#but its so fun. this relationship is haunted. there's a ghost in the middle. they both want to kiss him instead of each other. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

skzsauce01 · 5 months

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What Was I Made For

Synopsis: College is hard, but it's even worse when you're a pre-med student and it's even, even worse when you don't want to go into medicine. Fortunately, the ghost that haunts your apartment is more kind, more annoying, and more helpful than you ever thought possible. College AU, ghost AU.

Warning: alcohol, bad parental relationship, mentions of death

Word Count: 6.2k

Pairing: f!reader x ghost!Kim Seungmin

A/N: Good luck with exams and classes!

“Honey, I’m home,” you call. The handles of the reusable grocery bag you picked up from a club booth at the beginning of the semester are already starting to fall apart, so you’re forced to flip on the light switch with your shoulder blades. You glare at Seungmin, who is lounging on the couch, staring at the ceiling. “Could you at least pretend to help?”

“What’s the point? I can’t even eat whatever you bought.”

You sigh and set down your haul onto the tiny kitchen island that doubles as a dining table. When you make a big production of taking out your groceries, Seungmin still doesn’t look up. Despite his inability to eat food, he usually shows some interest, if only to judge your snack choices.

On the counter, bananas in a plastic produce bag to prevent fruit flies, and a new roll of paper towels. On the top shelf of the fridge, a tub of Greek yogurt that Seungmin makes fun of you for liking. Assorted salad mixes in the crisper. A whole rotisserie chicken and a carton of eggs on the middle shelf. In the cabinet goes a party-sized bag of barbeque chips, a pack of chocolate chip cookies you don’t want to discuss how much you paid for, and a box of protein bars.

You take the last item out of the bag and hide it behind your back. You hover over Seungmin. “Guess what I got?”

“A bag of potatoes that will grow spuds because you can’t finish them all.”

“That was one time! Try again.”

He guesses wrong again and again, so after the fifth attempt, you hold your prize in front of his eyes. “A better vegetable peeler, just like you told me to. Are you proud of me?”

For a moment, his sullen eyes brighten at the memory of you struggling with your old peeler. He watched with great amusement as the flimsy blade repeatedly got caught on carrot skin and you grew more infuriated with each catch. In the end, you gave up and ate the skin, fuming with each bite of your meal. Seungmin laughed so hard, you thought he would lose control of his physical form and slip through the floor.

He sighs, all of the joy escaping through his lips. “Yeah, sure. Sorry, it’s just one of those days.”

“We all have them. Hey, why don’t we do something tonight? I’m done studying, so we can watch a movie or play Mario Kart or something.” You plaster a smile on your face. “Fun, right?”

“You’re never gonna get into med school if this is how you work.”

Despite his admonishments, he sits up and swings his legs off the couch to make room for you. He didn’t choose an activity so Mario Kart it is. You leave your peeler on the coffee table and grab your joycons. When you flop beside him, tossing the blue one in his lap, he grumbles as he’s jostled around.

“I don’t even wanna go to med school,” you remind him. He already knows since it’s all you complain about these days as the MCAT draws closer, but that’s never stopped you from repeating yourself.

“Wow, what a problem. I’d die to go to med school.”

Without thinking, you snort. “Too late for that.”

Seungmin has been dead for nearly two years. The old apartment complex burned down in an electrical fire, and due to the housing demand in the area, the university quickly built a new one in its place. Sure, you suspected it was probably haunted, but rent was on the cheaper side, especially for a single room, so you moved in and learned about your unofficial roommate during your first night. You thought you were going to faint when you saw a stranger leaning over your stack of practice books, and you thought you were going to be killed when he simply said, “I was also pre-med.”

“Sorry,” you meekly say. Why is the Mario Kart music so cheerful? It would be worse if it was sad, but the upbeat tune just makes your mistake more poignant. “I shouldn’t have—”

“Well, you’re not wrong,” he interjects. “Doesn’t matter. You better not pick Birdo this time.”

While you normally would have fought him six ways from Sunday for Birdo, you choose Yoshi instead and pick his favorite circuit to start off the night. He makes no comment about your sudden generosity, but you both know the reason. There’s no such thing as pity in this household, but apologies are aplenty.

When you come back from your anatomy lab the following day, whatever guilt you felt is gone when Seungmin holds up your pack of cookies with a disapproving look. You must have forgotten to put it back in the cabinet before you left. Either that or Seungmin rummaged around your belongings when the roommate contract stated that he could not and would not.

“You seriously paid for these?” he says.

“They’re good! And artisan,” you huff as you snatch the package from his hands. You hope you didn’t crush any cookies in the process. “I support small businesses.”

“They haven’t been a small business or artisan in, like, twenty years. How did the cat dissection go?”

You reach for an overpriced cookie and snap off a piece with more force than necessary. “Fine. A little gross, but I guess I’m used to that by now. You wanna see the pictures I took?”

He tries to feign nonchalance, but his body seems more substantial, less ghost-like as you scroll through your camera roll. Even though he oohs and aahs at the most inappropriate images—you really don’t think the digestive structures of a cat deserve that much admiration—you can’t help but smile. He hasn’t looked or sounded this lively in weeks. You thought it might have been your snark rubbing off of him, but he always has a biting remark at the ready, remedied only with his good-natured demeanor. Of course, that demeanor has been slowly crumbling, so to see him be his usual self again feels good.

Satisfied, he lets you take your phone back. “Sometimes I miss lab. I hated doing the lab reports though; have fun with that.”

And just like that, your happiness goes out. “That’s tomorrow’s problem. I should study before work. You wanna help me out? I hate physics.”

Look, if your roommate were a pre-med student, had unlimited time, and no other obligations, you would force them to help you study, too. Plus, Seungmin loves MCAT practice, so it’s a win-win.

To your surprise, he doesn’t jump at the opportunity like he typically does. Under normal circumstances, he would be scouring the living room for where he last left his flashcards. Instead, he says, “Why don’t you take a break?”

“A break? You, of all people, suggest that I take a break when you were just telling me about my bad study habits? Who are you, and what have you done with Seungmin?”

He rolls his eyes. “I didn’t realize you wanted to do physics that badly.”

“I don’t. This is weird from you though.” However, after a moment of contemplation: “Whatever. Pick a show to watch. I’m gonna draw.”

He selects House because he’s still Seungmin after all. This is the show that inspired him to go into medicine, and is, as he’s mentioned many times before, “the greatest show on the planet.” It’s entertaining, you admit, and you do like seeing all of the obscure medical cases Dr. Gregory House solves, but it’s a grim reminder of your parents’ dreams for you. With the dialogue of the characters echoing in your head, you sketch a frog sitting on top of a stack of pancakes. You initially bought your tablet for note taking, but it really is much better as a tool for art.

“It’s always animals, plants, or dessert now,” Seungmin remarks, craning his head to get a better view while you continually pull your screen away. “What happened to your big fantasy pieces?”

“Rule one: no looking until I say so. Rule two: no questions unless I say so. Remember?”

He ignores you. “You used to do a lot of those things when you first moved in. With the crazy landscapes, guys with abs in crop tops, cat-ear ladies with fancy dresses, villains who you definitely wanted to—”

“I get it!” Your face is blazing. He makes your artistic—purely artistic—interests sound so much worse than they are. “I’ve just been busy with life, so I don’t have time to work on them anymore. Anyway, animals, plants, and desserts are cute.” In a smaller voice, you add, “And they make me happy.”

Just like pictures of a flayed cat makes him happy.

He goes quiet and lets Dr. House fill the air. While he pretends to be engrossed in the show, you turn back to your sketch to fix your frog’s eyes to be less downcast. No sad frogs allowed.

You don’t remember exactly when the dread began, but you do distinctly remember glancing over the syllabus for your genetics course and wanting to collapse. Each item was manageable by itself, but the totality of the class, of your future classes, of your future hurtled at you at full force. For so long, you convinced yourself you could do it. You would complain the whole time, but at the end, you would be addressed as ‘Doctor’ and you would be happy. Your parents would be happy, so you would be happy and realize that it was all worth it.

Even if you cried every night, it would be worth it.

You took a deep breath, looked at the list of assigned textbooks, and pulled out your credit card. You went through more dire situations than this stupid course. This would be easy enough.

Two weeks after the art fiasco, you finally test out your new vegetable peeler on potatoes. Your friend gave you five for free since she was having trouble finishing the large amount she bought. While you stand over the sink, humming a song your neighbor has been practicing for the past week, Seungmin is hunched over the coffee table, doing something secretive with flashcards. He’s been working on a new set of them since the art fiasco, which makes no sense since you have a perfect set of a thousand that you bought online. But no, he has been toiling day and night to create handmade ones. You don’t even want to know where he got the supplies.

Well, you already know where and how, but if your neighbors come knocking, you know nothing.

In fear that you’ll “ruin the surprise,” you have been forbidden from even stepping foot onto the living room carpet. Really, there’s no point because you can get a glimpse if you lean across the island. Nevertheless, you keep your eyes on the growing pile of potato skins. You have five potatoes worth of fries to make.

Ten minutes later, when you have moved onto slicing, Seungmin declares that he’s done. He places the baking sheet you left on the island onto a chair and triumphantly sets down his masterpiece.

When you pick up the topmost one, you can’t help but smile. Alongside the words “absolute threshold” is a cartoon rabbit with alert ears. Tiny music notes are dotted on the top edge of the card.

“To make your studies less stressful,” he says.

You don’t have the heart to tell him that you’re always some degree of stressed but nevertheless thank him. The flashcards are adorable, even if Seungmin’s drawing skills aren’t the best. “Newton’s first law” has an indistinguishable creature kicking a ball, and “law of independent assortment” features some of the strangest plants you have ever seen.

“I love them.”

“What do you think of my art skills? Better than you, right?”

You laugh and turn back to your cutting board. “You should’ve considered art school instead of med school. Professional artist Seungmin,” you muse. “I can see you in galleries and museums.”

“Don’t forget the history textbooks. Why didn’t you consider art school? You would be perfect for video games or something.”

For some time, you did consider art school. You spent the first two years of high school daydreaming about sitting behind an easel, translating a model’s likeness onto paper. Perennial paint splatters on your jeans, permanent charcoal stains on your fingers—that was the only way you wanted to study human anatomy.

“My parents. You know how it is. Can you season the fries in the bowl?”

While Seungmin dumps copious amounts of salt, pepper, and whatever random spices he picked from the cabinet, you reflect on your teenage self. A part of you knew that drawing would only be a hobby, but another part kept hoping your parents would come around. When Hyunjin’s parents announced he was going to study chemistry, your mom wondered why he didn’t choose art when he was such a good artist. In fact, half the neighborhood, whose children went into STEM fields one way or another, were shocked he chose chemistry. Of course, if their own kids had opted for non-STEM majors, they would have been livid. Just like your parents had been.

“Did you ever think about not going into medicine?” you ask as you add more potato slices into the bowl.

He adds a swirl of oil to the mix. “No. It’s all I ever wanted to do. I volunteered at the hospital in high school, got an internship at a clinic here. I was studying for the MCAT and then…”

And then the university’s outdated housing killed him. It sounds horrific when phrased like that, but it’s more truthful than “Promising Young Pre-med Student Kim Seungmin Dead After Apartment Fire,” as the city newspaper headlined. His student ID photo smiled earnestly at readers, and a recent picture showed him posing in a lab coat.

It hits you then. Seungmin is dead. You knew this logically; you saw the articles, passed by the vigil, and signed the student letter demanding better accommodations. Then you forgot his existence until you applied to live in this building and when he appeared in your bedroom, you forgot about his death. Despite witnessing him walk through walls and tiptoeing around his deceased status, Seungmin has never really been dead to you. He’s your roommate who sleeps in the living room, your study partner who loves all things related to biology, or your friend. He’s too alive to be anything else.

“Did you preheat the oven?” he asks, breaking you out of your spiraling thoughts. Your body went on autopilot, and now the baking sheet is covered in pale potato sticks.

You glance at the dark oven and head over to do what you should’ve done twenty minutes ago. “My bad.”

“You’re the one eating these. Can you even finish all this?”

It’s far too much, but what else were you going to do with five potatoes on the verge of going bad? You suppose you could have not accepted them from your friend. “I can try?” you say, more to convince yourself than him. “I’m no coward.”

“Really? Then why do you hide when we watch horror movies?”

“That’s different. Mario Kart while we wait?”

“I call Birdo.”

Despite his declaration, you’re the one playing Birdo while he settles for Waluigi. Seungmin gloats when he hits you with a red shell, laughs when you fall off the track, and celebrates when he gets first place. He’s practically corporeal, alight with hopes and dreams you wish were your own, but he’s only the echo of the past. Meanwhile, blood flows through your veins and oxygen into your lungs, yet you’re stuck in a potential future you don’t even want.

At the end of fall, between your human biology midterm and that stupid philosophy paper, you break. It’s during one of your MCAT practice exams, so you at least can cry at your desk. You can’t even cry without guilt; your mind immediately starts trying to reread the problem you’re stuck on through your tears, as if trigonometry will solve your crisis.

It feels like an elephant is sitting on your chest. Every time you think you’ve calmed down enough to begin again, another wave of sobs overcomes you. Just holding your pencil makes your throat tighten.

“Are you okay?” Seungmin’s voice is slightly muffled by your bedroom door, but you doubt that a thin piece of wood concealed your cries.

You choke out, “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“... No.”

You swing open your door with sardonic fanfare, spreading your arms like a ringmaster. Seungmin makes no comment about your swollen eyes or your sniffles. You almost wish he had.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he asks. He takes a tentative step into your room, and when you nod, he lets himself fully in. It’s been several months since he’s last been inside. Unmade bed, cluttered nightstand, paper-strewn desk—nothing much has changed. He sits on your chair, resting an arm on top of the throw blanket you’ve thrown over the back.

“I don’t know what there is to talk about,” you say after a moment of silence. “I hate class, I hate work, I hate my life. A breakdown has been long overdue.”

You stare at the floor, afraid to meet his gaze now that he’s seen you like this. Ever since you discovered Seungmin, you’ve crafted the perfect blasé attitude to accommodate your new living circumstances. He leaves you alone sometimes and stays cordoned off in the shared spaces to give you privacy, but you don’t break apart in your apartment for good reason. You’re open and raw like a bloody wound. Will he want to patch you up with bandaids, or will he pick and prod?

Pick and prod, you pray. Make some flippant remark about how easy you have it, how he wishes he could be in your position instead. Because if he does, then the situation must not be that bad.

Softly, Seungmin says, “What can I do to help?”

Your heart drops to your stomach. “I don’t know… I should probably get back to studying anyway.”

“Really? Are you serious?”

“What else am I supposed to do?” you snap. Seungmin at least has the decency to look sheepish. “The MCAT’s in July, and I don’t even understand half the things I’m supposed to know. I’m barely getting C’s in philosophy and art history because of it. That’s so humiliating.”

“Have you thought about, you know, not going to med school?”

A harsh laugh rips out of your throat. “Every single day. But it’s too late. I’ve already wasted four years, so what’s another four?” That doesn’t even include residency.

“You’d hate it.”

“Story of my life.”

The room goes quiet. Maybe you were too severe with your words, but how else do you explain it?

“What if you became a medical illustrator?” he abruptly suggests. “You’d know exactly how to draw everything. It’s perfect for you. And it’s still STEM-related.”

It doesn’t matter if it’s in STEM. Your parents laid out your options very clearly: doctor or disappointment. Some career choices were less disappointing than others, but they would still be disappointments.

“I need to study,” you say.

He stands up from your rightful seat at your desk. Softly, so very softly, he says, “I’ll let you get back to it then.”

“Thank you.”

He shuts the door behind him and leaves you with your despair. True to your word, you return to your practice exam, this time without crying. Your mouth is dry the entire session, but you don’t dare drink any water in fear that rehydration will trigger your tears. It’s stupid but keeps you holding on.

When you check your answers and review terminology, you refer to the set of flashcards Seungmin made for you. He didn’t expect you to use them, but his drawings have helped you better memorize the definitions. You shuffle through them, occasionally trying to figure out the relationship between whatever Seungmin drew and the word written. Other times—but not enough for your liking—you know exactly what they mean.

The rabbit from “absolute threshold” stares at you with lopsided eyes, and Mendel’s warped pea plants grow beneath your fingers. The whole world blurs.

A month after move-in, after too many beers and barbeque chips, you asked Seungmin, “Why do you haunt only me? You can travel through the whole building, but you’re only ever here.”

He gestures at the room with a sweeping flourish. “This used to be my apartment. Sort of. They changed the floor plan, but this is the approximate location of where I lived, so when you moved in, it felt like fate.”

“Ah, a med school sufferer to keep you company.”

He laughs, but it sounds insincere. “How drunk are you right now?”

You glance at the row of empty cans you lined up on the counter. One, two, three, four, five. Five and a half, if you count the one in your hand. “Pretty drunk, I think.”

“So you won’t remember what I tell you, right?”

“Probably not,” you lie. “What is it?”

With a sad smile on his face, he says, “I haunt you because it’s like seeing someone live the life I could’ve had. Would’ve had.”

Your outburst doesn’t go forgotten, but you and Seungmin dance around the topic with the grace of a seasoned ballerina. You show him your grocery hauls, he scolds you for buying expensive cookies. The two of you play Overcooked instead of Mario Kart and pretend that Overcooked will strengthen your friendship instead destroy it even further. Seungmin is really bad, embarrassingly so.

“Are you going to the party this weekend?” he asks as he drops onions all over the floor. There’s no health department in the game.

“I would ask you to be more specific,” you say, “but we both know I’m not going to any parties. Go chop the onions.”

“You need friends.”

“I have friends. Who do you think keeps us giving us potatoes?”

He scoffs. “That’s not a friend. That’s an enemy. We need more dishes.”

While you wash a stack of dirty dishes, Seungmin dashes between prepping ingredients and watching the timer on the soups. As expected, he doesn’t take the pot off the stovetop quick enough, and soon enough the whole kitchen is in flames. You scream at him to get the fire extinguisher, he wades through the sea of onions, and the level ends with a single gold star.

You set your joycon down and lean your head back. “Three stars or nothing” is your motto when playing Overcooked, but perhaps you can make an exception for Seungmin.

“Why’d you ask me about a party?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. Seems like a college student thing to ask. And a college student thing to do. Go to parties, I mean.”

“Not for us.” You stretch your arms and legs out, knocking your socked feet against the coffee table. “When have you ever seen me willingly leave the apartment?”

“Never,” he admits, “but you should enjoy your youth.”

Whatever mutual agreement you thought you and Seungmin had does not exist. You have long known that you would have to sacrifice your twenties for your future. There would be good moments among your struggles, but so many of your memories would be of test prep and studying. As your parents so eloquently put it, “You can draw after you retire.”

“That’s funny coming from you,” you say. You wave a hand in front of his face and observe the way his eyebrows scrunch together. “Are you really Seungmin?”

“Do you know any other ghosts?”

“Do you actually regret dedicating so much time to studying?”

“No. I mean, I went out when I could, but you…” He mindlessly thumbs the buttons of the controller as he tries to find his words. “Well, maybe I do a little bit, but it was fulfilling. Or was going to be anyway. You’re miserable. I’ve never seen you without dark circles or eye bags.”

How needlessly observant of him. “Thanks. It’s the quintessential college look.”

“Take care of yourself.” He raises his joycon and nods at the TV. “Let’s go again. Three stars only.”

And just like that, you and Seungmin go back to pretending as if everything is fine, like the last few minutes were idle chatter about the weather. You yell instructions at him, and he retorts back with something snarky; all is well.

You suppose you should have realized why Seungmin asked you such out-of-character questions two weeks ago. Death anniversaries don’t typically go onto your calendar, but you could have made an exception for Seungmin. How did you forget? As you walk down the stairs, a wave of guilt washes over you.

The annual university-held vigil occurs on campus, but the apartment complex has their own small affair in the courtyard. Framed photos of the victims huddle together at the base of a half-wall. Already, there are several flowers and notes strewn about, and you add your own carnation to the pile. You have a note as well, and it burns your hand as you debate whether to leave it or not.

Twelve people died that night. “Only” twelve, as some papers reiterated. Twelve out of three hundred doesn’t seem too horrific given the state of the fire, but that’s still twelve people dead. Plenty more got injured trying to escape, and they aren’t honored at this memorial. The living don’t get commemorated—they live with the memories of the day, and that’s remembrance enough for the public.

“Hey.”

No one else is around, so you say, “Hey,” back to Seungmin. He disappeared for a few hours, and you assumed he would be gone until sunrise. In the days leading up to his death anniversary, he has grown increasingly depressed, looking vacantly out the window and mouthing words to himself. You idiotically thought he was just having one of those days.

“How are you holding up?” you ask.

“Fine, I guess. Good turn out this year,” he remarks as he kneels down to pick through the gifts. “The construction workers didn’t even show up to work because of superstition or something.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I know, it’s just…” You wave the folded notebook paper in your hand. Maybe you should’ve bought some stationery after all. “Read this later. I’ll see you whenever.”

You gently place it beside your carnation, return back to your apartment, and lock yourself inside your room. It’s too quiet, and you’re too restless. Your head tells you to do practice problems to burn off your energy, but all you’ve been doing as of late is listen to your head.

As you sketch an anatomical heart—underneath a completely necessary and painstakingly accurate rendering of a male torso—your bones say that this is right.

To Kim Seungmin, a star that went out too soon—

You deserved so much more than this. I don’t even know what else to say because nothing feels more appropriate.

I’m living in your old apartment—where it used to be, at least—and I can’t help but feel that I’m living the life you should have had. Sometimes I can feel your presence when I’m studying. I can hear you reciting definitions and shuffling flashcards. When I’m really losing my mind, I can see you sitting on the couch watching House episodes with me. It’s comforting and terrifying.

You already know this, but I don’t want to go to med school. I hate it and I hate being a disappointment to my parents, but I hate being a disappointment to you the most. You should be in my place, so I thought I should try and complete your dream for you at the very least. I’m already miserable, so I should make the most of it. For a while, I thought this would make you happy, but it’s been making you sad and worried recently. I thought if I could make you happy, then it would be worth it, but I’m realizing it’s not, but I’m too scared to leave this path. Sometimes I don’t know who I am without med school looming over me, and it

I wish we would’ve met earlier. You’re an amazing person, full of light and kindness. The world is darker without you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything that I’ve done and for everything that I didn’t do because you deserve so much better than whatever you’ve been given.

“Do you want to talk?”

Seungmin’s upside down face appears between you and the iPad you have been holding up with both arms. Philosophy review is simultaneously boring and maddening, but you have a final to be studying for. You should’ve started much earlier, but twenty-four hours of cramming has not failed you when it comes to general education elective courses yet.

“Not really,” you say as you push his face out of view. He’s corporeal at the moment, so your hand meets resistance rather than going right through. “I’m busy.”

“Did you apply for a ‘biomedical visualization’ program? That’s a medical illustrator thing, right?”

You don’t need to look at him to know he’s thrilled. Since the memorial, you began looking into medical illustrators as a backup plan. You only meant to learn about the basic requirements, but curiosity got the better of you, and you attended an online informational session. Seungmin overheard bits and pieces because of how thin the walls are, you got cagey when he asked, and he put his endless hours of free time into detective work.

