyes fixed solely on inspecting the nutrition information of the containers of food. “I just don’t want you to get sick…” He said more softly, before turning to finally meet you in the eyes.

“Pick whatever you want to eat.”

Your eyes widened as you looked at him in shock. “R-really? Can I? Isn’t that against-”

Two heavy hands pushed down on your shoulders as you looked up to only meet Hoseok’s dark brown eyes. You shuddered, his intimidating stare almost causing your legs to fall.

“Forget the diet and don’t worry about paying for it either.”

“Thank you, Hoseok.” You muttered as he released you, turning your attention to the array of foods lined up in their plastic compartments. Hoseok tilted his head back, giving you a grin as he watched you eye all the food hungrily, your face trying to suppress your smile.

As the two of you exited the store, you walked toward a secluded park that overlooked the Han River, sharing a bench together. You ate silently with the wind as the only sound that filled the non-existent conversation. With the only lights coming from the convenience store, city, and park lamps, you could barely make out Hoseok’s expression.

He finished first, closing his container and placing it back in his plastic bag. Shifting his attention to you, the two of you awkwardly stared at each other, even though you were chewing on your food.

“...What?” You muttered, finding his stare unsettling.

“Are you scared of me?” He asked, tilting his head for a better look at your expression. You laughed, covering your mouth as Hoseok only gave you a more confused look.

“Completely terrified!” You mocked, laughing to yourself. “Are you being serious right now? I was the only one to meet your stares and you think I’m? Me? Scared? Good one.” You spat, shoving more food into your mouth as you chomped in annoyance.

“Wow.”

“Almost three years and you have the nerve to ask-” You hissed before going into a coughing fit as you choked on your own saliva. Hoseok looked at you with bewilderment before scratching the back of his head and awkwardly chuckling.

“I get it. I get it. Also,” Hoseok added, eyeing you from the side. “We better go. It’s getting late.”

After calming down from your coughing fit, you hummed in agreement, finishing the last container as you placed it with all the other empty ones. The two of you walked in silence as Hoseok led you back to the dorm. He gave you a nonchalant wave as you stepped in the building, turning the other way and down the street.

“Good night, y/n~”

≿————- ❈ ————-≾

Loud footsteps echoed down the hallway as a door was slammed open, revealing Hoseok in his white tee, a black cap on his head, and baggy grey sweatpants. The early morning sun was barely up in the sky when Hoseok stormed into the office of the notorious dietitian.

“M-mr. Jung!” The man who sat in his desk stuttered, hurryingly standing up and bowing. “Is there something I can help with you today?”

Hoseok rolled his tongue against the inside of his mouth, tilting his head to the side as he cracked his neck to get rid of his agitation. He glared daggers at the timid man, who only further cowered in fear.

“What the heck do you think you’re doing?” Hoseok snapped, a hand coming up to his hip. “I looked over y/n’s diet,” He fluttered the couple of papers that he gripped in his hand, his thumb creating a nasty wrinkle. “There are barely enough calories for a human to fucking survive. And to top it off - and I mean you really ticked me off when I saw this - no fats. Anywhere, in this diet.”

Hoseok threw the papers at the dietitian who nervously grabbed at the discarded sheets and looked over them. Hoseok continued his torrent of complaints, shaking his head. “I’m not saying you’re an idiot, but that’s exactly what I’m saying. My trainee who’s going to debut soon needs unsaturated fats in her body.” He grit out, slamming his hand on the desk. The dietitian met Hoseok’s challenging gaze, firmly holding his belief.

“What’s important is that she’s not going to be overweight, Mr. Jung.”

Hoseok scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Don’t fucking give me that shit. There’s no way adding necessary nutrients in her body is going to make her overweight. How do you expect her to even dance if she’s about to pass out at any second?!”

“Mr. Jung, I understand your concerns but-”

Hoseok grabbed the collar of the dietitian's shirt, pulling him to meet face to face. “You clearly don’t. I'm already set on forcing this industry to accept her regardless of how “overweight” you think she is. I'm going to make them rethink everything. What will be more important to them then, beauty or talent?”

“Now change that piece of garbage diet.” He growled, throwing the dietitian back into his seat.

The dietitian didn’t budge, refusing to change the documents he had given you. Hoseok scoffed, turning the other way before snatching the papers back.

“Fine, be that way. I didn’t want to do your job for you, but alas.” Hoseok chuckled, slamming the door shut as he stomped down to the CEO’s office, leaving the dietitian speechless. His conversation was short and brief, little words actually exchanged, just knowing looks and nods. He was satisfied. It was finally time. Hoseok then walked fervently through the halls, stopping as he watched you slip into the dance room early in the morning, almost too early.

Hoseok leaned against the wall, closing his eyes and listening as you shuffled in the studio, muttering under your breath as the sound of the computer mouse clicks reached his ears. He stayed outside the door for a few minutes, listening to the shuffle and squeak of your sneakers against the polished floors as you went through your title track choreography, singing out a few lines of the chorus. Once he heard the bridge of the song, his eyes slowly opened, his mind visualizing the way your body moved from the squeak of your feet alone, until a loud crash echoed in the studio. Even when the music continued to play, Hoseok grew worried as he no longer heard your footsteps.

Grabbing the doorknob, he threw the door open only to find you on the floor, your back on the ground and face in pain as you held onto your leg. His stomach dropped as he quickly ran over, kneeling down and supporting your leg with you.

“Y/n? Are you alright? Is it bad?” Hoseok spit out several questions as he worriedly looked down at your injury, noticing the red bump on your knee.

“H-hoseok,” You muttered as he impatiently nodded. “I-I can still practice today right?” You looked at him with pleading eyes as Hoseok bit his lip, not wanting his own desires to get in the way of your health.

“I’m not sure.” He whispered. “Let me see it.”

His slender fingers trailed your burning skin as he looked it over, pressing harshly in some areas as you winced in pain. He stood up, walking across the room as he put a frozen pack on the definitely soon-to-be swollen skin, the gauze wrap secured tightly. He let out a deep sigh, shaking his head back and forth. There was a wave of relief when he realized nothing was broken or dislocated, but you were still hurt.

“I think it would be best to not practice for a few days, see how fast it heals…” He trailed off, watching as your expression fell, looking down at your injury in resentment. “How’d you fall…?” He questioned, observing your expression carefully.

Your face reddened as your mouth sputtered, looking away from his eyes. Yet, the awkward silence was unbearable as you quickly confessed. “I didn’t stretch and um…I’m sorry...”

Hoseok let out an exasperated sigh, shooting down his anger at your carelessness. “There’s nothing I can do about it now. Just focus on recovery. We’ll have to start backup dancer training earlier then.” You looked down guilty, as Hoseok agitatedly ruffled his hair, shuffling around the room in a restless manner.

You eyes stared straight at the floor, hoping the chilling coldness from the ice pack to numb the feelings of shame.

Hoseok took a glance at you from the corner of his eye as you dejectedly slid yourself to the corner of the room, never lifting your head up. You could feel your face heat up as tears pricked from the corner of your eyes.

Why do you always cry? Stop crying. Stop stop stop. Don’t you dare cry in front of-

Two warm hands met your cheeks as you shot your head up, meeting Hoseok’s eyes. You trembled in his embrace, your hands clutched to your chest.

“I’m not mad at you.” He whispered gently, wiping the tears that threatened to spill out from your eyes.

“B-but…Aren’t you disappointed?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Why not?” You choked out. Your debut. You waited years for this. A setback like this would only push your schedule further back. How could he not be disappointed in you? Why did he have to look at you like it was everyone else’s fault?

“You ask too many questions, angel.” He chuckled, helping you up to your feet. “After all the improvements you’ve made, I’m not disappointed. How can I when you only wanted to practice more?” He flashed you a bright smile, the ones that were still unusual to you. You wanted to see it more, from the way his eyes crinkled to how his cheeks stuck out, the sight was enthralling...and it made you feel good inside. A warmth that enraptured you towards him.

He pulled out a chair near the computer as you sat down, securing yourself. Hoseok lifted up a finger as if to instruct you with important orders.

“Now, since you can’t dance for a while, you’re going to manage the music when the back-up dancers come in, alright?”

You nodded obediently, spinning your chair around to face the bright screen. Hoseok stood behind you, leaning over as he pointed at the screen and you followed along. The scent of his musky cologne was faint with a sharp sting of citrus. As his chest leaned closer to you, you felt your heart pick up as you shuffled in your chair, earning Hoseok’s sharp gaze.

“Is something hurting?” He whispered, a chill shooting through your body as you quietly shook your head in protest. His hand came up to your shoulder, gently rubbing your sore muscles back and forth. “I’m glad then.”

“Shall we get to business, angel?”

≿————- ❈ ————-≾

“No, no, no! Stop!”

Hoseok shouted as you quickly toggled the music off from your seat, watching the tired faces of the new trainees as they struggled to stand straight up.

“If y/n’s putting 1000% into her performance, you better put 2000% into your job."