“I didn’t apply. I’m just looking around. Now go away.”

“The living room is a communal space. So you’re considering it then?”

You don’t respond and bring your iPad closer to your eyes. To read the tiny notes on the margins of your classmate’s notes, of course.

Seungmin cackles and claps his hands. “You are! This is good! Why are you so morose?”

“Because you interrupted my studying? I have less than ten hours to cover three months of content.”

“You’re deflecting. Are you worried about your parents?”

“Morose and deflecting,” you murmur. “Two gold stars for your vocabulary usage.”

“Are you?”

You shut your eyes, envisioning the stern faces of your parents when you announce over dinner your plans to spend your life not being a doctor. Their expressions morph from confusion to anger to grim when they realize how serious you are.

Are you serious about this? You’re not even sure yourself. It feels like you’re in high school again, holding onto a shred of hope for a future you aren’t allowed to have.

“What if I lie to them?” you say. “I tell them I got into a school that’s super far away, go there, and return when I’ve firmly established myself as an illustrator or whatever I end up doing. It’ll be too late for them to do anything.”

“That’s one way to do it. But wouldn’t it be better if you were upfront?”

You groan and turn back to your classmate’s notes. What is it like, you wonder, to not be crushed by the weight of approval? What is it like to know you won’t be scorned for your choices? No matter what you do, someone—your parents or Seungmin—will be upset.

“Upset” is a very mild way to describe your parents’ reactions. After six cans of celebratory beer—you passed all of your classes this semester!—you called your parents to tell them good news. Somewhere between the silent congratulations and questions of your home arrival, you blurted out, “I think I’m gonna do biomedical visualization. Medical illustration. Art. It’s still medical-related, but not a doctor.”

And after a lengthy discussion filled with shouting, you’re not allowed to come home this year or ever again. CALL ENDED flashes on your screen, but you grip your phone so tightly you can feel your heartbeat in your fingertips. Your whole body is tense, flushed with indignation and shame. No tears come. You expected something like this but nothing to this extreme. Their words echo in your ears.

Ungrateful. Selfish. Disgrace.

Logically, you know you’re none of those things, but you can’t help but feel they’re at least a little bit right. You sink into your desk chair and wait for the inevitable knock on your door. To step out of your own accord would be mortifying.

“Are you okay?” asks Seungmin.

“I’ve been disowned in every way except legally,” you answer as you let him inside your room. “What do you think?”

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s…”

It’s not fine, but your mouth started saying so by default. You perch on the edge of your bed and stare at the stack of practice books that have been untouched for two days on your dresser. They would belong better under your bed where they’ll be out of sight.

Suddenly insecure, you ask, “You’re not gonna leave me, right? You’ll still help me peel potatoes and let me know when my artisan cookies are on sale?”

He chuckles. “The only way you can get away from me is by moving or by graduating. I’ll be here. Instead of nagging you to study, I’ll critique your anatomy.”

“That’s against the rules.” Nevertheless, you smile at the thought of Seungmin hyperfixed at your artistic renderings and comparing them against pictures from a textbook. “Thanks.”

Seungmin smiles back, and he radiates so much warmth that you forget it’s winter.

EPILOGUE

“Honey, I’m home,” you call.

You nearly trip over the door sill in your heels but catch yourself in time. Wearing heels to commencement is a bad idea for more reasons than one. Clutching your friend’s graduation bouquet, you flip on the light switch with the back of your hand and glance over your apartment. Other than the dozens of boxes scattered across the living room and kitchen, nothing else belongs to you; goodbye coffee table you stubbed your toes against too many times; goodbye peeling school-issued couch. You half-expected to see Seungmin lying on it, staring at the ceiling like he used to.

“Seungmin, where are you?” When he doesn’t answer, you try again. “Anyone home?”

You wander around the small apartment, checking behind doors and furniture like you’re playing hide-and-seek. He’s nowhere to be found, and you go through the apartment again in a frenzy. He could be in a different part of the building, but he always knows when you’re looking for him.

“Where are you? Seungmin, this isn’t funny! I know you can hear me.”

It takes twenty minutes, but you eventually realize he’s gone for good. No goodbyes, no hugs, no teasing—he just waved you off to your ceremony and shut the front door. You knew he wouldn’t be able to help you move out, but you thought he would still be here when you returned. He researched additional art classes for you, suggested works for your portfolio, and consoled you whenever you were overwhelmed. It’s a knife to your heart that he’s not here.

In between tears that you don’t allow to fall from your eyes, you carry your boxes of belongings to your car. You have a new place to call home, but two perfectly nice housemates and a dog aren’t good replacements for a ghost who annoyed you from sunrise to sundown.

I hope you find this note eventually. I know we have the rule where I’m not supposed to go through your belongings, but since we’re not going to be roommates any longer, I hope you’re not too mad. Completely unrelated but you’re really good at Mario Kart. So good. Birdo was designed specifically for you.

Congratulations on graduating. You’ve worked hard this year. Could have worked harder sometimes but you did it! Relax a bit during your gap year and enjoy your youth. Those art classes will be easy for you. Biomed visualization will be easy after pre-med studies.

Stop rolling your eyes and sighing. You know I’m right.

I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to say goodbye. I know you wanted it, but I don’t think I could have handled it. The truth is that I was ready to go a couple months ago when you started compiling your portfolio. For two years, I didn’t know why I was still here. At first, I thought my unfinished business was about the circumstances of my death. (Stop wincing. I’m dead. It’s a fact.) Then the administration stepped up. They did the bare minimum, to be honest, but at least changes were made. When you turned up, I thought I was supposed to fulfill my dream of going to med school. Turns out, I still have no idea what exactly why I was here, but seeing you live the life you want and choose the future you want makes me feel like business is finished.

To L/N Y/N, a star that will keep shining for decades to come—

I’m so proud of you and everything you’ve done so far. There are so many opportunities waiting out there for you, so don’t be afraid to take any chances. I’ll be with you always.

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cobalt-knave · 1 year

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Supernatural Fiction Podcast Recs

Happy halloween! I wanted to put together another rec list to get out today.

Supernatural fiction includes some fantasy, some horror, and something all on its own. Here is a rec list of some audio dramas I enjoy in this genre.

The Antique Shop

The audio journal of Maya, a university student who takes a job at an antique shop. The shop contains strange and magical and cursed items. It also contains Madam Norna, who can help people with supernatural problems but there is always a cost, and the Madam must work with fate and not against it-- something Maya doesn’t agree with. There is also a great enemies (or acquaintances with animosity between them) to friends relationship that makes me happy.

What follows is the strange stories of those that come to the shop and the slow corruption arc esque change as Maya becomes closer and closer to Fate and the role of the Madam.

The Bridge

Watchtower 10 sits in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, keeping lonely watch over the Transcontinental Bridge. Our main character Etta broadcasts stories, often strange, that happened on the Bridge. Meanwhile, some of her backstory begins to be revealed, and the sea creature in lower level 3 has people coming after him.

Etta and the other people who work at Watchtower 10 are all delightful characters.

McGillicuddy And Murder’s Pawn Shop

The podcast is set in 1921 taking the format of the diary belonging to Melinda Maudie Merkle. Maude has a terribly boring life as a typist, and one of her only sources of joy is going every so often to a pawn shop, McGillicuddy & Murder’s. One day, she comes across a broken piece of china with a blue eye on it. After coming home with the eye, strange things begin to happen, and she finds herself immersed in a world of wonder and horror and magic. An adventure, at last. Though perhaps not quite how she imagined it.

A lot of healing into a new person, leaving behind bad relationships, and surrounding one’s self with trusted friends and community. And, of course, adventure.

The McIlwraith Statements

15 years after the fact, Sarah McIlwraith is making her statements regarding the infamous IPP study. The IPP study was a psychology-focused scientific study into mediums, hauntings, and the paranormal. It lasted three years before it was revealed to be a hoax, ruining the careers of those involved. Sarah was a phd student working on the study. But here is the thing: the study never found anything, but Sarah has always been able to see ghosts. And many of those haunted locations were indeed haunted.

Sarah is a great character, and the stories she tells are all very interesting as you hear about how the study worked, the ghosts she met and helped, the mediums that always seemed to be faked. Meanwhile, Sarah is looking into the mysterious funding the projects got, which keeps a good meta plot going.

Kane and Feels

Lucifer Kane and Brutus Feels, paranormal investigators. These two are chaotic, absolutely insane, and fantastic. Great use of narration with both characters alternating narrating. They are buddies, your honor. Horror! Weird things! Dream logic! If it’s a demon, Feels will probably punch it. The little one helps, and the big one makes tea.

The Hidden People

More on the urban fantasy side than the horror side, this podcast follows Mackenna Thorne. It’s very self-aware and has a lot of fun bringing in other genre bits (the hacker, the funny guy, a fair amount of Buffy references I enjoy immensely). Mack’s parents are murdered, apparently by none other than Mackenna Thorne. As this mystery unfolds, a world to the hidden people (the unseelie court) is opened.

Mack has such an incredible character arc.

There is a demonic narrator who is constantly amused by everything the characters do wrong.

The Mistholme Museum of Mystery, Morbidity, and Mortality

Let the AI Audio Tour Guide take you on a tour of the museum. Hear the stories - some horror, some soft, some strange, and some tragic - of the various exhibits. If your Audio Tour Guide is behaving... strangely, you should deposit your audio device in the nearest incinerator.

The Audio Tour Guide gets so much character development, and it is an utter delight.

Beware the man with a voice like honey and chocolate and coffee all at once.

Jar Of Rebuke

Dr. Jared Hel works at the Enclosure, which studies cryptids (for lack of a better word). Jared works there after having amnesia, and he only remembers the past two years. And always wears a key on a necklace. They have one skill that makes him very useful for studying cryptids: he can die and revive.

#pod recs #pod rec #jar of rebuke #the antique shop #the mistholme museum of mystery morbidity and mortality #the hidden people #kane and feels #the mcilwraith statements #the bridge

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gunpowder-tim · 1 year

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so. podcast reccomendations

putting this under a read more it got l o n g

Ones i have listened to -

*Inkwyrm - COMPLETE, My ultimate fav podcast ever -id listen to the original first ep before the first ep redo cause i think it kinda makes more sense idk, Putting up with her boss is hard enough, but with the cutthroat fashion industry, and whatever is trying to kill everyone today, Mella and the gang have their hands full. One part sit-com, one part space opera.

*Kaleidotrope - COMPLETE, the cutest fucking shit ever filled with tropes and gayass idiots, The plot centers around Drew and Harrison, two reluctant college radio co-hosts-turned-accidental-advice-givers who find themselves in the middle of the campus’s oldest mystery: Do happy endings really happen at Sidlesmith? Can you really find your trope?

*Hell or High Rollers - 11 eps so far! dnd podcast but very rp based much less mechanic based /pos, A table top role play podcast following the adventures of 4 Villains and their attempt to escape eternal damnation. theyre trying to escape hell and they have to get through all nine layers before they can!!

The Beacon - season 3 coming, After surviving a dangerous encounter with a monster, Bee discovers she has the magical ability to control fire. Confused and with no heroic aspirations, she reaches out online to try and find others with impossible powers like hers - but finding them is only half the battle. only listened to a few eps of this but its v enjoyable

Girl in Space - season 2 coming, Nothing fancy here -- just the simple audio diary of a girl in space. Also, there’s this weird and potentially ominous light in the distance that seems to be growing steadily closer. fun space stuff!

Violet Beach - COMPLETE, On New Year's Day, 2018, the lives of seven friends in the town of Violet Beach, Maryland, change forever. As weird sci-fi happenings become less "fi" and more reality every day, they begin keeping record of their experiences. These are those records. dont remember much abt the content (listened to it a long time ago lmao) but i remember enjoying it v much

Overkill - COMPLETE(?), After 19-year-old Aya Velasquez died mysteriously in Harding Park, no one seemed to care. At least not until a preteen medium accidentally summoned Aya herself to solve the mystery. With no memory of her death and no shortage of questions, Aya must make friends with her fellow ghosts and discover the truth behind the nation's most haunted park. v cool ghost shit but not horrory and also gay

Midnight Radio - COMPLETE, Drawing inspiration from 1950s radio serials and ghost stories, Midnight Radio follows two women finding love through an unlikely correspondence about community, leaving your small hometown, our relationship to the past, what it means to be haunted, and what we leave behind when we die. Remember: all ghost stories are love stories.

Death by Dying - season 2 in progress(?) The Obituary Writer of Crestfall, Idaho finds himself deeply in over his head as he investigates a series of strange and mysterious deaths… when he is supposed to simply be writing obituaries. Along the way he encounters murderous farmers, man-eating cats, haunted bicycles, and a healthy dose of ominous shadows. nightvale esque with a weird lil town, fun concept cool characters, the obituary writer is on the podcast tumblr like all the time and is v nice sauifgdsukf

36 Questions - COMPLETE, musical podcast! bit :/ cause its like got real celebs n shit in it but its good!!!!, In a last-ditch attempt to salvage their crumbling marriage, a couple uses the 36 questions—an experiment known for making strangers fall in love—to save their own relationship.

Directive - 2 seasons, when this came out the tumblr for the podcast messaged people to ask them to listen to it skjdfgdsk, listen to all of part 1 all at once, i didnt know there was a season two so idk abt that but this is sad so just bear that in mind , A Sci Fi series about a man stuck alone for 20 years, taking care of sleeping passengers on a ship to colonize a new planet.

*Love and Luck - hiatus since 2020 possibly finished, Love and Luck is a fictional radio play podcast, told via voicemails. It’s a slice of life queer romance story with a touch of magic. very cute and nice and lighthearted

Dining in The Void - season 3 coming, When six alien celebrities are trapped onboard a space station, they will have to work together to survive--or die at the hands of an unknown monster. pretty sure i was/am mutuals (or sth) w someone who voice acts in this which i didnt know when i started listening, heavy themes i think kinda

Raising the Dead Again - indefinate hiatus, Raising the Dead Again is a triweekly podcast that follows a young, modern-day necromancer - a young man by the name of Quincy Bejanaro - before, during, and after making the biggest mistake of his life: resurrecting long-dead adventurers. really really loved this one sad theres only 9 eps :( and the story is unfinished

some of these do not have great input from me bc i listened to them years ago n my memory is garbage - starred ones are my favourites, pink is my opinion, italics are official descriptions

other ones i love but Do Not Reccomend are king falls am and eos 10 bc the creators r stupid ass losers and also the last season of eos 10 is so fucking stupid lmao

#rai.txt #there is 14 podcasts on this list #i can reccoomend more perhaps but these ones.#idk like i didnt wanna reccomend like taz or wtnv yknow?#but yeah #hope yall think these r good suggestions #if u wanna know a bit more abt one of them send an ask or sth!

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themosleyreview · 9 months

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The Mosley Review: Talk To Me

I remember as a kid that all the witches and true Goth teens that were all about "the dark and endless void in which our spirit shall rest" lifestyle. Sometimes they would invite other kids to a party and at some parties they would have a seance or a ouija board would be brought out. They would claim to see stuff and then pass it on like a creepy ghost story throughout the halls of the school. Many films like Stigmata and The Craft were some of the inspirations and classic teen films about supernatural horror were everywhere. The level of originality and creative scary visuals got better then started dying off when the Paranormal Activity films started taking over. Now comes this film which takes a simple and universally friendly acknowledge of communication and twists it into something more sinister and creepy. That was the beauty of the concept and it is put to full use and nothing is held back. I loved the visuals of the many spirits and how the possession would violently take place. The sense of desperation, psychological and emotional trauma was on full display and its always fun to see how the characters handle it. I liked that certain characters were around only when needed instead of over crowding the screen even if a few of them were very one note.

Sophie Wilde as Mia was the lead of the film and she knocks it out of the park. The amount of desperation for wanting to rekindle the flame of young love and her need to fit in wasn't necessarily new, but her portrayal made it relatable. The quick turn of events for her life as we get to the main plot was astounding. Her rough emotional journey into madness was excellent and her performance kept me engaged. Marcus Johnson plays her father Max and I felt he was very one note. He was very good at delivering the emotional weight of the strained and distant relationship between him and his daughter. Alexandra Jensen as her best friend Jade was great and funny at times with her snarky remarks. Their friendship felt natural and the genuine moments of bonding between them was good. Joe Bird was really good as Jade's younger brother Riley. He represented the "younger brother looking up to older sibling" type and it was cute at times. He represented that last shred of innocence in the film. Miranda Otto is always great to see on screen and as Jade and Riley's mother Sue, she was a firecracker. She wasn't afraid to lay down the law in the house and I loved how she embarassed her daughter in a particular scene. Otis Dhanji was good as Jade's boyfriend Daniel. He is stuck in a love triangle between Jade and Mia and I liked the tension between them and I'm glad it didn't overshadow the story. Zoe Terakes was good the dealer of the school, Hayley. Hayley was the purveyor of "The Hand" and I liked her devilish enjoyment of the possession scenes.

The score by Cornel Wilczek was good and creepy in the more intense scenes. The use of silence is where this film excels. There is power in not using score in the most obvious moments of horror and that was used well here. I loved the design of the "The Hand" and the markings add that extra level of demonic iconography. Where I feel the film lacks is in the middle after the majority of haunts begin. I would've loved for a not so obvious twist in the psychological moment that kicks off the last 30 minutes of the film. I liked the visual foreshadowing earlier in the film and how it paid off. I've been a fan of the YouTube creators behind the wild and awesome channel RackaRacka, Danny and Michael Philippou. For a debut film, this was an fantastic supernatural horror film that plays to their strengths and shows that they have a bright future as storytellers on the big screen. I can't wait to see where they go from here. Let me know what you thought of the film or my review in the comments below. Thanks for reading!

#talk to me #Sophie Wilde #Alexandra Jensen #Joe Bird #Miranda Otto #Otis Dhanji #Zoe Terakes #Marcus Johnson #Danny Philippou #Michael Philippou

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man-down-in-hatchet-town · 10 months

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The Ghost of All My Yesterdays

(Pulp Musicals 3: The Ghosts of Antikythera Theory Part 1--The Reasonable Stuff)

So I've been thinking a lot about The Ghosts of Antikythera and the excellent rambling theory post (my favorite kind of post) @its-short-for-jackalope made a few days ago (you can read it here--seriously, if you haven't already, read it--it's got so many fun and interesting ideas packed in), and slowly building up my own theories about exactly what's going to go down the next time we see our beloved Pulp Quartet.

I think it'll all come down to Episode Three's theme, which I believe is going to be the Past, and our relationship with it.

Theory under the cut (sorry it's so long lol) (this post is just gonna have the more basic, grounded stuff. The real wild swings will come in a part two).

As several people have already remarked, "Antikythera" could refer to either a Greek island or the Antikythera Mechanism, an ancient Greek device that was found in an ancient shipwreck on that same island, and was once used to predict astronomical positions and eclipses. While anything's possible in a series that just featured one character transporting four others through time, I'm of the opinion that the device is more likely than the actual island to majorly feature.

But! I’ve previously written (here) about the supposed real-life story behind the Ellen Austin and her encounter with a ghost ship in 1881. The Antikythera Mechanism, meanwhile, isn’t discovered until 1901. I can think of two ways around this time discrepancy.

First of all, it's always possible that Matt simply... changed up the timeline. He's already played fast and loose with real world history--he aged John down to match the Stratfords, put the Stratfords in the middle of the Great Moon Hoax, and even stuck a giant-ass brick satellite up in the sky to forever change the nature of oceanic voyages. It’s easy to see him just moving the discovery of the Antikythera Mechanism up twenty years or so. However, there's still the problem that the Mechanism was discovered on a Greek island far from the Sargasso Sea, where both history and Pulp find the Ellen Austin. Which brings me to the other, in my opinion more likely, explanation…

What if the device is found on the ghost ship in 1881 and then returned to the Antikythera Island shipwreck at the end of the episode?

Matt has said that every episode of Pulp has a particular theme. Episode 1 was Imagination, Episode 2 was Friendship, and Episode Three is shaping up to be about our relationship with the past. We have Margaret starting to uncover her own history while all four characters must grapple with leaving behind the lives and people and years they knew. To the people of 1881, the Pulp Quartet have been quite literally living in the past, and now our gang have to figure out how to either get back to that time, or else let it go and march into the future. How can they cast away their intense ties to 1835, when they themselves are but a manifestation of that past reaching out into the future?

You know what else is a manifestation of the past reaching into the future? Ghosts. In "Behind Me", Rose talks about how the "ghost of all her yesterdays stands beside her," introducing specters as a metaphor for the impact of the past. As such, I think the Ghosts of Episode 3 are going to be both kinds—metaphorical ghosts of our characters’ yesterdays and losses, and then also actual spirits.

What if these titular Ghosts of Antikythera are just that? Spirits that, in a thematic parallel of our four protagonists, have been taken from their homes and their time. Perhaps the Antikythera Mechanism is haunted and the ghost ship's former crew it on a previous voyage. While sailing it to America, they meet disaster, most likely caused by the ghosts of the mechanism, leaving the Ellen Austin to find the ghost ship and confront the spirits. At the end of the episode, the evil is defeated and either our protagonists, the Traveler, or even the crew of the Austin (the least likely option) return the Mechanism to its watery grave, where it will be found again in twenty years...

(Part 2 can be found here.)

#Pulp Musicals #Pulp musicals episode three: The ghosts of antikythera #the ghosts of antikythera #samuel stratford #rose stratford #Margaret Cavendish #Sir John Herschel #pulp musicals theories

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galaxae · 9 months

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hi adrian :3 🔎📄and 🤬 for the ask game mwah ily

mwahhh ly2 thankyou for the ask for real

(my lovely mutual green is referencing this post here)

🔍Give a clue (a picture, emoji, a word, etc) and let your followers guess what a WIP is about.

hmm which wip to do... ok no i got it i'm gonna do a quote. the quote is not actually in the story but it's a shorthand thematic description i use

"never give nukes to a teenager"

🤬Is there a WIP that you hate?

i don't really *hate* any of my creations. they're all very special to me! that said, honestly, the one i like the least right now is my short story "one good day" about a lesbian supervillain, her backstory, and her "redemption" if you want to call it that. i havent touched that story in a while because i wrote it when i was in a very dark place (last october-ish?) and my writing class' reaction to it was mixed, which makes sense obviously it's a first draft, but i was still hurt bc i was in a sensitive spot emotionally. my professor really liked my revisions of it for the end of the semester, but still. i'll return to it when i've healed more from my parents' bullshit, maybe. that story very much explores a toxic, complicated parent-child relationship in depth and idk how much i can handle that right now!

📝Share a snippet of an unposted WIP, with or without context.

oh naur not this one....... i suppose i will tho. putting this one last so i can do a readmore. enjoy

There’s a name that haunts me. Azalea.

I heard it once, years ago, while my dad was talking about a family friend. That name has lingered like a ghost behind me ever since. Sometimes, it tugs on my shoulders, or says something in my ear that I can’t make out, or clings to my back like a desperate child. I’ll be in the middle of something — a meeting at work, a drawing, my boss calling me into his office — something important, something I need to give my full attention — and I struggle, already, with paying attention to things — and Azalea makes it worse. Azalea, Azalea, Azalea.

The same name as a genus of flowers, or the common name for that genus, at least, because Rhododendron is more likely to make your eyes glaze over when you read it. That one wouldn’t make a great human name. They’re pretty, used widely in decorations for people’s lawns, so much so that it’s hard to find info about how they actually originated and evolved, or what purpose they serve in the natural environment, separate from humans. And insects thrive in their presence. But they are toxic, highly toxic for humans. Even for frogs, too. Dangerous, angry, and deadly, but still so beloved by everyone, somehow.

I don’t even remember anything about the family friend my dad mentioned. He hasn’t brought her up in years. But Azalea, not the person, but the name, she is still there. Pulling at my hair from behind, shaking me awake from a drunk stupor, poking and prodding me. I wanted her to go away at first. I don’t know why she’s there or what she wants from me. But she’s around, either way. She has been for years, maybe a decade or longer. I’ve grown accustomed to it.

The last thing I remember is this. A white blur in front of my windshield. A steering wheel in my hand, shifting of its own accord, its cold fake leather running through my palms. A skid. A voice, possibly mine, saying, “Oh god!” A loud crack. Then, silence. Silence, save for Azalea’s frantic whispers.

And now I'm here.

This is some imitation of the bedroom of my childhood. The one I stay in now, too, of course — I'm not going to deny that I moved back in with my dad. But this one looks like it did when I was young: a mattress that could soak me up like a towel on a spill if I wanted it to. A stripe of frog and swamp wallpaper across the wall opposite me, surrounded by those animal fun fact posters, with a few comic posters scattered through those. A tall dresser in the corner, the old one my dad grabbed from a yard sale, that looks like it survived an apocalypse or something.

I sit up. I try to sit up. My hands feel like static. When they push me up, everything blurs.

I really miss that frog wallpaper.

My sight evens out pretty quickly. Looking at the posters again, now that my eyes are more on their level, they look torn. Some corners are missing. The words on them are made of symbols I don't recognize, maybe another language, maybe Samoan. I know that’s the language of half of my blood. Does Samoan use different symbols than English? I don't actually know. I kind of wish I did.

The posters switch places with each other. They cover and uncover the frogs. There are more of the posters and then less of them. My head hurts all of a sudden.

My nightstand, down and to my left, could be a saving grace, something that doesn't hurt to look at. That plain, dark wood, with the alarm clock on it that didn't work (my dad always had to wake me up himself, even when I was a teenager). Usually it was covered in pencils, sticky notes full of my sketches, empty wrappers, dirty plates, the original nightstand mostly obscured. When I look this time, the only thing atop it is a piece of paper. I reach for it.

Dear Carter Gaumond,

We regret to inform you that as of Monday, October 28, you will no longer be employed wi

The paper dissolves in my hands. Crumbling to dust. That poor stranger. This guy got fired.

Oh, no. Hold on. That guy is me. That's my name.

I'd almost forgotten.

That was four months ago, I think, this letter in the mail. And now I'm here, wherever I am. Feeling like I'm about to throw up.

i'd love to give context if anyone wants it but that right there is a revision of my novel's first draft that i wrote in 2020, unsure if or when i will publish it but yknow, it's there

#adrian posts #ocs tag

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lizardgimpking · 1 year

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Book Review: Aliens vs Predator: Ultimate Prey (Various Authors)

It’s no secret to anyone who knows me that I’m a huge fan of the ‘Alien‘ franchise, and also a big fan of the ‘Predator’ series. Their famously crossed over butting of heads has led to some...decidedly mixed cinematic offerings, and a whole bunch of games, books and comics that vary from fantastic (Fire and Stone) to indisputable guilty pleasures (A v P v Judge Dredd). I must admit I’ve never read a AvP novel before this anthology offering, although I’ve dipped my toes into the written world of the ‘Alien’ franchise several times in recent years (The two Alex White novels are excellent). This collection of short stories seemed like a fun way to see how these two franchises merged in writing...and, well, indeed it was!

Featuring 15 stories from 16 authors, this is a pretty robust little anthology book. One thing I really appreciated was the consistency in length. There’s a little give either side, but pretty much every installment in this book runs for around 30 pages. That’s just the right amount to make for a solid day’s reading, which means you can comfortably work your way through the book at a nice clip of one story a day, with no need to pause in the middle of each one. You can obviously read more, or indeed less, but I found the pacing of each story to be just right for a fun daily excursion into the AvP universe.

As with any anthology collection, there’s ups and downs in terms of quality. It’s hard to feature so many authors, all dabbling in the same playground, without encountering some lackluster offerings along the way. There’s no utterly unreadable stories in the book, especially since none particularly outstay their welcome, but there are some rather uninspired concepts and iffy characterisation going on here. I won’t call out any of my least favourites, but needless to say there’s about 3 or 4 that just felt completely bland and/or more than a little goofy in premise and execution. There’s also a frequent lean towards including ‘female’ Predators in the mix, which whilst not the worst thing ever, did rub me the wrong way a little. I personally consider the Predator species as something of a gender ambiguous design, but several of the stories use the female body template designed for the game ‘Predator: Hunting Grounds’, which means they have breast armour and a generally smaller, curvier figure. That’s not to say they don’t still kick ass, and it’s also not to say that several of the stories don’t use the concept of female warriors/hunters in thematically interesting ways, I just prefer the idea that the basic Predators we’ve met in the films aren’t necessarily male or female, or...we at least can’t tell. Not every two-legged fictional species needs to conform to human body standards.

My favourite story is definitely ‘The Hotel Mariposa‘ by David Barnett, which pairs Aliens and Predators with a ‘haunted’, reality distorting hotel, where a group of amateur ghost hunters get caught up in the chaos of both the hotel’s influence, but also the two warring factions within. It’s a really creative and fun idea, pairing shades of ‘The Shining’ with AvP in a way that seems insane, but ultimately really works. I would love to see that concept, or something similar explored more in a full novel. This anthology really works best when it’s pairing these franchises with interesting concepts and time periods. Or at the very least, interesting portrayals of its creatures...particularly the Predators themselves, which are obviously intelligent beings with a known honour code. When they’re made into characters themselves, with internal thought processes and relationships with the human protagonists, rather than just being big beefy monsters, that’s when things feel especially engaging. I could’ve done with less of the ‘hoomans’ kinda internal dialogue, but I did tend to enjoy the stories with Predators as characters more than the ones with them as generic killers. Included of note in this anthology book are follow-ups to both the movie ‘Predators’ and the novel ‘Aliens Phalanx’, the latter of which even written by the original novels author; Scott Sigler. Whilst the ‘Predators’ continuation is a little lacking, I really enjoyed the ‘Phalanx’ sequel, and it’s interesting to see what was once just an Aliens story weave in Predator mythology in ways that work surprisingly well and open the door for another continuation, short or long-form, in the future.

All in all, this is a mixed bag, as all anthologies are. But none of the stories are complete duds, and those that are a little lacking are never unending, thanks to the rather nice ‘tight 30 pages’ format of the novel. It’s worth getting through some of the duds to enjoy the highlights, because there’s some really fun reads here. If you’re a fan of these franchises, particularly combined? This one’s a fun read, and definitely worth a look.

Read it or Leave it : Read It.

Reading Next (Dead Ground by M.W. Craven)

#The Stickman #Alien #Predator #Aliens #Aliens vs Predator #AvP #Novel #Anthology #Scott Sigler #Titan Books #Sci-Fi #Horror #Review #Book #The Shining

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ao3feed-tolkien · 1 year

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oh, can’t you hear that scratching? (there’s something at the door)

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/mznLWDJ

by Wyrd_Syster

Before Celeborn died, Galadriel had not been afraid of the dark.

Before Celeborn died, Galadriel had not been so fucking cold all the time.

Before Celeborn died, Galadriel had not been a lot of things. . . OR . . To escape her ghosts and her grief, Galadriel goes for an ill-advised drink at a nightclub on the wrong side of town and inadvertently catches the attention of its owner, Halbrand.

Written for @S'amariyu on Discord as part of the Gifts of the Valar Gift Exchange!

Words: 6698, Chapters: 1/3, Language: English

Fandoms: The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power (TV 2022)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: F/M

Relationships: Galadriel | Artanis/Halbrand (The Rings of Power), Galadriel | Artanis/Sauron | Mairon

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, crime lord AU, Haunting, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, Semi-Public Sex, Elements of dubcon, Galadriel sees dead people, in a not fun sad way, Nightclub Setting, Middle-earth as NYC

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/mznLWDJ

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #Tolkien #JRR Tolkien #Tolkien works #ao3 #fan fiction

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opaljm · 2 years

Text

scream your panties (m) – pjm

➺ pairing: jimin x female reader

➺ genres/tropes: fluff; humor; smut; minor angst; panhellenic college au ; established relationship ; halloween shenanigans

➺ warning/content tags: 18+; swearing (cuz issa fic by me), extremely inaccurate depictions of Greek life (I used PBP because I have friends from there and it’s the only one I feel safe making fun of); mutually jealous Jimin and Y/N who are in a deeply symbiotic relationship and are somehow the same person, sexualized Toy Story Halloween costumes, Y/N is prone to murderous fits of rage but so is Jimin (he just pretends he isn’t to look more civilized), haunted houses are scary (includes jump scares, scary themed rooms, and also taegiseok n yeonbin in creepy costumes), fighting n misunderstandings (gets scary for a sec but its quick like ripping off a bandage), smut: boob enthusiast Jimin, tons of breast play n nipple play, chest enthusiast Y/N cuz Jimin has nipple piercings 😏, Jimin likes to spank you both inside and outside the bedroom, hand job, unprotected penetrative rough sex (multiple times), Jimin n Y/N get randomly into the feels all the fucking time so if you hate intimacy this fic aint the one for you, copious marking/biting, spit play, panty thief Jimin returns (sorry but this is canon to my Jimins I can’t make him stop 🤡), big dick size king Jimin, creampies/pussy stuffing, blow job, sixty-nine action (yes they blow and eat out each other at the same time), fingering, multiple orgasms, riding, cock warming, showering together

➺ word count: 17.4k

➺ summary: As your midterms have ended and Halloween has arrived, you are looking forward to a pleasant time relaxing and enjoying the festivities at your sorority and Jimin's frat houses. Luck is not in your favor, though, because things keep going wrong like a trail of dominoes falling – the only upside to your slowly deteriorating day being that you get to end it with your boyfriend's delicious self between your legs.

➺ author’s note: Yo sorry for being a hot mess 😭. I had to change my fic idea for this collab last minute (literally on like Oct. 29) and since then it's been a mad dash to get this fic out. I didn't abandon the vampire fic idea, I'm just gonna write it outside a collab with deadlines don't fret! Anyways I hope you really enjoy this fic, it was supposed to be a short lil cute pwp and I made it a super long smutty mammoth fic because I'm obsessed with Jimin 🙄. Btw I amped up the steamy factor and length cuz I'm going on a writing break after Nov. 15 since I’m not really going to have much of free time to write. I’ll still attempt to post once a month but if that doesn’t happen please don’t pressure me about it? I posted like 100k for you guys this year and the year isn’t even over. I hope this tides you over until you get the second half of LOTL. Cuz like, is it a Halloween fic? Sure. But also, do sororities and frats always have random ass costume parties in the middle of the year? Yeah, man. You can read this fic at any time of the year honestly. Please leave some love for this fic if you did like it 💕 feedback is always incredible to receive. The validation I get on each fic I post increases my confidence and allows me to feel secure in continuing to write and post more stories for you guys. I love you a lot and I’ll miss you when I’m on my writing hiatus. These exams are absolutely critical though; I can’t manage both the stress of tumblr and school at the same time for Nov-Jan tbh.

This fic is a part of Jimin’s Sunset Spooktober! Banner made by my darling @knjsnoona & me! It’s just collaboration after collaboration in this household lmaoo 🥰. Beta-read by @jimilter she’s on payroll now! Jimin writes the checks to my lovely bff for all of her help (this is a joke I hope you understand that 😭). I feel like I should credit Ash as a ghost writer. I mean she didn't write this fic but she basically could've with how much I told her and how much she helped. I’m truly blessed to have such lovely and supportive angels as friends 🥺

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It’s hot in your bedroom but you don’t want to push the male who’s got his face buried in your chest off your body.

Stifling a sigh, your left hand caresses his scalp, long fingers threading themselves into the messy overgrown gunmetal gray strands. Jimin slides his palms over your sides, grasping a hold of your tiny waist and pulling you closer to him as you throw a leg over his hips. His hands move north as he brushes them past your ribs and grabs your bare breasts, uncovered since you are mostly nude underneath him and only wearing a scrap of red lace to cover your lower half. He presses your breasts together, bunching the round full globes together before swiping a thumb over the puffy nipples until they start to harden. He finishes the job by enclosing his mouth over one of them and then the other, sucking and nibbling on those stiffening points until they tighten into sensitive, rigid peaks.

It’s not unusual for you to be wrapped around your boyfriend’s body, his slim yet muscular limbs grasping you like a vice, on a Friday afternoon. You don’t have classes on the last day of the week, only a morning shift as a writing tutor at the student center, and Jimin only has his Philosophy discussion on Fridays, led by the course’s TA. The two of you always find your ways back to each other on this day, hence, making up for the lost time over the rest of the week.

Today, you met him for lunch at the Panda Express on campus and then walked back with him to your apartment. Which brings us back to now – Jimin with his shirt off, only wearing the sky blue jeans that make his ass look divine, hovering over your body with his overly long, steel colored bangs falling into his eyes as he sucks on your tits and hums absentmindedly.

The two of you have come to prefer your place over his for moments like these. In freshman year, you were in a triple in the dorms while he had a double with Kim Taehyung, so you two would usually find yourselves fooling around in random empty classrooms in the Physics department. In sophomore year, you lived in your sorority which had much stricter rules than the apartment Jimin had gotten with a couple of his friends. But this year, Jimin is living in his fraternity and you are the one with the apartment which you don’t have to share with anyone. You’ve slept over at the frat before; Beta Tau Sigma doesn’t care if they have girls over, but sometimes you both prefer the privacy here. Jimin and you are usually insatiable; two and a half years together and you’re both still exceeding horny when it comes to each other, and if Jimin’s frat knew how often you two actually were fucking rather than doing anything else, they would never let him live it down as they hurled teasing but impressed compliments his way.

“Jimin?” you murmur, tightening your grip to tilt his head upwards so he can meet your gaze.

Jimin looks at you, heated dark brown eyes under hooded eyelids, his soft silvery hair a rumpled mess clinging to his forehead. “I love you,” he mutters, locking his eyes with yours, pushing his lips out into a puckered pout that eagerly seek yours.

Fuck. He’s so hot.

You move your head towards his and sigh as your lips meet. Jimin slots his lips over yours again and again, their plush pillowiness feeling like heaven against your mouth. He languidly darts his tongue out to press against your lips until they part enough that he can slip it inside. As your tongues twine together, Jimin sucks on yours, his cheeks hollowing out. A moan slips out from you, unbidden as you’re unable to control your urges around this man. One would think that time would make it easier for you, make you less susceptible to the temptation that was Park Jimin, but they would be wrong.

You still make a valiant effort to pull away from him, breaking apart from the kiss. You press your palm against his chest, flush against the Nevermind tattoo crawling up the right side of his torso, to keep him from drawing even closer to you although his grip around your waist keeps you from getting too far.

“Jimin,” you whine trying to engage your boyfriend into conversation.

The male lets his face fall into your chest, banging his forehead lightly against your sternum, “No,” he protests, his straight, dark eyebrows getting pushed together as he furrows his forehead. “Lemme kiss you. I just wanna spend time with you here in your bed until I’m forced to leave and help the Beta Tau Sigma set up for the haunted house. You’ll let me fuck you, won’t you baby?” he needles, “We have all night to talk.”

You scowl, not that he can see it, and push him off of you. Jimin rolls his body around, flopping next to you in bed, immediately wincing when he notices your narrowed eyes. “What is it, Y/N? What’s wrong?” He asks it sweetly and it seems at odds with how his previous sentence caught your ire and made you instantly see red.

“Why do you never want to talk to me?” you demand, crossing your hands over your bare breasts. You irately sweep your long mess of dark hair over your shoulder to let it hang down your back.

You barely got to speak to him this week; when you delivered a bag of hot tofu stew and rice to the study room he had booked, he snapped at you when you hung around, though you were only planning on sticking around long enough to kiss Jimin and force him to put down his books to eat. But this feels different from how Jimin goes radio silent during the weeks when he has a heavy school load filled with studying for exams. Both of you were done with midterms. You wouldn’t have tests again until finals. Jimin even made up his mind to come out and celebrate Halloween with you and his frat, even though he has his Autumn showcase the next evening.

You don’t know if you’re being entirely too sensitive but you don’t like this. It’s hurtful that Jimin says he doesn’t want to talk to you right now—right?

Jimin stares at you, pink mouth wide open as he looks aghast. “I know. I messed up. This is my fault. I shouldn’t have worded it like that, but you know I love talking to you. That’s all we ever do, baby. I text you more out of everyone. I facetime you at all hours of the day. It’s never ever a silent meal when we’re eating together. And I love every bit of it. You know that, right? Y/N, I just. Baby, I miss you. I haven’t seen you all week. I want physical intimacy with you, not just emotional.”

Your frown softens. Fuck, you are being overemotional. He’s right. He’s a great boyfriend. He always tries his best to stay close to you and make your relationship seem special. You were especially craving Jimin’s soft words after so long without (or so it felt, anyways), said in that husky yet sweet toned drawl, fanning over your heated skin as he delivered them with hard kisses from his plush, Bratz doll-esque lips. Your love language was words of affirmation, after all. But in that way, perhaps Jimin needed to slowly ease his way back into talking to you. He did get frighteningly shy. Your sweet loveable boyfriend grew quiet and uncomfortable with people, even those he had known his entire life if he hadn’t seen them for a while. It never took him too long to get back into the flow of his old ways, but he was always a little awkward at the beginning. How had you forgotten that?

You bite your lips as you frown and you let yourself get wrapped in his embrace again, remembering that Jimin craved physical intimacy with you and that that was his love language. For a moment, you allow yourself to enjoy the warmth from his hold, cherishing the way he buries his nose into your crown and tenderly drops light kisses on the top of your head while you attempt to calm your breathing and reign in your emotions. This has nothing to do with him. You’re overreacting.

Striving for a lighthearted tone, you let out a hopefully airy laugh that doesn’t ring too hollow. You brush your fingers along his spine, where you can feel the ring of bones going up his back, softly letting your fingertips tickle his sensitive skin.

“We’ll have sex, I promise. I just need to talk to you about tonight first, before I forget.”

“What’s there to talk about, babe? You got me the costume; I’ll wear it and show up to the Pi Beta Phi manor and we’ll win the thing. And then we go over to my frat to go through the haunted house.”

There were multiple reasons why Jimin walked you home today, but the most important one in your eyes is to pick up his Halloween costume. You have grand aspirations of winning the costume contest at the function your sorority is holding. The winner of the couple event will not only get a month off of required duties at the sorority but also a weekend stay at a fancy hotel room in the city. You are so tired of the mac n cheese lunches they held for philanthropy events. You gain ten pounds, or so it feels, each time. And the date parties? The themes are always so weird and unique that you have to buy a completely new outfit for yourself each time because you can’t reuse anything that was already in your closet. That’s not even the worst of it but you’ve gotten your point across. This sorority is bleeding you dry.

“Ugh, the haunted house,” you groan, burrowing your face into Jimin’s shoulder. His skin is warm and flushed, but he smells amazing and his hugs always give you the instant boost of serotonin you desperately need. Which you now need more than ever. Tonight has to be good for both of you.

Jimin thinks you’re only upset because you hate being scared and bemoans, “Hey! You said that if I let you pick the costumes you would come with me to my Beta Tau’s event too. It’s not Jack and Sally, is it?” His lower lip juts out into a pout that you’re too distracted to notice.

“I thought you guys would throw a Halloween party,” you grumbled.

“We’re doing that too, babe. It’s just half the first floor and all of the second floor we’re converting.”

You suddenly remember the second part of Jimin’s question which makes you laugh lightly, more genuinely this time, before pressing a soft kiss against his throat, “Sorry, ’Min, I didn’t have time to hand make costumes for The Nightmare Before Christmas. Next time, okay? I still think this is good. We could win.”

“What is it?” he asks, sounding full of suspicion. But his attention is wavering again and he’s more focused on groping your ass and pulling on your red lace panties before they snap back softly against your skin.

“You’ll see when you get ready,” you murmur, “But, Jimin,” you hedge.

“Hmm?” He's not paying attention at all. Not when he gets to grip at your luscious hips and squeeze your juicy ass.

“I need you to look very sexy. Pull out all the stops when you’re getting ready, baby.” It’s not that Jimin doesn’t look good when he doesn’t put in effort. He has a casual beauty that is heightened by his effortless style. But you need him to look lethal. Park Jimin when he wants to slay is a whole other kind of demon, one that you are glad is your boyfriend. You would cry if you got to see Jimin looking fine as hell but he wasn’t going home with you.

He bends his neck, nuzzling his face into your chest again, “Sure thing, baby. I won’t forget. Do you need to do my makeup? Should I just ditch helping with the setup?”

You tighten your grip, “Stay with me. Fuck Beta Tau Sigma.”

He chortles, letting out peals of pleasured laughter, “Babe. I wish.” Jimin’s so fucking cute, you wanna pat his head and thus you immediately do so, not even attempting to curb the urge, and then you finger comb back his silver gray locks that you had twisted into a mess earlier.

“No, you don’t need any face makeup, unless you want to. You just need to look hot and be shamelessly confident. Maybe you can channel Seokjin?” you suggest. You heard that Seokjin has a nautical themed costume to wear tonight. If he’s going as a sexy merman that bares all, then Jimin could probably stand to borrow some of his confidence.

Jimin narrows his eyes, looking affronted, tightening his grip on one asscheek before spanking it loudly, “I don’t need to channel Seokjin hyung when I can channel myself, Y/N.”

“Okay, okay,” you easily acquiesce, your own hand moving down to your backside and attempting to rub the reddened flesh. “You’re right, but… remember to do that please.”

“Okay, I don’t get all this remembering business. Y/N, I always look hot,” Jimin tilts his head looking down at you, “What the fuck are you dressing me up as, dude?”

You blink. “Something sexy?”

“Then explain your comment or I’m pushing you off me. You don’t deserve me or my body,” he sasses, already with his hands on your shoulders, prepared to throw you off. “Y/N, you do think I’m the hottest guy you’ve ever seen or been with, right?”

You nervously giggle and lightly scream. How the fuck do you explain that you need Jimin to pull off a very specific look without spoiling the surprise and telling him what it is? “Of course, I think you’re the most attractive man that’s ever lived. Jimin, you are pure aesthetic excellence,” you quickly interject.

“You know how there are several kinds of attractive men? I need you to put on the costume first and let that influence how you do your hair. Like remember when we watched 50 Shades of Grey and you said you were Christian Chim Chim. Don’t fucking do that shit. I need—oh shit, you’re right. I need you to channel yourself. Baby, when you pick your filter for tonight, I need you to be the frattiest, most cocky, and confident fuckboy ever. Give your entire frat a run for their money. Baby, you need to be able to get any guy or girl. That Jimin. The one that bagged me. Be that Jimin.”