You awkwardly shifted in your seat, feeling guilty for not dancing with them, for not being in the same pain they were going through. While Hoseok was yelling at every one of them, harshly critiquing their performance, you sat at your seat like a pretty doll.

"You think just because you don't have to sing you don’t have to try as hard?”

The trainees muttered a mutual ‘no’, shifting their legs, the urge to sit down killing them. Hoseok huffed, having about enough of four hours and barely any improvement at all. “If I don't see improvement by tomorrow, I’m making everyone stay overtime while I watch. I’m leaving. C’mon, y/n.”

You worriedly looked back at the new trainees, empathy reflecting back at them from the way your eyebrows furrowed and eyes creased. Your legs hesitantly walked away from them, your hand coming up to reach Hoseok’s outstretched arm as he dragged you through the hallway. When the door softly shut, the trainees grumbled, falling down on the floor for a break, only to quickly face the mirror a few minutes later.

“Hoseok... My leg…” You whimpered as he tugged you along. He came to a halt, looking at you before a mischievous smirk graced his lips. He bent down, bringing his arm up to the back of both your knees before picking you up. “What the- What are you doing?!” You shrieked, your face growing red. “Oh my god! Hoseok, put me down! Put me down this instant! Now!”

Hoseok just bolstered a laugh, carrying you with no difficulties through the hallways. “Nobody will see. I mean… Even if they did-”

“I don’t care! Put me down!” You wiggled pathetically in his grasp before huffing at how his grip stayed tight and secure. It was when Hoseok stopped in the hallway, that you finally looked at him. Staring up at you, his eyes no longer held the warmth that you longed for. His voice and expression was serious, deadly, almost threatening, telling you the time had come.

“Your debut is on February 17, three weeks from now.”

[Part 3]

#yandere bts #yandere hoseok #yandere hoseok x reader #bts series #bts hoseok #hoseok x reader #yandere jhope #jhope x reader #bts jhope #yandere jhope x reader #kpop x reader

242 notes · View notes

antihero-writings · 5 years

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Black and White and Red All Over—Pandora Hearts Fic for Halloween 2019 (Full fic!!)

Title: Black and White and Red All Over

Summary: She's heard stories of a ghost, a knife, and the color red. She never quite believed them.

He wishes he could forget them.

Character Focus: Xerxes Break | Kevin Regnard

Notes: Happy Halloween!!

*Please Note!!* I messed around with identation a lot on this fic, unfortunately, tumblr doesn't allow you to do that in the same way as Ao3. I'll hopefully figure out how to edit the indentation in later, but for the time being, if you want to read this fic in its full glory, pleast go read it at I_prefer_the_term_antihero on Ao3 on your computer!

Fic:

She can hear her own breath. A tattered, panicked, rasping, gasping. Each inhale clawing at the air as if it were a rope. Each exhale another string in the rope fraying. Her throat burning as her lungs try to hold onto the air slipping through.

Red.

She had heard stories about the color red. Old wives’ tales? Maybe. Close enough to the town called truth or miles away from it? Too soon to tell.

A ghost. A black cloak smattered in red. A moon-struck blade. A moon-struck man. A lunatic.

(Or perhaps he was too sane.)

Some specter of a time-gone-wrong. Half alive. Half in the grave. The abyss gnawing at his heart with an incessant ticking.

Alive enough to kill.

Dead enough to not care.

A demon. A hellish thing with its strings around his soul. Allowed in because of some ugly truth and some pretty lies. A chain, one end around his wrist, the other in the abyss.

And the color red.

Red on his clothes. Red on his knife.

Red in his eyes.

Not just a metaphor for a clouded purpose.

Eyes really and truly red. Like in a fantasy world. Like a dream. Like a nightmare. A human, with eyes the color of roses, and just as thorny. As if all that death coalesced into his gaze and made them shine with the fire of hell.

You’d see nothing but the color, until all the red inside you was on the pavement.

She’d heard the stories of the Red-Eyed Specter.

Heard.

Believed?

Not enough. Not enough to make her cower in her room at night. Not enough to scare her into rushing home as fast as she could when the sun went down.

She had a family, you know.

But belief is an obstinate thing. Doesn’t like to be told what to do. Even when what it’s being told to do is get out of the road because there’s a train coming.

Her feet, her side, barked at her with sharp stings. But she couldn’t listen to their demands.

Because those red eyes were right behind her.

Or at least she had to assume so, because guessing any less, because hesitating, turning around to check, could result in the red in her fleeing her body as if her skin were a cage, black overtaking her world, and her universe going white.

She had seen them though. Those eyes. Her heart assured her with every frantic beat it was certain.