“Wow, I didn’t think you were going in that direction,” he laughs, sheepishly, “I came at you too hard. Of course, I know my girlfriend is fucking attracted to me. Sorry, babe, my head isn’t right this week.”

You look up at Jimin, “What’s wrong?” the words aren’t delivered lovingly – no, they’re delivered like a threat; like you’re fully prepared to go find the bitch or asshole who knocked down Jimin’s self esteem and tear them a new one. Nobody gets to hurt your baby like that. Not even you. And if you did do it, accidentally, you would usually wallow in a pool of despair ,begging for Jimin’s forgiveness while at the same time knowing you didn’t deserve it.

And that had only happened once and only because you didn’t know that his hand size was a trigger for him. They’re bigger than yours by a centimeter, though his pinky is about a millimeter or two smaller and you had laughed about how you found it funny that your pinky was longer. But then you cried yourself to sleep when you noticed that Jimin had gone quiet for the rest of the date and didn’t even bother to kiss you goodnight before leaving.

Right now, Jimin snorts, “I’m just being dramatic. Jungkook said I looked like a hot mess this week. And I know that my hair looked like a haystack and my clothes weren’t coordinated, but it’s not like I had time to blow dry my hair or plan outfits or even breathe.”

“Well, Jungkook’s an ugly jock, so what does he know about sexiness?” you scowl, “Stupid fucker with his big, ugly muscles and his meatheaded coconut shaped skull.”

“I have muscles,” Jimin interrupts, rolling the two of you around again until he's caging you under his body. His hands are right by your ears, fingers splayed out and his 13 tattoo looks so starkly black from where it is on his flexed left wrist. The devious male smirks before he subtly rolls his hips into you, hard zipper from the denim pressing against your messy and flushed front.

“Sexy muscles,” you sigh immediately, “Jungkook wishes he looked like you.”

He bites down on his lower lip to hide his smile but it still breaks free, the curve of his lips curling up as it spreads wide to show how happy he is. “Pretty girl,” he mumbles, “I want to destroy you but you’re too sweet.”

At that, your legs immediately surge upwards to cross over his ass, thighs hugging either side of his hips while meeting those shallow rolls of his. You gyrate your own hips until you can get your folds perfectly aligned with his zipper and his cock beneath it, an angry hard length that’s desperate to break free.

Jimin inhales loudly, a sharp sound that makes your skin breakout with goosebumps even with your warm skin pressed against his hot flushed one. You’re hyper aware of his every move and sound. When he moves his hands over your ass-cheeks, palming them, his dexterous fingers are restless as they seek to make you whimper and keen before he squeezes your ass, pushing you up to draw your hips to him until your pelvis is flush against his. He grasps you so tightly that there’s barely a hairsbreadth of space in between the two of you. Jimin loves going commando and his cock head breaches the waistband of his jeans, the tip stabbing you in the belly button because of its monstrous length.

He’s looking down at you with his eyelids hooded. His blackened eyes are dark from desire, the pupils so blown out you can barely make out the brown irises that edge them. The heat terrifies you but also makes you yearn for more, and you haphazardly move your face in the direction of his, almost missing his mouth as you sloppily join lips together. Your arms go up, twining around his neck, both your hands have their fingers buried in his gunmetal colored locks, palms supporting and cradling the back of his head lovingly.

His jaw almost crashes into your chin as he vigorously leans into the kiss, greedily inhaling through his nose, reluctant to pull apart from your mouth as he keeps swiping his lips over yours, sucking at your plump lower lip and nibbling at your cupid’s bow, before he eases you into opening your mouth again. All the while he’s got a hold on your ass, using it to further push you into him instead of crashing down on you, suffocating you with his heavy weight and pressing you into the mattress. The act is thoughtful, though born out of desperation, and your fronts collide with each other, your breasts clinging to his chest as your hardened nipples brush against his metal adorned ones. You hiss when you feel the round ends of his piercings drag against your soft skin, dimpling into them when you’re pushed even tighter against Jimin.

One of Jimin’s hands wander from your ass to clench your thigh, gripping your smooth, supple flesh as his fingers, with the nails slightly grown out since he had forgotten to cut them this week, dig into your skin while he pulls your legs apart and bucks against you. It’s not hard enough to truly hurt but his fingernails do leave temporary red crescent indentations and make you whimper from the tiny bit of pain.

Your tongue, meanwhile, is still roving around Jimin’s mouth and brushes over his reddened swollen lips, and you can taste the mint from the Listerine strip he had dissolved on his tongue after lunch, as well as the peach flavored lip balm he had swiped from your book bag. After a particularly hard nip from Jimin’s teeth, you break apart from his lips to let out an embarrassingly loud wanton moan. He doesn’t let a single second go to waste as he drags his lips along your jaw, nibbling along the way as he moves lower in the direction of your throat. Once there, he bites roughly at the sensitive skin above the hollow of your neck, sucking on it harshly until it leaves a blossoming mark of reds and violets. As he darts his tongue out to soothe the aching flesh, he sneakily dips it into the hollow of your neck and then your collarbones as well, messily licking up the flushed expanse of your skin.

Jimin soon finds his way back to your cherished breasts that he loves so ardently. As he wraps his mouth around a still angrily reddened and tender nipple, you make your hand sneak in between the two of your abdomens, not playing the role of an idle participant. Your hand grips at the front of his pants, holding his cock against your palm as your thumb rubs at its swollen head. You stop your movement over his dick to turn your attention to undoing his button and Jimin growls out in frustration, biting down on your soft underboob, leaving a half circle of teeth marks.

“Chill, baby,” you soothe him, and as soon as you free his cock from its confines, your hand tightly grasps the member to stroke it.

The tight, suctioning grip of your fingers and palm around his heated shaft makes him sigh lewdly in relief as his eyes flutter closed in ecstasy, his long dark eyelashes fanning the apples of his cheeks. He slumps against you, his sweaty forehead pressed against yours as one of his dampened locks of hair falls over his left eye. His nose brushes against yours, and if you wanted, you could place gentle open mouthed kisses on his slightly parted lips, but you ignore them to focus on his cock, while Jimin turns his attention to wetly press his mouth against your cheek and then your jaw.

His moans go up a pitch, filling your ears with his musical sounds of pleasure. Biting your bottom lip, your teeth sinking into it as you press your forehead against Jimin’s even harder, you switch up your form and go to fondle his balls with your nimble fingers. As you tug on them, Jimin lets out an anguished sound that's a cross between agony and elation.

“Y/N, don’t. Don’t tease me. Please?” he begs, “I haven’t had time to get off all week. Baby, please. I’m gonna blow my load. Let me fuck you, beautiful.”

You quit teasing him and instead, your hands got to his waistband on either side, fully determined to shove his pants down his thighs. You don’t even need them down fully, just enough so that Jimin could fuck you without any complications.

He backs up from you and you sigh in discontentment the second Jimin’s flushed peaches n’ cream skin is no longer clinging to yours as the male hops off your bed to tear his jeans fully off his legs. He struggles a little, jumping lightly as the tight material clings to his sweaty thighs and you almost swoon when you see his ass jiggle. What was that thing Doja Cat said? Oh yes, “if you could see it from the front wait till you can see it from the back.” And you can definitely see Jimin’s from the front while also confirming that yes, the backside view is even more mouthwatering.

The pants successfully taken off and thrown to a far corner of the room, Jimin immediately hurls his whole body onto the bed, catching himself with those toned arms whose biceps have started to look shockingly large in the past couple of months and made you demand Jimin carry you everywhere around because he was definitely strong enough to. The thought makes you smile and you immediately smack a kiss against Jimin’s lips because he always carried you whenever you asked.

“Hi, baby,” he whispers against your lips, nuzzling his nose against yours. His thick thighs are bracketing yours as Jimin hovers above your lap, his cock bobbing against your pelvis and its head getting caught onto your lace underwear as it soaks it with precum. As he pulls your panties off, he asks, “Can I keep these? I’ll return them to you later. Hand washed and folded.”

You snicker, “Sicko,” teasing him, but then you press your lips against his before they can droop down into a frown. “Yeah, go ahead, baby. Thanks for remembering that they don’t go into the washer.”

And then you and Jimin are finally getting to the main event. Bare as always, because while you had been on the pill since you were fifteen, Jimin and you hadn’t started having condomless sex until the third month of dating. But once you started, you never went back. Your clit doesn’t need much to get it going and you’re already gushing like a broken faucet so Jimin thrusts his cock into you without much pomp or circumstance. As always, you gasp at the intrusion. Not only does your boyfriend have a sizable length, but he’s also girthy as hell and whenever he first fills you up, he takes your breath away.

According to Jimin, it’s because you don’t work out and you’re possibly asthmatic. At that you always smack the back side of his head and tell him no, it’s grossly romantic that he can take your breath away with his fine ass dick game, and your lung capacity is fine for someone who wasn’t in the church choir for twelve years. Yes, your boyfriend is a former church boy. If only Father Thomas could see how low he had fallen. But compliments about Jimin’s dick always makes the cocky, pun intended, jerk smirk like a self-satisfied Cheshire cat and giggle adorably. He is a stunning contradiction of a man. Sometimes you want to suffocate him with your thighs, other times with a pillow.

He shallowly thrusts in you once, twice before he unexpectedly takes almost his entire dick out of your folds before slamming back into you so vigorously that it makes your thighs quiver, wrapped as they are around his waist. He’s so deep in you that you can feel the clean shaven base of his cock pressed against your mons. From there on it’s a frantic joining of the two of your bodies as Jimin furiously pounds into you, letting out all of his frustrations from the past week onto your body in the form of turbulent love making. You hold on for dear life, clutching onto his broad shoulders as your mouth slides against Jimin’s ear, softly whispering how much you love him and how you’ll always be there for him and how there’s no one else in the world more perfectly suited for you than your beloved boyfriend.

When he finally cums into you, a messy and molten flow of whiteness that paints your insides and then leaks out from the overflow, proof that your poor darling truly didn’t have a moment recently to let off some steam, the male wearily drags his body away from yours so he can return with a damp cloth to clean you up between your legs. As you drowsily look up at him and make grabby hands, he gently slaps them away, before placing a loving kiss on your forehead and brushing back your hair, tucking in a lock behind your ear.

“I need to go, baby,” he bemoans, “But I’ll see you tonight, okay? I’m setting an alarm on your phone to wake you up in an hour so you don’t oversleep and then have to rush to get ready.”

“Sweet baby,” you murmur, locking your arms around his neck and keeping him in place.

“Considerate baby,” Jimin argues, tenderly moving his hands up to encircle your wrists and pull your arms away from him so he’s no longer trapped in your hold. “I love you, Y/N.”

“Love you,” you parrot drowsily, your eyes slowly falling shut as Jimin walks around your room to gather his clothes and then get ready to leave. He remembers to grab the shopping bag from Nordstrom you stuffed his costume in, not that you would ever shop there to buy a one time Halloween costume. It’s more likely that you reused the bag. He squints in confusion when all he sees is a mess of brightly colored fabric within it but he just shrugs, too tired from the sex to work up enough brain power to guess what his costume is. He then heads out the door, not forgetting to lock it behind him.

When you wake up to your annoying ass alarm an hour later—now why the fuck did Jimin use the quacking ducks preset as the ringtone? You feel boneless yet still exhausted. You tiredly drag yourself into the shower to get the smell of sex off your body and wash your hair, though it’s going to be hidden under a wig, just so you can feel squeaky clean before you put on your costume.

You and Jimin are dressing up as Ken and Barbie from Toy Story 3, and in your opinion the costumes don’t look half bad. You were running late with the costume planning in between everything you had on your plate this month but a successful run at the thrift store has given you plenty to work with. You ended up with explosively colored outfits for both of you, although they were more loosely inspired than exact replicas. After all, this is Greek life, you have to amp up the sex appeal for both of your costumes.

For yourself, this means that instead of wearing Barbie’s electric blue jumpsuit, you are wearing a bright turquoise bodysuit with a deep plunging neckline that divides your bust in two and goes all the way to your midriff, fortunately keeping your navel concealed even as it dips dangerously low. The pink belt that goes around Barbie’s waist is instead a hot pink belted choker around your neck but you are rocking the green, white, pink, and blue 80s inspired leg warmers she was wearing as well as patent leather stiletto pumps in the same pink as your collar. Your look is finished off with a wild blue smokey eye and iridescent pale pink lips, and after you are done with your makeup, you struggle to make your synthetic blond wig not look completely awful on your head.

As you leave for Pi Beta Phi, you grab your purse, keys, and phone but a quick step outside reveals that the weather has gone unexpectedly chilly, making you rush back to the apartment and grab the first piece of outerwear you see – which happens to be Jimin’s oversized light colored denim jacket he left in your apartment two weeks ago.

It’s probably for the best that you’re wearing the jacket, you think to yourself as you wobbly make your way across the hilly sidewalks that lead to Greek row in your stiletto heels. Your entire ass is out in the leotard-esque bodysuit and had you not been wearing a coat, the boys walking behind you surely would’ve gotten quite the show all the way uphill.

At the house, your sisters are busily running around making sure everything is perfect and ready for the party. They have made Pi Phi manor look great, although it leans towards the glitzy and glam side of decorations rather than the cute and spooky side. Black and orange is prominent throughout the entire house however, with the grand staircase railing done up with black poofy garlands and glittery orange streamers. You sign yourself and Jimin for the costume contest and then grab a red solo cup of apple cider – non-alcoholic since sororities aren't allowed to serve substances on their grounds, thanks to a decidedly sexist rule that never gets changed no matter how many elections pass – before heading back outside to watch the costumed guests walk up.

Your sisters and their guests are hanging around the cute little games that were set up on the grass. There’s a beanbag toss where the bags are all white and decorated with the faces of various mischievous ghosts as well as a cider bottle toss. You know that your boyfriend will get excited by the pumpkin smash station so you pointedly walk far away from it to the other side of the lawn where you see a couple of your friends surrounding the giant tin containers that have been set up for apple bobbing. Jimin’s fraternity brothers Seokjin and Namjoon are on their knees, since the basins are too low for their tall statures, while Namjoon’s girlfriend cheers for them as Jungkook simultaneously jeers them on.

Seokjin is dressed in a sailor costume that leaves little to the imagination. He has a peaked captain’s cap placed jauntily on his dark brown hair while his slutty outfit consists of white suspenders strapped onto navy skin clinging short shorts. A white and navy striped sailor collar hangs over his Pacific Ocean wide shoulders that ties in the front with the two floppy end pieces bouncing against his pecs from any sudden movements. Apparently, you were mistaken when you had thought that his nautical nod for the night meant that he would be a sexy merman. Seokjin seems to prefer a slutty sailor. His hands are clasped behind his back as he bends down to bite down on an apple.

Namjoon on the other hand is fully prepared for the costume contest in a TV accurate depiction of Khal Drogo. You don’t doubt for a second that it was his girlfriend’s idea as the brown girl is dressed as Daenerys Targaryen and looks picture perfect as the mother of dragons with her freshly bleached hair. She keeps rubbing her hands over Namjoon’s bare shoulders and back as the male bobs for his own apple, all while keeping the lookout for Jungkook with narrowed eyes since the male seems dead set on shoving one of his hyungs’ heads underwater.

Just as Jungkook nudges Seokjin into the steel bucket of water with his knee, you hear someone shout your name. You look towards the sidewalk where Jimin’s walking up, looking like the perfect Ken from Toy Story 3 and you immediately dart away from your friends to jump into his arms.

“Jimin,” you hum, kissing his cheek as your arms tighten around his neck. The male strengthens the hold he has on your thighs, holding you more securely against him as he walks the two of you back to the apple bobbing crew.

“Y/N, what is your costume?” he asks while perplexedly scrunching his slightly pinkened face up, flushed from the biting cold air of the autumn night, as he easily sets you down and looks at the denim jacket swallowing your frame and the blonde wig that seems strangely out of place, “Now I’m even less sure of who I’m meant to be.”

You stare at Jimin. He’s wearing the brightly colored abstract print shirt completely open, letting you stare at his sunkissed rock hard abdominal muscles as well as the platinum bars that decorated his pecs. You sneakily stretch your hand forward so that you can possessively press your palm against his Nevermind tattoo and he snorts, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and squeezing you close to him. Your eyes make their way from his face to his neck where he haphazardly tied the blue bandana you got for him, the shade matching the exact color of your bodysuit. You untie it and redo it for him in a perfect Ascot knot.

“You’re Ken from Toy Story 3,” you explain, “It was hard finding the right shirt though,” you pout cutely at him.

Jimin tucks his hands into the small pockets of the light blue shorts he is wearing, cuffed to be even shorter. You forgot to account for how bootylicious Jimin is or how thick his thighs are because the cloth is tighter than you anticipated, clinging to his lower half like a second skin. You frown, biting your lip, no one better stare at his ass, suddenly possessed by jealousy. This peach is for your viewing pleasure only.

“Barbie doesn’t dress like that,” Jimin nods at his jacket, clearly indicating that he wants you to take it off so he can see what you’ve got on underneath.

“I was cold,” you defend yourself, but you slip off the outerwear and give it to the male to hold onto.

Jimin narrows his eyes as he walks around you to get the full 360° view, taking his chance to smack your ass lightly when he’s behind you. “You can put the coat back on if you’re cold,” he says nicely, sounding chivalrous though you know it’s more likely because he is just as possessive of your ass as you are of his, and both of your cheeks are practically hanging out due to the high cut of the leotard.

“Nice costume, hyung,” Jungkook nods in Jimin’s direction, handing him off an apple he clearly swiped from the game.

“Thanks,” Jimin snorts, putting the apple into your pocket instead of having it rest against his warm thighs in his shorts’ pockets. “What the hell are you supposed to be?”

Jungkook is shirtless and wearing a pair of crimson colored hot pants. You don’t have a damn clue what he is meant to be either. “The devil.”

“Where are your horns,” you scoff, crossing your arms as you narrow your eyes at him, very visibly and judgmentally looking him up and down, unimpressed by his lack of effort.

At that Jungkook’s eyes widen as he frantically pats the top of his curly black locks, “Shit, Sooyeon is gonna kill me.” And with that the male disappears into the fray, heading back into the sorority house to find the headpiece to his costume.

Jimin smiles, rocking back and forth on his feet, “I saw a jar of candy corn. If I guess the amount in it correctly or get the closest to it, I get to keep the jar.”

“Jimin, you hate candy corn,” you complain as you take his hand and allow him to pull you through the party so that you guys can walk around and see all the attractions.

“I could donate it. Or,” your boyfriend pauses, lower lip getting bitten as his brows become furrowed, “Halloween’s actually on Sunday. I could give it to the trick or treaters.”

“Children come by to the frat to get candy?!” you shriek, aghast at the thought. Those poor kids, getting scarred for life. The thought of them witnessing the shenanigans that Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jungkook get up to has you distressed.

“Actually, we have a little event we do at the local elementary school. We play games. They show a PG-rated spooky movie in the auditorium and there’s little goodie bags we made earlier this week with individually wrapped candy and ghost and pumpkin stickers,” Jimin rambles, his cheeks going up and his eyes getting all squinty as he excitedly explains to you.

A soft smile overtakes your face as well, “That’s really sweet, Jimin, but what if you don’t end up doing anything with the candy corn because you forget? Wish it were jelly beans. Or even gummy worms.”

“I would do so well, though,” he grumbles, running a veiny hand through his silver locks, pushing the strands back and off of his forehead, “I’d win.”

“I know you would. You’re really good at estimating, but since we both know you’d win... Do we really need a 6 pound jar of waxy corn syrup flavored junk?”

“Disgusting,” mutters Jimin, and then he gently swings your attached arms back and forth as you both go deeper into the fray.

There’s a Quidditch themed butterbeer pong game that you’re pretty sure has been illegally set up, that you and Jimin spend most of your time at, drinking the disgusting butterscotch flavored soda – when you’re not at the snacks table eating the Southern bbq your sorority had catered, as well as all the sickeningly sweet seasonally appropriate desserts your sisters had either baked or bought.

Slightly sluggish from your full tummies, you guys finally go up to the cute little section inside the front entrance to the house where the formerly giant open space has been turned into a little stage with seats for the audience wishing to watch the costume party. Your Pi Beta Phi president, Sariya, is waving her little bedazzled orange and purple gavel like she thinks she’s a judge requesting order in the courtroom. You and Jimin speed walk your ways to getting seats in the far back, where you can make a quick escape if necessary.

You guys make it through several of the costumes, the highlights being Jisoo, Lisa, Jennie, and Rosé being dressed up as the teletubbies; Namjoon and his girlfriend providing steep competition as a Dothraki and Daenerys although you don’t think they’re going to win since pretty much everyone hated the last season of “Game of Thrones;” and several groups and couples embarrassingly dressing like characters from the ever popular Squid Game which is 2021’s version of how literally every couple dressed like Harley Quinn and the Joker from “Suicide Squad” in 2016. Then, it’s finally time for you and Jimin to hit the stage. You pull off the denim jacket and put it on a chair off to the side of the stage before you rush to catch up to your boyfriend and walk on stage with him hand in hand.

Your sorority’s chapter president announces that the two of you are dressed up as Barbara “Barbie” Roberts and Kenneth Carson as the two of you spin around and do little twirls to let everyone see your costumes from all angles. This is met with a second of split silence since no one knows the iconic Mattel couple’s full names but then she continues to tack on, “Barbie and Ken from Toy Story 3!” At that the audience is wracked with cheers since the third movie has always been the fan favorite out of the franchise. Though it could have easily been just as likely that they were screaming at how much skin you and Jimin were both revealing. The two of you skip off the stage feeling pretty secure about your victory since the cheers for you two were the loudest they’ve been all night.

“I think it helps that you have such nice muscles and proportions, you look like the perfect male,” you smirk as you feel your way up Jimin’s chest, smoothing your palm over his abs and flicking one of his nipples. Your/Jimin’s jacket is hanging in the crook of your other arm, you’re reluctant to put it back on until after your victory lap from being announced as the winners.

Jimin immediately grabs you by the wrist after the nip flick, “Don’t do that,” he reprimands gently and then he pulls you into his arms, resting his chin on your shoulder and trapping your arms under his embrace so your sly hands can’t feel him up some more. He has the two of you facing the stage as Jungkook and his girlfriend Sooyeon take the stage. Jungkook’s in the aforementioned bright red booty shorts but has somehow managed to find his devil horns and is using a red silicone spatula as a pitchfork. His girlfriend is dressed in a white lace babydoll nightie from Victoria’s secret and has a fuzzy white halo on, though her wings are nowhere to be seen.

“Who would vote for that,” scoffs Seokjin, materializing next to you two from out of nowhere, making Jimin let out a surprised shriek that he attempts to conceal by turning it into a deep grunt. “He stole that spatula from our kitchen.”

Yeah, all of you are judging their costumes hard. It’s easily the outfits where the least amount of effort was made. Every single person dressed as a Squid Game character looks better than them. Unlike you and Seokjin, who are embroiled in a heavy discussion of Halloween costumes, Jimin is distracted as he contemplates how to get snacks and get back to you before the announcement is made. When his perusal of the space makes his eyes catch on two gentlemen looking you up and down, their gazes trapped to your chest, he immediately makes you put the jacket back on. You smile at him thanking him, because God, there’s nothing worse than creepy unwanted attention. Like, why can’t men ever let you be a baddie in peace?

When the winner gets announced ten minutes later as Jungkook and Sooyeon, you start screeching and attempt to run up to the stage to fight the judges. Jimin, knowing what would happen if you lost, grabs a hold of you and hugs you to his chest as you kick and squirm. When you break a hold of Jimin’s grasp to lodge the apple from Jungkook that had remained in your jacket pocket this entire time at the aforementioned male, Jimin grabs onto you again, tightening his arms around you and locking you against him even harder. Beside you two, Namjoon is similarly enraged, having found the group with his girlfriend after the announcements were made. He says it screams rigged since Sooyeon is the chapter vice president, and his girlfriend lets him rant to her though it’s clear from the way she’s undressing his already half naked body with her eyes, she’s not listening to a word he’s saying.

As you glare at Jungkook, giving him a stink eye from where he’s accepting the dumb little trophy on stage, Jimin takes the chance to hike you up over his shoulder as he carries you away from the sorority. He keeps dragging your jacket down to cover your cute butt from where it is beside his head, not only because it distracts him while he’s walking but also because he doesn’t want any other perverts looking at it. Jimin is the only pervert that’s allowed to openly fawn over you.

You let him carry you this way halfway down the street before you start squirming and tell him you can walk by yourself. The male hesitantly lowers you beside him, watching you with narrowed eyes as you stalk forward, growling under your breath about stupid nepotism and how you could never hold a more important role at your sorority because you weren’t a legacy Pi Phi, wishing you had a dozen more apples you could aim at Jungkook and Sooyeon’s heads.

“Hey,” Jimin protests as he runs ahead to catch up to you, “Community outreach chair is very important too, Y/N. Don’t undersell yourself just because Sooyeon got all her friends to vote for her.”

“It’s not fair, Jimin—” you cut yourself off, clearly holding back the meaner things you wanted to say. Instead, you change the subject, “Are we really going to the haunted house, Jimin? Last year you abandoned me in a corn maze.”

“I didn’t abandon you,” Jimin argues immediately, still disagreeing with you a year later, his brown eyes glinting as he rolls them at you, “You got lost… in a maze… because it’s a maze. They’re designed that way.”

“You let go of my hand,” you pout, your lower lip quivering, the pale sparkly lipstick making it look like your mouth is covered in fairy dust.“You left me. I still have nightmares. I found a random ass crop circle. I was literally seconds away from being abducted by aliens,” You declare dramatically before then crossing your arms, frowning deeply though you don’t change paths and continue to walk in the direction of his fraternity.

“I won’t do that this time, Y/N, I promise. And this is just a basic frat run haunted house. It won't be anything like Halloween Horror Nights at Universal Studios. Hobi hyung and Yoongi hyung got dragged into playing the role of the scarers. Hobi hyung is dressed as Edward Scissorhands but honestly, do you really think he is the type of person who is good at scaring others?” Jimin has to admit he had to bite his tongue to keep himself from snorting the second you mentioned the crop circle and aliens. You are literally the most paranoid person he knows. Even worse than Hobi hyung although he knows you’ll disagree.

You furrow your brows, they got the resident scaredy cat Jung Hoseok to participate in the haunted house? Hoseok’s fear tolerance is much lower than yours. Last year, you and he ended up alone in Jimin’s apartment while Jimin went downstairs to pick up the pizza delivery and Hoseok ended up screaming his head off when the two of you saw a giant spider on the ceiling. He demanded that as his junior, you kill the creature – which you tried, but it only resulted in failure. After all, Jimin is the one that kills bugs in your relationship. When Jimin came back into the apartment, half of it was burned down from the two of your attempts. Well… not really, but you are exaggerating to make a point.

“Come on, Y/N, one quick run through the house and then we can go to my room on the next floor. I bought you snacks and we can watch Nightmare Before Christmas together,” he suggests biting down on his lip.

“Fine,” you whine, stomping with one of your pink leather encased feet, “But this time, no letting go of me!” And with that you speedily shuffle into Jimin’s arms and make him awkwardly walk with you the rest of the way since it felt like you two were practically conjoined with how close you remain to him the entire time.

“It’s going to be fun, Y/N,” Jimin murmurs as he takes out the tickets he got for you two earlier in the evening and hands them off to Taehyung who is manning the entrance as the clown from It. He has a face full of white makeup on and had even drawn on Pennywise’s terrifying red smile with the crimson paint running through his cheeks to cut right across his eyes and go into his forehead in two curvy lines from the end of his smile. The male had teased his blond hair into the shape of the dancing clown’s iconic hair before spraying with temporary orange hair chalk.

“For you,” you grumble, pointedly stepping around Jimin to his other side to avoid Taehyung and his unnerving costume, “But as long as you play the role of my dashing protective knight in shining armor, I shall try to persist.”

Beta Tau Sigma is the first male fraternity that was founded in your university. Though their massive mansion gets major renovations every five to ten years, the Victorian structure was built in the 1800s. So when the boys convert it into a spooky haunt, it is successfully terrifying.

From the moment you step in, fog clouds the interior, making you clamber to Jimin’s side, pressing into him when you can’t see more than five feet ahead of you clearly. To your utter dismay, the frat’s brothers have taken advantage of the location’s history and how it houses so many young individuals and made that the central theme for night. It is designed like a cross between an asylum and a school for troubled minds and Yoongi leaps out scaring the living shit out of you three minutes into your traipse through the first floor, dressed up as Hannibal Lector in his bright orange prison garb and tiger-esque hockey mask.

Jimin is, of course, unfazed. He stares at Yoongi with a wry lopsided smirk gracing his lips before striking a conversation with his hyung. You try to justify your reaction, and Jimin’s lack thereof, by convincing yourself that your boyfriend didn’t react because he already saw Yoongi today in his costume and you hadn’t, so your jump, followed by the screech that had you ducking your head into Jimin’s chest, was a reasonable reaction.

“Do you think I would be less scared if I closed my eyes and had you blindly direct me through this place?” you ask, seriously considering it, quickly flapping your shimmery blue lids shut.

“Don’t do that, Y/N, it’ll make the music seem even louder to you,” Jimin warns, as he gently pushes you forward so that the two of you can now make it up the stairs to the second floor.

Your neck hairs stand at his words as goosebumps take over your entire body. Now that Jimin has mentioned the music, you can hear the eerie Tethered remix of “I Got 5 On It” as it finishes off and is replaced with a creepy instrumental remix of Melanie Martinez’s “Carousel” as though the playlist is blasting in your ears, attacking your eardrums. “Okay, maybe you’re right. But, Jimin! I hate this,” you cry out, sharply snapping your eyes open, before you gingerly make your way up the stairs.

Each step is covered with fake cobwebs and as you move your legs the giant spider and snake decorations on the banisters and railings start to move, activated by motion sensors and making weird broken noises. It’s definitely not the scariest part of this entire thing but you flinch every time a fuzzy pincer or a plastic reptilian tail brushes against you and you find yourself dashing through the rest of the stairs though Jimin hurriedly calls out for you to wait for him.

At the landing for the next floor, you wait for your boyfriend and when he finally slings an arm around your shoulders, the two of you take off again. This floor has bedrooms, though, and some of the brothers that live on it have given up their spaces to be used as miniature themed scare rooms, though not every door is open and available for the public to walk into. You and Jimin make your way through one of them that has been set up to look like a medical operating room as well as another set up like a bedroom with screaming frat members strapped into beds with metal frames that try to grab you as you wake by them before the trouble starts.

Later, Jimin will say he told you not to move and wait for him while you will argue with him that you heard him say nothing so you moved on like everything was fine and dandy. You’re in a room that looks like an abandoned classroom or something of the sort when things go awry. You won’t be able to appreciate how they converted the study room until months later because you receive the worst fright of your life there.

As you make your way through the desks towards the whiteboard at the front, the lights flicker before turning off completely and then the room, that’s already cold from the air conditioning blasting throughout the entire fraternity, begins to fill with fog. When the lights turn back on five seconds later, you blink, seeing dark spots from the abrupt brightness. As your eyes focus, you let out an earth shattering scream when you notice that there are two grown ass men who are much taller and bigger than you dressed like the Grady Twins from The Shining, brown shoulder length wigs, light blue dresses, white stockings and all, standing two feet away from you looking both incredibly imposing and impossibly threatening.

You fall to the ground and let yourself crumble into a ball, wrapping your arms around your legs as you press your shiny cobalt eye-shadowed eyelids against your icy knees. Jimin bursts into the room a minute later, following the sound of your shriek and immediately drops down on the ground next to you to wrap his arms around you and hugs you to his chest, squishing your face, the part that's not pressed against your knees, against his shoulder. He cradles your head into him as he brushes his hand over your hair several times soothingly.

You can hear him gruffly asking Soobin and Yeonjun to take five and vacate the room. The underclassmen readily do so since Jimin is a vice president of the chapter this year. Unlike your sorority, which has one president and vice president and then several chairs, Jimin’s fraternity has three vice presidents since it has a much larger student body. Namjoon’s the president, of course, while Yoongi is the external vice president with Hoseok dealing with internal affairs. Jimin is the member development vice president and since rush is over, his workload is a little lighter than the other heads’ at the moment.

“Y/N, I told you not to leave me,” he chastises as he somehow manages to pick you up from the ground and carry you as you wrap yourself around his body like a koala, clinging to his front. You burrow your nose, which feels like an icicle, into his collarbone as you tighten your arms around his neck like a noose. Your boyfriend, feeling horrible about your scare, ignores the discomfort that comes from the frosty contact of your skin against his.

As Jimin grasps your thighs more securely, you cross your legs even more tightly over his hips, “You didn’t tell me anything! I thought you were with me the entire time,” you cry out. You have no idea how your mascara and eyeliner are holding up but you hope they keep their waterproof promise as you start to sob again.

He brushes a kiss across the top of your head before he unexpectedly rushes to spit out a plastic strand of hair out of his mouth, having forgotten that you were wearing a wig since it was so dark inside the mansion. “Y/N, I don’t want to play the blame game with you when you’re in distress but, sweetheart, you walked away from me in the corn maze too. Y/N, if I’m going to be holding your hand the entire way through so you don’t get scared, you can’t let go of my hand and then blame me when you get frightened later on,” he harps softly, trying to keep condemnation out of his voice.

You pause your crying to protest, “You let go of my hand!” You still haven’t quite regained your senses and you keep attacking Jimin, whether validly or not… who’s to say? One thing’s for sure: the shock from your fear is keeping you from reacting rationally.

“Y/N, I told you I was going to tie my shoes and to not move, didn’t you hear me?” he asks, walking through the rest of the attractions without any harassment from the scarers. He’s guessing that Soobin and Yeonjun told them to leave the two of you alone, or the sight of Jimin carrying his obviously distressed girlfriend throughout the second floor has the other scarers giving you two a wide breadth. Hoseok even walks in the opposite direction with his cool scissor hands as he sees Jimin going for the next flight of stairs to the floor that has his bedroom.

“I didn’t hear anything, baby,” you mumble honestly, biting on your lip again, the soft waxy pink from your lipstick having long been worn off, “I swear.”

Jimin squeezes you around the middle, “Maybe it was just a misunderstanding,” he seems willing to let it go. He obviously doesn’t want to spend the rest of the night arguing with you.

Though it would have been infinitely easier for him to get his keycard out and open his dorm door if he put you down, Jimin lets you cling to him and one handedly hunts for the card in his wallet and then pushes the door open wide with his back, allowing the two of you to enter.

“I’m gonna set you down on my bed and change out of this costume okay, Y/N?” he asks, “Just because the costume party and this didn’t go as planned doesn’t mean we have to end the night on a bad note, yeah? Take off your shoes and wig, baby, and put Disney+ on. I’m going to get the snacks I bought yesterday out.”

You stare at Jimin, forgetting to do as he’s told you as you gaze enraptured by his handsomeness and natural charisma. As you watch Jimin peel off his multicolored shirt and shorts to abandon them in favor of a pair of black sweats, he mischievously smirks at you, playfully winking and giving a little strip tease which then shifts to him dragging his hand down his bare abdomen as he cutely yet sexily performs a hip roll for you which ends with a violent hip thrust that makes it clear that even with how cold it’s been tonight, the male is already at half-mast and still growing, his arousal undeterred by the chill.

The light smile that has been gracing your face disappears when Jimin sinks to his knees before you to pull your pink leather pumps off and you unexpectedly find yourself bursting into tears, distraught from the immense kindness and care Jimin has shown you tonight. This results in your boyfriend looking sharply up at you in abrupt alarm, puppy eyes widened as a look of deep concern takes over his entire face.

Jimin wiggles his way in between your legs, standing on his knees which make him basically the same height as you even with you sitting on his bed which is much higher. His hands, a little red from earlier outside, are freezing as they palm your cheeks and swipe both of his thumbs under your eyes at the same time to wipe away the fallen tears.

“Y/N, you need to tell me what’s wrong, right now,” your boyfriend stresses as he worries his bottom lip with his teeth, his crooked tooth digging into the plump flesh. As he pulls your blond wig off your hair he continues, “Baby, you’ve been off all day and it’s been getting worse and worse. You’re crying. What is it? Did I break a boundary in the haunted house? You wouldn’t cry over not winning a contest, right?”

You pull the wig cap off your darker natural hair, undoing the bun and finger-combing through it. Your bottom lip quivers as you pointedly look away from Jimin. How can you tell him? It’s your burden, not his. But how can you not tell him? It’s been eating you up inside, keeping it all to yourself.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you confess, pulling Jimin’s hands off you to bury your face in your own as you sob loudly behind your palms. Even as your eyes leak with salty tears you’re unable to control, you know that Jimin’s probably looking at you in bewilderment and possibly a little frustration that he can’t fix this for you since you still haven’t told him what’s wrong. You wish you had a makeup wipe to rub off all the makeup on your face that’s getting muddled from your tears.

“Do what? That sounds like something you say to someone when you want to break up,” he angrily spits out.

That makes you peek out from behind the darkness and protection of your hands. You look at your boyfriend and he looks livid. He looks like you have completely blindsided him and as though he immensely resents you for it. His thick eyebrows are furrowed low and his plump rose colored lips are pressed into thin white lines. His eyes are tinged with red and watery as they hold in unshed tears and glare at you with hard brown irises full of indignation. He has his arms crossed over his bare chest as he backs away from you, standing stiffly as he stares you down and you already know he’s closing up and getting his guard up. Soon, he won’t listen to a word you say.

Shit. No. NO NO NO. You’re panicking immediately, your hand coming up to your mouth but you instantly force it aside, knowing you can’t bite your nails anxiously when your relationship is falling apart right before your eyes.

“Jimin, no—Jimin, I wouldn’t,” you stammer hurriedly, tripping over your words in your rush to get them out fast enough while Jimin still is open to hearing you out.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Why did you have to stumble over your words like this? You can’t even talk properly, you think in disgust. You tried to blurt out your words fast enough so Jimin’s mood doesn’t darken over the heavy misunderstanding even more, but you can’t even speak.

NO! This can’t be happening to you two right now.

Finally you just scream out, the words frantically being pulled from your throat in your incredible frustration and distraughtness, “Jimin, I’m not breaking up with you. I swear to God. Jimin, I swear on my own fucking life, too!” You sob in anguish, “Jimin, please? Listen to me. I swear—I wasn’t thinking when I said that. Baby, please! This has nothing to do with you. Baby, this is just a miscommunication error—Please?” you implore, gulping and gasping in between every inconsolable plea, “I can’t lose you.”

“Tell me right now, Y/N,” Jimin spits out. His words are so hard they pierce through your heart like ice. He’s closing off, you despair. “I am so sick of today, Y/N. Maybe it’s gone on for even longer. I don’t like this month. We can’t continue like this.”

You ignore the anger that prickles through you. It’s not as though this is your fault entirely. He’s the one who is rude to you when you reach out. Maybe you’re more mad about him saying earlier that he didn’t want to talk than you thought. But this isn’t the moment for that fight. You need to rein in your temper and tell him what’s been eating you up inside. That thing with Jimin? It could be dealt with at another time.

You exhale shakily. It’s loud and uneven but you manage to get in and out a few more pulls of air before you attempt to talk to him. He stares at you stonily from where he’s perched against his wooden dresser the entire time. How has the night gone so wrong? Oh right—you ruined everything.

“This is humiliating, but. God, Jimin. I had to drop my Chemistry course. I was failing it,” you bitterly bite out, wiping away angry tears, “But it was far enough along in the semester that I couldn’t just drop it and enroll myself into another class to replace the units. And then I got a call from the financial aid office that this would drop my standing from a full-time to a part-time student this semester and I would have to pay them back part of my aid since they had disbursed it already, but part time students receive less money than full time students.

“And I thought it would be fine because, you know... I dropped a class and I suddenly opened my schedule up for more shifts and a second job.

“But God. My landlord increased our rent starting from October because he only lets us pay month to month in that stupid building and not have yearly leases. I never saw that as a problem before when I used to think it meant I could leave at any moment but... Pi Phi has gotten so fucking expensive too.”

You clamp down hard on your lips tasting wax and something vanilla-y from the remnants of your lipstick. As you think about Pi Phi, you are suddenly filled with a blistering rage. It causes you to growl out, “And I hate the stupid sorority, Jimin! They keep asking more and more out of me in every single way. They not only want my money but they want my time. My fucking blood, sweat, and tears.

“WHY THE HELL DO I HAVE TO PAY FOR A MEAL PLAN AT THE PI PHI HOUSE WHEN I DON’T EVEN LIVE THERE OR EAT THERE?” you suddenly lose even more of your cool, screaming about it for the first time. Finally able to unload your frustration at the events that have upended your entire life, “For the monthly chapter dinners??” you hiss and then venomously bite out, “Why aren’t the chapter events paid for with what they take from us in the form of dues already?!” It’s obvious you think you’re being swindled.

“I don’t have time either, Jimin. I picked up so many extra shifts for everything since I was low on cash after paying back the university. My grades have even started to suffer. What am I supposed to do? I’m trapped in this stupid sorority. I can’t leave or my children and I will be blacklisted from Pi Phi forever. I won’t have the damn connections I spent the last three years building when I start job hunting. And I already spent all that money and it’s gone down the drain if I leave.” you lividly brush away the tears that fall from your eyes, immensely chagrined at your delicate emotions and how you seem to be spilling tears at the drop of a hat, unable to control them.

“But, Jimin... I might be fucking homeless too if I can’t pick up shifts because of Pi Phi obligations. What am I supposed to do?”

Jimin rushes to you, basically tackling you as he wraps his arms around you and the two of you fall back onto the bed. Your hair is a dark halo around your head as Jimin squishes you into the mattress. “Y/N? My lovely Y/N. My precious angelic Y/N. My darling sweet Y/N. Why didn’t you tell me, baby?” he murmurs as he brushes soft kisses all over your face as he overwhelms you with tender compliments to make up for earlier when he mistakenly accused you of attempting to break up with him.

“I don’t want handouts from you, Jimin,” you fiercely protest, your eyes still glittering from unshed liquid, “I know you. You can’t stand it when someone you love or care about is going through something terrible. You want to fix it immediately, You’re a problem solver but I’m not your damsel in distress, Jimin. This isn’t your burden to carry or your problem to solve.”

Jimin just smiles at you lightly, evidently your boyfriend feels incredibly terrible about his outburst earlier that had led to his unfounded accusations. He also smiles in an attempt to control his anger, since it shouldn’t be entirely directed at you anyways, so it comes out a little rough and toothy, “It’s okay to ask for help, Y/N. You might not be my damsel in distress to save but no one said you had to slay all your dragons by yourself.”

“I don’t want your money Jimin,” you push against his shoulder, trying to wriggle out of his grasp, but his dumb muscled frame doesn’t move an inch. Why is he so strong and solid? You’re no longer appreciative of how he can cart you along without breaking a sweat.

“I wasn’t going to give you money but I do have an idea,” he admits, tightening his arms around you as he rolls the two of you around so he’s no longer suffocating you underneath him. You struggle against his hold but are unsuccessful at loosening it even though your chances of escape should have increased since you are no longer buried underneath him. Quickly, you give up and flop back onto him, resting your head on his hard pectoral muscles. You can hear his heartbeat and it feels terribly intimate, making you struggle once more restlessly. You can’t stand this overwhelming downpour of love and acceptance from Jimin when you’ve treated him like shit today and continuously implied that he had a tendency to ditch you in scary situations.

“No ideas. I can do it by myself,” you protest stubbornly, lightly banging your head against the smooth silken expanse of his chest. You eye the tanned surface with narrowed eyes and contemplate whether you should bite him to show your ire, leaving a crescent of teeth marks on one of his generously endowed pectorals. You will that urge away and sigh.

“But you don’t have to,” Jimin cheerfully sings, with your eyes snapped shut against his warm skin you can’t see his face, but you have no doubt that he’s smiling widely at the moment. “Clearly, you can’t manage the stress.”

“Don’t, Jimin,” you warn, turning your head to the side so your lips are right by a tender nipple before taking it between your teeth, rolling the nub between it and biting down roughly. Evidently, you don’t have remarkable restraint. “I’ll hate you forever.”

“That’s an interesting dilemma you’re presenting me,” Jimin grins through the pain though you felt his full body wince and the way his body flinched away from you when you bit him, making you smirk deviously. His voice takes on the same tone as when he makes you listen to the stupid shit his Philosophy professor makes them argue about which then results in Jimin forcing you to counteract all of his arguments before the debates in class. “I don’t think you’ll hate me for what I’m going to suggest. But you know what, Y/N? If I ever had the opportunity to save you from ruin but it would result in you resenting me, I think I would still do it. I love you too much to let you live in misery.”

“I’m only in misery when I don’t have you, Jimin,” you disagree, pouting, “Everything else doesn’t matter.”

“Great,” Jimin grins, smacking a loud kiss against your lips, taking advantage of how enticing your puckered up lips look, rubbing off the remnants of your lipstick even more, “You’re gonna love my suggestion.”

“Ugh,” you groan in defeat, “Fine, let's hear it.”

“Let me move in with you.”

“Absolutely not!” you immediately protest, slapping a beefy bicep, and then pinching it lightly because that’s a dumb idea. No. He’s not moving in with you.

Jimin rolls his eyes, “Oh, come on. I spend more time at your apartment than my frat because you can’t fall asleep when you’re alone. You think someone is going to break in and murder you. You desperately need a roommate, or a better long term solution, and who is better than the guy who already spends so much time at your place that he should’ve probably started paying rent all the way back to August? Y/N, you spend so much money buying groceries that I end up finishing because you feel bad for making me spend nights with you that you feel like you have to pay me in ‘dinner and sex.’ Which, by the way, I don’t need constant food and sex, Y/N. I mean it’s nice but you’re not obligated to fulfill both those needs every time I’m at your place.”