First that feeling; her brain told her she was alone, the hair on the back of her neck said otherwise. An alleyway to the right, one she walked by everyday, and never held anything more than trash and a few stray cats. But the chills chasing each other down her spine chittered that today that was not all. Her heart sped up to the tune Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look.

She looked.

And there they were, like they’d been there all along, and just wanted to say Good evening, nice to meet you. I’m the Red-Eyed Ghost, you may have heard of me. And you, my dear, are my prey. Two red eyes, two pins aimed at her own eyes.

And she had run. There was no other choice. No other salesman provided the option of surviving till the morning.

“My, you’re in quite a rush.”

And she hesitated.

Looked up.

A man was leaning against the side of a nearby building, the moonlight polishing his features, the shadows steaming his cloak.

Black.

Black shadows. Black cloak.

White.

White skin. White hair; messy, hanging limp over his shoulder, covering his eyes.

“Th-Th-The Red-Eyed Specter!” Her unraveling voice called, save me! written beneath every torn syllable.

He looked in either direction, considering the options, put a hand on his chin.

“There’s no one here but us, Ojousama. Certainly not any horrifying chains.”

She stopped, breath and heartbeat latching onto those words like a lifesaver in the water. Her gaze bolting in each direction—from the cobblestones before her, to the buildings around her, slowly to the road behind her.

He was right.

The black that had swallowed the path she was taking, the glowing red—two holes in the fabric of the universe, glowing with abyssal light—were gone.

She fell to her knees, letting the air enter her chest and lower her back to earth slowly and safely, her heartbeat still unable to let go of the idea that a ghost was just behind her. Her aching feet thanked her, but her body shook, and nausea filled her stomach. She closed her eyes; now that she knew blinking wouldn’t result in her demise, trying to make her body realize it could calm down.

He took a step closer.

“Still, it must have been quite the convincing imposter, to give you a fright like that.”

Two steps closer.

“I shudder to think what sort of monster”—

Three steps closer.

—“might be so cruel as to”—

Four steps closer.

—“make a pretty lady like you cry.”

She coughed. “I-I-I thought I saw—“

Five steps.

“A pair of glowing red eyes in the dark?"

Six steps.

“Yes...I can imagine/that would be terrifying.”

Seven steps.

He was close now.

“But, unless I am mistaken, there’s nothing here now.”

Eight.

“I’m sure everything’s alright. You’re safe now.”

(Did the words reach his eyes?)

Nine.

She could feel these steps in front of her.

She blinked, her eyes taking him in one bite at a time.

His shoes—

(Red)

Next the edge of his cloak, tattered and, though it may have black once…it wasn’t anymore.

(Red)

There was something that spilled on it enough to dye it.

(Red)

Something that died enough to to spill it.

(Red)

Before it hit the safety ground, her breath caught, caught the air.

He crouched down in front of her, offered his hand to help her up.

“You must be cold. Why don’t we find a safe place to take you? A lady like you shouldn’t be out in the dark so late.”

Next the handle of a weapon at his side: a mouth that could open and reveal its gleaming teeth if only he summoned it.

Her eyes were stubborn, they didn’t want to greet his. But… not because they were shy.

(Red.)

Because, though there was a part of her that found his words as calming and sweet as a good cup of tea…her heart knew what her gaze would find in his.

Red.

His eyes were red.

Red like roses.

Red like hell and all its demons.

Red like blood.

Red like death.

And in the night air they had a faint glow. Like something unearthly, something hellish, some from the abyss, possessed his gaze. Like it was his eyes, and not his blade that devoured the souls of his victims; his blade just did the negotiations.

She shrieked, stumbling back.

He blinked, the red flickering. “Whatever is the matter, Ojousama?”

“N-No…You…You’re….”

“Kevin Regnard.” A grin spread across his features, a foul thing, somewhere between completely mad, and a little off base. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“No...No! Please!” She screamed, continuing to back away. Tried to stand. Fell.

Ten steps, eleven steps, twelve.

“I-I have a family! They’ll come looking for me!”

This made him pause, and he said his next words like they tasted like the color black.

“I did too.”

And for a moment he paused. For a moment something wavered in the red.

Thirteen fourteen fifteen

"Tell me, this family of yours"--

Fifteen sixteenseventeen

--“When they realize you’ve gone, what do you think they’ll do?”

“No, no I beg you!” she managed to stand this time on her shaking, aching legs, and run like she was eighth notes in a measure.

The next few steps happened so fast she barely heard them.

Eighteenninteentwenty

“Will they mourn you in silence?”

Twenty-one; one hand on her shoulder.