“Jimin, you already paid for the entire year at your frat. You’re the vice president. You need to stay on deck at all times. You’re so important to Beta Tau,” you were not going to let Jimin waste money on an empty dorm. You knew how expensive Panhellenic housing was. Jimin probably paid for an exorbitantly expensive meal plan too. You ignore the comments about the food and the sex. You and Jimin cannot last more than five days without touching each other. Also, despite what Jimin says, he fully believes that you make the best Korean food out of anyone he knows at university. He’d probably wither and die if he had to live without your cooking since his diet otherwise consists solely of greasy takeout and energy drinks.

“First of all I’m a vice president not the vice president. Also, officers actually get free housing. That’s why the elections are so stiff every year. It’s the same reason that most of us decide to stay here instead of getting an apartment. We’re not being forced to stay and there’s no evil landlords trying to hike rent up illegally. Besides, it’s likely that a sophomore is going to be praising God the second he gets notified he got taken off the housing waitlist because a room just opened up. And it’s a single! Only officers get singles. Let me make that guy’s entire year, Y/N.”

“Are you sure you’re okay with that?” you shyly mumble, looking down at Jimin’s chest and the glittering jewelry on his nipples to avoid eye contact.

“Mmhmm,” Jimin agrees, placing two fingers under your jaw and tilting your face up, “Let me help you,” he whispers across your lips before pressing them against his own.

You break apart from the languid kiss to gasp softly, your breathing still raggedly from your crying earlier, and finally concede, “Okay.”

And just like that. It’s like a switch has been flipped. Now that your boyfriend is under the understanding that he has just fixed everything, caring thoughtful Jimin goes away as horny wicked Jimin takes his place.

The look Jimin casts over your entire body as his darkened brown eyes nonchalantly track their way down is diabolical. He has no idea how your body suit is staying attached to your chest when its cut down the middle to your navel and he immediately has both of his hands going up to your breasts to cup them – his fingers slipping into your bodice, gripping onto the sparkly blue cloth before he roughly pulls them off the soft mounds. You glare at him as the sticky tape you used to keep the cups in position gets pulled off your body, leaving red marks on your skin where the adhesive had been.

Jimin ducks his head down, nosing your puffy nipples that begin to tighten once exposed to the chilly air, in apology. As his nose brushes against the sensitive nubs, hardening them, his mouth seeks those agitated red patches of skin, swiping fat strokes with his tongue over them, massaging in wet circles with its tip, as he sloppily layers them in his spit, soothing the flesh before puckering his lips around the sore areas, sucking on them until the marks darken into more vivid reds and purples, sometimes even adding the sharp bite of his teeth to deepen their permanence. He kisses all around your breasts, leaving marks from all over, even on the valley in between – almost as though he wants to make sure you can’t wear anything low cut or this daring without everyone seeing how you are his like he is yours.

You rake your nails down his back when you realize that, scoffing at how he’s still possessive almost three years into your relationship. Jimin looks up at you as he feels your nails dimpling into his skin, a shy but proud lopsided smile on his swollen, fuschia colored lips. He’s so fucking unapologetic. You roll your eyes before you return his grin and it’s only then that he returns his attention to your breasts, finally wrapping his lips around a pebbled peak, gently nipping them before his cheeks hollow out from the force that he’s sucking them, suddenly taken over by desperation. He swathes his tongue over and over the hard nub, before deciding to drag his teeth along the sensitive bud, rolling it between his teeth and then closing down, making you squeal, your head lolling to the side.

His intensity has you losing your mind underneath him. You writhe restlessly beneath Jimin’s body, your limbs spasming while your hips keep surging up, knocking against Jimin’s front frantically, seeking friction in vain. The stupid thick cloth of his dark colored sweatpants don’t let you feel anything but the faint shadow of Jimin’s dick, despite all your frantic bucking.

“Jimin,” you cry out in frustration, “Jimin!” You don’t even know what you want. Do you want him to take his pants off and furiously rut against you through your panties? Or do you want him to stop making you fall apart into pieces with his mouth that doesn’t cease its relentless besiege on your breasts?

Your boyfriend hears you, though, and it has him backing away from your body so he can look down at you to figure out the dimensions of your costume and how the fuck to get that thing off of you so you can be completely nude in his bed. You immediately whimper at the loss of contact. Jimin’s like a furnace and without his body covering you or his hot mouth against your skin, you can now feel the chill in his room which has not been excluded from the icy drafts that the fraternity has blasting through the mansion with the aid of central air conditioning to further the intensity of their haunted house. The entire place is temperature controlled which means the only thing Jimin can do to keep you warm is to wrap his frame around you since both of you are unwilling, at the moment, to put on more layers.

When Jimin finally rips the bright turquoise suit off, you’re left in only your mesh thong – the panties are made up of a diaphanous pink fabric that covers your mound, but lets Jimin see everything underneath as the golden tint to your skin peaks out through the cloth, and is edged with a lime green scalloped ribbon that has a cute little green bow on the center. Jimin can even see how the swath of fabric that’s pressed against your folds is darker from how wet you are, dripping into the material, deepening the color. “I love how you matched your panties to your leg warmers, Y/N. That eager to have sex with me tonight? You already creamed, no oops – screamed, them, and we’ve barely done anything,” Jimin goads, shamelessly staring down at you, his lips curling up devilishly as he can see the visible effect he has on your body.

“I always want to have sex with you,” you shrug blasély, unashamed of your desire and immune to Jimin’s taunts after so many years. He doesn’t embarrass you with how vulgar and descriptive he gets anymore.

But when Jimin starts to pump his fingers through your folds, the incessant speed and fervor has you whimpering to the point that you have to purse your lips in an attempt to conceal them. Jimin’s prodding fingers leave your pussy revealing that it has completely soaked them, making the male hold his hand up to his mouth, swirling his tongue around the pads of his fingers as he rejoices in your delicious taste.

“Come here, baby,” Jimin hums, his chocolate brown eyes sparkling warmly as he lulls you into a false sense of confidence. His fingers wrap around your smooth, shaven calves, gently dragging your cotton leg warmers down your legs.

In the blink of an eye, before you can even realize what has fully happened, your boyfriend has tied you up with those dumb multicolored striped pieces of fabric to his headboard. Your hands are bound together at the wrists and then closely tied to one of the headposts, limiting your upper range of motion. The most you can do is buck up, your back arching as you struggle and your legs kick about, but then even that motion becomes limited as Jimin straddles your abdomen. He’s up on his knees, his legs on either side of you and then the male pushes his black sweats and the navy boxer briefs he had worn for the party, so that he wouldn’t flash anyone in those tight costume shorts, halfway down his bulging muscled thighs, moving up your body until the pinkened mushroom head of his dick nudges against your lips, wordlessly telling you to part them.

Feeling defiant, you turn your face to the right and the precum that was beading the head of his cock smears against your cheek at the sudden movement. Your entire face heats up at that, a scarlet flush deepening the color of your cheeks, reddening your throat and décolletage.

“Y/N,” Jimin growls lowly, biting harshly down on the inside of his cheek and that’s all it takes for you to reposition your head, though you glare at him before you slowly spread apart your lips and take in just the bulbous tip into the warm wet cavern of your mouth. You suckle it languidly, focusing on just that part for a moment, twirling your tongue around it and sucking it hard, the point of your tongue poking the slit and eagerly lapping up every bit of precum that leaks out.

But soon you get into it, your neck stretching as you eagerly attempt to take in more of his length, hollowing your cheeks as you slide your lips over it. His tip drags against the roof of your mouth and you splutter in frustration around his cock that you can’t move enough to get even more of his length down your throat. At that Jimin moves even more up your chest, his bony knees almost digging into your armpits since your arms are thrown over your head in their tied position, though he carefully keeps himself perched so none of his weight is pressing down on your delicate rib cage. The male leans one of his arms back to rest his weight on his hand which is fisting his sheets, his fingers digging into his mattress while your actions pick up fervor as you eagerly bob your head forward to enthusiastically deep throat him. His other hand blindly reaches behind him in the direction of your folds, traveling down your continuously clenching tummy and pelvis, the delicate digits traversing the tightened muscles to successfully find the opening to your core, his thumb brutally pressing down on your pulsating clit, striving to hurl you towards release as you do the same to him.

His thumb furiously rubs at that sensitive bud while his other fingers roam your folds, two of them breaching your entrance to plunge into your gushing center, thick digits knuckle deep as he multitasks, pumping two of them in and out of you, curling them up with his fingertips brushing against the furled grooves of your walls, his hard fingernails raking against your insides to making you wail in discontent as his thumb keeps building up that pressured assault against your battered clit.

Meanwhile, you’re gagging on his cock as it sits heavily on your tongue, allowing you to feel the protruding vein along the underside, jutting further into your mouth, brushing against the back of your throat, stabbing your tonsils. You curl your tongue upwards, trying to follow the path of the vein with the tip. The ribbed, warm skin of his shaft against your tongue makes you salivate, drool dripping out your lips while you similarly drench yourself down south as a flood of arousal flows through your core.

But after a moment Jimin snarls, “No,” in frustration, his flushed forehead scrunched up as he seeks something more, something that will perhaps yield more satisfaction and result in greater relief, moving off of your body to agitatedly pull at the fabric of his pants, shredding them off completely.

When the male returns to you, completely nude, all warm peach, soft cream and blush pink shades, he decides to straddle you in the opposite direction, facing away from you. He grips your thighs firmly to maneuver your legs in a bent position, his palms feeling rough as they grasp onto the round globes of your ass to lift your pelvis off the bed, making your back arch as your pussy becomes level with Jimin’s mouth so that he can eat you out. He slides backwards after he properly positions you like you’re his feast so that you can once again take his dick in your mouth, allowing the two of you to properly sixty-nine.

Jimin’s cock twitches in your mouth in excitement and you quickly suckle it to keep it from jerking unexpectedly again, slowly teasing it and building up the pressure. As you keep things slow, Jimin shudders against your mons, his breath seeping through the mesh fabric of your thong, falling over your sensitive skin and making you get goosebumps all over. His lips close over your engorged clit through your panties, sucking so hard he wets the material so heavily it becomes transparent. But after a moment he abandons it, using his nose to nudge the cloth aside so that your folds are finally bare before he eagerly sets in. He sloppily licks fat stripes from your clit to your core, jabbing the tip of his tongue into you, nipping at your petaled folds. In his hunger, he doesn’t realize that he is slowly moving away from your mouth until your lips frantically wrap themselves around his mushroom tip, as you struggle to keep him in your mouth, back to only being able to suck on that upper part of his shaft. He grips your thighs even more soundly, slurping at your juices as your thighs quiver and jiggle on either side of his face. He can’t get enough of how you taste, his grunts mingling with your lustful moans and whimpers that pierce through the air. It doesn’t take him long before he successfully catapults you into a powerful climax, your soft thighs trapping his head as they close around it. Jimin ignores the constraint, sniffing at your delicious scent, lapping at your folds until he has successfully slurped up every bit of your orgasm.

When he releases his grip on your ass, no longer holding you up, your legs unbend, falling as you can no longer hold the position on your own due to the current jellylike state of your limbs. He climbs off your body to sit beside you, his back against the headboard as he finally takes off the bindings around your wrists. The second you’re free, you don’t get a chance to do much before you find yourself hauled up by Jimin and dumped on his lap, your still sensitive cunt brushing against his painfully hard dick as your thighs bracket his, making you twitch in his embrace.

You face him, taking in the messed up hair, voluminous and in disarray, the puffy reddened lips, and the coral colored flush that overtakes his skin from his ears to his cheeks to the entirety of his throat. He looks delirious, so terribly fucked out, and when you eagerly seek to touch his plush lips with your own red bitten ones, his eyes close softly, his black eye lashes fluttering closed as he lets out a blissful sigh. The kiss is earnest and gentle, Jimin’s fingers lightly twitching against your chin as they delicately grip it. “I love you,” you hum into the kiss, when you break apart for the smallest of moments, your lips trembling against his.

His heart skips a beat at your sincere declaration, blood surging to both his cheeks and his cock as he becomes even more maddened at those words, filled with an overflowing amount of love and lust for you as they take over his mind and make him lose control. He leans more deeply into the kiss, intensely passing his lips over yours again and again, too restless and greedy to let you part for a second or breath.

You’re his, he’s yours; he will never let you two be anyone else’s. This is forever for him.

“Ride me, Y/N?” he begs, when he finally is able to let you go, comforted by how your arms are wound tightly around his frame. His gray hair is darkened at the roots to a sooty charcoal color from how much he’s sweating even in this freezing room and as you brush it back, away from how they’ve fallen into his eye line, he murmurs, “At least in the beginning. Please, baby.”

You press your hands against his chest, your palms brushing against the rock hard points of his nipples as you lift your ass off his lap. You ask Jimin to help line your folds up with his cock because you’re too busy with your sudden obsession with the furled buds of his dark mauvy brown nipples. You find yourself too busy flicking them and rolling them between your forefinger and thumb, to be bothered to make sure that his cock would enter your opening. Honestly, if Jimin left you to your own devices, distracted as you are by the pretty shiny jewelry adorning his pecs – you would probably just absentmindedly sit down on him, rubbing your pussy against his length, too lazy to make sure he was actually penetrating you with his fat cock, fine with just getting off by humping each other.

You continue to swirl your tongue around the beaded nubs. Jimin hisses and groans when you nudge the metal ends of his piercings with the pointed tip of your tongue. The hardness of the platinum bars brushing against your taste buds seem so at odds with the silkiness of Jimin’s skin and you find yourself moaning as you lick up his chest, your tongue capturing the saltiness of his sweat on it.

Jimin sighs as he continues to let you dart little kitten licks against the hard points of his nipples. It always surprises him just how similar he and you are. You say it’s because he’s a Libra and you’re an Aquarius and that makes you both air signs, but honestly – he doesn’t know. What he does think is that he’s glad you two still get along, even though not only do you both have the same personalities down to a tee, the two of you often blow your lids at the most random things – fortunately, it’s usually not over the same things. But you both are also infatuated with the exact same features on each other, often wanting to perform the exact same sexual act on each other, even if you guys sometimes have to determine an order when it’s not possible to do it simultaneously.

He can’t blame you for wanting to suck his nipples right now when he spent over an hour with his face pressed to your breasts earlier in the afternoon, at one point even motorboating you until you shoved him away rolling your eyes, pretending it wasn’t enjoyable for you at all. This means that he'll happily let you hum against his sweat slickened skin in pleasure as you lick and nibble while he grabs ahold of your shapely hips and makes you slide up and down against his length. When you finally stop your adoration of Jimin’s chest, you sheepishly take back control and increase your speed, enthusiastically bouncing up and down on his dick, using his shoulders to clutch onto.

As the pace picks up momentum, you get sloppier, resulting in his cock dragging against your folds roughly. It makes you mewl mindlessly and Jimin moves his hands away from your hips now that you’ve taken back the reins. Instead, his hands go upwards, fingers knotting themselves into your hair as his palms cradle the back of your head, he gently nudges your head forward with his hands, guiding you towards his lips before you meet them in a desperate kiss that has you both sighing intermittently against each other’s mouth.

It’s taking you more and more effort to lift yourself off his cock and fall down onto it again as your thighs tighten with another approaching orgasm. When Jimin finally notices your struggles, he quickly rolls the two of you around so that he’s on top of you and you’re lying on your back with your legs wrapped high around his waist as he energetically jackhammers into you with tight, lethal snaps of his hips, keeping up a furious pace. His fat, monstrous length pounds into you again and again as you mindlessly rake your nails down his back, struggling to find purchase. He rams his cock into your hole as your walls quiver and tighten around him, reluctant to let him go.

Too enraptured by your beauty as he is full of both love and lust, it’s not enough for Jimin to just stare down at you, maintaining eye contact as he snaps his hips, pistoning into you. No, Jimin has to remain busy, giving you as much pleasure as possible, and so his head ducks low, wetly and messily kissing and biting his way from your throat to the expanse of your chest, littering your smooth skin with even more torrid love bites and hickeys. It’s fortunate that it is sweater weather because there is no way you can wear a bikini top without showing everyone the, at least, twenty impassioned marks that stain your skin as proof of Jimin’s adoration and devotion. His hand also sneaks its way down to increase the intensity, fiercely rubbing your clit to stimulate you. This time when you come, you squirt, drenching Jimin’s bed sheets. And all it takes is you gushing around him from your orgasm for your boyfriend to come powerfully inside you, collapsing onto your frame.

For a long moment, you let Jimin crush your body under his weight, welcoming the closeness and how his skin sticks and clings to yours with how sweaty you both have become. You tighten your legs even further around his hips, keeping his warm cock buried within you for as long as you can, but when it starts to erratically twitch from the overstimulation, you know it’s time for Jimin’s exhausted cock to pull out.

“Shower with me?” Jimin whispers against the shell of your ear, making you shiver. All of your senses are still overwhelmingly heightened after that second orgasm, “We can use up all of the hot water since they turned on the fucking A/C even though it’s almost winter.”

You let Jimin pull you along to the ensuite bathroom, both of you thanking God that he’s an officer who gets several privileges. Jimin lets you remain a little longer in the shower than himself, escaping early since you two couldn’t agree on the temperature. You had wanted it warmer than he did and he could only stand it for so long. You use the time to scrub every bit of Halloween makeup off your skin. As the water runs a bluish gray, you wonder how the fuck Jimin had sex with you when you looked properly fucked out and a right mess with your makeup running all over your face. Surely you could not have looked very pretty. You bite your lip, making yourself blush, but Jimin certainly must’ve thought you did with the way he kept staring at you the entire time. The heat of a thousand suns were behind his eyes as his eyes swept over your body and locked with yours.

When you exit the bathroom, in an oversized fuzzy Beta Tau crewneck that belongs to your boyfriend and one of his thicker pairs of sweats, your hair is blown dry since you didn’t want to drip water onto Jimin’s bed, wetting the sheets, when it was already so cold. Looking over the room, you find that Jimin has changed his bedding so it no longer has the evidence of his cum and your squirting splattering it.

Jimin’s already on top of the new sheets with, what do you know, Toy Story 3 all queued up on Disney+, though you know he takes any and all opportunity to rewatch The Nightmare Before Christmas that he can. The male hurriedly opens his arms out wide for you when he notices that you’re back in the room and you launch yourself into his embrace. Once you’re comfortable with your back pressed against his chest, he covers the two of you with his thick, warm blankets.

“Jimin?” you ask, twirling a flat lock of hair. Unless you style it, your freshly washed hair never has any volume.

“Yes, baby?” he answers dutifully, kissing your forehead. He’s warm and cozy, smelling like orange blossoms and citrus trees, both floral and woody and you love it, inhaling deeply.

“Can you come over on Sunday? I want to eat dinner together with you,” you admit, pulling the sleeves of his crewneck until your fingers are no longer visible and you have sweaterpaws.

“Depends on what you make,” he teases, nudging his nose against yours.

But you don’t realize, answering him seriously with thoughtful consideration to your dinner menu, “I was thinking I could make kimchi jjigae and maybe also dakgalbi?”

“Y/N, I was gonna be there with you regardless,” Jimin murmurs, raking his hand through his hair, pushing back the long straight strands of gunmetal colored hair from falling over his eyes and impeding his vision, “I’ll start moving in from tomorrow but it might be a little hard since I have rehearsal and then the actual showcase in the evening. But I figured I could get a huge chunk done on Sunday. Of course, I’ll eat dinner with my baby.”

“Jimin?”

“Yes, baby?” Jimin giggles before grinning at how you keep hesitantly repeating his name first before just saying whatever you wanted to tell him.

“I love you very much,” you admit, shyly, worrying your teeth over your lips that are covered with Jimin’s cherry chapstick you found on his sink’s counter. It’s not gross to share lip balm when you two are always kissing anyway. At least this way, neither of your lips are ever chapped and flaking.

“I know, baby. I love you, too. I’m sorry about snapping at you on Tuesday when you brought me food,” he confesses, his hands sliding up and down your arms, attempting to increase the friction to warm you up as you curl into his form.

“Oh. No, baby. That’s okay. It’s already forgotten, don't worry about that.”

“Yeah?” Jimin asks, hugging you tightly from the back, burrowing his nose into your hair. It smells like his Aromatica shampoo and you.

“Of course. You were just under a lot of pressure from midterms, baby. Don’t fret.”

“Yeah?” Jimin repeats, quirking his eyebrows playfully, “So you know that I don’t hold anything that happened today against you, right? Let’s just move forward, baby.”

“Oh, I see,” you opine, “This was a trap.”

“Don’t look at it that way,” suggests Jimin, cackling his head off, his cheeks stretched high and his eyes closing in the shape of half moons that are edged with his long dark lashes, “It’s a testament of my love for you.”

“What a forgiving and reasonable boyfriend I have,” you giggle, playing along, knocking your shoulder back into his chest, “He’s probably the best boyfriend to ever exist.”

“He is,” Jimin agrees.

“And I love him so much,” you declare, punctuating your statement with a happy kiss.

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution - Non Commercial - No Derivatives 4.0 International License

©OPALJM 2021

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minisugakoobies · 3 years

Text

Shadows in the Graveyard | PJM

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Genre: supernatural, smut, established relationship, crack, non-Idol!AU

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: swearing, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex, very very brief gore (description of an undead creature and its eventual demise), some terrible puns (I was possessed by the spirit of Kim Seokjin)

Word Count: 10K

Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own BTS - they simply inspire me

Summary: You and your boyfriend are driving back from a trip to the haunted corn maze, headed home for a big Halloween bash, when a blown-out tire derails your evening. Stranded in the middle of the woods, Jimin promises you he’ll still make it worth your while - but that’s only if you survive whatever the dark shadows chanting in the old graveyard have resurrected.

A/N: This was written for Jimin’s Sunset Spooktober, a collab celebrating Jimin’s birthday month, featuring brilliant authors, compelling stories, and a unique spin on Halloween! Please check out the collab link and be sure to give the authors your love! This is unbeta'd as usual. I'd love to know what you think - my inbox is always open! 💕

Masterlist 💜 Find me on AO3 💜

You were going to kill him. You were absolutely going to kill him. RIP Park Jimin.

In less than two hours, you were supposed to be heading to the Pumpkin Bash, the biggest and best Halloween party that your boyfriend’s old college roommate Taehyung threw annually. Hands down, it was your favorite night of the entire year. Taehyung spared no expense, turning his house into a fright night wonderland.

In addition to being elaborately decorated, the event was always packed to the rafters and ended with an insanely competitive costume contest. You and Jimin had won the best couple trophy the last two years in a row, and you had no intention of losing tonight.

This year, you were going as a swashbuckling pirate and the sexy male siren luring her to her doom. Sure, maybe your outfit was an excuse to wear a tight corset and thigh high boots so you could torment Jimin, and maybe Jimin's was a flimsy pretense to walk around shirtless and flirt with others to drive you wild. But that just showed what a great team you were, always working together to achieve your goals. Like winning trophies. And having mind-blowing sex after teasing each other all night long.

Your handmade costumes were hanging at your apartment, just waiting to be donned. But it was starting to look like they would be abandoned, considering how you were currently marooned on the side of the road sixty miles from home, in the middle of the woods. Not a sign of civilization in sight.