Twenty-two; the other around her side, like he was her partner in this sick dance.

Screams burned, ripped apart her throat. Screams of ‘NO’ and ‘HELP’ and ‘SOMEONE! ANYONE!’ and she tried to twist, to kick, to bite, to somehow escape his grasp.

He was not a ghost. He was far too alive, his touch harsh and unrelenting as life itself.

But she may be one before long.

His breath was warm on her ear, stinking of death and chocolate.

“Or do you think they’d sell their souls to save you?”

She was a pile of wriggling, writhing, squirming screams in his ruthless grasp.

Twenty-three; the knife at her throat, growling and hungry.

“Feed their own friends to the devil for a little more time?”

Tears tracked her face, she tried to rip his cloak, his skin, the air with her nails and wails.

And he didn’t cover her mouth.

Let her scream; those she called would only be more fuel for his ever-hungry knife.

She looked up at him, his eyes carving red tracks in her vision, even behind closed eyes, like fireworks.

And now she quieted, blinked at him, spoke to him, not as a ghost, but as the human he is.

“Please...have mercy”

Something darted across his eyes.

Then he looked at her like she was a worthless, ugly thing; just another stitch on the hat he was making out of souls, and there is nothing but heartless red.

She would have liked to have tea with her mother the next morning. She would have liked to kiss that boy a few doors down. She would have liked to tell her brother she was sorry for yelling at him.

The stars were particularly beautiful that night.

Her throat burned from all the breathing. All the pleading. All the screaming.

Her throat burned from this thing nagging to get into her neck, trying to negotiate, digging into it, cutting the rope, severing the ties of air between her lungs and her throat. Her throat—

She would have liked to see the sunrise.

Twenty-four.

Red clouded her vision before her lungs stopped coloring with breath.

Black clouded her vision before her heart stopped singing.

White clouded her vision.

Her head hung limp and half torn on her neck, lulling onto his shoulder.

Kevin pushed her body away from him as if she were clothes he didn’t want to wear, letting her body hit the ground with a wet thud, walking away.

“Albus,” he said with the same regard one would when telling their friend they could finish the rest of their meal.

He expects to hear the shadowed voice reply, or simply unceremonious crunching and slurping behind him.

Instead, the sloshing, dripping behind him is softer.

He pauses.

Looks down.

Red.

Beneath his feet the blood is seeping towards him.

White.

His shoes, which a moment ago were black, dashed with crimson, are now white and black and purple.

Break jumps forward onto a dry patch of pavement, twisting on his toe as if dancing, turning to see—

The corpse, the woman, a moment ago an empty, motionless shell, is standing. Her head hanging loose and upside down at her shoulders, her eyes open and half-white.

“I had a family. I had a future.” The words are echo-y and distorted without breath or heartbeat.

The stain continues spreading. When he tries to jump out of the way again, play hopscotch with the nightmare, a hand reaches out from beneath the waves, grabs his ankle. A crimson print marring his pristine shoes. When he tries to twist free another wraps around his hand, like some twisted show of intimacy. He jerks free, a splotch of red on his thin, pale fingers. He stares at it a second too long.

Beneath the pavement sea, coming up from the depths like serpents, hands become arms, become shoulders, become faces, become people, dyed crimson.

“I had a son.” Says a man with a slit in his chest.

“I had a daughter.” Says a woman with a gash along her stomach.

He tries to back away, but the talking corpses—their eyes hollow, black sockets, the black tracking tears on their indistinguishable faces—grab him, jump on him, knock him down, sending him into the red, dying his cloak, his shirt, his body, all red. Everything, everything turning red. Even their voices dyed the color of that name.

“…Kevin.”

“…Kevin.

“Kevin.”

"Kevin.”

“SHUT UP!”

He manages to shove them off, back up, enough to draw his sword. He spins, the blade doing the talking, rushing forward, the red rising with the wind, their heads falling into the kingdom of hearts.

Break re-sheaths his sword.

“Kevin.”

His hand reaches for his sword again—his hands caught, covered in the color of killing—but he pauses.

Something about that voice is different.

He knows that voice from other nightmares. From memories that wouldn’t let him out of their grasp, even awake.

He turns.

There is a girl, a little girl, standing at the edge of the corpses’ realm.

His eye widens, breath catching on the air.

A girl with short blonde hair, a little pink dress and a doll in the crook of her arm.

“Kevin,” she says softly, like she always said it so long ago. Like nothing’s wrong.

One step closer.

“Ojou…”

Two steps closer.

"sama…”

Three steps closer. He watches her little feet—(she danced for him once)—get closer to the…

Four steps.

"Stay back!” his voice is cracked, and he wants nothing more than to scream the words with everything in him.

She stops.

"What’s wrong, Kevin? Don’t you want to play with me?”

All he wants to do is rush to her, scoop her up in his arms, and take her as far from the color red as he possibly can. But the moment he touched her, his own hands would dye her.

His nails are digging so deep into his palm that his red is dripping down his fingers, adding to the pool.

Five steps.

"Stop!”

But red has already splashed onto her dress.

Nine steps.

His chest is burning, even though the clock has long since reached zero.

Eleven.

"Don’t come any closer!”

His empty eye socket is aching, even though it long since stopped bleeding.

Thirteen.

And the blood has covered her dress.

"Emily!” and her name tastes like blood, and charcoal, and mercury.

Her features twist into a grotesque, dollish smile.

Fifteen.

And she speaks with a dollish voice.

“You killed me.”

He raises his voice, but red starts to fill his lungs, and he begins coughing, so much so that he falls to his knees, falling, falling….

When he opens his eye, the scene has shifted. No longer in a city street dyed with death. He’s in a girl’s room, a checkerboard floor, the walls lined in toys...that little Sinclair girl nothing but a doll on the shelf now.

The Abyss.

A hand wraps around his chest, another crossing his vision, reaching for his eye.

"I did say I wanted the other eye.” The Will of the Abyss’ voice flutters in his ear.

He tries to whirl around, to knock her to the ground, but she has too much power here, a dark energy is entering him, freezing him in place.

She digs her fingers into his right socket, ripping out his other eye, so he is nothing but a blind doll himself.

He screams, and the air collapses with him onto the floor, and he can still feel the blood—or perhaps water now—despite the change in scenery. And she laughs and laughs and laughs.

"I must say,”—three steps around him—“seeing you like this is quite satisfying, Mr. Hatter.” Vincent’s voice fluctuates between a child and adult’s.

"Shut up.”

He laughs, using the forth to kick Break hard in the stomach.

One step. “You always were a jerk,” Gilbert spits, much crueler than his usual tone.

“I looked up to you.” No movement now, and perhaps this is because Elliot is dyed with the color still.

Five steps.

“Dance for me, will you?” Rufus laughs.

He can’t see anything, anyone, but he knows they are all around him, all the people he loved, all the people he scorned. Everyone he knows.

One step

“Break!” This is Oz now. “Come, on, get up!”

Ten steps

"Xerxes Break!” Oscar.

Eleven

Thirteen

"Clown!”

Two

"Xerkkun.”

“Xerx!”

At the sound of Reim’s voice something in him tears.

Four

"Break!”

At the sound of Sharon’s something in him cracks.

Eight

“Xerxes.”

Shelly.

And he is broken indeed.

Xerxes Break woke up. And when he opened his eyes—

Black. There was nothing but black.

To erase the dream from the back of his eyelids, to see pink dresses, and green fields, blue skies and orange fires, would have been a gift indeed.

But even when his eyes are open now, there’s nothing but black and memory.

And that, one eye stolen from him, color fading from the other slowly, those red eyes that scared and killed so many, going blind, unable to see that red anymore, that is penance.

He can feel his throat burning. He can hear his breathing; a tattered, panicked, rasping, gasping.

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delicrieux · 7 years

Text

god save the queen [ eggsy x reader ] 002

warnings: cussing (but this is kingsman...what do you expect???)

chapter summary: (name) goes to london and eggsy grants her wish

words: 2,200

MASTERLIST KO-FI. AO3. GSTQ masterpost. 7K GIFT!

custom suit

With a small smile you slowly fold a white blouse, make sure no wrinkles will form once it’s stuck in your suitcase for a couple of hours, before setting it neatly down into the big leather case with the rest of your belongings. You have been packing all morning, awoken at about 9 am, or about four hours after you returned from the bar with Eggsy. As far as you know he’s still dead asleep and probably hungover. You, however, being Agent Gin (damn that sounds cool) hardly feel anything at all regarding your brand of alcohol. Folding clothes is calming. You usually find packing tedious and you just throw everything in in whatever style and then pray that your suitcase will magically close, but this time you’re taking extra care. Possibly because you’re still a bit tipsy. And you were told by Champagne to make the best impression possible.

The two secret agencies had their fair share of disagreements over the years. The Valentine business caused a big falling out when they couldn’t decide which one should act, and both ended up trying to solve the issue separately and, well…A lot of people died. A lot of Statesman agents lost their lives, including Brandy, Sherry, Mead, Gin and many many more…You were promoted to Gin right after you finished training. Originally you had your eyes set on Palm Wine, but the agency suffered such heavy loses they took the best they had and placed them in powerful positions.