It had been Jimin’s idea for the two of you to visit a haunted corn maze at a farm in a nearby county. He'd burst into the kitchen one afternoon while you were making lunch, excitedly handing you his phone so that you could read the ad.

“Haunted Corn Maze, every Friday and Saturday night at Seokjin’s Pumpkin Patch, open dusk till dawn. Trick-or-treat yourself to a howling good time! We’ll give you PUMPKIN to talk about - you’ll scream “Oh my GOURD!” in aMAIZEment!” You’d tossed the phone back to him with a roll of your eyes. “Oh god, really? I’m tempted to pass on the basis of those terrible puns alone.”

"Oh, come on!” Jimin had wheedled, giving you his best puppy dog eyes. “Doesn’t it sound like fun? And look - they’re open on Halloween, so we can go before the party. There's a blood moon that night - it'll make the maze extra scary!”

“On Halloween?” You’d frowned, snatching his phone to reread the post. “The pumpkin patch is pretty far away. Will we have enough time for both?”

“We’ll have plenty of time,” Jimin promised. He’d reclined against the counter, winking at you pompously. “I don’t think I’ve ever told you this, but I happen to be an expert at mazes. We’ll be back home before you know it.”

“Mmm, I don’t know,” you retorted. “I’ve seen you play Pac-Man at the barcade.”

He scoffed. “That game doesn’t count. Plus, there are ghosts in there!”

Your lips twitched. Winding him up was too easy sometimes. “Right, and this is a haunted maze!”

“Baby! Come on. Pleeeease?” He’d puffed out his plump lower lip, signature pout combining with those lethal eyes to hit you with a one-two punch that knocked out any other objections.

You’d sighed dramatically in defeat. “Okay, fine, I guess we can go.”

Jimin had whooped, gorgeous smile lighting up his face as his eyes crinkled shut in glee. Then he'd advanced on you, hands outstretched as he howled like a ghoul. You'd run, letting him catch you, and giggled as he’d tickled you senseless.

Protests about the corny jokes aside, you’d already decided you wanted to go as soon as he’d mentioned it. The idea of spending a spooky evening with your boyfriend under the crisp autumn skies delighted you. If nothing else, it sounded like a great excuse to dress up in your coziest fall attire and snuggle up to your man as you tried to avoid all the frights in the maze.

And it turned out that you were right, but it was Jimin who clung to you the whole time, jumping and screaming in terror at every ghost and demon that haunted the cornfield. You only laughed a little, knowing that if it were a clown chasing you instead of a farmhand poorly dressed as a vampire, you’d be shrieking just as loudly.

By the time you’d left the pumpkin patch, you were exhilarated, giddy from the joy of the day so far, and excited knowing that there was still so much more to come. You could not wait to get to the party.

But half an hour into your trip home, a deafening “BANG” had startled you both. The car had jerked violently across the center lines before Jimin managed to pull safely to the side of the road, where you saw that one of the tires had blown out.

"Well, fuck," Jimin swore as he’d inspected the shredded treads. "This could've been a lot worse. Thank god we weren't on a busy road. If someone had been in the other lane...." His voice faltered as he stood, drawing you into his arms and dropping a kiss on the top of your head as you hugged him back.

"Yeah, we're okay.” You’d glimpsed at the time on your phone. “But we're still an hour from home and it's getting late. I wanted to wash all the cornfield off me before we put on our costumes, plus we need to do our makeup, and oh yeah, eat dinner before Tae’s party,” you added as your empty stomach churned audibly.

“Relax, baby.” Jimin had smiled reassuringly at you, eyes sparkling with confidence as he tried to ease your worries. “It won’t take me long to get the spare tire on. We’ll be back on the road in a few minutes!” He’d rolled up the sleeves of his fitted grey henley, flashing his muscular forearms as opened the trunk of his car and bent over to pry the spare tire from its spot under the mat of the trunk.

Then he'd straightened back up and given you another smile, one that was a lot less reassuring and more worryingly apologetic.

“Uh, jagiya?”

Not a promising sign. He only ever used that term of endearment when you were fucking or fighting, and you sure weren't fucking at the moment. You'd grimaced. “Yes?”

Jimin had closed the trunk, then leaned against it. “Remember when I got that flat a few months ago, and I had to use the spare tire, but I drove on the spare for too long and then it got a flat, and when I took it to the shop, I only had enough to pay for a new tire, not a new tire and a spare, so I told you to remind me the next time I got paid that I needed to replace the spare?” He'd cringed, running his fingers through his dark hair. “And you did remind me, because you are an angel and a perfect girlfriend and I love you, but then I got distracted buying those concert tickets for that show Jungkook wanted to go to?”

You'd exhaled loudly. “Park. Jimin. You're telling me you don't have a spare?”

Your boyfriend was the type of person who loved lavishing his friends with gifts. His selfless nature was one of the many things you cherished about him.

When his friend Jungkook had lamented that he couldn’t afford tickets to his favorite rap trio Cypher’s latest tour, Jimin had seized the opportunity to treat him. Could you really be mad at him for being so generous?

Yes. Yes you could.

“I’m sorry!” He’d held up his hands defensively, trying to block the glare that you'd leveled at him.

“Sorry isn’t going to get us home!”

“I didn’t mean to forget!” he’d pointed out, and you’d grit your teeth.

As irked as you were, there was no point in fighting - it wouldn't get you home any faster.

You’d pinched the bridge of your nose, sighing. “I know. I know you didn’t. It’s fine, we’ll just call a ride and come back for the car tomorrow.” You gave him a look. “After we visit a shop to purchase a spare.”

Swiping on your phone, you'd opened the rideshare app and waited to see how close the nearest ride was.

And waited. And waited.

“Uh…” you'd trailed off, checking your service. Nothing. Not a single bar. Not even your cellular data appeared to be working. How was that even possible? “Do you have any service?”

Jimin eyed his phone and shook his head. “Nope.” He glanced up and down the road and you followed his gaze. No buildings in sight. The highway underneath your feet was nestled between two mountains, darting through rolling woods. “We must be in a dead zone.”

Yep. You were going to kill him.

Fifteen minutes later, still sitting on the side of the road, watching your boyfriend wave his phone in the air as he hunted futilely for a signal, you told him so.

“Hey, it’s not like I planned this!” he objected. “You can’t blame me for a flat tire.”

“You’re right, I can’t blame you for that. I can blame you for buying those tickets and never replacing the spare, though.”

Jimin relented. "I guess that's fair. In my defense, it was an amazing concert." You bit your tongue, swallowing a snappy comeback as he lowered his phone in frustration.

“So now what?”

“I don’t know. I don’t want to say we might be stuck here for the night, but…”

“Then don’t,” you interrupted irately. The thought of having to camp out in the car made your eye twitch. Besides, what would you do in the morning? You still wouldn’t be able to make a call. A dead zone was a dead zone, no matter what the time of day.

Jimin drummed his fingers on the roof of the car. "Didn't we pass a gas station a few miles back? Maybe we can get a signal there."

Closing your eyes, you tried to conjure up your view from the passenger’s seat as Jimin had sped you towards home. Let’s see. Trees. A farm. Trees. Deer. More trees. And yes - there had been a small service station, a small, rustic-looking place with only one gas pump out front. But how far back was it?

“Yeah, there was one, but I’m not sure how long ago we passed it.” You opened your eyes to find him watching you. Folding your arms, you gave him a dark look. “Well? You should probably get moving. That gas station won’t find itself.”

Jimin just held out his hand to you. You were still mad, but there was no way you were going to sit out here in the middle of nowhere all alone, and you both knew it. Glowering at him, you took his hand, allowing him to pull you to your feet.

"Fine. Let' s go."

Under any other circumstances, going for a stroll with Jimin on such a beautiful evening sounded like a dream. A romantic walk in the moonlight, hand in hand with the love of your life? Bliss. But this was anything but.

You didn't think of yourself as someone who spooked easily, but something about the dark shadows cast by the towering trees had you feeling on edge. Every now and then, the leaves around you would rustle, and you told yourself it was just the wind, trying desperately not to imagine something stalking you through the forest. Your irritation with missing the party began to fade, replaced by a sense of dread, and you hoped you'd find the gas station sooner than later.

Jimin noticed your nervousness. "You okay, baby?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," you insisted, clutching his hand a little tighter. "Just want to get home, that's all."

HOOOOOOOONK

The two of you recoiled as a semi-truck sped by, blaring its horn. Whether they were warning you of their approach or just being a dick, you weren’t sure.

"Holy shit!" you yelped. Whatever the speed limit was, it was way too fast for your comfort. "They didn't even slow down!" You raised your free hand, flipping them off, even though they were too far down the road already to see you. It made you feel better anyway.

"C’mon, let’s stick closer to the trees, so we don’t end up roadkill," Jimin suggested, steering you away from the shoulder. You followed willingly, despite your growing sense of unease.

It was too quiet as you traveled along the treeline. Other than the odd hooting of an owl here and there, the only sound was the earth crunching under your feet. Thankfully, you had Jimin to help distract you and fill the silence.

“So, what did you think of the maze?” he asked. “Worth the drive?”

“Up until the last half hour or so, yes,” you remarked tartly. “But yes, I honestly had a lot of fun. I’m pretty sure I liked it way more than you did, anyway.” “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You smirked. “I mean, given the way you clung to me like a koala, I think it’s fairly clear that it was too terrifying for you.”

Jimin’s jaw dropped in outrage. “Excuse me? I did not cling!”

“Mmm, yeah, I guess you’re right. It was less clinging and more trying to climb me to safety,” you nodded, giggling, veering away from him as his fingers swept out to tickle your side.

“You know, I filled out a comment card while you were in the restroom,” he informed you.

“The pumpkin patch had comment cards?”

“Yep. By the merch stand.”

“They had a merch stand? Wow. I guess Farmer Seokjin takes his business seriously. What did you say?”

He grinned, looking far too happy as he recited, ‘We had a spook-tacular time. Fangs for the memories!’”

“Oh my god,” you groaned.

“What? I thought you’d appreciate my wit!”

“Wit, yes. Puns, no!”

“Sorry, booooo-tiful.” Your eyes narrowed. “You know I won’t hesitate to leave you here, right?”

After walking for almost thirty minutes, you finally came upon a small gas station, a single fluorescent light flickering over the sole pump as you neared. You still didn’t have a signal, but the attendant was kind enough to let Jimin use the store's landline to make a call.

While he was inside, you rested against the brick wall of the building, head inclined to observe the moon. The stars shone so brilliantly here. One upside to being stranded in the woods - you had a much better view of the night sky, away from the incessant luminescence of city lights.

There were hardly any clouds to block your view of the lunar eclipse. The blood moon’s dark red face stared impassively down at you from its perch in the heavens, the eerie glow unsettling as much as amazing you.

As a pragmatist, your feet were firmly rooted in the earth. Maybe sometimes to your detriment, as you had a tendency to dig in and refuse to budge. You held very little stock in things like the supernatural or astrology. But at a time like this, witnessing such an extraordinary occurrence… well, a tiny voice inside your head couldn’t help but wonder if the rare celestial event was the reason your night had gotten so off track.

"Good news, we've got a ride," Jimin announced as he emerged from the store.

"Oh, thank god!" you cheered, relieved. “But I’m almost afraid to ask - how much are they charging us to come out here?"

Jimin brandished a bag of snacks and drinks, and you gratefully snagged a candy bar, ripping right into the wrapper without delay. "Nothing. Jungkook's coming."

"He's not at the party already?" you mumbled around a mouthful of nougat, surprised. You figured all your friends were there by now, and probably all drunk.

And probably all having the time of their lives.

"Nope. Caught him heading out the door." He slid his hands into the pockets of his tight black jeans and propped one leg on the wall, cocking his head to join you in stargazing.

"Damn. Good timing," you commented, returning your attention to the sky. You wished you could recall the constellations, but you only ever remembered Orion, and he was nowhere to be seen. "How'd you convince him to drive out into the sticks to give us a lift?"

"Easy. I explained why we’re stuck here, and then reminded him how much fun he had at the concert, thanks to me." Strands of his raven hair fell into his face, brushing his cheekbones as he grinned at you, and you reached out to sweep them away, returning his smile. He grabbed your wrist, bringing your palm to his lips for a gentle kiss.

“Ah, so you emotionally blackmailed him? Well done,” you intoned wryly, peeling yourself off the wall. “We should probably go wait for him back in the car.”

Jimin offered you his arm, and you looped yours through, snuggling into him as you trekked back.

Despite the creepy environs and the cars that zoomed by recklessly, you felt less unnerved and a little more hopeful, knowing that Jungkook was coming to rescue you. Given how fast he drove (something you'd complain about any other time than when he was on his way to save you), maybe you could still put in a late appearance at the bash and end your Halloween on a high note after all.

The leaves along your path fluttered as a breeze began to stir. You huddled closer to Jimin for warmth. The comfy sweater you wore was cuter than it was practical, thin threads doing very little to insulate you from the night air's increasingly icy sting.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught flashes of light flickering through the swaying boughs. You craned your neck as you peeked through the dense foliage, trying to locate the source.

Flames, burning brightly in the dark night.

"Hey, do you see that?" Coming to a halt, you shoved a limb aside and pointed in the direction of the light. Jimin’s eyes widened in alarm.

"Oh shit!” He bobbed and weaved, trying to get a better look, but it was impossible to see clearly through the heavy woods. “What is that back there?"

“I can’t tell. It’s so hard to see through the trees.”

He nodded. “You’re right. Come on, let’s get closer and check it out.”

You blinked, surprised that he was volunteering to walk deeper into the dark forest. Where had this bravery been earlier, when you were escorting him through the maze and trying to keep him from fainting from fright?

Still arm in arm, Jimin drew you away from the road, following the glow. It briefly occurred to you that it might not be wise to walk towards a fire, but it didn't appear to be very big, given how dim the light seemed from where you were, and honestly, you were too curious not to investigate.

Your eyes slowly adjusted to your surroundings as you headed into the woods. Twigs littered your path, snapping and cracking underfoot. There didn’t appear to be any wild animals around, which was fine by you - with the way your luck was going, you were more likely to see a vicious predator than an innocent woodland creature tonight.

As you nudged several low-hanging branches out of your way, the ruins of an ancient church came into view.

The decrepit building sat back from the highway, swallowed up by an overgrown thicket of trees. That explained why you hadn't noticed it on the way to the gas station. The light provided by the fire made it easier now to see the deteriorating wreckage. The roof had collapsed, taking two walls with it, with the remaining two naught but charred debris. It was evident that the sanctuary had been ravaged by a large conflagration long ago.

The flames you’d spotted blazed next to the church’s remnants in a rundown graveyard. A rusty iron fence enclosed the crumbling tombstones that dotted the overgrown grass of the yard. Trees were scattered throughout the burial grounds, having taken root over the years since the lot was abandoned, their long branches reaching for the graves like gnarled hands.

Several figures cloaked in the shadows cast by the fire stood amongst the fragmented headstones, encircling the flames.

A chill ran through you. Just the wind, you reminded yourself.

You and Jimin crept closer, approaching a giant tree that curled against the fencing. Its twisted limbs hung low over the iron, sheltering you from the figures while you spied on the strange scene.

"What the hell is going on? Who are these people?" you whispered as the shadows danced around the bonfire. They raised their arms to the sky, and you could just make out the faintest sounds of chanting. "Is this some sort of weird cult shit?"

Jimin cackled, covering his mouth to stifle the sound. "Baby, you gotta quit watching all those documentaries. You think everything's a cult."

You sniffed haughtily. "Mock me if you must, but I still say I was right about LuLaRoe."

Jimin just glanced at you, warmth radiating from his smile.

From your hidden vantage point by the fence, you could just make out that the people wore long black robes, their faces shrouded in hoods. One of them flung something into the flames, sending sparks whirling into the night sky like fireflies.

"Okay, so if it’s not a cult, then what do you think is happening here?" you questioned. “I don’t think this is a church picnic since, y’know, the church is nothing but rubble.”

"Honestly? I bet they're a bunch of teens who have seen The Craft one too many times," Jimin snickered.

You studied the cloaked figures as they continued to revolve around the fire. Jimin was probably right - they were likely just some bored teens, enjoying their Halloween. What else were they going to do in the middle of nowhere?

“Yeah, you’re probably right. Because what else is there for them to do around here? Go trick-or-treating at the gas station? Toilet paper the trees?” you mused, giggling.

“Exactly,” he agreed. "Happy Halloween, kids. Try not to burn down the forest!" He tugged you back towards the highway. "Come on, let's get out of here before they decide they need a human sacrifice."

You snorted and let him lead you away.

Back in the car, you sprawled across the backseat, head in Jimin's lap as you waited for Jungkook to arrive. Judging by how long it had been since the phone call, it would take him at least another hour to get to you, even if he drove with his usual lead foot. With every minute that ticked by, your buoyant mood sagged lower and lower, weighed down by the realization that you were going to miss the party after all.

"This sucks," you grumbled petulantly. "We should be getting ready for the bash right now." Staring up at your boyfriend, you stuck your bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout. "All that time and effort spent sewing those costumes, and now we'll never get to wear them. Plus, we won’t be able to defend our title!" You pictured the trophy disappearing like a ghost fading away.

"There's always next year." Jimin combed his fingers through your hair, the tender motion meant to soothe you, but you continued to mope.

"I don't wanna wait for next year, damn it," you sulked, arms folded across your chest, knowing you sounded like a brat and not caring. “I want to wear mine now, and show off my hard work, and win that trophy again. I mean, do you know how long it took me to make the corset alone?” You winced, remembering how sore your fingers had been after all the painstaking pinning.

"Look, if you still want to put that on when we get home tonight, I certainly won't complain," Jimin joked, waggling his eyebrows salaciously, trying to make you laugh. You didn't respond, laying your cheek on his thigh, miserable.

Jimin clucked his tongue sympathetically. "Poor thing. Your whole night is ruined now, huh?" You nodded against his leg, and he traced a soft finger down your jawline. "I'm sorry, baby. What if I tried to make up for it?"

"You better," you shot back crossly. "You owe me when we get home."

"What I’m saying is, what if I tried to make up for it right now?" he clarified, hand continuing to trail down your neck, gently flitting over the sensitive skin there. Despite your sour mood, you reacted to his caresses, instinctively moving your head to expose more skin, shivering in delight. His fingers drifted to your chin, and he tilted your face until you were looking at him.

Even in the dim light of the backseat, the desire that blazed in his eyes was unmistakable.

Leaning over, he lightly kissed you, lips barely touching yours. "Does that sound good?" he exhaled huskily, and you nodded, thighs squeezing together as arousal ignited within.

Your chin lifted as you attempted to catch his mouth for a real kiss, but Jimin sat back with a playful smirk, just out of reach. You eagerly followed, springing up as you chased his lips. His hands ran down your sides and seized your hips, pulling you into his lap. Head tipping, Jimin deepened the kiss, exploring your mouth as his strong arms locked around your back. Breathless with want, you melted into him.

Your worries about the spooky woods, your disappointment about missing the party - it all fell away. Nothing existed for you in that moment but Jimin and the way he held you tightly, kissing you hungrily, greedily, as if he wished to consume you whole.

You’d let him. You could never resist.

His kisses became harsher, sharper, teeth scraping as your tongues tangled. The muscles in his arms flexed under your fingers as you clung to him, sucking on his luscious bottom lip, reveling in the supple feel of it between your teeth.

Even after all this time together, kissing Jimin still felt electrifying, your nerves alight all the way down to your toes. His tongue swept into your mouth again, prompting you to suck lewdly. Jimin groaned, his fingers digging into the curve of your ass, grinding you into him. A moan escaped you at the satisfying friction.

Jimin took advantage of the break in the kiss to drop his head and nip at your neck, sucking the tender skin there as you moaned again. He knew all your sweet spots, could have your eyes rolling back in your head in the blink of an eye, or the lave of a tongue.

He continued to rut, his dick rubbing deliciously against you through the layers of your clothing. Your panties clung to you, soaked, and your clit throbbed, leaving you craving more. Which meant you needed to lose the layers.

As if he read your mind, Jimin finished marking your neck and purred, "I think we should get you out of these," One of his slender fingers yanked on the belt loops on your jeans. You quickly rolled from his lap and shimmied out of your jeans and panties.

He didn’t move, seeming satisfied as he watched you, and you eyed him expectantly. “What are you waiting for?”

Jimin chuckled. "Look at you. So impatient. Can't wait for my cock, huh?"

You shook your head. "Need you now." You fiddled with the buckle of his belt, intending to undo his pants, but he captured your hands, stopping you.

"Hold on, baby. I said I was gonna make it up to you, right? So that means I'm gonna take care of you first." He laid down on his back and leered at you. "C’mon, jagi. Come up here and let me taste you." He wet his lips shamelessly, long pink tongue flicking out to tempt you.

You groaned, pussy clenching reflexively at the sight. You always joked that your boyfriend was a silver-tongued devil, able to talk his way out of any trouble. But there was no denying that the man had a very, very talented tongue.

Jimin held out his hands, beckoning to you, and you grasped them, letting him guide you forward. You knelt over him, one bent leg on each side of his face. Delicately, you lowered yourself until you felt his pillowy lips kissing softly along your slit. He licked a long stripe through the wetness there, making you keen. "Fuck!"

Jimin shook slightly underneath you, his laughter muffled. "I haven't even started yet!"

You opened your mouth to fire off a retort, embarrassed at your neediness, but all that came out was a wordless cry as Jimin suddenly slipped his tongue inside you. He began alternating sweet little kitten licks with deep plunges within, using his nose to nuzzle at your clit before caressing it with his tongue. Tiny whines of pleasure were all you could manage as he devoured you, deft hands keeping you solidly in place.

"Jesus, you're so wet, jagiya. All for me?" He came up for air, lips shiny with your slickness.

“Don’t stop!” you commanded him, squirming impatiently, trying to rub yourself on him.

With a grin, he pulled you back down, burrowing into your folds as you sighed blissfully. You rocked against him, hips bucking, riding his face, the backseat beginning to quake from your movements.

"Oh, fuck yes, Jimin, it's all because ohhh, Jesus, yes, fuck - it's all because of you," you panted, eyes falling shut, head lolling back in rapture.

Groping behind you blindly, you reached back until you felt the outline of his hard cock where it strained against his jeans. You palmed him through the coarse material, enjoying the way he moaned into you, mindlessly humping the air as you teased him. Every sound he made traveled directly to the stirring that was tightening inside you.

With your eyes closed, your other senses took over. The filthy sound of his mouth as he ate you out with abandon. The feel of his tongue lapping at your cunt as you writhed above him. The taste of his plush lips still on your mouth as you bit your lower lip in bliss. Even the smell of sex in the air around you - it was all too much to take in at once, nearly overwhelming you.

"So sweet, like candy," Jimin murmured happily as he firmly clutched your thighs, his hold unyielding while he suckled at your clit. “My favorite treat.”

The familiar feeling in your core was beginning to spread as your impending release approached. It always built so quickly, because the man beneath you understood exactly how to make you fall apart.

"Jimin," you mewled, bracing yourself against the door, fingers splayed on the window as you struggled to stay upright, "I'm so close!"