You are a good spy, you would possible be even better if you had enough time to actually train. You weren’t exactly as great of a shot as Tequila, nor could you use the lasso as expertly as Whiskey, but what you could do is charm your way into any situation possible. Granted, if you tried hard enough and you usually didn’t so besides ‘Gin’ people also call you a ‘Sarcastic Asshole’. You are quick to pick up accents, mimics; a thing you used to practice quite often back when you were just a little kid. You are a fairly good fighter, better than Margarita for sure, but you doubt you could take on any of the leading agents one on one. You wonder just how good Eggsy is. Normally you would’ve evaluated him already, but the Gin and Tonic is giving you a hard time.

Huh. So maybe you aren’t that resistant to it after all.

A knock on your door draws you out your thoughts and with a quick motion you shut the suitcase and click its locks shut. The door opens behind you and from the heavy steps you immediately recognise the person – Channing. That or you really are still drunk. Turning around you reward yourself with an invisible pat on the back - it is him after all! – and cross your arms over your chest. He leans onto the doorway, examines your room for a moment before his gaze falls onto you. A smile. He tilts his hat.

“Well lookie here, good mornin’, Gin. Thought you’d still be snorin’.”

“Tequila.”

“All packed up?”

You motion to the case behind you, “Just finished.”

He narrows his eyes at you, “Are my ears deceiving me, or are you actually nice for once?”

“Don’t get used to it.” You state, “It’s only because I will miss you so much when I go away.”

He grins, “Will you now?”

“No.” You finish dryly, grasping the handle of your suitcase and mentally cringing on how heavy it is. Okay, perhaps taking so many ‘fancy’ clothes is a bit unnecessary, but you couldn’t help yourself. It will be your first time abroad and a real serious mission. Your first mission, to be exact.

Yeah, you’ve been Gin for barely two months.

Channing ignores your comment skilfully and motions to your suitcase, “Need some help?”

“Not really, but you can help yourself out of my way.” Your comment makes him laugh and you squeeze out a small grin of your own. With a quick step he allows you to pass and you do. The corridors are mostly empty. You meet Cider on your way out and he wishes you luck with a wave. You only nod. Before you know it, you are outside.

A bit cloudy. You suppose Kentucky is trying to ease you into the British weather. A parked car is the first thing you see; the second one is Eggsy sitting by the wheel. Neither Merlin nor Galahad Senior is present, and you guess they’re already home and awaiting your arrival. Much to your surprise Eggsy seems fine, though you do notice that his eyes seem a bit droopy and he is a bit pale. Throwing your suitcase into the trunk you shut it and move to sit down when—

“(Name)!” A squeaky voice calls after you and you snap your head to the entrance. Stacy Simons, with a bandaged lower lip and a black eye, smiles at you. You raise a brow.

“Mar…garita?” You greet, unsure.

“I just…I just wanted to wish you luck and all…” She finishes dryly. You nod with an awkward smile.

“Well, thanks…You keep them’ boys on their toes while I’m gone, yeah?”

“O-Oh, of course! Have a safe trip!” She exclaims before ducking behind the door and disappearing. Still confused whether that really happened or not, you sit down and Eggsy, without wasting another second, turns the car’s engine on and presses the acceleration.

“Margarita?” He inquires, “Thought you Statesman had names of actual alcohol, not cocktails.”

“Listen, Egi,” You start, taking out your sunglasses and putting them on, “I am a bit sad that no one ever told you, but…” You look at him, “Size does matter. The more agents we have, the more mission we can do, and the more lives we can save. So what if there is a Cosmopolitan or Mojito running around! If, for instance, I meet my early demise, Margarita could theoretically take my place.” You finish explaining and he just shakes his head at you with a small smile. “How are you feeling, by the way?”

“Fan-bloody-tastic. And you?”

Nervous. Fine until I saw your face. The sun is physically hurting me. “Brilliant.” Your attempt to mimic a British accent is met with mocking laughter and you give him the cut-eye, “Completely unrelated, but can I ask you something?”

“Yea?”

“Do all brits sound like they have a cock in their mouth when they speak?”

He snorts, “Why?” His eyes shoot from the road to you, “That desperate that you’re actually hearing it now?”

“Ha! You wish.”

Eggsy is quiet for a single moment of consideration, before a smirk rises to his lips, “Maybe.”

Okay, this is not how you expected your morning to go.