A growl answered you as Jimin redoubled his onslaught, pushing you over that glorious edge. His tongue flattened against your clit again and again and you wailed his name as you came, thighs shaking from the euphoria that washed over you and the strain of supporting yourself on such weakened legs. Jimin released his iron grip, and you collapsed onto the door, careful not to smother him.

Pressing your forehead against the cool glass, you hummed contentedly, luxuriating in the buzz that still tingled through you as Jimin licked you clean. After a few minutes, he slid from underneath you, and you turned to face him clumsily, moving like your bones had turned to liquid.

“Feeling better, baby?” he inquired, his innocent tone at odds with the smug look on his face. You didn’t care. With the orgasm he’d just given you, he could look as pleased with himself as he wanted. He’d earned it.

But as always, you wanted more.

“Mmmhmm.” You curled up on his side, brushing your fingers over the large bulge in his jeans, smiling coyly at the way his thighs twitched with each pass. “But what about you?”

He lowered his lips to yours, and you kissed him soundly before trailing your mouth across his cheek. Sinking your teeth into his earlobe, you nibbled, relishing how Jimin whined heatedly, using your tongue to soothe away the sting. You nuzzled your nose into his hair, inhaling his musky scent, the citrusy notes of his shampoo.

Tugging on his jeans, you whispered, “I think we should get you out of these.”

Jimin tore himself away, hurriedly undressing. You pulled your sweater off and unclasped your bra, letting the silky garment drop to the floor of the car. You didn’t pause to consider that you were visible to anyone driving by, as beams of light from passing cars flitted through the windows, illuminating the cabin in flashes. You were too enthralled to think straight.

All you could focus on was Jimin, his smoldering eyes watching you as he slowly stroked his thick shaft. The sight was pure sin, a promise of dark delights to come.

Mesmerized, you stared as he swirled his thumb over the glistening tip of his cock, coating the blushing head, making you lick your lips. Part of you yearned to take him in your mouth and make him beg for release, but the undeniable aching need to have him fill you up overpowered that thought.

"Ready for more?" Jimin rasped enticingly, favoring you with a wicked smirk. With a desperate nod, you crawled into his lap and positioned yourself above him again. His fiery gaze swept over your face, zeroing in on your mouth. Lunging forward, he licked at your lips before slipping inside as you whimpered helplessly.

Jimin dragged his dick along your slit, covering himself in your wetness. You jolted as he thumbed at your clit, inhaled shakily as he lined himself up.

"Come on, baby," he whispered between ravenous kisses. "Ride me."

The urge to tease him came over you like a sudden fever, and you sank down, then bobbed slightly, his head parting your folds and only just slipping inside, then out again. And again.

Jimin hissed, face nestling in the crook of your neck. For several exquisitely drawn-out minutes, you tormented him in this manner, bouncing, never fully taking him in. You felt him try to buck upwards, and immediately rose off him, using your calves to lock his thighs in place.

"Jagiya! Don't torture me!" His hips continued to rise as he struggled, trying to bury himself deep, but with your weight you held him down, slightly intoxicated with power. You loved to make him squirm. The more he wanted you, the more you wanted to play. “Come on, baby. Give me what I need.” The last word was little more than a strangled gasp.

Threading your fingers through his silky hair, you grasped the roots and tipped his head back until his eyes met yours. "What's the magic word?" you cooed, blinking coquettishly. Your other hand ran down his chest, grazing over his skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. His heart beat wildly under your touch.

Jimin groaned, eyelashes fluttering shut in agony and ecstasy, mouth forming the word repeatedly before he had the breath to speak it.

"P-Please," he begged, and because he asked so sweetly, you instantly complied, taking all of him in until he was fully sheathed. He let out a guttural wail that sent a thrill down your spine. Frantic with sudden desire, you began to ride, hard and fast.

"Is this what you needed, baby?" you trilled, raking your nails over his scalp. A debauched moan of pleasure was your answer, and you giggled, only to choke on your laughter as his teeth bit into your shoulder, breaking the skin and leaving a love mark behind.

“Ah!” you squealed, as Jimin sweetly coated the area with tiny pecks in apology.

Working your hips, you angled yourself so his cock curved just right, dragging against that sweet spot inside you over and over. Jimin's hands roamed your body, pinching here, scratching there, gripping you tight as he grunted into you. He laved over your breasts, swirling around your nipples and making you arch into his hot mouth.

Every inch of you was drowning in him, and you never wanted it to stop.

Headlights danced across Jimin’s face, highlighting the curve of his cheek, the swell of his lips as he leaned back, reverently gazing at you as you rolled your hips. Even in your lustful haze, you recognized the look of devotion in his eyes.

It was too much.

He was the divine one, to be adored. You felt a burning need to lavish him in praise, but your words failed you, so you crushed your mouth to his, your kiss expressing what you could not.

The tension inside you threatened to snap, and you knew that your end wasn't far off. Grabbing the back of the seat behind Jimin's head, you held on for dear life, while with your other hand you scraped your nails down the nape of his neck, driving Jimin into a frenzy.

“Fuck, you feel so good, baby,” he prattled, extolling you in his fervor. “Always so good to me, this sweet little cunt takes me so well, ah!”

He snarled and pounded into you, face glistening with sweat, hands clutching your hips to give him more control, which you gladly ceded. You wanted him to fuck you hard and fast, like you knew he could. The sound of his sturdy thighs slapping against your ass filled the car as he thrust into you relentlessly.

“Jimin, fuck,” you cried loudly, unable to utter more than a few words coherently, completely lost in sensation.

"Come on, jagi, cum for me again," he pleaded. "Want this pussy to soak me. Be good for me. I know you can. Ah, fuck, come on, give it to me!"

One of his hands fondled your clit as he commanded you, circling the sensitive nub again and again, and you broke, your release flooding over you like a wave, a low sob pouring forth from your lips as Jimin coaxed an intense second orgasm from you. As your walls clenched around him and you shuddered in his hands, Jimin reached his own climax, pumping into you as he called out your name.

The rhythm of your breathing slowed as you huddled together, wrapped in each other's arms. Jimin pressed soft kisses onto your collarbone while you gazed out the rear window. The blood moon vanished and reappeared hypnotically as the tall treetops brushing the sky bent and swayed in the wind.

"So," Jimin drawled after a few minutes, "am I forgiven?" His breath warmed your skin where he spoke against you, as the sheen of sweat covering your body began to cool in the chilly night air.

You couldn't suppress the smile that crossed your face. "For now. That may change when we get home, if I decide I need another apology. Or two."

"Fair enough." His lips skimmed along your neck. "See, we don't need a trophy to tell us we're the best couple. We've got more than enough proof right here."

You rolled your eyes. "Okay, now you're just pushing it."

“I’m serious,” he insisted, peering up at you with sincere eyes. “I know how much the party means to you, and I’m sorry that the night didn’t go the way we’d planned. I know you’re not happy to be here, but there’s no one I’d rather be stranded with than you.”

There was such earnestness to his words, his expression, that your heart swelled, full to bursting. You could only hope as he stared into your eyes that he saw all the love you felt shimmering back at him. “I love you, Jimin,” you murmured, dipping your head to kiss him.

His mouth curved as he smiled against yours, whispering, “I love you, too,” before capturing your lips in another kiss. And another. And another.

You began to shiver, from the intensity of his kisses, but also from the dropping temperature, and Jimin pulled away. “Cold, baby?”

“A little.”

“We should get dressed.” Jimin surveyed the backseat, which was cluttered with your discarded clothing. "I don't suppose I left a towel in here somewhere."

"I think I have some tissues." You slid from his lap, stretching for your purse.

A sudden loud rustling startled you. Pausing in mid-reach, you tilted your head, listening. It sounded like it was right outside the car. You glanced at Jimin, about to ask if he'd heard something, when it came again, louder this time, as if something incredibly big was stampeding through the woods.

"What the fuck was that?" you whispered, spinning around and kneeling on the seat to look out the rear window again. You couldn’t see anything but trees.

Jimin shook his head as he put his clothes back on. "I have no idea. Let me go check it out."

"Are you out of your mind?" you sputtered, getting dressed. "You’ve seen horror movies! We just had sex! You go out there, you will absolutely die!"

Your boyfriend just tutted, lips quirking. "I think that only matters if we were virgins first, and we both know that ship sailed a long time ago." He opened the door that faced the highway and stepped out, scanning the area around the car. "Whatever it was, it's gone. I don't hear anything now."

No sooner had you climbed out than the rustling came again. You and Jimin spun towards the sound, just as the branches in front of you parted and three figures in black robes came sprinting out.

You shrieked as one of them ditched the other two and ran to you, hands extending to grab your arms. "FUCKING RUN!" they screeched in your face. Their hood fell, and you realized it was just a teenager, his eyes wide with fear.

"What the fuck - what is going on?!" you yelled as Jimin pulled the boy off you.

"Hey! Calm down, kid!" Jimin held on to the boy's shoulders with a loose grip, trying to get him to relax. "Take a deep breath, and tell us what's happening."

The other two had doubled back to gather their friend. They lowered their hoods as well, revealing themselves to also be teenagers.

"Fuck, come on, we need to get out of here," one of them wailed, nervously shifting from foot to foot.

"Why? What are you running from?" you demanded, but the teen just shook his head, unwilling or unable to answer.

The other teen piped up, sighing agitatedly as she spoke. "Look, we didn't think it would work, okay? We were just trying to do something different for Halloween! I found this weird old book, and it claimed that during the blood moon, you could raise the dead, so we thought, you know, what if we tried?"

Jimin released the boy, staring incredulously at the young girl. You too were agog, trying to comprehend what she said. "Hold on. Are you trying to say you brought someone back from the dead??"

The girl glared at the third teen. "Well, that was the idea. The spell called for human blood, but someone got squicked out and couldn't cut himself and bring us a vial of his blood. So, what we poured on the fire was blood from his dad's butcher shop instead, apparently!"

"I'm sorry, okay?" the third teen exclaimed, throwing his hands up to the sky. "How many more times do you want me to say it? I'm sorry, I didn't think it would matter!"

“Wait, did you say ‘spell?’” Jimin interjected.

“Oh god, don’t start arguing again, we need to go,” the teen boy who’d grabbed you chimed in.

"Of course it mattered! You can't change an essential ingredient in a spell!"

“Oh, you read one book and suddenly you’re an expert in witchcraft!”

"Everybody shut up!" you hissed, raising your hands to shush them. "Do you hear that??"

Tree branches snapped behind you, underbrush crackling as something trampled closer and closer. You froze, and Jimin slipped in front of you, guarding you as the cause of the ruckus finally appeared.

Before you stood a humongous buck. It angrily stomped its hooves, snout huffing as it sniffed the air around you. One of its eyes dangled from its socket, swinging as the deer contorted its mangled head to glare at your group.

Splattered blood covered its antlers, broken, knife-sharp fragments of bone that looked like they could easily pierce flesh, and dripped into its face, from which its jaw hung unnaturally. As you cowered behind Jimin, it raised its head and roared, an unearthly howl that filled you with terror.

You didn't know deer could roar. But then again, you also didn't know that they could come back from the dead.

Screams rent the air as everyone began to run. The teens took off and you and Jimin followed. You had no idea where you were going. You just knew that you had to GO.

"What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck," you chanted as you bolted along the highway, hurdling fallen trees and ducking under low branches. You could hear Jimin cursing under his breath beside you, his hand firmly in yours.

“I told you this was a bad idea!” the first teen boy barked, racing past the others, black robes billowing as he took the lead.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP, CHAD!” the other two teens bellowed in unison.

“Where are we going?” Jimin yelled, but no one answered.

You gasped as you fought to keep up with the others. You had never taken to running, preferring less intensive ways to workout, like swimming. You were starting to regret that, a stitch forming in your side as you lamented your life choices.

The teens led you across the road to the old church. As you tore down the overgrown passage behind them, they abruptly changed direction, making a beeline for a ramshackle pickup truck that was parked on a dead patch of grass to the side of the ruins.

The teen girl yanked the driver's door open and hopped in as the other two rushed around and clambered in the other side.

"Here!" she yelled, throwing something dark and rectangular at your feet. It landed in the weeds with a thump. Bending, you scooped up a very worn, thick book, loose pages floating to the ground as you examined its contents. Grimoire was etched into the cover in jagged lettering, as if scratched into the leather binding with a knife.

A spell book. What the actual fuck.

You glanced back up at the girl as the truck thundered to life. "What am I supposed to do with this?" you hollered over the rumbling engine, barely able to hear yourself.

"I don't know, maybe you can find a way to undo the incantation!" she shouted in reply, slamming the truck into gear. "Good luck!" The vehicle shot backwards as she reversed around you and Jimin. Then she whipped it around and out onto the highway.

And then they were gone.

You gaped at the receding taillights in stunned disbelief, watching until they were tiny pinpricks in the distance.

"Did they just LEAVE US HERE?" Jimin doubled over, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. "Are you kidding me? What the FUCK!"

You scanned the pathway behind you. No sign of the beast. Either you’d managed to outpace it, or it hadn’t followed you.

The bonfire still crackled in the pit in the graveyard. Trying to figure out what to do while you had a moment to think, you wandered close to the fire, as if the solution might appear in the flames.

Jimin joined you, crouching low over the pit. You did the same, the flames warming you while you prayed that the buck would stay far away. Animals feared fire, didn’t they? And smoke?

But what about undead animals?

You slowly turned the book over in your hands, brow furrowed, a million questions whizzing through your head. Where on earth did those kids find this? What the fuck made them decide to try to resurrect a dead person tonight? Couldn’t they have started with a spell that was a little less grotesque, like making someone float or something?

Could the grimoire really have a way to reverse the incantation and un-reanimate the raging stag? And was that the craziest sentence that had ever run through your mind?

God, what a wild fucking night.

Jimin was unusually quiet. “How are you so calm right now?” you inquired, shifting into a sitting position on the ground.

He gawked at you, eyes round with bewilderment. “Calm? I’m most definitely not calm right now! If you could see what my brain looks like… it’s like Black Friday at Walmart in here. Total chaos.”

Despite the confusing and dangerous situation at hand, you giggled at the image. It was funny, but you also suspected that you might be on the verge of hysteria.

“Okay, okay, let’s talk this out,” Jimin held up his hand, ticking off each point. “One - there’s a corpse of a deer rampaging through the woods. Two - the idiots who brought it back to life just ditched us. Three - we can’t drive ourselves to safety because of the blown out tire. Four - we have nowhere to hide, since the only building close by is totally demolished. Five - we have no idea how to stop the thing.” He squinted at you. “Did I miss anything?”

“No, I think that about sums it up,” you affirmed drolly, picking up a stick and poking at the fire idly.

“Okay. All right.” He sucked in a deep breath and puffed it out forcefully. “Then, if my math is correct, we are totally fucked.” Something crackled in the woods beyond the fence and you both sprang to your feet, whirling towards the sound. Nothing happened.

Jimin sighed. “Even if we could escape, we can’t just let this creature run around attacking others, can we?”

“Of course not!” you exclaimed. “We have to stop it. I mean, what if this thing bites someone? It’d be catastrophic.” You’d seen enough zombie flicks to know it would be bad. If this thing was a zombie. You weren’t really clear on if zombiism ran on magic… or if magic is in fact what brought the thing back from the dead in the first place… you weren’t really clear on much of anything, period.

“So you think this thing operates on zombie rules?” Jimin replied, eyebrow lifting.

He was only continuing your train of thought, asking a half-serious question in a lighthearted tone, but something inside you snapped, the gravity of the situation fully crashing down on you.

“Baby, I think it’s fair at this point to just assume that anything goes from here on out. So yeah, if this - this monster bites a person, it might lead to the zombie apocalypse! Or maybe not. I don’t know!” Your pitch rose, becoming shrill as you ranted. “I don’t know how this happened, truly, I don’t know how to stop it, and I don’t know what will happen if we don’t! I don’t know anything!”

“Hey, hey, baby, shhh, it’s okay,” Jimin murmured, wrapped his arms around you, hugging you tightly. His hand stroked your hair as you fell quiet, tucked safely into his embrace. “I don’t know what’s going on, either. But that’s okay. We’ll figure it out, together. We’re a team, right?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled into his chest after a moment. “We’re a team.” You paused. “I save you from scary maze bogeymen, you save me from reanimated deer.”

Jimin chuckled softly. “Exactly. We always protect each other.” Placing a finger under your chin, he tilted your head up, leaving a tiny kiss on the tip of your nose. “We can do this. We just need to come up with a plan. Figure out how to kill this thing.”

His voice was so steady, so sure. You felt infinitely glad that he was there with you at that moment.

Mulling over his words, you considered your choices as he released you. You didn’t have any weapons. Neither of you were fighters, and even if you were, you stood no chance against something so enormous and ferocious. Then you remembered the grimoire.

"Maybe this is the answer," you said, holding the book aloft.

“And that is...?”

“It says it’s a grimoire. You know, spell book. The girl chucked it at me before they deserted us.”

Jimin regarded it for a few moments before deftly plucking the tome from your hands.

"I know exactly what to do," he announced.

And then he swiftly tossed the book into the flames.

The fire flared violently, becoming dazzling white, leaping towards the sky.

"Jimin!" you yelped, throwing one arm over your eyes momentarily blinded by the shifting flames. After a few seconds, the blaze died back down, its normal orangish glow returning. You carefully peeked into the pit, searching for the book, but only found a little pile of smoking ash.

How could it instantaneously combust like that?

More importantly, why were you still bothering to ask yourself these unanswerable questions??

Turning to your boyfriend, you implored, “Why did you do that?”

"I - I thought that if we destroyed the source of the spell, it might undo it?" Jimin stammered, looking flummoxed.

You just stared at him.

Jimin went on, flailing. "I don't know! It worked in that horror movie we watched the other night, remember? When they destroyed that cursed necklace?” He shrugged. “You said anything goes!"

Sagging to the ground, you cradled your head in your hands. “I did. I did say that,” you agreed, frowning. “But what if there had been a way to counteract the spell in the book?”

“I… did not consider that.”

Silence fell over the churchyard as you both contemplated what to do next. After a few minutes, you lifted your head, scanning the woods around you. Everything was still, save for a gentle flutter here and there as the wind rippled through the trees, and the only noise you heard was the popping of the fire. "Maybe... maybe it worked?"

Jimin cocked his head to the side, listening intently. "Maybe? But how would we know?" He ran his hand through his hair, squinting as he surveyed the graveyard. "Let's - AAAAAAHHHHH!"

Without warning, the gruesome buck bounded out of the tree line behind the graveyard, making a mad dash towards the two of you. Jimin grabbed your hand and yanked you towards the highway.

A rock jutted out of the ground directly in your path, and you stumbled, arms outstretched to break your fall.

The beating of hooves drew nearer.

"Come on!" Jimin urged you, hauling you back to your feet. You couldn't help but look back and saw that the deer was bearing down on you, mere yards away.

Tearing down the roadway, faster than you thought humanly possible, you passed Jimin's car where it sat abandoned on the shoulder. If only you had enough time to hop inside and hide. But you couldn’t stop, and soon it was far behind you as you continued to scramble for safety.

On and on you ran, lungs starting to burn as the snap of the cold air stung at your chest. Jimin was practically dragging you along now, a reversal from your journey through the maze earlier. It was so strange to think that that had only been hours ago.

Even stranger remembering how your biggest worry at that time had been whether you were going to make it to a silly costume party. Running for your life from a demon stag really put things into perspective.

You fought the temptation to glance behind you, not wanting to slow your pace for even a second.

"What - huff - are we gonna do?" you wheezed out, hardly able to breathe between all the running and the fear coursing through your veins.

"Gas station!" Jimin shouted. "We’ll call Animal Control!"

"Animal Control?! We need a fucking EXORCIST!" you yelped back.

Jimin cut across the road, with you close on his heels, sneakers skidding on loose gravel as you hit the other side.

Hooves pounded the pavement directly behind you.

The hair on the back of your neck stood on end, your body’s instincts telling you what your mind was slowly realizing.

It was too late. You hadn't gotten away fast enough, and now you were going to die.

As you and Jimin turned towards the sound, the hideous beast lowered its head, aiming the sharpened points of its antlers as it charged with a vicious roar. Your eyes closed as Jimin wrapped himself around you, shielding you as best he could -

HOOOOOOOONK

- just as a semi-truck barreling down the highway rammed into the buck, obliterating its rotting body in a bloody explosion.

Gore rained down as you and Jimin clutched each other silently, frozen with shock. Thankfully, you were far enough back from the road that you didn’t end up covered in decaying stag. Bits were strewn all over the asphalt, painting the surface a deep red in the macabre glow of the blood moon.

Meanwhile, the truck was long since gone, never slowing its speed, completely unharmed in the collision.

“What. The. Fuck,” you gasped out after several stunned minutes, trembling slightly. Your heart was still racing as you sank to the ground, completely spent. Jimin joined you, lying on his back in the grass, panting like he’d just run a marathon.

“Zombie apocalypse averted,” Jimin announced triumphantly, pumping his fist in the air. “You’re welcome, world!”

You snorted, too exhausted to point out that neither of you had actually done anything to stop the creature after all. You’d just been in the right place at the right time. Or the monster had been in the wrong place. A happy accident.

Flopping onto your back, you gazed at the sky, studying the moon. Once again, you wondered if it had played a role in the evening’s bizarre turn of events. In your adrenaline-fueled delirium, you found yourself hoping that it had enjoyed the show.

“Hey,” Jimin’s hand reached out and grasped yours, lacing his fingers through yours and breaking your reverie, and you glanced at him. “Are you okay?”

“I think so. I mean, I’ll be fine. Once I wrap my head around everything that happened.” If such a thing were even possible. Taking a deep breath, you smiled softly. “Thank you. For keeping me safe tonight, and keeping me sane.”

“I could say the same to you.” Jimin’s eyes scrunched shut as he squeezed your hand, beaming. “Go team.”

Inspiration suddenly struck. “I have a wild idea.”

“Baby, I don’t think anything could possibly be wilder than what we just went though.”

You ignored him, plowing on. “Let’s get matching tattoos!” Jimin’s eyebrows shot up. "I stand corrected." He peered at you closely. "Are you in shock?"

You waved off his concern. "I'm telling you, I'm fine. And I'm serious."

“Really? You want to commemorate tonight? What do you want for the rest of your life - shredded tire bits, or a decomposing buck?”

“Shut up!" you laughed. "No, not for tonight, specifically. Let's get matching ‘Best Couple’ tattoos.” You grinned. “Fuck a trophy.”

He mirrored your smile. “Deal. Love you, baby.”

“Love you too,” you whispered, leaning over for a kiss.

A car drove by, bright headlights flashing over you as it sped along, before swiftly pulling a u-turn and doubling back. You and Jimin both sat up cautiously as it rolled to a stop on the shoulder, and the driver’s side window rolled down.

“Dude, there you are!” A head popped out, floofy dark hair falling over large doe eyes that peered at you in elation as Jungkook grinned. “You weren’t in your car. I thought maybe a serial killer or the children of the corn got you.”

“Reanimated deer, actually, and almost,” you responded straight-faced as Jimin dipped his face into your shoulder, hiding his laughter.

Jungkook cocked his head, puzzled. “A what?”

“Long story.”

Taglist: @reliablemitten @lumieramour @nch327 @synnfulqt

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