~*~

Britain doesn’t feel that different, that much you’d admit. At first you figured you’d at least complain about the weather, about how the air feels musky and cold, but to tell the upmost truth you feel no different than when you were in Kentucky, perhaps more tired but in every way shape and form – fine. You did, however, take a liking to the new scenery: the polished architecture, conjoined houses and their perfect white fenced gardens, a couple of old-school cars parked in the posh side of London. It was easy to get lost in this world; the light drizzle of rain acted as an active comfort inducing substance and you almost melted into the leather seat of the car. You will enjoy your time here, you realized, you most certainly will.

Not until you reached the famous ‘Kingsman’ tailor shop did you glance at Eggsy – he was, for the most part, keeping his eyes on the road and still reaping the fruits of his nightly endeavours aka he was still hungover and now jet-lagged too. He parked the car and you unbuckled your seatbelt. Finally, after so many hours, you stretched your legs on British soil. Tilting your head to the side you eyed the suits neatly presented in the display. You don’t have such uniforms at Statesman, and for a brief moment you wondered will you be made one as a gift from one agency to another.

“Welcome to Kingsman.” Eggsy said, coming to stand by your side. He caught our gaze and smiled, well smirked, before hopping up the stone steps and opening the door for you like a true gentleman. You saved the urge to roll your eyes, bit back any comments and simply walked straight in, ready for whatever was waiting for you inside.

The briefing was quick. You met up with Merlin in the counselling room and listened carefully to the details. Not as exciting as you expected: you and Galahad Junior are expected to carry an expensive jewel that used to belong to the Queen and safely displace it in Italy, Rome. There was also something about assassination, but you missed that part. But apparently this black pearl, so small it’s barely the size of your pinkie’s nail, holds such great history that many fractions and black markets may want it. The instructions were to carry it around at all times: no shipping, no leaving it. It’s important to the Royal family. At least…of what’s left of it.

“I don’t get it.” You say after the meeting is over to your new partner for a couple of weeks at the very least, “Isn’t the Queen…dead?”

Eggsy gives you a strange look, one torn between amusement and disgust “About that, yea? Best not to mention the Queen to most folk. It’s a touchy subject.” He explains. You doubt he actually cares all that much, but it must be a British thing. Damn that Valentine, ruining everything for everyone.

The interior is exquisite and it almost rivals with Statesman’s main HQ. You can’t help but awe at the glistering wooden ornaments, statues of men you have never even seen in your life but they look important so you gaze at them with respect, the expensive cloths laying around, suits, bowties, ties…Everything a tailor can dream about, or a man with an extensive wallet. Eggsy leads you forward and you follow like a lost puppy.

“So…” He stops next to dressing room ‘1’, “How about that suit?”

You blink, feel a rush of confusion as your focus falls to him from the impressive portrait of a man with a goatee, “What?”

Eggsy opens the door, “You wanted a custom suit, yea? Or was it the alcohol takin’?” He looks sneaky and smug and if those glasses weren’t hiding his eyes you are positive you’d see mischief glisten in them. Your brows knit together forming soft lines between them. You glance at the gentleman by the counter with a metre thrown over his shoulder.

“You mean…” You trail, “He will make me one? If I asked?”

“Just get in, yea?” He doesn’t wait for your answer simply enters the small secluded room and you have no choice but to follow. The man behind the counter gives you a smile, as if the interaction between you and Eggsy never happened.

He shuts the door once you’re in. The room emits a strange musky scent, almost like cologne, the warm yellow glow of lamps bounces off the green walls and a wide mirror reflects both you and your partner, full length, exposing all of your and his details in brilliant light. You don’t fail to catch Eggsy’s smile, nor do you fail to notice him taking out a metre of his own.

You raise a brow, “What are you doing?”

“What’s it look like?” He shoots, “I’m sorry, love, but we have nothing here for ladies if you haven’t notice already.” He fixes his glasses and takes a step forward; with the tips of his fingers he gently presses the metre from your right shoulder to your left, his eyes trailing it carefully to make sure your measurements are correct.

“Don’t you have any female agents?” You inquire.

“Well,” He stops for a moment, “We have Roxy. Not many other that I know of.” And continues measuring.

“Wooow,” You bleat, “That’s sad.”

“Lift your arms, please.” He mumbles off-handed and you comply without a second thought. He ties the metre around your bust. A positive nod comes from him a second later and you surpass a sigh.

“You didn’t tell me you are actually a trained tailor.” You say as he crouches to measure just how long your legs are.

“Fuck if I know how to sow, but can’t be that hard, can it?”

tbc ( if you want to be tagged, let me know!)

tags: @writeasfitzsimmons un-education @ketterdame

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